Disclaimer: I don't own glee or Harry Potter.

27th July 1997

Camden Town, London

10:33am

Mrs Granger picked up the discarded post-it and stuck it back on the notice board; unsure who the task belonged to, she stuck it in the uncategorised region. Hermione's area was crowded, she had let her tasks fall to the wayside and Mrs Granger suspected it had something to do with all the bad news that filled The Daily Prophet. Hermione had her secrets and she had her secrets too, Kurt Hummel had signed them up for a subscription to the Prophet when he'd done the same for his parents- the Grangers were very much aware of the changing time despite being muggles.

She started filtering the items under Hermione's section that she'd done on her daughter's behalf when she came across a phone number that she didn't recognise. She contemplated completing this task on her daughter's behalf but feared it might be a private matter. She was torn, there was only so much she could do for Hermione, being a muggle meant that she couldn't help Hermione with her magical problems but a phone call was still within her power.

The decision was made and Mrs Granger carried the post it to the lounge telephone, "George, would you turn down the telly. I want to make quick phone call."

"But Manchester's winning!"

"City or United?"

"United!"

"Oh," she rolled her eyes, a habit she'd picked up from her daughter, "this won't take long. Besides, the volume that they are playing in this lounge has no bearing on the match's outcome."

"Your daughter is a witch who does literal magic and yet you remain obstinate," George shook his head, "not a superstitious bone in your body."

"You think that your shouting at a match that has a thirty second delay has an effect on events that have happened?"

"When you put it that way…"

"Yes George," she smirked, "now turn it down or I'll turn it off."

"Very well."

Mrs Granger took the seat beside the telephone and dialled the number.

"Hello," the voice on the other end answered.

"Yes, Hello," she nodded to herself, "this is Anne Granger, calling on behalf of Hermione Granger. May I ask with whom I am speaking?"

"Oh, right," the person on the other end seemed flustered, "sorry, I'm new here. This is the Headington Road Cemetery, how can I help you Ms Granger?"

"Mrs," she heard herself correcting.

"Sorry, Mrs Granger."

"I'm calling in connection to the business of one Hermione Jean Granger, this is her mother," her brow had furrowed itself by now, "but I don't think I have the right number…"

"Oh, let me look her up on the computer," Mrs Granger waited whilst the receptionist on the other end of the line clicked away on the keyboard, "Nothing for a Hermione Granger."

"Maybe one of her friends is buried there," Mrs Granger guessed, "a Cedric Diggory?" the reception answered to the negative, "Finn Hudson?" again, her guess was proved to be false, "Sirius Black."

"I'm sorry ma'am," the receptionist pronounced ma'am like palm, as opposed to the proper, like ham, "there isn't anyone by that name buried here."

"Thank you for your time," Mrs Granger smiled politely despite her partner in conversation being unable to see it, "I'll be sure to encourage my daughter to improve her penmanship. Goodbye."

George was staring at her with his brow furrowed, "What was that all about?"

"I was trying to complete one of Hermione's chores for her," she explained, "I thought I could make a phone call on her behalf because I can't help her enchant her purse."

"That was very thoughtful of you," her husband smiled.

"she scribbled this number down carelessly," she shook her head, "this is the telephone number of cemetery in Oxford."

"None of her friends…"

"None of the ones she's mentioned to us," Mrs Granger shrugged, "Mione!" her daughter didn't respond, "Mione come down here."

"Just a moment mum."

"I'll have to tell her that I tried to ring them up," she got to her feet, "What were you thinking for sup?"

"Oh," the man's grin grew wide, "you're spoiling me."

"Should I ring the chippy next?"

"Extra vinegar on my chips!"

"George," she shook her head, "I know how you like your chips, been married to you for near twenty-five years."

"People change Annie," the man shrugged, "you've changed quite a bit."

"Yes," she nodded to herself, "like I'm about to change into the kind of mother who smacks her daughter! Do you hear me Hermione Granger? I'm going to get the wooden spoon like my mum used to."

Hermione entered the lounge from the kitchen, all her post-its in hand, "here I am mum."

She looked on the verge of tears, "what's wrong honey?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "I'm fine."

Mrs Granger noticed Hermione's purse, "you going out with your friends? I was about to call to chip shop."

"Yes," Hermione smiled but her eyes stayed sad.

Mrs Granger handed Hermione the post-it with the wrong number, "I tried calling for you, I think it might be a wrong number. Unless you have business with the Headington Road Cemetery."

