(A/N: Next chapter! Thank you to everyone who didn't guess in reviews. Just a few notes based on reviews: Ron and Hermione are visiting, not transferring; I'm pretty sure Baby-gate is from the show; Regarding seme and uke: this has been asked a couple of times, and I couldn't work out which was which. I don't think they really define as either. It's equal, you know? Neither is the more dominant. Next chapter will be same time next week.)


Harry gaped as his two best friends cried out in joy and launched themselves at him, wrapping the tiny teen up in both of their arms. Hermione was babbling her delight into his hair, "Oh Merlin, Harry, it's so great to see you! And you're looking so much better than the last time I saw you, coming to America was a great idea. How are you? Are you okay?"

Meanwhile, Ron was laughing himself sick, gasping out, "You should have seen your face, mate! You'd have thought you'd seen a dragon egg."

"What are you two doing here?" Harry asked, squeezing Hermione tightly and breathing in the scent of her lilac perfume. Hermione slapped him across the back of the head without letting him go.

"Why are we here, honestly," she fumed quietly, squeezing Harry tighter. Towering above them, Ron snorted.

"Did you really think we wouldn't come if you were getting stalked?" Ron asked wryly, patting Harry on the head patronisingly. Harry glared up at him.

"Just because you've got over a foot on me doesn't mean I can't take you," he deadpanned, making Hermione roll her eyes.

"He's right though, Harry, where else would we be?" Hermione finally let him go, smoothing back his hair and looking at him with a beaming smile. Harry grinned back, her warm, chocolate brown eyes as beautiful and comforting as he remembered.

Neither of them had really changed in the two months since Harry had seen them. Hermione was still slender and slightly taller than him, her frizzy brown hair loose and wild around her shoulders, and she was wearing a light purple cardigan Mrs Weasley had made her for Christmas in fifth year. Ron was still tall and broad, his blue eyes twinkling in his freckled face. Harry couldn't help himself; he pulled them back into another hug.

"I've missed you guys," he mumbled into Hermione's neck. "I mean, even with all the problems I do like it here, but I miss you guys so much."

"We miss you too," Hermione sniffled, before pulling back with a resolute expression. "But we're not only here because we miss you. We're here because you've managed to find trouble, again."

"I don't know how you do it," Ron shook his head, sitting back down on Harry's bed and shifting so his back was against the wall. "You're like a bloody psycho magnet. You can't even blame Voldemort for this one!"

"I know," Harry groaned, allowing Hermione to drag him to the bed, settling on her other side so she was squished between him and Ron. "It's crazy. I'm beginning to feel like - what are you laughing at?"

Hermione tried to stifle her giggles, but let a few out when she gasped, "Oh, it's just - you're beginning to pick up the American accent."

"Am I?" he looked to Ron, who nodded with a grin. "Damn, I hadn't noticed. Try to ignore that. Anyway, why are you guys here? What about your work and your training?"

"I took personal leave. Said it was a family emergency," Ron shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it is."

"And the Ministry is getting kind of antsy about my work, so I'm taking a week or two off to lull them into a false sense of security," Hermione stuck her chin out defiantly. "Ever since my Vampire Registration Act protest clogged up the Floo Network to the Ministry for three hours they've been getting ready for us. I'm going to hit when they least expect it."

"Fantastic. What else have you been doing?"

"I'm working on an expose of the treatment of House Elves by Pureblood families with Luna for the Quibbler, and I've got an interview with Dobby set up. As far as my social life goes..." she trailed off, shrugging. "What can you do? Choosing to graduate a year early made it even more important that I succeed in this."

"And I spend most of my time running drills and obstacle courses for sadistic bastards calling themselves 'Captain'," Ron quipped. "I don't even really sleep. But you sound like you're becoming a social butterfly in between trying not to die."

"Kind of," Harry laughed. "I'm never alone at school, that's for sure, and I spend time with all the various gleeks outside of school as well."

"But mostly Kurt," Hermione pointed out dryly, shooting Ron a knowing look. Harry blinked.

"Yeah, he's my best friend over here," the boy shrugged, just catching the tail-end of Ron and Hermione's disbelieving glances. "What?"

"Nothing," Hermione assured him, patting his hand. "We were just thinking - you talk about him a lot."

"Yeah, of course I do," Harry grinned, tilting his head. "He's my friend. I'm kind of annoyed at him right now, but we're actually pretty inseparable. He's so-"

"We know," Ron interrupted, ignoring the pointed (and pointy) elbow he got in his side from Hermione as he went on. "Trust us, Harry. We know aaaalllll about him."

"Why are you annoyed at him?" Hermione leaned back against his headboard, twirling her wand in her fingers. "Remus said that there was another attack today, but he didn't give details."

