In which Blaine and Kurt end up despising each other, helping each other, and falling in love with each other, all under the backdrop of the magical school we all love.

He doesn't like the way Blaine never seems to see him. How his hazel eyes seem to glance right through him, how they passed over him as though he was invisible. Even when Kurt manages to catch him in a corridor, or at breakfast, or on the way to a lavatory, he finds some way to wiggle out of the Slytherin's grasp and avoid all possible eye contact. He realizes very soon that he misses Blaine in a way that he'd never missed anyone before; it's like he'd practically do anything – give anything – to arguing with the incorrigible boy again.

Kurt feels awful. He feels like there's a troll perpetually sitting on his chest as he moves around the castle, a hurt that he can't repair even with Finn constantly beside him. He had decided, when Blaine walked away, that Finn deserved a chance. Kurt wasn't about to throw away all his hard work - their hard work - for Blaine's confusing monologue of feelings that somehow hadn't made any sense at all.

Because Blaine had made it very clear that he didn't want Kurt in any way, platonic or not. So the harboring of a self-destructive crush on a boy that didn't really want anything to do with him was increasingly useless.

Right?

He shakes his head as he passes an empty classroom that, after the soft, tinkling sounds of keys being pushed reaches his ear, doesn't seem very empty at all. When he backtracks and peers inside, there's a familiar curly head sitting carefully on the edge of a piano bench, fingers dancing over the keys.

He doesn't hear Kurt walk in.

"Are you avoiding me?"

Blaine jumps a little, but he doesn't look around. His fingers slow on the keys and he's mentally chanting he's not there, he's not there, he's not –

"Blaine?" His name had never sounded so good on anyone else's lips, but he finds himself wishing that Kurt would never say it again. It hurts. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Of course not."

"I haven't seen you or talked to you or argued with you for a few –"

"I've been busy," He says roughly, fingers plunking roughly at the keys in front of him. Kurt swallows thickly.

"I just thought—"

"You thought wrong."

"Blaine, I just…I'm trying really hard to—"

"I have to go."

"Where?" The demand in his voice was brutal, even to himself. Blaine's eyebrow twitches upward, but he doesn't stop moving toward the door.

"Somewhere that you aren't. Okay?"

And that somehow hurts worse than anything else he could have thought up. It makes Kurt's chest freeze, his heart clench, and he can't find any words to shoot at Blaine's retreating back.

Without thinking about it, and without considering any consequences, Kurt shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out his want without finesse, pointing the tip directly at the back of Blaine's curly head.

"Impedimenta!"

He doesn't stay to watch Blaine trip over his own feet, to watch the Gryffindor land on his nose, or listen to the horrible crunch as it brakes. He just turns around and walks away.

Almost exactly like Blaine did.

"Anderson?"

He stops trying to lean his head back and meets the big green eyes of Sam Evans. He tries to murmur a hello, but the blood seeping out of his nose is alarming. The blonde pulls out his wand and mutters something under his breath; Blaine's nose snaps back into place with a sickening crack.

"You know, that's the second time that idiot has broken my nose," He manages through a mouthful of blood; Sam grimaces when he leans out a window to spit the liquid away. He doesn't ask any questions, though. He just pats Blaine gingerly on the back and waves his wand again, scraping off the blood left on the other Gryffindor's face.

"Maybe you should learn to dodge a little better, Anderson." He smiles, flicking his blonde hair out of his eyes. Blaine rubs a hand over his face and gives a shrug, trying not to feel entirely uncomfortable at the calculatingly look in those green eyes.

"Maybe."

"I heard that things have been rough for you two."

Blaine sighs and rubs furiously at his eyes, exhaustion seeping into his skin. "Where did you hear that, exactly?"

"Around." Sam leans against the wall, calculating gaze replaced with sympathy. "Did you break his heart?"