"Thank you, mum," Hermione hugged her tightly and whispered in her ear, "I love you so much."

"I love you too Mione," Mrs Ganger held her daughter for a moment, "let me get my purse, I have a few galleons to spare from stationary shopping."

Hermione hugged her father and he told her he loved her too; when Mrs Granger turned back from retrieving her purse, Hermione had her wand pointed at them "Hermione Jean Granger, have you lost your mind?"

"I'm so sorry," their daughter was sobbing as she slowly backed away from them, "Patrificus totalus."

~0~

Three Weeks Earlier…

Kurt rolled his eyes at his friends, "please stop offering to open your homes to me for the summer, it makes my life sound sad."

"You aren't going to Peru, your family is gone and your brother is dead," Hermione recounted, "that is sad."

"Or you could look at it like this," Kurt smirked, "I'm going to be enjoying a summer at home with no parental supervision or anyone to share my money with."

"Damn," Ron grumbled, "now I want my family to leave and my brother to die…" he straightened up, "not that I don't love them but I could spare Percy and I hate sharing."

"But you have to spend time with your mother in case you're the brother they can spare," Kurt chided the boy.

"I know," Ron nodded to himself, "and we'll see each other in less than a month at the wedding."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed, "just going to be spending time with my parents in case I die."

"And you want me there why?"

"It will seem less final and sad with you there," Hermione tried to convince him, "stop me from falling to pieces everyday."

"This is why I don't want to be part of your long goodbyes," Kurt shook his head, "Hermione is going to be weepy because she really loves her family and they are helpless muggles. Ron is going to be having a 'day a family member' realisation of how each of them have a special place in his life. Harry Potter is going to be realising that things with his aunt and uncle weren't that bad and that he owes them so much for raising him."

"What?" Harry pursed his lips, "I don't think so."

"Trust me," Kurt smirked, "I've been through enough therapy to know how this is going to play out."

"At least your one sounds like a happy moment, where you grow and learn a life lesson," Hermione sulked, "You're discovering that you secretly loved your family the whole time, I'm just losing my parents."

"Now that's sad," Kurt shook his head.

"I supposed learning that I cared about Percy all along doesn't seem so bad," Ron shrugged, "I could convince Ginny that her plan to fight for Harry might get her killed."

"Lisa is super territorial and it is so hot," Harry agreed, "the only person nearly as interested in me is Voldemort and I don't feel the same way."

"is it because he doesn't have a nose?" Ron teased before turning serious and turning to Kurt, "have you figured out why he doesn't have a nose?"

"Do your homework and you'll figure it out," Kurt smirked.

"No, he won't," Hermione shook her head, "It's not in the books, you read about that part of it in Peru."

"How is it a good idea for you not to go back to Peru?"

"I don't need to go to Peru," Kurt rolled his eyes, "I need to find the deplorable word."

"Oh, yes," Harry rolled his eyes, "the answer to all our problems."

"You roll your eyes at me again and I'll blind you," Kurt's voice was low and intimidating.

"I know," Harry nodded, "it's our best chance of completely destroying the dark lord."

"What else?"

"Kurt is always right," Harry recited the saying with no emotion.

"It's tattooed on Charlie's body so it must be true," Ron chuckled.

"Precisely," the train jerked to a stop next to a crowded platform nine and three-quarters. Kurt got to his feet and clutched his Birkin close to him, "speaking of, I have to see a man about a ride."

Hermione gaped at him and shook her head, "Don't be crass."

"I mean a ride to my house," Kurt shook his head, his disappointment evident in his face, "keep your mind out of the gutter, Harry and Lisa's lack of inhibitions has turned your mind to smut."

"In my defence," Ron grinned, "my mind was always smut."

"I think I'm going to introduce Lisa to my Aunt Petunia," Harry nodded to himself, ignoring their conversation, "I think she'd approve."

"That's sweet," Kurt pursed his lips, "see, Harry's little summer arch is starting already."

Ron rolled his eyes, "I'll be nice to my siblings, but Ginny is on her own, I like Lisa."

"She grows on you," Kurt nodded his agreement, "she's a tall drink of being her own damn self; she'll never be Mandy or Tracey, but I respect her comfort with just being Lisa Turpin."

"I think there might have been a complement buried somewhere in there," Hermione held back a giggle, "that may be the highest praise she'll receive from Kurt."