"The stalker - who we know is a she, now - rigged the lighting rig to drop onto Puck when he was auditioning," Harry sat up and turned to face his friends, crossing his legs and leaning forward. "I'd seen the car outside and told the police, then while I was on the phone to Kurt they told me that the car was empty. I realised Puck would be onstage at some point and told Kurt to get him off of it. I got to the auditorium just in time to see it fall."

As always, Ron and Hermione were an excellent audience. They leaned forward with wide eyes as he spoke, silent but for little gasps and noises of understanding or shock. He felt like he was back in first year, telling this same audience about Quirrell and the Philosopher's Stone. I'm almost the same height as I was then, actually.

"Me and Mr Schuester were the first on stage, and I was sure Puck was dead. But he was fine - Kurt had run on stage and tackled him out of the way."

"Wow," Ron looked impressed, clapping a little. "Score one for Kurt."

"No, not score one for Kurt," Harry scowled. "He could have been killed. When I said, 'get him off the stage' I didn't mean 'put your life at risk by attempting a move you might not be able to pull off in time thereby getting yourself killed, you suicidal moron.' He said he tried calling out to Puck, but he couldn't hear him over the music. I nearly had a heart attack when I realised what had happened."

"But they're both okay, right?" Hermione looked concerned. Harry nodded quickly.

"They're fine, just bruised from hitting the ground. That's not the point, though. He put himself at risk. He could have been killed, he nearly was!"

"If he hadn't, that Puck fellow would definitely be dead," Ron pointed out, exchanging another look with Hermione that Harry couldn't interpret. Harry winced, then nodded.

"Very possibly. But by doing it he risked both of them dying."

"So you're angry that he put his life on the line, without a moment's hesitation, in order to save the life of a friend?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. Her voice was totally innocent when she continued. "That doesn't sound like anyone we know at all, does it, Ron?"

"I certainly can't think of anyone, maybe someone sitting on this bed, who does that kind of thing all the time," Ron agreed wryly. Harry scowled and pouted a little as they went on.

"No, none of us would ever do that."

"Ever. Perish the thought."

"Terrible. Just terrible."

"And neither of us have ever been given a heart attack by the heroic but kind of stupid actions of any short, dark haired wizard."

"All right, I get the point," Harry rolled his eyes and continued to pout as Ron and Hermione started muttering examples under their breath. "But that's different. I'm a wizard, and I have crisis training."

"You didn't when you were eleven," Hermione drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them loosely. She looked so much like she did when they were 12 that Harry had to fight away a smile. "It didn't stop you. Face it, Harry. Kurt did exactly what you have done to us dozens of times. And what we've done to you."

"All right, all right, I get it," he flopped onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. "I'm still annoyed. He could have died."

"So we heard," Hermione agreed dryly, smacking Ron (who was still listing examples of Harry's own dangerous heroics under his breath) upside the head. "Cut that out or we'll be here all night."

"That reminds me, how long are you staying?" Harry sat up on his elbows. Ron answered for both of them.

"A week, at least. I have until Sunday after next."

"So do I," Hermione added, smiling sweetly. "Remus says he got us tickets to your Sectionals performance."

Harry frowned, "I don't know whether to be thrilled that you'll see the guys perform, or horrified because you'll see meperform."

"Don't try to change the subject, Harry," Hermione scolded, making Harry tilt his head. "Kurt. You talk about him a lot."

"Yeah?" Harry agreed, looking between the serious Hermione and the amused Ron warily. Hermione took a deep breath and continued.

"And you've been giving thought to sexuality and dating recently, since you've never had time before."

"Yes, I told you that, like, yesterday. What's your point?"

Ron seemed to go to say something, but Hermione put a hand on his arm and shook her head, looking at Harry thoughtfully. Ron raised an eyebrow at her, but she just said, "Maybe it's best that he work it out for himself."

"Work what out?" Harry demanded as Ron nodded. The smaller wizard shook his head in frustration. "Come on, you can't give me that much of a lead in then not tell me what you're on about."

"Sure we can!" Ron grinned cheerfully. "Here, let us show you; so how about them Cannons, huh?"

"They suck as much as they've always sucked. What are you talking about? Do you guys not like Kurt or something?" Harry scowled, feeling extremely protective of his flamboyant friend. Hermione rushed to reassure him.

"Oh, no, Harry, it's not that. We've never met him, how could we dislike him? It's just - don't worry about it. You'll come to understand it when you're ready to," Hermione elbowed a snickering Ron again, sighing when he just laughed harder. "You're not helping, Ron."

"I know, but I can't stop thinking about the Pants Thing," Ron chuckled, and Harry could hear the capital letters he was using. To Harry's surprised, Hermione let out a giggle too.

