A/N: My fourth entry for Summer Klaine Week 2013: Crossover. And, of course, this was the obvious choice. But please don't interrogate me too much about houses and time period and whatnot. I have no clue.

Disclaimer: Nothing in here is even a little bit mine. Except for the writing. That's mine.

A Standard Situation

by padfoot

...

It was a pretty standard situation, Blaine thought, as he stood with his wand aimed between the smug, bespectacled eyes of James Potter.

"Let him go," Blaine said, trying to keep his voice calmly authoritative.

Potter's constant companions were with him, the short, plump one and the slightly feral-looking Black boy flanking him, clearly eager to pull out their wands. The third friend – the one with sad, tired eyes – was standing back a bit, eyes on the ground. It was clear he didn't want to get involved in any of this trouble.

"Or what?" Potter shot back, giving Blaine a contemptuous look, "You'll take points away from me? Give me a detention? That slimy Slytherin will still deserve it."

His tone was fierce and mocking.

Blaine rolled his eyes. Potter was right – there was nothing more serious than a detention or points deduction that he, as a Prefect, could do. Reporting this gang to McGonagall was no help, and Dumbledore turned a blind eye to their marauding too. This boy and his lackeys were immune to getting in any real trouble, no matter what they did.

Lowering his wand, Blaine sighed, ignoring the gleeful little expression that broke out on Potter's face. Muttering the counter-curse, Blaine shoved the plump friend aside and hurried over to catch hold of the Slytherin boy who'd been suspended in the air, and lower him gently to the stone floor of the corridor. Behind him, Blaine could hear Potter and his friends scramble, laughing at their having gotten off scot free.

It didn't matter, Blaine thought, whatever he'd done, it wouldn't have made a difference to serial trouble-makers like them.

The Slytherin boy on the floor suddenly jerked and let out a yelp, as if realising he was free, and hastily stumbled to his feet. He was tangled up in his robes, hair swept sideways and face flushed from being suspended upside down for so long, but in spite of his state of disarray, the look he shot Blaine held nothing but venom.

"I didn't need your help!" he snapped, reaching up to rake his fingers through his ruined hair.

Blaine was taken aback. He withdrew the hand that he'd unconsciously reached out to help straighten the boy's robes.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said, hoping he didn't sound too hurt, "I just thought-"

"Well you thought wrong! I had it under control. And I can take care of myself, without needing any help from a inept little Hufflepuff."

The boy's robes were still lopsided, but he ignored them as he continued to struggle with his hair. It seemed too thick, or too full of product, maybe, to be tamed on the spot.

Feeling slightly defensive now, Blaine stepped back, his tone mild as he replied, "Clearly, you can't take care of yourself, so I don't why you're calling me inept. You didn't seem very 'in control' of the situation back when you were hanging upside with your robes around your head."

"I was biding my time," the boy replied curtly.

"Waiting for ground beneath Potter to erode away over the next few billion years?"

The boy looked taken aback, and stopped his assault on his hair for long enough to give Blaine a narrow-eyed look. The look wasn't quite angry any more, and not distrusting either. It bordered on almost bemused, Blaine thought.

The expression made a noticeable difference to the boy's appearance. Now that he'd stopped glaring and rubbing at his hair, and was properly right-way-up, Blaine could finally get a good look at him. He took in the boy's long, thin body, proudly arched eyebrows and smoothly curving jaw. The pale glow of his skin, slight pout of his lips and slender bones in his fingers. The boy was older than Blaine had originally thought – at least fifth year, maybe older. And he was attractive, very much so, when he wasn't so busy yelling.

"I don't know what that means," the boy admitted, eyes still narrowed, but voice far less vicious, "'Erode'? Are you Muggle born?"

"Proudly raised by a stock broker and a receptionist," Blaine grinned, "Erosion is the natural wearing away of rock and stuff. It's how Muggles explain canyons and valleys forming. They're not really aware of the amount of damage that a good giant can do to a solid lump of rock. Only magic can really teahc you something like that."

The boy's quirked up into a small smile, as if by accident. He seemed embarrassed by it the moment after it happened, as if enjoying a conversation with a Hufflepuff was something forbidden, and quickly restored his face to something more neutral. It happened in only a few seconds, which the boy hurried to cover by beginning to talk.

"I've never learnt anything but magic. I was at Durmstrang until this year." The boy ignored Blaine's questioningly raised eyebrow and added, his tone thoughtful, "It must be different, having learnt things the wrong way for half of your life."

Blaine laughed, "I wouldn't exactly call it 'the wrong way' – the things Muggles teach. It's just a different way, I think."

The boy shrugged, as if reluctant to argue on that point. Encouraged by the boy's apparent calmness, Blaine reached out to straighten the collar of his robes, which were sill lopsided from the James Potter incident.

"By the way, welcome to Hogwarts, new kid."

Hesitantly, the boy's lips curved into a small smile.

"Kurt," he said, "My name's Kurt."

"Blaine."

Blaine held out his hand, and the other boy shook it. His skin felt soft and cool. Blaine was suddenly aware of how alone they were in the draughty, silent corridor. He quickly dropped the other boy – Kurt's – hand, and wiped his own sweaty palm on his robes self-consciously.

"I'm a Prefect here," Blaine explained, trying to find words to fill the pressing quiet between them, "Fifth year. What about you?"

"Sixth year."

"So you're only here for two years?" Blaine asked.

Kurt shrugged in reply, saying, "If works out, yes. But... the sort of trouble I had at Durmstrang isn't the type that goes away, no matter how many countries I crossed to run away."

"What were you running away from?"

Blaine blurted out the question before he'd really thought about it, seconds later realising how inappropriate it was to ask.

Yet in his chest his heart was beating hard, pounding in a urgent throb that vibrated through his body. He had no reason to believe it, but something told him that he knew what type of trouble Kurt was talking about. Blaine felt inexplicably drawn to this boy with his unconscious grace and pride, holding his head high even as he stood friendless in the damp, dark corridor of a new school. Surely it was because they had something in common, because the secret that had driven Kurt to Hogwarts was the same one that Blaine had spent his life in the Muggle world trying to suppress?

"Myself, mostly," Kurt replied, and his expression was enough to show he'd say no more than that.

"I've tried that before," Blaine said. Kurt raised his eyebrows and quickly Blaine answered his unasked question, "It didn't work. But it did bring me here. And I think being here made me realise that there wasn't really anything about me worth running from. Maybe it'll do the same for you."

Kurt shrugged, but didn't challenge Blaine's words.

A clock began to chime somewhere far off, signalling the end of classes for the day. Blaine could hear the sound of chairs scraping on all sides of them, and he knew this brief moment of connection - this fleeting chance at privacy, at coming dangerously close to disclosing long-held-in secrets - was coming to an end.

"It was nice meeting you," Blaine said, "And feel free to come talk to me any time. I'm around. And I'm here for you, you know? Any time."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kurt smiled, and Blaine turned to go. He glanced back at Kurt as students began exiting classrooms and flooding into the corridor, catching Kurt's eye as he began to be swallowed by the masses.

And without really meaning to, Blaine gave a quick wink and a grin. The last look he got of Kurt was of flushed cheeks and red ears disappearing behind the body of a hulking Gryffindor. But as he hurried back towards his Common Room, Blaine bit his lip. He had a feeling he'd be seeing Kurt again. Soon, if he had anything to do with it.