"And it doesn't mean shit to me or her," Harry grinned broadly, "I love her and that doesn't need to be qualified by anyone-"

"Let's leave that thought there," Kurt narrowed his gaze in warning, "let's not say something we'll regret."

"How could I regret it?"

"I could take away your claim to fame."

"You think I like the cries of 'Bless my soul, you're Harry Potter'?"

"I think Kurt meant that he'd remove the 'who lived' from you title," Ron cleared his throat, "leaving you as just 'the boy'."

"It was a death threat," Kurt clarified.

Harry swallowed loudly, "I just remembered that I'm quite fond of the claim, you can take the fame though." He nodded vigorously, "thank you for approving of my girlfriend."

"You want Kurt's approval," Ron placed a hand on his shoulder, "look at what happened with me and Ming, Kurt made her my cousin and saved me a lot of wasted time."

"I don't have the power to make anyone related to any single person," Kurt spoke the disclaimer as he stepped off the train. Before he could find his footing, he was snatched up and twirled aggressively in a bearhug of note, "put me down."

"But I missed you," Charlie argued.

"You saw me this morning," Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I know," Charlie pouted, "but I love you."

"I love you too, but put me down," Kurt stared the young man down.

"There's no Professor McGonagall to hide behind now," Charlie blew a raspberry on Kurt's clavicle, "you have no choice but to let me love you."

"You mother could see," Kurt chided.

"My mother isn't in charge of me."

"Does she know that?" Ron whispered as he stood watching the pair.

"Stop staring like pervert Ron," Charlie chastised his brother, "it's kind of creepy."

"I know a place where there's no Ron to watch," Kurt purred, "if you put me down then we can go there and show our love with the comfort of bottomless champagne."

"Tempting but that's not where I'm taking you," Charlie planted a peck on Kurt's lips, "say goodbye to Hermione."

"Put me down first."

"Say goodbye to Hermione," Charlie repeated himself with more force.

"Goodbye Hermione," Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'll call you later."

"Say goodbye other people," Charlie instructed.

"You're lucky I love you," Kurt grumbled, "Goodbye everyone else."

His friends peered at him with confusion, "bye Kurt."

Charlie kissed him more deeply and Kurt felt the familiar tugging of apparition, his nostrils were assaulted by the saline smell of the seaside and Kurt opened his eyes to find they were on the beach. Charlie put Kurt down and gestured to the deserted stretch of beach for Kurt to take in.

"I'm familiar with the ocean," Kurt pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

Charlie turned back to Kurt and wrapped his arms around him again, "just because you're irish twin died doesn't mean you get to be snarky about my kind gesture."

"Finn was English," Kurt countered.

"It's a colloquialism," Charlie shook his head.

"I'm familiar with the offensive term," Kurt cocked his hip, "I don't mean to be this salty… I was going to take Finn to the seaside this summer…"

"Shit," Charlie's face fell, "I try to take you away from the crippling reminder of your dead brother and bring you to another."

"There's no way you could have known," Kurt took his boyfriend's hands, "My brother died, there's nowhere I won't think of him. This is a very sweet gesture and I love that you thought of this."

"Well," Charlie turned Kurt a hundred and eighty degrees, "that solitary cottage is ours for the next few weeks."

Kurt's eyes grew wide as he took in the gable roofed cottage sitting beyond a path lined by sea lavender. It took everything in him not to cry, he had to be strong and accept this kind gesture with grace. The idea that there was still someone left to care for him when he'd sent his parents off, lost his brother and let his friends go be with their families tried its hardest to overwhelm him.

"This isn't even the best part," Charlie took his hand and led him up the path to the simple pine door. He unlocked it and gestured for Kurt to enter, "I'll carry you over the threshold some other day."

"Or I'll carry you."

"Is that a short joke?"

Kurt smirked and entered the cottage without a word. All the furniture was covered in white tarps, but the surprise was the popping from behind him. He turned to find Charlie standing with a freshly opened bottle of champagne, pouring Kurt a flute full.

"The best part," he handed Kurt a flute, "is that I bought the bubbles with us and prepared many books for us to read and fight over."

"Kiss me you fool," Kurt pulled his boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss that made his whole world spin on both axis simultaneously. Kurt drank the young man like he was the only glass of water after months in the desert, "god, I love you."

"I think it would make things a little awkward if you didn't," Charlie teased, nipping at Kurt nose.