"Sort of the opposite." It's blurted and he doesn't think about it, but he guesses it's incredibly true. Without knowing, or perhaps knowingly, Kurt had taken his heart, thrown it to the floor, and let Finn help trample on it. He knows he should be angry, especially since the Slytherin had just broken his nose for the second time, but he can't find it anywhere within him to muster up the energy to hate him.

He guesses that came with loving someone.

"So he dumped you, then?"

"If people ask."

Sam nods and claps him on the shoulder again, softer this time and with more commiseration. It doesn't make Blaine feel any better, or give him any hope, but somehow it makes him feel less alone.

"You should take a shower."

"Nah, man. I'm going flying."

"It's storming."

"Do I look like someone who cares about a little rain?"

"You look like someone who could use a shower. And some sleep. And a good shag."

"…Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"I won't."

"Hey, Kurt!" A hand pushes into his, holding it tight.

He pulls away, retracting his fingers and tucking his hand carefully back into his pocket before anyone notices. "What, Finn?"

A dopey expression of hurt and confusion flashes across his face; Kurt quickens his pace, but the Frankteen's long gorilla legs seem to take one step for every five of Kurt's. "Is this a bad time?"

"I'm going to potions."

"I thought you had a free period."

Kurt sighs and scratches a tired hand across his forehead. "What is it?"

"I thought…I mean, I was hoping that maybe you'd want to come get coffee with me at Hogsmeade. Unless it's too soon." He seems to read something in the Slytherin's features that makes him uncomfortable. "I know things with Blaine didn't go very—"

"What?"

Finn lifts a shoulder. "He was telling the Gryffindors that you dumped him. He said you just weren't happy with him anymore."

Kurt gulps heavily. "Oh."

Finn gives him a sharp pat on the shoulder that knocks his balance off; he has to put a hand out to grasp the wall to keep from falling. Someone takes his shoulder, steadying him further, and he glances up to see Sam with a frown on his lips.

"Hi."

The blonde hugs him, but it's quick, and Kurt can see that there's some type of objective to this meeting. "I need your help with something."

"What's wrong?" Finn asks over Kurt's immediate consent; Sam sends him a sharp look that closes his mouth.

Turning to Kurt, the blonde starts, "Blaine's been on his broom for four hours. I can't get him down, and neither can Santana, and you know how threatening she can be."

"What's wrong with being on a broom for four hours? It's f—"

But a crack of thunder and the flash of lightening cut him off; Sam lifts an eyebrow and doesn't bother to answer.

Kurt shuffles uncomfortable under his insistent stare. "I'm probably the last person Blaine wants to see right now. I just…I broke his nose a few hours ago and he probably –"

"Trust me, Kurt, you're the first person he wants to see, and you broke more than just his nose."

The slight pleading look in Sam's face was too persuasive – at least, that's what he ends up telling himself as he drags his sorry backside into the howling wind and rain of the Quidditch pitch.

He spots Blaine flying high; he's not even chasing a snitch. He's just dipping and diving with the wind. Even from far away, Kurt can tell he's already soaked. There's another flash of lightening and Kurt covers his head like it could help somehow; he panics for a moment when Blaine's broom disappears beneath the sheets and sheets of rain.

Over the roaring storm, he shouts, "Hey, idiot!"

Blaine's broom wavers as he loses concentration; Kurt's heard falls into his stomach.

"Get down here!"

If something happened to him…

Blaine's broom zooms overhead.

Kurt breaks into a run.

"Stop right n - Ow! Fuck!" His foot catches in the muck and sends him tumbling into the saturated earth; there's a sharp pain in his elbow as he lands and the dry charm he'd cast on himself breaks. In seconds, he's drenched and lying in the mud.

He wants to cry.

Instead, though, he hears a resounding thump and strong arms grasp him around the waist. He's pulled up from the earth and planted shakily back on his feet. Once he's standing, however, he feels the tremors vibrate against him from the body holding him. Twisting in Blaine's arms, he feels his icy skin with shaking fingers.

