To say that Kurt and Charlie had danced all night would simultaneously be an understatement and an exaggeration of what was happening at this wedding. Kurt and Charlie had spent the entire evening in each other's arms, holding on to this moment because they knew that they would be ripped apart at any time, and it might be the last time they got a chance to hold each other.

Kurt ran his fingers through the man's dark copper hair, Charlie rubbed small circles in Kurt's back as they swayed slowly to the rhythm of the music. They didn't speak, they had discussed every eventuality over the summer and there was nothing substantive left to say. The tears had been shed, the hysterics conquered, and their roles accepted.

"Kurt," Charlie crooned in his ear.

"Please don't," Kurt's whisper was tortured, he knew the man he loved wanted to tempt him with a fairy tale version of reality, "please, just… let it be."

Charlie's hands slid up his back, over his shoulders and held his face; forcing Kurt to look him in the eyes. The man's voice was gentle when he spoke, "I know." he smiled sadly, "we have our roles to play."

"Please, don't threaten me with a good time," Kurt knew that the tears would come a new, "I'm weak enough to take you up on your offer."

"I'm not going to ask you to take the easy road," Charlie said with a small shake of his head, his blue-green eyes looking a little too wet, "I'm not going to ask you to shirk your responsibility."

"Then why do you look like you're about to shoot Old Yeller?"

Charlie smiled, "I'm not going to shoot you, Killer."

Kurt rolled his eyes, and the tears that had welled up in them fell down his face. He let go of Charlie to wipe them away, "I fucking hate you. Why are you like this?"

"To keep you from getting bored with me," he smirked, letting his tears fall, "what I lack in height, I make up for in entertainment value."

Kurt pursed his lips, "I remember describing you as taller in more ways to my dear friend Tracey."

"Were you not entertained?"

"Fair," Kurt fixed his face into a blank mask, "but nobody made jokes after Harry murdered Professor Quirrel with his bare hands."

"There are a lot of things I do with, for and to you that I don't with Harry Potter," he nibbled lightly on Kurt's collar bone, his beard scratching Kurt's soft skin.

Kurt blushed but his eyes met a set across the dancefloor, "Your mother is looking right at us."

"My mother needs to learn to mind her damn business," he chuckled, turning over his shoulder to wave at his mother, "because now she can't claim plausible deniability as I take you to my bedroom, to wear you like a ring."

A plump hand came to rest on his shoulder and Kurt squealed like a little girl, throwing himself into Charlie's arms. Behind him stood the red-haired boy whose face Harry Potter was borrowing- Kurt glared through the disguise to his friend's soul.

"What is it?"

"Kurt," Harry leaned in conspiratorially, "it's me, Harry."

"I know who you are, Barny," he rolled his eyes, his irritation evident, "I just want to know what was so important that it couldn't wait until after I practiced my sword swallowing."

Harry was silent for a moment, then he leaned in once more, "have you heard about Rita Skeeter's new book? On Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes," he shrugged, "she sent me a copy."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Barny," Kurt cleared his throat, "you are a stranger to me, I had every intention of discussing the matter with my good friend Harry Potter. But he isn't here, nor does he read."

Harry was stumped, "I-"

"Look, a giant man," Kurt pointed out Hagrid, "go make a friend, he's about to lose his job."

"Hagrid's going to lose his job?"

"Do you think this very racist regime is going to let a half-giant teach their children?" Kurt scoffed, "unlike Professor Flitwick, he doesn't have the credentials to anchor him in his position. Now that Charity Burbage is dead, he's next on the chopping block."

"I thought she resigned," he was silent for a moment.

"My god," Kurt shook his head, his disappointment pulpable, "you are so stupid."

"Don't call me stupid," Harry snapped back, "I'm just repeating what I read, because I can read."

"Charity Burbage resigned as much as Bertha Jorkins is missing," Kurt rolled his eyes, "if you know what I mean."

"And you think Hagrid's next?"

"Yes."

"Then why aren't you doing something?"

"I am doing something."

"What?"

"I'm telling you."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Go warn your new friend," Kurt glared at the red-haired boy, "go save his life."

Kurt turned back to Charlie, and his smile fell, the young man looked introspective, "I'm not going to be a piece of jewellery, am I?"

"I feel bad," Charlie said, with a shake of his head.

"Don't feel badly for Barny," Kurt shook his head, "he deserved that for interrupting our intimate moment with stale gossip."