Kurt sipped his sparkling wine and smirked, "that train trip has me exhausted." Kurt stretched casually, faking a yawn, "I think I'm going to take a bath and then go to bed."

Kurt put his flute down on the kitchen table and removed his school robe, letting it fall to the floor. He loosened his tie as he walked toward the hallway and hung it on a chair as he passed it. he turned back to Charlie as he unbuttoned oxford shirt, "are you just going to stand there or are you going to bring the champagne? My glass is empty."

~0~

Ron:

Kurt had not lied, the thought of losing his family had given Ron a fresh appreciation of them but two and a half weeks with them had worked very hard to dispossess him of this new-found appreciation for them. Ron had to get out of the house and that was how he found himself standing on a sand dune in Cornwall overlooking a rustic cottage with stone chimney sticking out of its gable roof.

He skipped down to the front door and knocked, nobody answered. Ron, being learned in the magical arts, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lock, "Alohamora."

The lock clicked open and Ron entered the familiar lounge he had visited as a child, it was deserted but he could hear Kurt quarrelling with his brother. He didn't remember the cottage well, but somehow it felt familiar to him. He moved into the hallway, then from door to door, trying to locate the conversating pair. When he opened the third door in the hallway, Kurt screamed in horror.

"Ronald Billius Weasley," Kurt scolded him from the bathtub, where he sat behind Charlie with water and bubbled hiding their bodies below their chests, "what are you doing here?"

"Yeah, you little dick," Charlie scolded, "why are you here?"

"I don't know what I'm looking at," Ron shook his head, "are you two fucking?"

"No," Kurt sounded scandalised and Ron let out a relieved breath, "we're reading." Charlie waved the book in his left hand around, "and I'm grooming him."

"And keeping me toasty," Charlie kissed Kurt's arm, "my human hot water bottle."

"What are you doing here Ron?"

"I was bored," Ron shrugged, "Hermione was super depressing when I visited her the other day, Harry wasn't up for company either…" he scratched at the back of his neck, "Charlie is my brother and you're in love with him so you have to put up with me."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly, "Fine, do you want to get in with us while I finish up?"

"What?" Ron and Charlie shouted in tandem.

"It's a joke boys," Kurt rolled his eyes, "sit on the hamper, we're discussing Kindred by Octavia E. Butler."

"I read it out loud to Kurt and we analyse the prose," Charlie explained, "discuss the themes."

"Are you familiar with the novel?" Kurt stared at him expectantly.

"No," Ron shook his head, he looked at Charlie, "and you're enjoying this?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I'm not all about quidditch and dragons. This book explores the experiences of Black women in two different periods of American History, after James Baldwin opened our eyes to the black gay experience last week we're really gripped by the female perspective offered by this book."

Ron was shocked that this was the same easy-going brother he'd grown up around, he fell onto the hamper, "I don't even know you… I've been growing bored of mum and dad but here you are, a complete stranger."

"Did you think Kurt loved me just for my biceps?"

"I never considered it," Ron shook his head, "you two had chemistry and you both have a thing for dragons."

"Kurt and I also like good story," Charlie grinned, summoning a flute for him and filling it, "through many mediums. 'Was it dusty on the train' is from a song in Bette Midler movie."

"Come on now Charles," Kurt kissed the crown of Charlie's head, "let's not bore Ron with the intricacies of our love language."

"I'm not bored," Ron shook his head, "I'm just realising that I know about Charlie, but I don't know him." He shrugged, "I didn't know he was gay until I figure out he was suitor-ing you."

"I'm not gay," Charlie furrowed his brow and Ron mirrored the expression, "why would you think I'm gay?"

"Is Hummelsexuality just a thing I didn't know about?"

Charlie quirked a curious brow, "Hummelsexuality?"

"Something one of my suitors said," Kurt shook his head dismissively.

"So," Charlie stared the slender young man down, "I shouldn't be concerned? Jealous even?"

"I'd prefer it if you were jealous," Kurt leaned forward and placed his chin on Charlie's tattoo, "should I bring up the Serpent of Slytherin?"

"Excuse me," Ron interrupted their banter, "but, if Charlie's not gay…" he gestured between the pair of them, "what is going on here? Am I witnessing bisexuality in the flesh?"

Charlie looked to Kurt, he shrugged, and Ron watched his brother clench his jaw, "not that it's any of your business, but I'm pansexual. I love Kurt for the know-it-all twit at his centre." Ron had to turn away when his older brother got to his feet, "will you hand me the bath sheets?"