"Jesus, Anderson, what are you thinking?"

"Y-you b-broke m-me."

"Locker room. Now."

The first thing Kurt does is turn one of the showers to the hottest temperature it can reach.

The second was ripping Blaine's tee shirt over his head and tossing it to the side.

"T-trying to s-strip me, H-hummel?" Even his grin is shaky. Kurt hushes him and ceremoniously shoves him under the hot water.

Which, of course, the Gryffindor flinches away from. "W-way t-too h-hot."

"Did you know that you could go into shock because you –"

"J-just s-shut u-up. I'm f-fine."

"You know what?" Kurt doesn't hesitate; the thought of losing Blaine, or Blaine even being sick, or hurt, makes him suddenly fearless. He strips off his own shirt and wraps his arms tightly around Blaine, pressing their bodies together and effectively sharing his body heat. Blaine trembles against him, but he rests his chin in the crook of Kurt's neck and grasps the Slytherin just as firmly as he was clutching the Gryffindor.

"You're insane." Kurt whispers to him, resting his cheek on top of Blaine's curly head as the shorter boy shivered. "And so stubborn. All the time. Don't you ever give it a rest?"

Inch by inch, Kurt shuffles them toward the shower, until Blaine's bare back and shoulders are submerged in the spray. Then, their heads. Kurt welcomes the added warmth with a sigh; Blaine's fingers start to trace circles in the sip of his lower back, rough fingertips smoothing over Kurt's flawless skin.

And slowly, very slowly, he stops shivering.

There's a point when Kurt knows he should let go and step away, but he can't bring himself to do so.

"Why'd you come find me?" Kurt feels Blaine's lips move against his jugular; he tightens his grip on the boy.

"Sam told me you were out there." He swallows. "He told me some other stuff too."

"Did he?"

"He told me that I broke something other than your nose."

There's silence, and Kurt can feel Blaine's heart beating.

It's beating fast.

"Sam doesn't really know what's he's talking about."

"Really?"

Blaine lifts his head, retracts his arms, moves away. Kurt feels immediately empty, alone, distraught. The Gryffindor crosses his arms and mumbles, "I've already told you how I feel, Kurt. I don't know what you expect me to—"

"When was this?"

"What?"

"When did you tell me how-?"

"Really?"

"I don't—"

"I love you." They're plunged into silence. Blaine's staring so intensely into his eyes that Kurt has to look away. "I love you more than I've ever loved anything. That's clique and corny, but it's true, Kurt. You're like fucking sunshine and you make me smile and I can't help but want you. I want every part of you, Kurt. Every cynical, egotistical, irritating, perfect, beautiful part of you, and I don't know what to do about it. Because you don't love me back, and it hurts. It hurts so badly, Kurt, all the time. It hurt when you finally got what you've wanted for so long, but I can't ever bring myself to hate you, because I want you to be so happy. So you can just pretend this didn't happen, that I'm not saying this, and be happy with Finn and have cute, incredibly tall babies and –"

But Kurt plunges forward just then, capturing his lips and the last bit of willpower Blaine had been saving for his dramatic exit. It's coarse, deprived, and exhilarating. Like they would never see each other again, like they only had this moment. Blaine's hands are everywhere; tracing his jaw, pushing through his perfect hair, digging into the small of his back. Their lips met with a fanatical need, both seeking something that they couldn't find anywhere else, no matter how hard they tried, or how well they pretended. Blaine's fingers slip into Kurt's back pockets, dragging his pelvis closer, sinking harder into him. The soprano moans into his mouth, like Blaine's the one thing he needs to be whole again, to be happy. His tongue sweeps out, licking a line across Blaine's pouty bottom lip, and between gasps and friction and desperation, he murmurs, "I love you, too. For so long."

And in that moment, Blaine felt inexpressibly, irreplaceably, indescribably happy.

:) At last.

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