AN: Look I'm posting on time again! Oh happy day! I'm very excited because this chapter is my favorite one so far, and it took me forever to write. lol. I hope you like it!

As usual a very heart felt thanks to TheatreVicki for being the kind of beta who makes you want to write more and write better. This fic would not be the same without her. xo

Remember comments are like a big window letting in sunshine on a chilly day.

Enjoy!


"The sun tires of summer and sighs itself into autumn." – Unknown

September, 2018 - New York City, New York


Kurt rushed down the busy New York street, the smell of the city wafting over him – steam and cigarettes and candied nut carts. He had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, one hand holding a half full latte, the other hand held high and gripping the hangers of a garment bag – carrying it so that it didn't drag on the ground, but hopefully did whip too many strangers in the face as Kurt dashed by.

He was late, today of all days he was late, and he was never late. He stopped abruptly as he reached the front of Britton's Auction House New York, taking one last quick gulp of his mocha and then tossing the cup in a nearby trash bin, before nodding his head in greeting to Michael the doorman.

"Good morning Mr. Hummel," he said with an amused smile.

"That is yet to be seen Michael!" Kurt called behind him as he rushed through the heavy glass door.

Britton's Auction House was an old and reputable establishment at the heart of New York's Art District where it had been housed since its founding in 1895. The first time Kurt had walked into the historic renaissance revival style building, he'd been in awe-chiseled statues, gleaming marble floors and impossibly high ceilings that were painted with colorful frescoes of gold bordered triangles fitted together with loops of flowers. Kurt had almost gotten a crick in his neck staring up at the late nineteenth century design.

The hall itself led to several beautiful auction rooms-deep, plush red carpet and marble stone walls-his first day, Kurt had been directed to a back office, no less impressive for being smaller than the hall. Cherry stained oak walls, warm, bright and complementing furniture, a grand hardwood desk, a deep seated chesterfield sofa and various paintings spanning many different decades and artists lined the walls. Kurt had never been so intimidated in his life.

Of course, today Kurt rushed through the hall, not noticing statues or décor or even the ceiling he loved and he went straight back to the office, pausing only when he reached the door to glance at Melissa, the assistant, who sat at her desk in the front.

"Go in quickly! He's been asking for you every three minutes."

"Shit." Kurt swore under his breath and then reached for the brass doorknob, letting himself in.

Nathan Britton, co-owner and director of Britton Auction House New York was the fifth generation of Brittons to run this company. New York was where they were founded, but they now had locations in Chicago, London and Tokyo. Nathan was seated behind his desk, looking as handsome and refined as ever, brown hair swept back and parted, a little scruff on his chin, and scowling at his computer screen as Kurt rushed in.

Kurt breathed in deeply, wishing he had a moment to stop in the restroom and dab at his sweating brow, but there'd been no time. Nathan looked up at him and lifted a finger signaling for him to wait a moment.

"We look forward to seeing you. Please feel free to go to your apartment first and refresh before coming in," Nathan said, apparently on speaker phone. Kurt waited silently, his racing heart slowing down.

"I'll do that." The voice said on the other end of the call-Arnold Britton. Kurt's heart sunk. Nathan's older brother Arnold was the CEO and traveled almost constantly, and Nathan was left to run the day to day operations in New York. Nathan was never in a good mood after speaking with his brother.

"See you this evening." The brothers said good bye and Nathan hung up, looking up to direct his gaze at Kurt.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said before Nathan had a chance to bring up the fact that he was late, "I went to pick up your suit and there was confusion at the drycleaners and I-"

"Kurt. Kurt, calm down, don't have an aneurysm." Nathan nodded to a hook on the wall behind Kurt, "Hang the suit up and come sit down."

Kurt did as he was told, hanging the suit and taking the antique empire chair across from his boss.

"You brought something for yourself to change into as well?" Nathan said, glancing down at Kurt's outfit. It was a great outfit, gray houndstooth slacks and a white button down shirt and fitted vest. He even had one of his favorite brooches on today, a green jeweled dragonfly with gold wings. Nathan was one of the few people Kurt knew who could out-dress him though. Right now, he wore a Ermenegildo Zegna suit that looked absolutely killer on him, his russet hair styled perfectly and his dark eyes sharp.