"Do you have no modesty?" Ron scolded him as he passed the stack of towels back.

"Aren't you a metaphorical ken doll?" his brother teased, "your brother's willy shouldn't have any effect on you, least of all frighten you."

"Just because this isn't sexual doesn't mean it isn't wrong."

"All covered," Ron turned back to Kurt covered completely in a towel, and Charlie drying his hair in the buff. The pair chuckled at his expense, "I'm even flaccid, no need to blush. How do you shower at Hogwarts?"

"What?" Kurt turned to him with confusion written on his face.

"The shower room," Ron and Charlie chorused.

"Gryffindor is truly a house for savages," Kurt shuddered, "in Slytherin we have individual showers in a communal bathroom."

Charlie gaped at him, "so you never sneaked a peak at anyone's willy?"

"No," Kurt squared his shoulders, "All the penises I saw during my tenure at Hogwarts were looked upon with my entire chest."

Kurt turned up his nose and left the bathroom, Ron turned back to Charlie and his ears got hot once more. The other boy looked at him expectantly, "take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Don't be gross," Ron shook his head and got up to leave.

"Come on Ron," Charlie wrapped his towel around his waist and threw his arm over Ron's shoulder, "don't be such a baby. This is the teddy bear thing all over again."

Ron grew angry for the first time that day, "it certainly isn't."

"How is this different?"

"The teddy bear thing scarred me for life," Ron heard himself getting heated, "I'm still terrified of spiders and by extension my teddy bear. You people's help had the opposite outcome from the desired one."

"Well," Charlie shrugged, "depends on how you look at it."

"What do you mean?" Ron gaped at his brother, "I'm still afraid of spiders."

"but you stopped sleeping with that teddy bear before going to Hogwarts," Charlie shrugged, "seems like mum got exactly what she wanted."

"Mum?" Horror buzzed through Ron's mind, "mum was in on it?"

"Only person who is innocent in the miseducation of Ron Weasley was dad," Charlie clapped him on the shoulder with little comfort, "mum was the mastermind."

"That's awful," Kurt shook his head, appearing from the bedroom all dressed up, "you poor baby."

Ron was awed, "that was quick."

"Perfection doesn't take long when you're already as close as I am," he pointed Charlie in the direction of the bedroom and led Ron to the kitchen, "more bubbles?"

"Yes please," Ron held out his empty flute for a refill.

"What about a sandwich?" Kurt looked at him expectantly with hands on hips, "I don't really cook."

Ron scratched his chin in confusion, "I thought you used to share recipes with Ming's mother."

"Let me rephrase that in a more 'mean' way," Kurt cleared his throat, "I don't cook for people who aren't me."

"Sounds selfish," Ron challenged his friend, "what about when you have kids?"

"Ew," Kurt shuddered, "no."

"And it's not a matter of chance with us," Charlie walked up to Kurt and kissed him on the cheek, "we're certain."

"People with children don't enjoy the same luxuries as those who aren't pinned down by anything," Kurt shook his head, "I want a proficient grasp of multiple disciplines of magic, I want to travel, I want to write several books, I want freedom." He crossed his arms, "children don't fit that picture."

"What about Charlie?" Ron countered, "do you cook for him?"

Kurt smiled at his boyfriend, "the opportunity hasn't presented itself."

"You've been here for more than two weeks," Ron shook his head, "what have you been eating?"

"There's a little bistro down the road," Charlie slipped into the seat opposite him, "they have an amazing selection of Italian dishes."

"And on nights we're too lazy to walk down the road-"

"If you say you live on your love then I'm going to throw up."

"No," Kurt chuckled, "that level of cheesiness is beyond our scope."

"Well," Charlie tilted his head from side to side, "is it?"

"It certainly is," Kurt snapped, "I was going to say that Charlie cooks." Kurt gave up on offering him a sandwich and slid into the seat beside Charlie, "So, why are you here Ron?"

"You're not taking I missed you as an excuse?"

"You always miss me when I'm gone," Kurt nodded, "it makes your life feel wrong, but this is the first time that you've actively sought me out."

"Well," Ron took several deep breaths, "everything is going fine, I've forgiven my family for doing nothing-"

"Thank you." Charlie glared at him.

"You're welcome," Ron dismissed his brother, "but… I'm scared."

"Scared?" Kurt stared at him expectantly, "what are you afraid of?"

