Hey Everyone!

Thank you so much for reading, it means so much :D

I forgot to do Author's Notes on Chapter One, but hey. Anyway, I'm British and trying to write in an American dialect, so apologies for any inaccuracies and inconsistencies in the language!

I really hope you enjoy, and please review with any ideas of your own, as I'm very open to suggestions and requests!

Thank you, lots of love and unicorn-ness from PhantomVoldyGleek24601 xxxx

PS- I own nothing! Not Glee, not Harry Potter, nor anything else mentioned here! If I owned Glee, they'd be at Hogwarts…

A few hours earlier…

Blaine Anderson did not often feel like Dudley Dursley. But as he stood dutifully near the door, his hair gelled tighter than he normally would with the side-parting dead straight, dressed in a black suit jacket, a white shirt with a black skinny tie and his newest black skinny jeans, he was strongly reminded of a scene in The Chamber of Secrets: "May I take your coats, Mr and Mrs Mason?"

He wasn't waiting to greet his father's boss and his wife; Mr Anderson was as high up as he could possibly get-he was other people's boss. But this was worse. Today was the thrice-annual day Blaine dreaded-the day the extended Anderson family visited.

It was tradition in the their family that they always got together and had lunch on the, 29th June, 15th November and 23rd December-why those dates, Blaine didn't have a clue. But it always happened, and missing it was not an option. He checked the clock on the wall-only twelve o'clock. And they weren't even here yet. He just counted his lucky stars there weren't too many of them.

It was days like this where Blaine would love to lock himself in his bedroom, making no noise and pretending he wasn't there, but that was impossible. He'd have to ride it out. Sighing a little, he took out his iPhone to check for messages, and smiled at the picture of Kurt that was his background. He'd taken it a few weeks ago, when they'd gone for a walk in the park. Kurt was lying on the grass-well, on the jacket Blaine had chivalrously lain down, the bright sun reflecting flatteringly on his angelic face. He was looking straight into the camera with those beautiful blue-green eyes, and as he looked at it, Blaine felt his heart melt into warm liquid. He loved him so much, it was unreal. If only…

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door, a smart, precise knock. Blaine took a deep breath, and plastered a social smile on his face, hoping it wouldn't look pained. He turned the latch, and opened one of the large white front doors with intricate stained glass windows. Stood in the doorway was a seventy-I'm-sixty-nine-year-old woman with grey roots showing beneath her defiantly-dyed blonde curls, her wrinkled face covered in thick foundation, her creased eyes heavily outlined and her lips painted pink, the colour running in the deep channels caused by age. She smiled with perfect white teeth that weren't hers as she took in the sight of her grandson through contact lenses. "Hello, darling!"

"Hi, Grandma," Blaine continued trying to force his smile as she presented her much-powdered cheek for him to kiss. She smelled too strongly of very floral perfume, the scent intoxicating as she removed her snowy-white fur coat (to be honest, Blaine wouldn't be surprised if it was real fur-and she'd slain the creature herself). Handing it to Blaine to hang up along with her disproportionately heavy handbag, she was clearly inspecting him. This unnerved him, but he tried to ignore it.

"So…how are you, Grandma?" he asked politely.

"Oh, I'm doing just fine, my dear, just fine. Now, will you show me through? I oughtn't be on my feet too long, especially in these shoes," She took his arm in her manicured hand and let him walk her through the large entrance hall into the second dining room, which had been carefully set with all the best glasses and snowy table cloth that was only ever used for these occasions. Sat at the table waiting dutifully, dressed in a black suit more suited to a funeral director, was Blaine's father.

Mr Edward Anderson looked eerily like Blaine, only with grey hair and more lines on his rather paler face. However, in personalities, they were polar opposites. Mr Anderson was a quiet, reserved man, who rarely smiled and was generally very awkward. He could be sharp, but scarcely spoke more than one sentence before retreating back into his huge study, locking the door. He barely communed with anyone, apart from work-related people-and almost never spoke to his son at all.

Blaine had come out to both his parents when he was fifteen. It had been hard, and they had been shocked. Well, his mother had. Mr Anderson's expression had barely changed, only raising his silver eyebrows a little. He hadn't said a word. Throughout his mother's hysterics about how she'd never have grandchildren, he'd been silent, staring right through his son like he wasn't really there. But as the weeks went by, after the initial fireworks, they just didn't mention it. To them, if you didn't talk about it, it didn't exist. So Blaine never brought it up either. He thought he didn't need their support-he made his own confidence. And since Kurt, life had been too incredible to care about their little prejudices. He just counted himself lucky they hadn't disowned him as he'd feared. However, Mr Anderson had never been an affectionate father. To him, having children was a duty. So his reluctance to speak to Blaine wasn't all down to his sexuality.

Blaine did not think his father was a bad man-just very old-fashioned and too set in his ways for new ideas.