"Not for him," Charlie's scoffed, "the big guy's going to lose his job and his home."

"And, unlike Professor Burbage, keep his life," Kurt snapped back, "and she went down swinging, did you read the missive she wrote in The Daily Prophet? There was no ambiguity as to where she stood on the issues, but now she's dead."

"Maybe Hagrid-"

"Hagrid has a third-year education," Kurt shook his head, "they're dropping aurors like it isn't a thing, hiding might be the safest place for him."

"Education exists outside of the classroom," his boyfriend chastised him, "there is knowledge that only Hagrid can impart."

"Yes," Kurt nodded his head, taking Charlie hands in his own, "but don't you love the idea that we're one person safer? That while we throw our bodies onto the fire to abate the flames, someone gets away?"

"Fuck," Charlie was grinding his teeth in frustration now, "I love you." He kissed their intertwined fingers, "you put on a good face but… fuck, you always say the right thing."

"I'm smarter than you are," Kurt played at bashful even though his words didn't match the tone.

"And, apparently," Charlie sounded almost begrudging, "kinder than I am."

"I'm not kinder," Kurt took a deep breath, "I just wish I had managed to manipulate Finn in this way."

"Kurt-"

Suddenly, a patronus of lynx entered the tent. Kurt would have thought nothing of it, simply that his peers were playing around, but then it spoke in Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice- he didn't know a patronus could do that. The man's deep voice was sombre and defeated, "The Minister is dead, the Ministry has fallen, they're coming."

Kurt kissed Charlie for what might be the last time, "I love you."

Before Charlie could respond, he disappeared into a shadow and reappeared next to Barny Weasley. Kurt took the stranger's hand and disapparated.

The two of them stood in front of the Savoy Theatre, Harry tried his hardest to let go of Kurt's hand but the taller boy held on tightly.

"Kurt," Harry finally spoke, his face still foreign, "what about everyone else?"

"Hermione and Ron went to Viktor's apartment, they're meeting us at our destination," Kurt held on tighter to his hand, "everyone else is in locations we don't know for their safety."

Harry tried to break his hand free, "Charlie is just gone?"

"Charlie is doing what needs to be done," Kurt took off at a brisk walk when the traffic light allowed them to cross, "you need to do the same and stop being such a child."

"Mrs Weasley-"

"Is an adult who paid better attention to her education than you did to yours," Kurt rolled his eyes, "you and Ron were the weak links, we've got you."

"Ginny?"

"Is with Charles," Kurt rolled his eyes, "with fake Ron and Lisa, they're spending the night in Neville's parent's house."

"Where they-"

"They won't be found," Kurt nodded.

"Kurt," Harry tried to pull out of his grip, "we need to go look for survivors."

"You think Tonks's pregnant ass left the house for shits and giggles?" Kurt stopped suddenly and Harry ran into him, "do you think she wanted to have a kiki? She came so that you could get away."

"Tonks is pregnant?"

"The man that you thought was the next great love of my life," Kurt couldn't help sounding really smug, "is married to and having a baby with my cousin."

Harry swallowed heavily, "are you going to punch me again?"

"Not yet," Kurt glared at him, "but don't test me."

Harry followed him silently to a smaller road, stood in silence as Kurt called a cab. He was making Kurt uneasy at this point, so he turned to the boy, "What?"

"I'm afraid to speak," Harry adjusted his collar, "I don't want to be punched in the throat."

"That's a step in the right direction," Kurt nodded solemnly, "but these are also the end times, so…" he was silent for a moment, "pick a struggle."

~0~

Harry:

It was crazy to say, but Harry had never been in a black cab. It reminded him how easily everything came to Kurt, specifically knowledge. He glared at Kurt, "we shouldn't be leaving people behind to die."

"This is why the most interesting thing about you is that you are legally alive."

"That hurts my feelings every time you say it," Harry couldn't help but sulk.

"Then grow," Kurt said with a dismissive glare and an eye roll, "if you become more complicated than 'the boy who lived'." Kurt took a deep breath, "then people will treat you like something else."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Kurt seemed tired by this point, "maybe, by choosing to think of issues more broadly, rather than them always being about your status as legally alive, then people will take you seriously."

"This is like the Dumbledore thing again," Harry shook his head, "when you reduce my opinion because I'm the boy who lived, you reduce me as a person."