"The...Pants Thing?" Harry asked cautiously, making Hermione and Ron laugh harder. Hermione waved a hand and managed to speak through her gasps.

"Don't worry about it, Harry. We'll tell you all about it when you work it out."

"Thank you, guys, more mystery is just what I need in my life right now," Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He smiled reluctantly when he felt Ron's arm sling over his shoulder.

"Speaking of, what can we do to help with your stalker issue?" the tall boy asked him, and he looked up thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure. Because it's a muggle issue we can't really interfere too much without risking exposure, and the last thing we need to do is cause another international incident," Harry smirked wryly and obligingly gave Ron a high-five. "Yeah, yeah, we're special. I remember, trust me. My main concern right now is keeping everyone safe while the police do their jobs."

"I guess things like Alert Charms and Monitoring Charms are out of the question," Hermione mused, tapping a finger against her mouth. "We could ward their houses and the choir room, but that's likely to attract some attention"

"And wards are weaker if the home owner doesn't know about them, right?" Ron frowned. Hermione shrugged.

"That's not really a problem when you've only got muggle aggressors. You could try a Shielding Charm in a piece of jewellery or something," she started sliding off the bed, reaching for a little bag Harry hadn't noticed before. "Hold on, let me get my notebook, we can start writing these down."

"The Shielding Talisman isn't a bad idea. Aren't those super complicated to make, though?" Harry asked as Hermione pulled out a spiral notebook and a pen. She nodded distractedly.

"Yes, they're very tricky. There's no way we could make 12 in the near future. And they only last a few weeks, tops. And they only protect against muggle attacks, which of course is all we need here," Hermione jotted her thoughts down. Harry tapped his fingers together, idly watching Ron trying to balance his wand on his nose. "We could try a couple of those, at least. Along with something else."

"How many could we make in a week?" Harry asked, snatching Ron's wand out of the air when it fell. Hermione chewed on her pen.

"Three, at most," she said slowly, deep in thought. "There was a Hit List, right? Can we give them to the next people on the list?"

"And Kurt," Harry said instantly. When Ron and Hermione gave him oddly knowing, amused looks, he stammered. "He was the one who thwarted her last time. She might try to get to him."

"Fair enough," Ron wrestled his wand back from Harry, starting a minor tussle between them. "What about you hire magical bodyguards or something? Nice nails, by the way."

"Thank you, I think plum is my colour. And I don't want to be found, remember?"

They passed the entire night like that, talking and planning and catching up. They fell asleep in a pile on top of his covers a little after 4 am, Harry feeling that warm, protected feeling he always had with Ron and Hermione at his side.

Harry's alarm woke them at 7, prompting Ron to blast it through the door with a shout. Harry dragged himself to the shower as the other two just pulled down the covers of his bed, climbed under them, and went back to sleep. The hot water of the shower woke him up; he'd gotten less than an hour's sleep some nights of his training, so three hours was manageable. He pulled on a green t-shirt Kurt had mentioned he liked, a pair of black jeans, and a grey hoodie. He glanced at himself in the mirror and laughed; he looked like a muggle Slytherin. He shrugged and packed his school bag, giving Ron and Hermione one final, tender look before he slipped out the door. He had a quick breakfast with Remus, giving the man a big hug for surprising him with his friends, then drove off for school. He pulled into the parking lot at the same time as Kurt, managing to get out of his car fast enough to open Kurt's door for him. Kurt gave him a broad smile.

"Thank you, kind sir," he quipped, linking his free arm with Harry's the moment his feet hit the ground. Harry grinned at him.

"Anytime. So, you'll never guess what was waiting for me when I got home yesterday afternoon," the wizard had a bounce in his step and a gleeful look on his face. Kurt raised an eyebrow, speaking wryly.

"I'm guessing is was something better than the lecture waiting for me, thank you Mr Blabbermouth," Harry winced a little, having forgotten telling Burt Hummel about how close Kurt had come to dying.

"Oh, right. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. You deserved a lecture for giving me a heart attack like that," Harry winced when Kurt poked him roughly, pouting. "But yes, it was. Ron and Hermione have come over."

"Oh my God, really? That's great!" Kurt forgot his irritation in favour of squealing. "How long are they staying? Do I get to meet them?"

"Of course you get to meet them, and about 10 days," Harry squeezed the arm linked in his tighter as they approached Kurt's locker. "I'm so excited. We were up until, like, 4 this morning talking."

"I'm surprised you're conscious, I wouldn't be - oh, bite me."

Harry and Kurt paused in front of the taller boy's locker, Harry furious and Kurt exasperated. Written across Kurt's locker in permanent marker were the words, "go fucking die faggot and your boyfriend too." Kurt sighed and actually growled a little, letting go of Harry's arm to put his hands on his hips, "I hate it when they do this. The janitor is a perv, he always looks at me like a creeper when I go to get him."