"Hello, Mom," Mr Anderson stood up to greet his mother.

"Hello there, Edward," She hugged him that bit too close for the awkward man. He patted her back uncertainly, never having liked being too close to people. "You've put on weight, dear," she remarked, as the doorbell rang again, and Blaine scooted off to answer it.

The guitarist has no idea how or why, but the relatives always seemed to arrive in the same order every single time. Before he'd opened the front door, he'd predicted Uncle David and Aunt Sharon, his father's sister and her husband. As usual, Uncle David punched him that bit too hard on the arm with a "Hey, buddy!" more suited to a seven-year-old as opposed to seventeen, and Aunt Sharon displayed the same standoffishness as her brother, stiffly presenting her cheek for Blaine to kiss and not saying a word, apart from a stiff "Hello,"

After leading them through to the dining room, where conversation was floated by Grandma and Uncle David as his dad and Aunt Sharon sat awkwardly, sipping wine, the bell rang out it's annoying tune, and here was Uncle Philip-Don't-Call-Me-Phil, the third and eldest socially awkward sibling of his father's, and his wife Rebecca-Call-Me-Becky, with their two small children in tow. Uncle Philip was probably the reason his father had without saying forbade he or his mother to say anything to the rest of the family about Blaine being gay.

"Blaine!" Six-year-old Anna leaped onto her cousin, hugging him hard around the waist.

"Air-plane, air-plane!" Four-year-old James pulled on Blaine's leg, clamouring to be lifted up. Smiling properly for the first time, Blaine did not disappoint, scooping the small curly-haired boy up and whizzing him around over his head, his screams of delight filling the echo-y hall.

"Me now, me now!" Anna was determined for Blaine's attention, her blonde curls flying as she jumped up and down.

"Okay, sweetie, just let your Mommy and Daddy get through the door!" Blaine stood aside to let Uncle Philip pass wordlessly, hanging up his jacket, and Aunt Becky give him the usual big hug and kiss on both cheeks.

"Hey, Blaine, how are you doing?" She smiled at him, but he knew she was just like Grandma for inspecting people and making judgements in her head. He felt like he was being X-Rayed by her piercing green eyes. But she was the first relative to ask him how he was.

"I'm good, thank you, and yourself?" he asked her politely, swooping Anna up over his head to more childish shrieks of joy.

"Oh, I'm fine, just fine. Is everyone in the dining room?"

"Yes, yes, go right on through, Dad's pouring the wine,"

"Oh, excellent. Come on, Phil," She took her husband's arm, ignoring his protest that it was Philip, and began to cross the hall. "Keep the kids entertained until lunch, there's a dear," she called over her shoulder.

Blaine raised an eyebrow-Aunt Becky seemed to always palm her children off on someone else, whether it be a nanny or boarding school, as was planned for them both in the future. But he loved looking after kids, and his little cousins were cool, if a little spoiled.

"Blaine, Blaine, look at my new dress!" Anna twirled around, the cute pink dress under the white cardigan she was wearing flying out. She pouted, for a second looking uncannily like Kurt in a clothes' store fitting room. Blaine smiled-he could so see Kurt dressing Anna up, taking her shopping, playing princesses with her…he sighed a little. He did want Kurt to meet his family. He just…

"Blaine, play with me!" James was running a toy car along the mahogany hall table, making racing car sounds.

"Don't you look pretty, Anna?" he beamed at her as he knelt down on the floor beside James and started a mini grand prix with him along the marble tiles. Anna happily climbed onto Blaine's back, clinging on like a little koala and chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen. James's racing car noises bounced off the walls, making the house suddenly seem alive and happy, and full of hope. The kind of house Blaine wished he had…

"Darlings?"

The rather short Pilipino woman in a fancy pink designer dress that bit too young for her was walking swiftly towards where Blaine was wrestling in a heap with his cousins. Mrs Nicolette Anderson. Well, her real first name was just Nicole, but it didn't suit her image. To sum her up-she was the absolute stereotype of posh upper-class-ness.

Okay, she wasn't really. She'd been brought up by foster parents on near-enough minimum wage, then took her High School Diploma to get a job as a secretary at his father's business. She worked her way up, and from what Blaine could gather, seduced her boss and had him up the aisle within a year. She finally had the life she thought she deserved, in this huge house with cleaners and gardeners and what not. She could wear designer clothes and gossip on the sofa with her "friends" all day, and push her way up the social ladder.

Blaine had to admire her pluck-but it was hard. He hated to speak ill of his mother, but she was-well, a right Anderson. Again, she didn't think she was a bad person; he just found the irritating I'm-above you way she treated people, and the way she'd acted with him since he came out, frankly infuriating.

Her white-spotted high heels clacked along the floor as she reached them, a big (false) smile on her red lip-sticky mouth. She clapped her small hands with their false nails together. "Well, doesn't this look fun!" Blaine hated how patronising she was.

