Yay, new chapter! I enjoyed writing this one especially :3 Snow, scones, lovely Broadway melodies playing in my ear sang by the beautiful Lea Salonga - equates to happeh me, which means good writing mood. So happy that you guys are enjoying this story! I love it myself, and can't really see myself finishing it any time soon with all the stuff I have planned. :')

Out of interest, does anybody here read The Hunger Games Trilogy? I had a really striking dream about it last night involving some of the Glee characters and I'm considering writing that after I've finished this. Any of my lovely readers be interested in that? Proposed summary is on my bio... and yes, it is also heavy Klaine centric. And if anybody hasn't read THG, you should be able to follow along easily anyway.

But yes, I will be finishing this before that, so lets get back to it :3

Chapter Seven - The Selection.

Blaine hadn't spoken to Kurt all day, hadn't even seen him, apart from in class, where he sat as far away from him as possible. Sam became his partner in Potions and Charms that morning, while Kurt sat with Mercedes, but always hid his face from Blaine. He wondered if he'd been crying, or if he didn't want him to see the loathing in his eyes, or maybe he thought that if he looked at him he would be tempted to do something he would regret.

Or, perhaps, they were now going to be strangers to one another. Like they were never best friends, like they aren't in love...well, weren't in love.

"Maybe you just have to move on." Sam said that evening in the common room. It was half an hour before the feast was due to begin, and while the whole house was buzzing with excitement, Blaine wasn't. Every time someone climbed through the portrait hole, he jumped, but it was never Kurt.

"Move on?" he choked. He hadn't spoken in a few hours, he didn't realise his voice sounded like he was about to burst into tears at any second.

"Yeah...I mean, he obviously wouldn't have wanted anything to do with you if he knew from the start, right? Do you think there's any chance in holding out in case he gets amnesia? Changes everything he believes about the Dark Arts?"

"I don't... but am I just supposed to forget about him? What we have?"

"What you had, Blaine." Sam looked at him. "Had."


"No, lets sit down here." Kurt muttered to Mercedes, pointing to the end of the Gryffindor table.

"But Rachel and all are there -"

"Please, I don't want to risk being anywhere near him." he sniffed. "I can't bear to look at him."

They took their seats, opposite Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom.
"Kurt!" Neville said in delight. "I haven't seen you around in ages! Where's Blaine?"

"I'm sorry, I have nothing to do with that boy anymore." he said, haughtily. "Food smells good, doesn't it? Pass me the roasties, will you Dean?"

The feast seemed to go on longer than usual, and there were an array of foreign looking dishes that some of the students were afraid to touch, although Kurt was actually cheered up by the french food. Neville spat something shrivelled and black out, which must have been a Durmstrang delicacy.
Blaine thought that this evening was dismal. He didn't touch a bite of food, and not even pudding which he usually loved, but he usually shared it with his boyfriend as well, and it wasn't like that was going to happen. While everyone was laughing and joking, shouting things across the hall, and judging the new, unknown food, Blaine just kept his head down, trying to think about anything but Kurt.

Eventually, the contents of the golden dishes and plates vanished, and Dumbledore stood up, smiling. "Well, I hpe you have all enjoyed this special multi-cultural feast." his eyes sparkled. "Now, we are down to business! The Triwizard Tournament. We have decided to put a few spins on how this will work, as this year is the anniversary of the game! Now, we will select two champions from each house. By the third task, we plan to only have three remaining original champions - but who knows whose help you may need in that final hurdle! Of course, we do not want to spoil things, do we? Now, when each champions name is called out, they must proceed straight into this delightful little room back here," he pointed to a wooden door behind the staff table. "...and then they will receive their instructions." he winked, and walked around the table, towards the goblet which was displayed proudly in the middle of the hall.

The lights seemed to dim, and there was an excited chatter amongst the hall.

"We will start, with the Beauxbaton Champions." the goblet burned a bright, brilliant blue, and then, with a hiss, spat out a piece of parchment. "The first champion, is Fleur Delacour."

A few disappointed moans came from some of the French girls as a, even in Kurt's eyes, extremely pretty girl arose and, not even walked, but almost floated towards the door. The second Beauxbatons champion, Adéle Bebeau, wasn't quite so graceful in her walk, she tripped over her own feet a few times. Kurt wondered what she had to bring to this tournament.

The Durmstrang champions got a lot of excited cheers, especially Viktor Krum, who was an international quidditch player with an...interestingly sized nose. Kurt felt like laughing at some of the lovestruck girls, before realising he wasn't in the mood to find anything amusing.

"And now..." Dumbledore silenced the room. "The first Hogwarts Champion is...Quinn Fabray!"

An ear splitting level of clapping and screaming started at the Slytherin table. Kurt managed to catch a glimpse of Quinn's delighted, slightly smug face as she practically sprinted to the door.

"Well done, Miss Fabray." Dumbledore smiled. "And now, the final champion for Hogwarts is..." it seemed like it took forever for the goblet to spit out it's final parchment. "Blaine Dalton."

Kurt's head began to spin. Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing, and screaming. "NO!"

Blaine stopped in his slow, unsure walk, and looked around. Surely that couldn't have been Kurt's voice...

"I... I can't let you do this."

He must be delusional. Because his as of only this morning ex-boyfriend seemed to be walking towards him, saying these words. Every head in the room was turned, staring at the two of them. Kurt finally stood in front him, his eyes glistening with tears. "Blaine. I love you. I don't care what your parents did. I don't care about any of that. I know you're not like that, and I know that I can't live without you. Today has been hell for me."

"Kurt... you... you said..."

"I know what I said." he took his hand in his, and the familiar touch, the warmth, the perfect way they fit each other perfectly, sent fireworks running down Blaine's arm. "But I'm in love with you. I know who you are. I know your flaws and I love every single one of them as much as everything else about you. Please forgive me." he choked on the last words.

"Forgive you? It's you who should have to forgive me."

And then, they were kissing. Nothing mattered to them anymore, not the over 1000 people staring, not the stupid rule Umbridge had imposed, not the fact that a few idiots were shouting foul words at them. All they cared about was how right it felt.

"Ahem." a female voice came from behind them. They jumped apart, but their hands were still entwined, like they were afraid to let go. "Perhaps you did not get the memo. There is to be no inappropriate touching in this building, especially not between two members of the same sex." Dolores Umbridge pointed her wand at their hands, and a yellow light shot through their skin, blasting them apart, leaving what looked like burn marks where they'd been touching. "Seventy points from Gryffindor. Now Mr Dalton, I expect you to be making your way to join the others?"

"Yes, Proffesor." he glared at her.

"But it's not safe." Kurt whispered.

"What's that, boy?" Umbridge turned to him.

"People have died in this tournament... I don't want him to..."

"Sit down, Mr Hummel. Trust me, the death of someone like him is not a great loss. And he's a blood traitor on top of that... his parents must be ashamed." she turned back to Blaine, who had hatred burning in his eyes. "Off you go, Dalton. Maybe win back your families respect."

"Someone like him?" Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"Like you and him. Filth. Down there with mudbloods and trolls."

Kurt didn't know what came over him, but it seemed the only thing stopping him from throwing an unforgivable curse at that woman. He started to cry.