"No," Kurt shook his head, "they leave you alive, but nobody else is safe."

"Well," Harry glared at him, "I left Lisa there, she's not a forty-year-old man."

"Go fuck yourself, Harry Potter," Kurt said this because the Polyjuice was fading, and Harry could feel himself turning back into Harry Potter, "because if Charlie is dead, he died saving Lisa Turpin and her bottle-bleached strawberry blonde hair."

"Charlie is just as ginger as Lisa," Harry snapped.

"That's not the point," Kurt's tone was colder than he'd ever heard it be, "you're acting like I had nothing to lose."

The car stopped in front of Kurt's house and Harry watched him pay the man, then his mind went for a loop as Kurt ignored his home and walked to Number Thirteen, "Aren't we going-"

"To the house I had my family leave because it wasn't safe?"

Harry was silent for a moment, "is this the part where I get punched in the throat?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, "this is the moment where it stops being about you until it's time for you to die."

"Right," Harry nodded, "will you tell me when I have to die?"

"I'll be sure to kill you myself."

~0~

Hermione and Harry appeared at the kitchen door together, Kurt and Ron were trying to figure out how the old wood-burning stove worked so that they could cook breakfast. The pair hovered, Hermione egging Harry on as he gathered the courage to speak.

"Harry's made a discovery," Hermione eventually spoke in his steed.

"Is it how this stove works?" Kurt glared at the pair, "because that would be really helpful right now."

"No-" Harry was silent for a moment and then he furrowed his brow, "why would I know how to fix a stove?"

"Diversifying your portfolio?" Kurt shrugged, "you said that you didn't want to be known for simply being alive, maybe you decided you were going to be handy."

"Are you going to be a cunt this entire time?"

"Probably," Kurt shrugged, "it's keeping me entertained."

"Well, I won't have it," Harry puffed out his chest.

Kurt scoffed, "I could hurt you with my words, or I could hurt you with my fists."

"Kurt!" Hermione reprimanded him, "just listen to Harry."

"Fine," he placed the pan of bacon the stove and punched fire into the oven, heating the entire room, "I'm listening."

"Sirius had a brother," Harry stated, matter of fact.

Kurt waited for the boy to say more but nothing came, he raised a curious brow, "you know that you actually have to try if you want me to respect you."

"Let him finish," Hermione cautioned him.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Harry continued, "RAB."

"Hmm," Kurt nodded his head, he stopped shooting flames out of his fist and produced a pan of extra crispy bacon, "Regulus was a Death Eater, that would explain the choice to refer to the Dark Lord as such."

"How do you know that?"

"Slughorn and I once had a great meeting about the people he'd been forced to take off the shelf over the years," Kurt smirked as he sliced a tomato, "a lot of them, like Regulus, were my family after all."

"What happened to Regulus?"

"He died," Kurt shrugged, "well, it's assumed. His body was never found."

"He probably died getting the locket," Ron gulped.

"It tracks," Kurt nodded, "Good job, Harry." He handed each of them a BLT, "I guess Hermione was right, Horcruxes are a bridge too far for some people."

"Oh," Hermione smiled wickedly, "do you think you were right too?"

"Let's not," Kurt shook his head.

Harry furrowed his brow, "what is it? Maybe it'll help."

"It won't," Kurt shook his head, "it'll only make you cry."

Harry slammed his fist on the table, "Tell me!"

"Fine," Hermione held her hands up in surrender, "at some point, you tried to convince yourself that RAB was your father."

Harry was silent for a moment, then he let out a booming guffaw, "I should definitely go to therapy."

~0~

Neville:

1st September 1997

Neville always thought that the strangeness in his life was linked to his friendship with Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, that the young man's absence would allow him a more normal lease on life. He was wrong.

His day had begun with his grandmother kissing him on the cheek at breakfast. Augusta Longbottom always remained true to her German heritage, no matter how distant; she was cold, meticulous and efficient. This was the first time in his memory, since Kurt had fixed it, that she had shown him this level of affection. She usually used her words; like when he'd told her about the patronus that had saved his friends' lives, she had simply told him that she was proud of him.

Today, she had kissed him.

She had smiled, her eyes welling with tears, "Your father was not half the man that you are."