"Aunt Nicolette!" Anna and James sprang up to hug her. Blaine held back a laugh as she warily patted them on their curly heads, the expression on her overly-made-up face reading clearly don't touch me.

"Yes, children, it's lovely to see you both!" she beamed down at them, her false-eyelashed eyes not lighting up. "Now, why don't you both go on through to the dining room? Lunch is nearly ready,"

Obediently, they both scampered off into the latter room, James still making his adorable racing car sounds. Blaine sat up, placing the toy car safely on the hall table.

"Fix your hair, darling," Mrs Anderson told her son. Of course. Blaine's mother's middle name should be Keeping Up Appearances-Or Else. Stifling a sigh, Blaine scrambled to his feet and began to smooth his hair in the gold-framed mirror on the wall. After a second, she came up behind him and took over, neatening his hair with skilled hands. For some reason, this annoyed him. "You've got such lovely hair, darling, if only you'd stop gelling it," she commented. Blaine grunted in response.

"And what is with this tie? I told you, it is not appropriate!"

"It's a tie," Blaine pointed out. "Why is that inappropriate?"

"It's…" She let the black skinny tie slide between her fingers, sighing. "I wish you'd wear a proper one, darling,"

"What suffices as a "proper tie?"" Blaine didn't mean to be rude, but his mother sometimes made him just snap.

"Don't be rude, darling," Her voice was sweet like honey-but there was definitely a bee-sting in there.

He thought of Kurt's relationship with Carole. He thought of Kurt's relationship with Burt…he let out a sigh.

"Did you just yawn? I told you, you stay up far too late…"

Blaine really was not in the mood for a lecture-but luckily the doorbell rang unexpectedly.

"Who could that be?" Mrs Anderson wondered aloud. "Get the door, darling,"

Blaine went to get the door, opened it-and his face broke into a huge smile. Stood on the doorstep in a red coat she'd had since he could remember was a small woman with grey hair and no make-up on her lined face. She smiled back warmly, instantly looking years younger. "Alright there, pet?" she beamed in her smoking-tainted Irish voice.

"Grandma!" Blaine threw his arms around her as he did every time he saw his mother's foster mother. He drank in her familiar smell of old person and mint imperials, feeling as he always did comforted and at home. Grandma Lucy was one of his favourite people in the world. She was not an Anderson, but an O'Malloy, as was his mother's maiden name. Most of his happiest childhood memories involved her. Really, she was Blaine's rock. She was the first person he'd come out to, and she was amazing about it. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, fine, thanks, and yourself?" she asked as Blaine took her coat willingly and hung it up.

"I'm great, thank you,"

"Hello, Lucy," came Mrs Anderson's voice from behind. Instantly, Blaine felt the normal rush of annoyance and pity as his mother refused to call her "mom" any more.

"Hi there, love," The two woman looked at each other. Suddenly, Blaine felt the same sense of awkwardness as he did between himself and his father.

"We weren't expecting you. Edward's family are over," His mother leaned on one heel. "Oh well, there's plenty to go around," she seemed reluctant to admit. "Blaine, darling, go and set your…grandmother…a place,"

Ten minutes later, the family were sat around the long table, cutlery scraping against the plates and conversation being floated by Grandma Anderson, his mother and Aunt Becky. Anna and James swung their legs, clearly having a foot fight out of sight, but no one noticed. His father, Aunt Sharon and Uncle Philip did not say a word. Grandma Lucy was of the same mind as Blaine-keep your head down and try and tune out the superficial conversation. Every now and then, they shared a secret smile.

Blaine loved it when Grandma Lucy turned up out of the blue, as she did at least once a month. Even though they weren't blood related, she was the only member of their family Blaine felt truly close to. She knew he was gay-and it didn't make the slightest bit of difference to her. She loved him unconditionally, and for exactly who he was, no matter what. When he'd come out to his parents, if they'd kicked him out, she would have been the person he'd gone to.

He loved going to her apartment, on the outskirts of town. It wasn't big and fancy like Blaine's house, but it felt like a home, smelling of baking bread and washing powder. He hated how reluctant his mother was to go visit her there, how she let her make her way all the way here in a taxi to see the woman she'd always seen as her only daughter. Since her husband, Blaine's grandpa, had died when Blaine was about three, she must be so lonely.

Beside Blaine, there was an empty place. The chair still had a fancy cushion on the seat, but no one occupied it. Just for a second, Blaine imagined Kurt seated beside him, his small, pale hand holding his under the table…the rest of the family dissolved as Blaine thought about his wonderful boyfriend, his smile like the sun on a shining sea, the brightest star in the galaxy…

Conversation became somewhat strained. Blaine guessed there was only so much they had to say to each other. Apart from boasting.