"I can't believe you've had to get used to this," Harry shook his head in disgust, glaring at any student that looked amused or satisfied by the vandalism. "Why doesn't somebody do something? Mr Schuester or someone?"

"What can he do? Principal Figgans won't expel or suspend a jock, and if he gives them detention they'll just come after me harder," Kurt shrugged and opened his locker, sighing when a piece of paper slipped out of it. "Oh, goody. What's this one?"

He scanned it quickly, not noticing Harry's hands and jaw clenching in rage. He scowled at the paper, his jaw tight, "Well, that's creatively disgusting."

He tore the paper in two, then starting scrunching it into a ball. Harry spoke quietly, dangerously, "What did it say?"

"It was an Internet article about the rise in gay teenagers committing suicide, and someone had kindly listed various methods that I could - and apparently should - use to follow their example," Kurt's voice was flippant, but Harry could see the anger glinting in his eyes. Harry saw red.

"What?" he hissed, snatching the crumpled paper from Kurt and smoothing it out, holding the two torn pieces together against the locker. Sure enough, the title of the article proclaimed, "Gay Teen Suicide on the Rise: Peer Bullying or Authority Apathy to Blame?" Down the side of the article someone had written, "U can use a gun to blo ur brains out a knife to cut ur rists jump off a building drive ur car into a tree or wimp out like a girl and swallow pills like u swallow dick just hurry up and do it. u should die."

"Those fucking bastards," Harry snarled, feeling fury mixing with magic in his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Come on, don't set anything on fire, don't set anyone on fire, just stay calm. He stared down at the paper in his hands with more than a little horror. "Those fucking bastards! Has this happened before?"

"The notes in the locker thing?" Kurt shrugged widely, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. "Yes, fairly often. This is the first one to be so creative though."

"Creati-? Fuck, this is..." Harry trailed off, letting out a breath. He took a moment to sooth the rage in his chest, that burning, twisted feeling of wanting to hurt someone... that someone had said something so cruel to Kurt just enraged him, and he could feel his grief on Kurt's behalf like a punch to the stomach. The idea that anyone could want Kurt to kill himself - it went beyond his comprehension. "This is bullshit, Kurt. You did nothing to deserve anything like this."

"I know," Kurt took Harry's hand and squeezed it, shrugging a little with a half-smile. "But it's okay. They don't really bother me anymore."

Harry growled, using Kurt's hand to yank him forward and pull him into a hug. Feeling Kurt against him calmed him down, reassured him somehow. Kurt sighed but happily put his arms around Harry, letting the other boy get it out of his system.

"You are such a cuddle junkie," the taller boy teased, squeezing Harry tighter.

Harry snorted and muttered, "That's what Ron calls me."

"Well, he's right," Kurt chuckled, and Harry felt a tingling happiness spread throughout his body, making him smile involuntarily. He could feel the heat of Kurt through his thick, fuzzy grey sweater, and found himself wondering what it would be like to hug Kurt when he wasn't wearing a dozen layers. The thought made Harry blush and pull back a little, looking up at his friend thoughtfully. Kurt looked down at him, smiling. Their faces were very close; Kurt's breath was shifting Harry's hair. Harry could feel a niggling idea in the back of his head, like his brain and his body were collaborating to try and tell him something but he was just too stupid to get it. He suddenly noticed that Kurt was beginning to blush and shift nervously; Harry had been staring at him for a while. The smaller boy stepped back, looking away quickly.

"Sorry," he stammered, looking at the crumpled paper that was still clenched in his hands. "I didn't mean to - I got lost in thought."

"It's fine, it's all right," Kurt patted his hair down and fixed his already perfect fringe, shifting his weight and avoiding Harry's eyes."Um, if you still want to walk me to class we're going to have to hurry."

"Right, come on," Harry held out his arm stiffly, and Kurt took it. They walked to his class quickly, without talking. Harry's mind was whirling with confusion about his reaction, his distraction. The note was still clenched in his hand, and he glared at it. He waved goodbye to Kurt without really noticing, slipping down the hall to his Legal Studies class. He was nearly there when he saw Mr Schuester walking towards him, shuffling some files in his hand. Harry crumpled the two halves of the note in his hand, his tired brain trying to catch up to itself.

Kurt hates making a big deal out of the bullying, but he could get really badly hurt. Mr Schuester cares about his kids, he'll do something if I show him the note, but Kurt will be furious and it might make things worse. Merlin, why is this so hard? My head hurts.

"Harry?" the teacher slowed down next to the boy, looking concerned as Harry stood frozen in the middle of the hallway. "Are you okay?"