"Yes, of course." Kurt answered quickly, "I have it with yours." Kurt nodded back to the hook, internally hoping that it was okay that he had them both in the same garment bag; it had been the best way to carry them in a hurry.

"Good good, I want to go over the checklist for tonight. You know how important this event is." Nathan was too focused on this evening to care about the suits.

"Of course." Kurt slipped his messenger bag off his shoulder and pulled his planner out, flipping to the correct page to go over the list with Nathan.

Tonight was Britton's annual Diamond Gala. A cocktail party followed by the year's biggest auction; it was the only chance their patrons had to purchase Britton's rarest and more costly items, the "diamonds" of their collection. Kurt had been helping to plan the event for months and Nathan was on edge, not only for the gala but because his brother was coming in town for it.

They took forty-five minutes going over every minute detail, most of which they had already gone over repeatedly, but there was no room for error. After the meeting, Kurt had an even longer to-do list than he'd started with, but he felt good about everything. They might actually pull off the most profitable auction Britton's had seen.

"Oh! And I want you to go down to the storerooms," Nathan said as they wrapped up their meeting. "The Psalms Book is still down there and I want you to make sure Jane has it ready."

Jane Hayward was one of Britton's premier manuscript preservationists, a fellow graduate of NYU with a Masters in Conservation and Art History, and Kurt had no doubt she had everything fully ready for the auction tonight. "I'm sure Jane is- " Kurt stopped, noting the worried, furrowed brow of his boss. Nathan just wanted everything perfect, "I'll check with her."

"Thank you Kurt." Nathan nodded and Kurt knew that the meeting was over. He got up from his chair, taking his messenger bag with him and stopping to pull his tux out of the garment bag. He left the room with a relieved breath – that had gone much better than he thought it would.

"Did he eat you alive?" Melissa asked.

"I think he's too distracted to bother with it." Kurt smiled at the assistant. "Would you mind hanging this in my office?" He said, holding out his tux in its thin plastic cover, "Nathan wants me to go check in on Jane even though I don't really have time for the storeroom."

"No problem. I can take your bag too." Melissa took his things, glancing through the clear plastic at his tux and then winked at him, "You are going to look hot in this."

Kurt placed his hand over his heart in mock injury, "I thought I always looked hot?"

Melissa's laughter rang out behind him as he hurried to the stairway. The basement of the building had been converted to storerooms and studios years ago. It was temperature and moisture controlled and very high tech. Most of the auction house's items were stored down there until they were ready to be brought upstairs for auction. Kurt used his keycard and two sets of passcodes before he could get in through a double set of doors and past security guards to where Jane and other art conservationists worked.

This was his favorite place in the whole building. The rooms themselves weren't nearly as gorgeous or striking as the rest of the building, but that wasn't the draw anyway. Every time he came down here, it was like walking into Elizabeth's Antiques, but bigger and packed with much more expensive items. It was organized chaos, antiques and culturally significant pieces covering the area and yet numbered and cataloged. If Kurt had the time, he would've stood still and let his mind focus, looking for the magic he found so often down there.

But not today, today there was no time for magic. It hurt to not stop and look at each item he was passing, a gorgeous dress from the 1950s hanging on a body form and encased in glass, apparently Grace Kelly had worn it to a movie premiere. A Louis XV period serpentine table. An Ansel Adams photograph from 1944.

He passed them all by, needing to focus on his job. He stopped in a work studio, finding Jane at a large white, back-lit table hunched over an old manuscript, gloved hands delicately turning the pages.

"Hi Jane," Kurt said quietly, knowing she got caught up in what she was doing and often didn't hear people approach. Even with his soft words she still jumped a little.

"Oh. Sorry." She sucked in a breath of surprise, "I wasn't paying attention."

Kurt smiled and nodded to the book, "Is it a good read?"

"Unfortunately, there is a lot of it that's not readable at all. I'm trying to decide if there is anything I can do about that." Jane smiled and patted the stool next to hers.

Kurt sat down and glanced over at the book. She was right; on the pages she had opened, most of the words were faded too much to decipher, but there were illustrations though that had fared better. "What is this?" Kurt asked, something about the style of the illustrations familiar to him.