"It doesn't matter!" Ron slammed his open palms on the table and got to his feet, "I'm in Gryffindor, I shouldn't be afraid!"

"Did you people grow up in a repressive Gryffindor themed regime?" Kurt looked from Ron to Charlie, "because that is the only explanation I can think of for why you're so stoked on Gryffindor."

"You wouldn't understand-"

"Because I wasn't fortunate enough to be inducted into the cult of foolhardiness?"

"No," Ron grumbled.

"Then make me understand why you actually think the house system is this literal," Kurt took his hand and Ron felt warm inside, "because other than naivety I hope you've outgrown, I don't understand what it is."

"I'm…" Ron let out a defeated sigh, "I have to stand up be counted but… it doesn't feel natural. How does doing the right thing not feel natural?"

"Because mum told us we should always be brave?" Charlie's eyes swam with empathy, "that Gryffindors and Prewetts face danger bravely? That her brothers had died to stop You-know-who?" Ron mumbled an agreement, "she was wrong. They should have been afraid, if they had been a little more fearful then Ming Prewett might have a father."

"Deep," Ron tried to force a chuckle, but his body did not cooperate.

Charlie shook his head, "fear is your body's way of letting you know that there's danger, without it you die."

"The house system also isn't set in stone," Kurt smiled gently and warmed his insides again.

"It's flexible," Charlie agreed.

"If that hat took only our most dominant traits into consideration then Neville would be in Ravenclaw or Slytherin," Kurt smiled broadly, "it might not have been outwardly obvious at first but sweet Admetus loves to hit the books, he's also driven by sense of self-preservation; he asked to be in Gryffindor like his father because he thought it would make his grandmother proud."

"Should I be jealous?"

"I'll say it again, you should always be jealous," Kurt rolled his eyes, "Neville has navigated his life in a manner that would secure him the best possible outcome, that is the core of the Slytherin house ethos."

"Bill would have been in Ravenclaw," Charlie added with a shrug, "so would Percy. I'd have been in Hufflepuff but it felt wrong to be in any house but Gryffindor, the hat takes that into consideration."

"Cedric was prime Gryffindor A-grade beef," Kurt shrugged, "Finn was silly but he'd have been at home in Gryffindor as well."

"You could have been in Ravenclaw," Charlie beamed at Kurt, "I'm glad you're a little bit evil though."

"Stop it," Kurt blushed, and Ron had to stifle a giggle.

"I will not," Charlie had lowered his voice and moved his face closer to Kurt's, Ron cleared his throat to remind them that he was still there.

"A friend of mine once said 'It's one thing when a brave man stands up and fights, but it's something special when a fearful man stands up to defend what is right'."

"Tracey Davies?" Ron guessed.

"No," Kurt shook his head with glaring disappointment, "you said that."

"I did?" Ron tried to remember being that insightful, blushing at his willingness to credit another with his wisdom.

"Do you know what I once told Harry Potter?"

"No," Ron shook his head.

"It's not about being chosen, it's about what you choose," Kurt's smile warmed the room, "do you think I was chosen to stand opposed to the Dark Lord? There was no divine anointing of us as his enemies, we all made the choice at some point." Kurt tilted his head and sadness filled his eyes, but his smile stayed fixed in place but the warmth drained, "I was just looking out for you idiots, the Dark Lord only became my enemy when he killed Cedric."

"but the Chamber of Secrets-"

"Hermione and Finn were in danger as muggle-borns," Kurt shrugged, "and it was also a fun puzzle to solve" Kurt chuckled and the warmth returned to his smile, "the philosopher's stone was a test of my wits, and in third year I gave literally zero fucks about Sirius Black's escape."

Ron narrowed his gaze and squared up with Kurt, "What if he hadn't killed Cedric?"

"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, pulling his hand away and resting it on his lap, "if he hadn't killed Cedric, then everything would be different." Kurt was silent for a moment, "this wouldn't affect me the same way, I'd still be reluctantly following Harry's lead and fixing what you guys break but I don't think I'd have as big a target on my back."

"Bellatrix would still be after you," Ron suggested.

Kurt shook his head, "I only played up my true parentage to show people that your genetic history has bearing on where you choose to do going forward." Kurt chuckled to himself, "I'd be someone completely different, I could have moved and transferred to new school in country where they didn't have a Dark Lord problem."