Damn it, I'm usually quicker than this.

"Sort of," Harry admitted, looking down at the note in his hands. The teacher saw the movement and blanched, reaching for the paper.

"Is that from the stalker? What does it say?" Mr Schuester sounded stressed and worried, but Harry just pulled the paper away and tried to smile.

"It's not from her, it's - I don't know that I should tell you," Harry frowned down at the note halves, shifting his weight. "I - they're two halves of a note Kurt got. But I don't think he'd want me to show you."

Mr Schuester sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Is it threatening?"

"Not really," Harry looked sheepish. "He'll be furious if I tell you, and he says it'll just make it worse. I want to tell you but - I'm not sure what to do."

The teacher barked a short laugh, a knowing flash of something in his eyes that reminded Harry of Ron and Hermione's shared glances that morning. Okay, what does everyone know that I don't?Mr Schuester cleared his throat and said, "I doubt he will stay mad at you for long. I don't think he can stay mad at you. Let me see the note, I'll do whatever I can to protect him."

Harry handed it to the teacher hesitantly, helping the man arrange his files so he could look at it. The teacher's brow furrowed as he began to read, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open when he came to the end, "Oh my God, that's horrible!"

"I know, but Kurt just seemed used to it," Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth, trying not to think too hard on Kurt's resigned, tired expression when he saw the words on his locker, not so much hurt or angry that someone was abusing him as annoyed at having to deal with the janitor. "Someone vandalised his locker too. Wrote crap on it telling him he should die."

"Damn it," Mr Schuester muttered, running a hand through his curly hair. "He had no idea who sent it?"

"He didn't say, but he didn't seem to," Harry shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea. You know, at my old school you would have gotten in a whole mess of trouble for the grammar in that note alone. Kurt says Principal Figgans refused to lay down the law, though."

"He does. He doesn't want to risk his sports teams, they bring in revenue for the school," Mr Schuester slipped the note into a file, shaking his head. "Thank you for bringing this to me, Harry. I'll show Principal Figgans. Maybe the idea that Kurt might kill himself because of the bullying here might spur him into action."

Harry's blood ran cold, "What?"

Mr Schuester's expression went from thoughtful to horrified in a heartbeat, "Oh, I don't think he ever would! No, I know he wouldn't. Kurt one of the strongest kids I know, and he's got a big support network. But Principal Figgans doesn't know that. If I suggest that this might push Kurt over the edge, and that if it did I would make sure the world knew he knew about it-"

"He'll have to do something to cover his arse, I get it," Harry nodded, still feeling a little nauseous. He could tell his face had gone pale at the suggestion of Kurt hurting himself, and he actually felt a little shaky. Oh, that is so going to give me nightmares, but why do I feel so sick? Mr Schuester looked at him guiltily, patting the boy on the shoulder.

"I didn't mean to scare you," The teacher said apologetically, squeezing Harry's shoulders. "I had no idea that it was such a trigger for you."

"It's not usually," Harry admitted, ducking his head. He scratched an itching scar with a shaky hand. "I've never - known anyone who did or anything. I just - Kurt means a lot to me, and I'm really tired and already stressed and I can protect him from the stalker, but I can't protect him from himself -"

"Harry, breathe," Mr Schuester commanded as Harry felt little flickers of anxiety flit in and out of his brain, just touches the edges of his perception. "Kurt's fine. He's not going anywhere. Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"I need to lie down," he muttered, feeling his head swim. A thought struck him, making him shut his eyes and groan. "Oh, goddammit, I didn't take my C-medication this morning. OR last night. No wonder I'm so emotional."

"Okay, I don't have a class now so I'll walk you to the nurses office. Do they keep any there?" Mr Schuester asked, supporting Harry with an arm around his shoulder.

"No, but I have some in my bag. I just need to be sitting down, it makes me a little weak for the first few minutes when it's been a while. Also, I need to be lying down now until the world stops spinning," Harry put a shaking hand to his forehead. Sweat slipped against his hands, and he realised that he must have just gone past the two hour mark of withdrawal. Harry suddenly noticed how shaky he was, and thought back to the last 12 hours.

I was okay with Ron and Hermione because I was already relaxed. I guess now that the physical symptoms are kicking in and I'm stressed because of Kurt getting that note that I'm so out of it. Maybe that was why I was being so weird around him? He made me feel a lot better.

Somehow, though, Harry knew it wasn't that simple.