Neville had looked down at the breakfast spread with a heavy heart, he didn't know what to say but she had saved him the trouble and spoken once more, "I didn't think I had another child in me…"

She was silent and contemplative, "but between me and your friends." Then she had done something he didn't think his grandmother was capable of, she had cried, "we raised a good man."

"Grandma-" she raised a silencing finger and sobbed for a moment.

"You are everything I wanted for you," she wiped her nose and beamed at him, "and more."

"Grandma," he blushed bashfully, "don't cry."

"On my own, I might have ruined you-"

"No," Neville shook his head, "there are no ruined children, only different children." He took a deep breath, "the children are my responsibility now, and they're all fragile little things."

Then she had said it, validated him risking his life, "I love you."

"I love you too Grandma."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead, "if your parents..." Grandmother was silent for a moment, "they would be proud of you too."

Neville's breath caught for a moment and his grandmother's raised a silencing finger, "not because you're fighting You-Know-Who." She shook her head, "while standing up against injustice is very noble, your parents would be proud of your perseverance and continued growth."

Grandma looked down at her hands, silent for a moment, "you never stopped working on yourself and now, you're Head Boy."

"Well," Neville looked down at his hands as well, ashamed of his grandmother's misplaced pride, "it's only because Kurt picked me."

"Kurt had options, I'm sure," his grandmother turned up her nose indignantly, "there were Ravenclaw boys ripe for the picking, and still he chose you."

"Because I'm-"

"Because you are exceptional," she smiled, taking his face in her skeletal hand, "because you are a good man, and because you are the best man for the job."

~0~

When Neville felt a hand taking his, he had turned expecting to see Mandy. He was shocked, and a little frightened, to learn that he had almost turned and kissed Tracey Davis. She looked up at him with her lips pursed mischeviously, there was a glint of excitement in her perpetually glaring eyes- she was clearly looking forward to wielding the power that Kurt had left in their hands.

"Tracy Anne," he said with a frightened quiver in his voice, "I would like to continue doing the most interesting thing about Harry Potter."

"Being alive?" she giggled and adjusted her brooch, reminding Neville of the weight of the gift Kurt had bestowed on each of them.

Reminding Neville that he needed to be able to size up every threat that entered Hogwarts, and decide if it warranted Kurt's attention. He, and the young woman who currently held his hand, had to decide if they could handle what was going on or if they needed to call in the big gun. This was why Neville had begged Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn to replace Kurt with Gregory Goyle as the Slytherin house prefect, the seventh-year boy he felt that he could better control in the face of adversity- he felt that Goyle would make a good addition to his allyship with the Slytherin girls.

Neville knew that loving Kurt had made a better man of Goyle, he knew this because it had made a better man of him- even if the two of them had loved the boy in different ways. Neville was staking both his and the children's future's on Kurt's expectation of excellence from all those around him. Neville was living on the prayer that even in Kurt's absence, all that he had done to transform the social dynamics of Hogwarts would endure; that Kurt had been the catalyst of a movement, not a moment.

Tracey Davis's hand in his told him that at least one person had been changed for good. Every year since they had arrived at Hogwarts, Kurt had taken care of everything to ensure the survival of his peers; now, it was left to him, and the young woman who held his hand.

"Pleased to meet you," a woman with coffee coloured skin extended her hand in his direction, "I'm Willa Rosier."

He remembered himself, "the pleasure is all mine." He took her hand and gave a small bow as he shook it, "Neville Longbottom."

"Before you ask," Tracey's disinterested tone cut through the moment, "he's not my boyfriend." She didn't let go of his hand though, "he's Head Boy."

Her mother narrowed her gaze and nodded her head, Neville felt guilty for something he hadn't done, "not that your daughter isn't pretty, smart, funny, interesting…"

"I'm out of his league," Tracey assured her mother, "I'm the prettiest girl in school."

The woman nodded her head slowly, "in my day, you had to be white in order to be considered for the position." She seemed wistful for a moment, her beauty designed for sad moments of introspection, "Andromeda was the prettiest girl in school, allegedly."

Neville giggled, "you two kind of look alike." Ms Rosier gave him a look so severe it put every glare Tracey had ever shot in Ron or Harry's direction to shame. A look so icy that it made Kurt seem warm and cuddly, "but you're clearly prettier than her."

"I know," she nodded her head. She turned to Tracey, "stay safe, look after your brother, do well in school."

"Yes," Tracey rolled her eyes, "I'm in charge of the children, he's a child."