The room was silent for a moment, a thick tension hanging over them. Kurt turned to Charlie with a small smile on his face, "I sound awful."

Charlie pulled him in closer, "you said it yourself, you'd be a different person. I don't know that person, I know you."

"You guys are so cute it's disgusting," Ron rolled his eyes.

~0~

Harry:

Harry was nervous and was pacing a bald spot into Aunt Petunia's carpet. He had convinced himself that introducing Lisa to his Aunt was a good idea and the day had come, it had to be now or never because the dining room would be packed away tomorrow for the Dursley's to go into hiding.

"You afraid your imaginary girlfriend won't show?" Dudley tilted his head curiously, despite his choice in vocabulary there was no malice in his tone.

"I'm nervous," Harry answered in a civil tone, "what if Aunt Petunia doesn't like her."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Dudley smiled broadly, "she definitely won't like her, mum doesn't like anyone."

"Thank you for that Dudley," Harry shook his head, "real comforting."

"It should be," the boy stared at him as if he were stupid from where he sat blocking the staircase, "you can relax because there's no impressing mum."

The doorbell rang at exactly six and Harry was obstructer by Aunt Petunia's slender arm when he moved to answer, "I am the hostess, I get the door."

Harry heard his aunt gasp but couldn't see what was going on because she was blocking his view, but he heard Lisa speaking, "Good evening, I'm Lisa."

"Please," Aunt Petunia turned to allow Lisa to enter, "come in dear."

Dudley gasped as well, it took all of Harry not to smirk smugly. Lisa was dressed in a modest floral summer dress with her hair cascading in soft strawberry blonde curls; Harry looked from her to Aunt Petunia, who was also wearing a floral summer dress, and was awed by the similarities between the two blue eyed women. Aunt Petunia cleared her throat with contempt and Dudley pushed past Harry to shake Lisa's hand.

"Lisa," Harry shook the fog from his mind, "thank you for coming, welcome to our home."

"There are drinks in the lounge," Dudley moved to usher her into the next room but Aunt Petunia held him back, Lisa was too good for Harry but not good enough for Dudley.

Lisa turned to Aunt Petunia, "my mother instilled in me that one must always arrive with a gift for the hostess."

Lisa opened her clutch and pulled out a beautifully wrapped bottle of wine. Aunt Petunia gave her a tight-lipped smile, she was in two minds; Lisa was behaving exactly as a guest should, but she had pulled the bottle from a purse too small to hold a bottle of wine. Harry waited to see how his aunt would react.

Her smile turned kind, "thank you dear."

"You have a lovely home," Lisa smiled politely, "I love the crown moulding, is it original?"

"Yes," Aunt Petunia nodded enthusiastically, "the fittings are original but I have updated the space myself. The wallpaper-"

"Is Graham and Brown," Lisa gushed and Harry wasn't sure who he was seeing. She suddenly turned to Harry, "Your Aunt has been on her feet all day, might you prepare a drink for her." Harry nodded, unsure if Lisa or Kurt had shown up for dinner when she turned back to Aunt Petunia, "You have exquisite taste."

"Thank you," she smiled broadly, but it was different from her normal guest smile. That smile always seemed forced to Harry, today seemed more natural. Harry poured each of the women in his life a glass of chardonnay, when he handed Aunt Petunia her glass she giggled girlishly, "oh, this early."

"You deserve it," Lisa encouraged her.

Harry nodded his agreement, "As Kurt always says, wine is just water Jesus has been to."

"Oh, that Kurt is so… eccentric," Harry watched Lisa but she didn't react to the dog-whistle. Kurt would have said something, even if it was a back handed comeback. Aunt Petunia took a sip of her wine and giggled like she was being so bad, "So Lisa, what is it your parents do?"

"My parents are in retail," Lisa smiled politely, "they own a bookshop."

"In…" Aunt Petunia's voice trailed off.

"Sussex," Lisa nodded, disabusing his aunt of the idea that her parents were anything short of normal, "we're quite close to the university."

Aunt Petunia's smile returned, "Harry's uncle is the director of a drill making company, I'm not sure if you're familiar with Grunnings."

"Am I ever," Lisa giggled politely, "you'd think those bits put the shelves up for my father, he's always raving about how hard it is to find a quality drill bit." She took a swig of her wine, "if my mother knew what drill bit was, I'm sure she'd do the same."