Mr Schuester lead him carefully into the Nurse's office, sitting Harry down on the bed and fetching him a glass of water before going to wake the nurse up from her desk. Harry took his distraction to slip out a Calming Drought, swallowing it down and taking a gulp of water to cover the motion. He slipped the empty vial into his pocket just before Mr Schuester turned around. The teenager lay back on the uncomfortable cot gratefully, feeling the soothing drought cool his veins. He knew it would only take a minute, but he would have to make it seem like longer to avoid arousing suspicion. He shut his eyes and dozed as Mr Schuester quietly said goodbye and left, the nurse resuming her own nap at her desk. He must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to Kurt's soft hand brushing his hair out of his eyes, the boy's pale, concerned face hovering over him. Harry gave a sleepy smile, feeling giddiness pushing the fuzziness of sleep out of his brain.

"Hi," he mumbled, forcing his eyes to stay open. Kurt gave a warm smile.

"Hi yourself," he leaned back, and Harry realised that Kurt was sitting next to him on the nurse's office bed. Mr Schuester was shaking his head at the still sleeping nurse, and there were people milling in the hallway. Harry tried to sit up, the room spinning a little as he did. Kurt put a hand on his arm and the other on his back, steadying him and pulling him up. Harry blinked the sleep from his eyes.

"Wow, I was more tired than I thought," he muttered, rubbing his face. He looked between Kurt and Mr Schuester. "What time is it?"

"Just the start of third period," there was amusement lacing Kurt's words, and he smiled sympathetically when Harry looked at him in shock. "Yeah, you slept through two classes. Don't worry, though. Mr Schuester came to walk me to Math so I knew where you were and wasn't alone in the halls."

"Thank you," Harry coughed when he heard how husky his voice was. Mr Schuester just sighed.

"It's fine, Harry. Just make sure you remember to take care of yourself. I know everything that's been happening recently is stressful and scary but it can't take over our lives," Mr Schuester leaned against the desk with his arms folded, lecturing in what was probably an unconscious way.

"You do realise that there is a police officer guarding the door, right?" Kurt deadpanned, nodding at the uniformed officer standing just outside the glass door. Mr Schuester cringed as Kurt went on. "And Harry, while you're looking after yourself, can you look after me a little less?"

At Harry's confused look, Mr Schuester explained, "I spoke to Principal Figgans. He wants to have a meeting with Kurt and his father about the bullying problem."

Harry's eyes lit up with understanding, "Oh, right. The note. In my defence, I was pretty out of it. I probably wouldn't have told him without asking you if I'd been a little more myself. Still I think it's the right thing to do, but I'm sorry I went behind your back."

"Your confused state is the only reason I'm talking to you right now," Kurt informed him flatly, poking him in the side. Harry winced, trying to look apologetic. Kurt couldn't help but smile. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Harry, are you feeling up to Glee?" Mr Schuester broke in, smiling when Harry nodded. "Great! Let's get going. It doesn't look good when the teacher is late."

Kurt helped Harry to his feet and linked their arms when they walked out the door. They trailed behind Mr Schuester, who strangely seemed to be trying to give them privacy. Harry shrugged it off as the remains of the paranoia his withdrawal would have caused.

"So, final auditions today," Kurt murmured to him. "Are you sure you don't want to have a shot?"

"Very," Harry confirmed. Kurt laughed at his conviction.

"Oh, come on, you're not even going to think about it?" the taller boy teased, the light in his eyes making Harry feel odd again.

"No," Harry repeated just as quickly, earning a giggle from Kurt.

"Not even if your friends will be there? Mr Schuester, did you know that Harry's best friends flew over from England to watch him perform at Sectionals?" Kurt called. Mr Schuester slowed down, shooting Harry an equally teasing smile.

"No, I didn't know that. Maybe I should give him a solo, then, since they've come so far."

"I hate both of you."

"No you don't."

"I really do."

"Liar."

The two boys bantered back and forth the entire way to the choir room, Mr Schuester chuckling in front of them. The rest of Glee was already in the choir room, those auditioning warming up their voices and those not mucking around. Artie waved Harry over when he saw the other boy, and he and Kurt joined the bespectacled teen. Artie raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

"Where've you been? You didn't turn up to Legal Studies. I was freaking out," the boy in the wheelchair huffed as Harry and Kurt sat down. Harry's eyes widened, and he stammered.

"Oh shit, sorry! I didn't even think - I hadn't taken my meds and had an anxiety attack and ended up falling asleep in the nurses office-" he babbled, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Artie looked a little surprised at his anxiety, and raised a cautious hand.

"It's cool, it's cool. Don't stress about it now. Are you okay?" Tina was looking over Artie's shoulder as he spoke, she and Mike wearing similar expressions of curiosity and concern. Harry sighed.

"I'm fine. Just tired," he shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "It hasn't been a fantastic school day thus far."

"Okay, guys!" Mr Schuester called over the room, quieting the gleeks. "We've got five auditions to get through today, and they'll have to be great to beat the ones yesterday."