"It is a religious tome from the late 1700s," Jane answered, "considered a holy book by many of the time."

"That style of illustration is familiar."

"Yes, it was imitated for centuries," Jane said, a smile growing on her face, it was obvious she loved this kind of thing, "A lot of books from the 1800s and even early 1900s have similar drawings, trying to emulate this style, especially in books about religion."

"Or witchcraft?" Kurt asked before thinking about how odd that question might sound. He knew why these pictures looked familiar, they were the same style of drawing in the old black leather book he had at home.

"Well, yes, that too." Jane nodded, "There was a resurgence in the late nineteen and early twentieth centuries of the occultist subculture, people digging up old spells and superstitions, a lot of books were written in that time, many would have illustrations like this. Have you seen one?"

"I think I own one," Kurt answered. Kurt had studied History and Conservation at NYU with a minor in theater, not fully giving up his love for performing even after he'd shifted gears when NYADA rejected him. Though, his historical focus was more on fashion and entertainment. Jane was the expert on manuscripts; he should have thought to bring his book for her to look at ages ago.

"You own a book on witchcraft?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Magic and Witchcraft." Kurt shrugged, "You know I love old things." He left out the part about loving old magical things.

"I'm with you there." She got up from the table, stretching her hands above her curly haired head; she'd probably already been hunched over this table for hours. She always started early. She pulled at a couple curls in her fro and smiled, "You're probably here for the Psalms Book?"

"Nathan wanted me to bring it up himself, it is the star of the auction tonight."

"Well, it's ready." She walked over to a small wooden box on the back counter, lifting the lid and pulling back soft burgundy velvet to show Kurt the book. "You know sometimes I hate that we sell things like this to the public." She said with a sigh.

"We're an auction house."

"Yes I know. But things like this should be in a museum for everyone to see."

Kurt nodded; he frequently felt that way about items they sold, they were often hoarded away in someone's private collection only to be viewed by the rich and privileged. Still, as Assistant Jr. Curator at Britton's New York, it was his job.

Jane packed the book up again and then turned to Kurt, leaning on the counter and biting her lip, "Actually… talking about witches and… um magic, there's something I wanted to ask you."

Kurt lifted his eyebrows in surprise, "Okay."

"Have you ever… you know there are stories… sometimes do you think…" She stopped and started, not finishing her thought. Jane was young and beautiful, dark skinned and bright eyed and confident. And she was brilliant, graduating years ahead of others her age. Kurt rarely saw her as faltering as she was now.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," she answered unhelpfully.

"Okay… what do you mean 'there are stories?'"

"Just, anyone who is around old things as much as we are, we hear things, about certain historical items acting strange or… you know that Nan at MOMA swears they have a cursed vase right? She won't go near it. And I've always thought that those kinds of superstitions were foolish, but…"

Kurt nodded along, his jaw tightening. In the two years Kurt had worked at Britton's, he'd found many magical items. But only one with any dark magic, and thankfully it had been an inexpensive ceramic bracelet that had come in as part of a lot. Kurt had been able to purchase it himself. He had always dreaded the inevitable day when something valuable came along with dark magic, what would he do about it then?

"Is there something here that is making you uncomfortable?" Kurt asked.

Jane laughed, looking relieved, "You don't think I'm being ridiculous?"

"No." Kurt shook his head, "I may have experienced that before myself."

"Can I show you?"

Kurt nodded and waited as Jane pulled her gloves off and tossed them, nodding her head for Kurt to follow her out of the studio. They made their way to a small storeroom in the back that Kurt knew housed some items they had just gotten in and weren't yet ready for auction.

"It isn't something we're selling tonight?"

"No, in fact I'm not sure we'll sell it at all. I don't know why it's here."

That was a relief; it at least meant Kurt had time to find a way to deal with whatever the object was.

Jane pushed open the door and they walked into a room with a few unopened wooden crates and a few pieces of old furniture – Victoria era by the looks of them – in varying degrees of repair. Kurt's eyes scanned the room and fell on an item in the corner that was covered with a cloth.

"Don't laugh at me, but I covered it up. I kept having to come into this room the other day and I didn't like looking at it."