Her mother grabbed her by the forearm, repeating herself slowly, "look after your brother."

Tracey glared at her mother, "I will, but he's not my only responsibility." She yanked her arm out of her mother's loose grip, "I also have a responsibility to myself, how I perform my duties as Head Girl will inform what becomes of my future."

"Just…" her mother was silent, "I can't imagine losing either of you."

"Ms Rosier," Neville interjected, "don't imagine it. Tracey Anne and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure that this year goes as smoothly as possible, you have my word."

She nodded her head slowly, accepting that this was as much as anyone could promise her, "who is Tracey Anne?"

~0~

Professor Slughorn ambled up to the podium and the owl opened its wings, he showed off a prison of tiny teeth and began to speak, "Welcome, welcome, welcome all to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

There was a round of applause, "A special welcome to the first-year students who will be beginning their magical education in these hallowed halls of learning. I am Horace Slughorn, former potions master and newly appointed Headmaster of this fine institution."

"In these… troubled times in which we're living, it is my duty-" he shook his head, "no, it is my privilege to shepherd you all during this academic year."

"It is with a heavy heart that I announce the death of Professor Charity Burbage, a respected and esteemed colleague whose legacy at Hogwarts will endure eternally." A woman at the longtable behind him cleared her throat, "the Ministry has seen fit to appoint Alecto Carrow as her replacement." The woman got to her feet, "she will not be saying anything tonight."

She fell back into her seat and Neville couldn't help but giggle, "the Ministry has appointed Amycus Carrow as Professor of Dark Arts, which will replace Defence Against the Dark Arts as a core subject." Neville choked on air, that changed the entire ton of the syllabus but it would also equip them to fight the Death Eaters as equals so he couldn't be mad at it, "Amycus will also be saying nothing this evening."

"To replace Rubeus Hagrid as professor of Care for Magical Creatures, I have recruited esteemed dragonoligist, Charles Weasley." Charlie got to his feet, smiled and waved; in that moment, Neville felt Kurt's presence with them in the castle, he felt his friend's warm embrace surrounding them in a cocoon of safety.

"And finally, we have the great privilege of being joined by Hefina Flint, the famed potioneer who bought this world such brews as verituserum, to take over my position as Potions and Alchemy professor." Slughorn led the students in resounding applause but the woman was unmoved.

Looking at the beautiful woman, Neville wondered if she was of any relation to Marcus Flint. The former Slytherin quidditch captain had been so ugly that there were rumours that he was part troll, and here this woman was, looking like she could be a goddess or a queen- Neville found it hard to believe that she shared a gene pool with the ugly boy, or was married to someone who did.

Neville's attention was brought back to the present by Slughorn's call for silence, "Now, for a more substantive change. Going forward, there will no longer be a division of students according to the house system."

Wine came shooting out of Hipster Weasley's nose, and rightfully so; this was a change in how Hogwarts was fundamentally run since it's inception, despite Kurt's claim that even that had been a perversion of Rowena Ravenclaw's vision.

"The four dormitories will separate students by age and gender," the man went on, "there will no longer be a house system at this great institution! We will befriend each other and treat each other as equals."

Neville was surprised to see Tracey Davis get up and walk to the front of the great hall, she nodded her head and Professor Slughorn gave a small bow, "Our Head Girl, Tracey Davis would like to share a few words of encouragement."

"Good evening, I'm Tracey Davis," She dazzled the crowd with a beautiful smile, "in Farsi, there is a saying that translates to 'your place has been empty'. It is used to show fondness, even in absence, to tell someone that their role in your life is singular."

"If you look around you, you will see many empty spaces that represent the friends who are not with us tonight," She puffed out chest indignantly, "the friends we are missing tonight because a fascist regime has deemed them unfit to receive an education."

Amycus and Alecto Carrow got to their feet, Neville had his wand in hand before he could think to move. Tracey ignored them and continued her speech, "They will try to indoctrinate you to their racist ways, they will try to twist your uncertainties and insecurities to hate. It is therefor incumbent on me to share the wise words of our good friend Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, that we shall never fall to the dark arts as they tend to seduce naïve wizards; firstly because we are not naïve but also because we don't get seduced, we do the seducing."

"And so," she looked him dead in the eyes and Neville knew to put his wand away, "it is together that we will stand against oppression, it is together that we will fight injustice, it is together that we will defeat tyranny.

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