A playful "Ooooh," went up across the room, the kids auditioning on that day pulling faces at the kids who had auditioned the day before. Mr Schuester was grinning as he continued.

"Yeah, that's right. You had better bring your A-game. Puck, are you sure that you don't want to audition again? You didn't finish yesterday."

"It's cool, Mr Schue," Puck muttered, staring at his feet. Harry noticed that the boy had bags under his eyes and was a little pale; he was willing to bet the boy hadn't been able to sleep the night before. Puck continued quietly, gruffly, and Harry felt compassion welling up in his chest for the fear underpinning the mohawked boy's words. "I don't really want a solo now anyway."

The room was quiet and sad, gleeks exchanging glances and worried frowns. Rachel reached behind to grab Puck's hand, squeezing it gently. He just glared at her, but she didn't seem to take it personally, smiling at him kindly before she turned back around. Mr Schuester sighed, but continued without commenting, "Okay, does anybody want to go first?"

"I'll go, Mr Schue," Mercedes stood up, winking at Kurt when he whispered, "Go 'Cedes!" "I got this."

"Great!" the teacher smiled gratefully, moving to take a seat next to Brittany in the back row. "Whenever you're ready."

So Mercedes rocked out a powerful version of "I Never Loved A Man (The Way I Love You)" that left Kurt in proud tears and the room clapping wildly. Artie followed her with "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing," and Santana followed him with a surprisingly emotional version of "Don't Explain". Mike's version of "Iris," was kind of weak, but he still was given loud applause and encouragement. Tina went last with a version of Shakira's "The One," that got her a standing ovation. As the now blushing Goth rushed back to her seat next to Mike, Mr Schuester stood up, still clapping.

"This was great, guys, really amazing," he looked over at his kids with such pride that Harry felt a little out of place. "I honestly think we could win with any of the ballads. But I have to pick one and as good as you all were, one did stand out for me as the best."

Harry saw Kurt roll his eyes a little and glance over at a smug looking Rachel. The smaller boy frowned a little and put his hand on Kurt's. Kurt shot him a weak half-smile and shrugged.

Mr Schuester took a deep breath, "Kurt, the solo is yours."

Kurt's eyes flew back to the front. Mercedes squealed and Rachel's mouth dropped open. Harry grinned and started clapping, snapping the room out of its shocked daze and into applause. The gleeks started cheering and whistling as Kurt just stared at Mr Schuester in shock. Even Rachel started smiling grudgingly and joined in.

"Really?" Kurt nearly squeaked, and Harry's heart fluttered in... affection (that's some odd-feeling affection) at the awe and hope in Kurt's voice. Mr Schuester nodded and grinned

"Everyone was fantastic, don't get me wrong, and your voice is always good but you really outdid yourself with both the song choice and performance. If you sing that as half as well at Sectionals as you did at the audition yesterday, we've got this in the bag."

The group cheered again, and Mercedes nearly knocked Harry out of his seat in her rush to hug Kurt. Harry felt giddy on his friend's behalf, already planning on telling Ron and Hermione when he got home. He loved listening to Kurt sing. His voice was beautiful and unique, and he put so much of himself into the music that Harry was always touched when he heard him. Looking at him now, face beaming and teary-eyed over Mercedes' shoulder, Harry felt like singing himself. Kurt happiness was just delightful and contagious.

"So we've got less than a week until Sectionals - whoa!" Mr Schuester's mostly serious declaration turned into surprised laughter as Kurt (freshly escaped from Mercedes' clutches) suddenly barrelled up to him and hugged the man around the chest. The gleeks laughed as Mr Schuester patted Kurt on the back and the fabulous teen babbled, "Oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank you!" into his chest. The teacher continued when Kurt, now blushing pink but still grinning, rushed back to his seat and almost into Harry's lap in his excitement. "Well, I'm glad that decision has gone down well enough. But Sectionals is one week away, guys. And as awesome as our numbers are, they'll mean nothing without flawless execution. So we're going to have extra rehearsals: before school from seven, after school until six."

"Like, everyday?" Puck asked incredulously. Mr Schuester nodded.

"Unless you have football or cheerleading. We'll also have rehearsals Saturday and Sunday."

"And when we collapse out of exhaustion on stage, I'm sure the judges will be impressed by our technique," Mercedes looked disbelieving. "Come on, Mr Schuester. That's, like, 11 hours a day for over a week."

Kurt was still half draped across Harry as Mercedes, Santana and Quinn argued for fewer rehearsals. His legs were across Harry's lap, providing an oddly comforting weight as the two boys leaned in to whisper to one another.