"So how's school?" Uncle David suddenly asked him.

"Oh, it's…" Absolute heaven now it's beside my Kurt again. "okay, thanks,"

"Still singing?"

"Oh yes!" Blaine grinned-though he could have sworn his father looked momentarily disappointed.

"I've never heard you sing!" Aunt Becky looked surprised.

"He's got a lovely voice," Grandma Lucy smiled at him proudly. "And he plays guitar, and piano, and violin too!"

"Well…I'm alright," Blaine said modestly.

"Why don't you go get your guitar and sing something now?" Grandma Anderson suggested, obviously feeling she'd missed something. Blaine was a little taken aback.

"What, now now?" Everyone was looking at him expectantly. "Urm…okay,"

It felt a little forced as he trekked upstairs to his currently rather messy bedroom to fetch his guitar Katy-after Ms Perry, of course. When he returned after quickly tuning her, he made his way back down. Eyes were all looking at him keenly, although in some cases slightly patronisingly. What should he play? His mind had gone utterly blank.

"Well…what do you guys like?" he tried in desperation.

"Disney!" piped up Anna immediately. All the adults laughed, but Blaine was hit by inspiration.

"Okay, sweetie, Disney it is," He fished a guitar pick from his pocket and began to play his rocked-out interpretation of a well-loved classic. Taking a deep breath, he began to sing:

"Look at me, I will never pass for a perfect bride, or a perfect daughter

Can it be I wasn't meant to play this part?

Now I see that if I was to truly be myself, I would break my family's heart…

Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me?

Why is my reflection someone I don't know?

Somehow I cannot hide who I am, though I've tried

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

When will my reflection show who I am inside?"

Blaine finished the song, and looked nervously up at his family. After a tense second-they burst into applause, cheering.

"Wow!" Grandma Anderson was looking-impressed! For what was probably the first time in her life! Blaine did an inward happy dance as his relatives congratulated and praised him. Grandma Lucy was beaming with pride, and he distinctly saw her wipe a tear-bless her.

"I meant Hannah Montana…but that was nice," said Anna, stroking the guitar.

"Hannah Montana indeed!" Blaine shook his head-then caught sight of his father.

Mr Anderson didn't say a word, and had not clapped. His face was an expression of-disappointment?And embarrassment?

Then, it dawned on him. Of course. How dare his gay son sing a girl's song? Blaine felt anger welling up in his chest-but determinedly pushed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he settled for a cold smile, which he knew would unnerve him.

"Well, well done, darling," Mrs Anderson's face was similar to her husband's, looking around to check if any relatives were commenting on Blaine's song choice.

"That used to be one of my favourite songs…" Grandma Anderson was saying. "It's very lovely, especially Lea Salonga's version,"

"You know who Lea Salonga is?" Blaine felt his respect for his paternal grandmother rise immediately. "She's just amazing!"

"Yes, she is," Grandma Anderson, for the first time, gave Blaine a real smile. "Miss Saigon is simply outstanding,"

"You are sunlight and I moon…" Blaine sang, and Grandma Anderson beamed, clapping her manicured hands in delight. He grinned-they'd finally found something in common! "Me and Kurt were singing that yesterday,"

"Who's Kurt, darling?" his mother asked. She had this thing about needing to know who everyone was.

"Oh, my boyfriend,"

There was silence.

You could have cut it with a knife.

At the same moment, Blaine realised what he'd said, and his father's face turned a bright, angry scarlet. Oh, shit!

Mr Anderson looked murderous, mortified.

"Your boyfriend?" Uncle David asked carefully, sure he'd misheard.

"Urm-he just means his friend who's a boy!" Mrs Anderson gave a shaky, nervous, high-pitched giggle. "It's just his little joke!"

Blaine was about to agree, cover up for the sake of his parent's humiliation-then, he remembered: courage

Why on earth should he cover up for his parents? Why shouldn't he be exactly who he is? Why should he have to hide?

"No, I mean my boyfriend," he said, quietly, but loud enough.

There was another moment of that dreadful, ear-splitting silence. Uncle Philip had taken off his glasses, looking at Blaine like he'd grown another head. Aunts Becky and Sharon were looking scandalised. Uncle David was looking confused. Anna and James were blissfully obtuse, but Grandma Anderson looked wildly from her son to her grandson, begging one of them to contradict her. Grandma Lucy hadn't known about Kurt either; she looked surprised, but not in a bad way. More a why-didn't-you-tell-me? Blaine wondered why he'd never told her.

Then, there were his parents.

Oh, God.

"Blaine…" Mr Anderson had stood up, looking at Blaine like he was-a total stranger. He was keeping his quiet voice level-but he was shaking with anger. A flicker of fear came alive inside the guitarist. "I think we need to…talk outside,"

Thank you for reading, and Chapter III will be posted as soon as I can! Much love xxxx