"Unfortunately," Aunt Petunia bowed her head, "Mr Dursley will not be joining us this evening. He had a prior commitment." Harry held back a guffaw at how Aunt Petunia had smoothed down the callous way in which Uncle Vernon had stated that he had no interest in meeting any of his freak friends. She turned to him, "Harry's father was a man of no profession."

Kurt had taught Harry the difference between being unemployed and having no profession, the latter meaning that you were too rich to work. Harry had been quick to share his newfound knowledge with Aunt Petunia, he saw how it had elevated his parents in his eyes- the same way the Hummel's wealth had for Kurt.

Aunt Petunia checked her watch and cleared her throat, "Let's be seated for dinner."

She moved to the kitchen and left them alone with Dudley, Lisa turned to Harry, "How am I doing?"

"Well," Harry nodded encouragingly, "so well, I thought you were Kurt in disguise."

She shook her head, "I did try to channel his ability to flatter his way into anyone's good books."

"You're pretty and smart?" Dudley looked confused, "what are you doing with Harry?"

Lisa chuckled, "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"Look at him," Dudley shook his head, "He's scrawny."

"I quite like his slender build," Lisa smirked", and the message was received as it was intended, "and Harry is very powerful wizard."

They took their designated seats and his cousin glowered at the pair. Harry filled everyone's glass with the red Aunt Petunia was letting breath, the silence that hung in the room was thick but not entirely uncomfortable.

It was Lisa who broke the silence, "have you gotten something to wear to the wedding?"

"Wedding?" Dudley's eyes grew wide.

"A friend of mine is getting married," Harry explained, his cousin's relief was visible, "I was going to ask Kurt to pick something out…" Harry's voice trailed off when Lisa glared at him, "but then I remembered that his taste isn't as good as yours, so obviously I should ask you."

"Oh," she pretended to be surprised, "I suppose I could have a look and see if there's a certain three piece Hugo Boss that would pair beautifully with my blue Valentino."

"I'll give you my key," Harry nodded, "you should get yourself some new shoes too, you deserve it." he smiled, "I'll go see if Aunt Petunia needs any help."

Harry made a swift exit, he had almost gotten himself in trouble over something as trivial as a suit. Aunt Petunia handed him two plates of Beef Wellington, Mashed potatoes and asparagus in jarringly different portion sizes. Harry served the overfilled plate to Dudley and the more modest one to Lisa, Aunt Petunia placed a plate in front of him and took her seat opposite him- she left Uncle Vernon's seat at the head of the table empty.

"This is quite inviting Mrs Dursley," Lisa smiled politely before taking her first bite, "it's so rich."

"My secret is a thin layer of butter between every layer," Aunt Petunia boasted.

"Mum," Dursley chided her, "it's not a secret if you tell people."

"Lisa won't tell anyone," she dismissed her son's concern, "will you Lisa?"

"Not a soul," she agreed.

"I heard of Professor Dumbledore's passing," Aunt Petunia shook he head, "unthinkable to die in that way."

All three of them gaped at her, Harry had never heard her acknowledge anything about the wizarding world and here she was showing intimate knowledge of it. Lisa spoke for him once more, "it was quite frightening to have it happen the way it did, on the school grounds while we were there."

"Unthinkable," Aunt Petunia nodded, "to think all of this is happening again… I love this house and now I have to leave it." she was silent for a moment, "I know that it's just a house, but this is where I built my family and raised my… my son."

"It'll be over soon enough, and you'll be able to comeback," Harry tried to sound comforting.

"I can't imagine what it must be like to be losing your home," Lisa shook her head, "we all know it's for the best but this isn't just a house, the walls are imbued with the milestones of your life here."

"It's just stuff next to your life, they say," she shook her head, "but it's more than just stuff, I got this crockery after Dudley smashed the last set because he didn't get the new transparent Gameboy the day it was released."

Dudley chuckled, "good times."

"Eating on this set reminds me of how much my Dudikins has grown," she smiled, and pointed at an ugly painting in the foyer, "Harry hates that painting, has hated it since the day he arrived. Used to drive me crazy, making it disappear all the time."

"There is a lot of history in this house," Lisa agreed.

Aunt Petunia nodded solemnly, then she perked up, "are we all ready for pudding? I made a chocolate torte with a swiss meringue topping, it was Harry's mother's favourite."

She left the statement hanging and a smirk spread across her face as if to say 'and now she's dead and can't have any'. Harry cleared the table and returned from the kitchen with the cake stand in hand.

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