"Congratulations!" Harry couldn't keep the grin off of his face at Kurt's giddy expression. Kurt was usually pretty composed, except for the odd occasion when it was just the two of them or Mercedes. Seeing him so openly overjoyed made Harry want to hug him tightly and laugh and...he didn't really understand what else it made him feel like doing. Something more intimate. What's more intimate than hugging? The wizard pushed the thoughts from his mind in favour of squeezing the knee draped across his fondly. "I'm really sorry I missed your audition now, but at least I'll see it at Sectionals."

"I know, I can't believe it," Kurt sighed happily and dropping his head forward, resting it on Harry's shoulder. "I have never had a solo outside of class. And I was up against Rachel and he still picked me."

"You deserve it," Harry whispered fiercely, eyes bright. "I don't need to have heard your audition, you have the most amazing voice."

Kurt looked up from Harry's shoulder, gazing into the other boy's green eyes through his eyelashes. There was a shy smile dancing around his pink mouth, and Harry's eyes caught there for a moment. Kurt's voice was still low and happy when he whispered, "Thank you."

They listened to the arguments for a few moments, Kurt still sighing happily against his shoulder, Harry contemplating how much he wanted to do something right now that he just couldn't put his finger on. It's right there, this urge, what is it? I know it.

"Come and meet Ron and Hermione tonight," Harry said suddenly. Kurt looked up from his shoulder, eyebrow raised.

"I'd like to, Harry, but my dad has kinda got me under house arrest right now," he rolled his eyes. Harry felt strangely like he'd been punched, and persisted.

"Call him. I'll drive you home and make sure you get everywhere okay. I really want you to meet them," he persuaded. Kurt looked up again. His expression was calculating and curious as he considered Harry's earnest expression. Harry got a strange feeling that Kurt understood what was happening in his head better than he did.

"I'll call him at lunch," Kurt eventually agreed, resting his head against Harry's shoulder again. "I can't make any promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you," Harry gave a small, contented sigh, and resumed listening to Santana explain to Mr Schuester in little words that if she didn't get eight hours of sleep a night, she would tear off his face with her manicured nails. Kurt's legs were still draped across his, and their arms were sort of tangled together. Kurt's head rested on his shoulder, and Harry should see the hint of a smile that was still softening his face. It occurred to the wizard that perhaps they should be uncomfortable - do friends sit this closely?Kurt's hands were soft under his, and the other boy's weight was soothing rather than oppressive. Finn was looking at them a little strangely but Harry's first urge was to pull Kurt closer, not push him away. It felt...nice.

I could get used to this, but something is missing.

"Okay, how about this," Mr Schuester compromised. "Before school Tuesday and Thursday, after school Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday all day and Sunday afternoon."

The group protesting the constant rehearsals deliberated in a huddle. Mercedes spoke for them, "You provide the pizza on Saturday and you've got yourself a deal."

"Great, everyone get that?" there were murmurs of agreement around the room. "Awesome. Let's run through We R Who We R a couple of times. Rachel, Finn, to the front."

Kurt climbed off Harry reluctantly, and Harry felt the loss of that warm weight heavily. He didn't understand his own reactions, his own longing. As he found his own place in the back row, he kept his eyes on Kurt near the front. He couldn't wait to introduce the boy to his friends, his family. He wanted them to know him, his brave, defiant, funny, brilliant, gorgeous friend. He wanted them to like him and approve of him so Harry could...what?

I don't know what the hell is up with me right now. My own thoughts make about as much sense as an Ancient Ruins textbook.

Harry couldn't help but keep his eyes on Kurt as they ran through the number. He watched as Kurt grinned and moved, his body sliding and shaking with the beat. Kurt didn't have the skill or talent in dancing that Mike and Brittany had, but he moved confidently, without shame. He was flexible, Harry noted as Kurt curved his back on what Harry would have thought was an impossible angle, and for some reason the observation made Harry's face heat up. He found himself blushing deeper when Kurt followed the girls' choreography (much to Mr Schuester's frustration) snapping his hips from side to side in a movement that made Harry step the wrong way into Finn, nearly sending them to the floor. Luckily, everyone seemed to take his red face when he apologised for the disruption for embarrassment for messing up the dance, rather than a confusing fixation on Kurt's hips. He kept his eyes on Mr Schuester after that. It was much harder to do than it should have been. He forced himself out of it as Glee ended, linking arms with Kurt as though he hadn't just been distracted by his hips. He spent the rest of the school day at Kurt's side, as usual, trading jokes with Mercedes and taking Artie's teasing with good humour. Hopefully, none of them will suspect that I've completely lost my mind.

Kurt called his father during lunch, arguing until he was allowed to join Harry for dinner from 5 to 9. Harry couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Today has just been confusing. I want to go home.