***

Ten minutes later and looking a little worse for wear, Blaine ascended a hillock behind which he could see his old school emerge.

Dalton Academy looked the same as the last time he'd seen it. The sunlight dazzling off its bay windows and wrought iron gates, it sat nestled in a glade flanked by two weeping willows that were being gently agitated by a mild breeze. Blaine swallowed hard, feeling many feelings he couldn't yet articulate, and slung his rucksack a little higher as he trudged his way up the gravel stone driveway.

There were the odd few students milling around the grounds, chatting and enjoying their free time in various outdoor pursuits; strolling in groups or pairs, or sunbathing shirtless. Most of them were probably boarding students who hadn't gone home for the week: There were picnic blankets and boys in tennis gear, and even some teachers laid out on the grass or napping under an oak tree. his old music teacher Mr Feinstein's was frustratedly flipping over the pages of the book he was reading as the wind fluttered at them.

Some of the schools denizens including said teacher waved at Blaine in recognition. He realised he must stick out a little in this outfit, and he bashfully smiled at Mr Feinstein's startled expression as Blaine walked past him.

"Anderson?" Rupert Feinstein's moustache quivered and his brows crinkled in confusion.

"Sir." Blaine beamed at him.

"Hmph, back are you?" Feinstein gave him a cursory glance. "I hope you're keeping up your cello classes. I've met your wretched Sylvestone woman. She's going to cut arts education at your new school I hear" he grimaced.

"Sue Sylvester? I take private classes. Piano for now but..." Blaine said vaguely

"Well whomever-"

Mr Feinstein was grumpy by nature, but Blaine knew he had a soft centre er, very, very deep down.

His confrontation with his old music teacher was cut short however, by a very blond, and very excitable weight slamming very suddenly into his side and sending him and said interloper toppling to the springy grassy knoll. arms wrapped around his torso and winded him slightly.

"Jeffrey?" Mr Feinstein asked , vaguely scandalised.

Blaine, his vision impaired by the mass of blond hair in his face, craned his neck around to see that his teacher was peering down at them in mild concern.

"Jeff! A little less please" Blaine half laughed and half wheezed

Jeff shoved him playfully.

"Never"

"Good to see you too" Blaine said. Jeff bought out the parental adoration in him like nobody's business.

He gave him a hug to rival the death grip Jeff had administered to him, and smiled at the other boy. Jeff looked to be in great spirits, his mischievous nature more evident than ever in his cool blue stare.

"Sorry Mr. Feinstein" Jeff murmured, giving the music teacher a roguish grin. He bounced to his feet and held out a hand to help Blaine up, which he took gratefully, while dusting grass from his knees.

Blaine looked on fondly as Feinstein berated Jeff about his manners (not an uncommon sight). Jeff answered back, looking ruffled and sheepish.

He was about to leave them to their stand off and maybe go and find Wes in whatever corner of the library he'd slotted himself into, when Jeff turned to look at something behind him. His eyes lit up and he began waving frantically. And leaving Feinstein mid-sentence he grabbed Blaine by the arm and steered him hurriedly towards the arched glass doors off the school driveway.

"Jeffrey! mishandling your friends!" Feinstein shouted exasperatedly

"Sorry Mr Feinstein!" Jeff waved at him,

"C'mon"

They slowed to a halt near the glass windows of the east building.

A brunet head peaked out from one of the windows, it was Nick, looking slightly nervous, his dark brown bangs falling into his eyes.

"Hi Blaine, um we were about to start, but Jeff disappeared."

"Blaine you have /got/ to see what Nicks planned." Jeff was already halfway through the window, and wrestling with the drapes to get in. Blaine made as if to follow him in, but Nick held him back with one hand.

Nick looked at him hesitantly and asked:

"Do you mind coming in through the foyer? It's kind of a surprise"

"Of course," Blaine said, beset with curiosity now. He was all for a good lead in.

"I'll be right in." Blaine assured NIck, with a smile and a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. He looked like he needed it. Nick nodded once and looked relieved. There was the slight chance he could be waylaid on his way to the choir room of course, but he'd make it timely.

Jeff hopped back through the drapes impatiently , and Nick's head disappeared too. There were sounds of hushed whispers from inside the choir room, and Blaine resisting the urge to peek inside instead turned decisively and walked to the large guilded double doors atop a short flight of tiled steps that was the entrance to the school.

The inside of the foyer was blissfully cool and deserted. Blaine traced the tile of the walls with one hand, and looked around, trying to gauge any changes. The cavernous entrance hall had arched ceiling and navy wall panels the usual framed art work, and the occasional statuette housed within insets along the walls. His feet echoed on the floor as he made his way to the north east side and to the Warblers practice room. He drifted feeling as if he were gliding rather than walking: past shafts of light and dust motes, suspended in time.

The hum of modulated harmonies drifted through the air towards him like the scent of a pie cooling on a windowsill, getting stronger as he drew closer. Excitement pricked at the back of his neck and his stomach knotted a little.

They sounded great. On top form. Seamless. One entity. What was this song? Blaine scratched at his palm in frustration.

He threw open the maple oak double doors, and sound suddenly hit him from all sides.