Kurt swallowed deeply, looking at the shape and size of the item as Jane walked over to it; he had a suspicion as to what it might be. Jane unceremoniously pulled off the sheet, bunching it in her arms and taking a step back. Kurt let out a small gasp of delight.

It was a tall, full length mirror, old and striking, with only slightly filmy glass and a gilded metal frame.

"It's beautiful." Kurt said, walking to the mirror with a small smile on his lips. He loved mirrors, he couldn't help it, they reminded him of some of his best days growing up, and if this was a magical mirror, Kurt couldn't help but be intrigued.

"Yes, admittedly it is. And besides that crack down the glass, it is in amazing repair… but that crack alone devalues it greatly."

"We could replace the glass," Kurt said, eyes still on the mirror as he walked closer to it.

"Yes, but that's the original silver-backed glass, so it'd be a pity to replace it. Maybe someone would want it. I don't know; I could be biased. I've never believed the rumors of cursed antiques until that thing."

Kurt glanced at her, raising an eyebrow quizzically, "What is it about it that you dislike so much?"

"It…" Jane sighed and pushed her curls back from her forehead, "It does things."

Kurt's heart started beating faster and he glanced back at the mirror, placing his hand on the glass. "Like what?"

"Okay, I'm not crazy Kurt."

"I know that." Kurt gave her a reassuring smile, this mirror must have her spooked; he could tell it was valuable and just the kind of thing Britton's would sell, crack in the glass and all, but Jane just kept backing away from it.

"It makes noises, okay?" Jane admitted, "Like it… knocks or something or… taps? And I sound crazy!" Jane tipped her head back and groaned, "I shouldn't have told you."

"Jane." Kurt called and waited until she looked at him, "You aren't crazy, I believe you. This isn't the first time I've encountered a mirror that 'does things.'"

"Really?"

Kurt nodded, "You say it taps?" He looked at his reflection in the mirror, he was smiling broadly; he couldn't help the excitement that was coursing through him. His little silver hand mirror at home had stopped tapping and making noises years ago, as if all the magic had left it. He lifted his hand and tapped the mirror a few times with a fingertip.

"Yeah, that's what the tapping sounds like, but it does it itself."

Kurt waited for an answering tap but there wasn't one, "Have you heard it do anything else?"

Jane shrugged her slim shoulders, "The tapping was enough for me. Doesn't it give you the heebie-jeebies?"

"No, but like I said-"

"You've dealt with this before." Jane laughed, "Maybe we're both crazy."

Kurt grinned at her, "Crazy can be fun."

Jane shook her head, but she started smiling again, "Okay, I need to get back to work, and so should you, I know you're busy, but one more thing." She walked hesitantly to the mirror as if she didn't really want to get close to it. "I wanted to show you this." She pointed to one side of the mirror's frame. The frame was melded into what looked like twisting vines, but there, where Jane was pointing, was some kind of symbol, carved into the art of the frame so you didn't notice it at first glance. "It looks like it was carved in after the mirror was made."

Kurt leaned in and scrunched his eyebrows, "Letters? Initials maybe?" Kurt said, trying to make them out. The carving may be newer than the mirror, but it had been there a long time, he wasn't sure he would have even noticed if Jane hadn't pointed them out. "It's like someone carved in their initials, like you would do on a tree, but instead on a very expensive mirror. Who would do that?"

"See, and that's the thing..." Jane worried her lip for a moment, "You know I've read a lot of historical texts, some on magic and witchcraft and such… and when you brought that up…"

Kurt nodded his head in understanding, "People would add their names to magical objects to let them have power over it." He'd heard of this before, but for some reason, none of the spells he'd ever encountered called for it.

"Okay, you know more about this than I would have expected," Jane said, shaking her head, "You're an odd one aren't you?" Jane smiled as she said it and was too kind to mean it as an insult.

"I've been told that I am."

"Well, like I said I'm going back to work. I feel better knowing the mirror doesn't creep you out, but I still don't want to be near it if it starts making noises again."

Kurt smiled, "I'll let you work then." He glanced at the mirror from top to bottom and then turned to look at Jane as she was leaving the room, "And thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this."

She just laughed, "You shouldn't thank me, I just wanted someone else to be responsible for it. And don't forget your book!"

Kurt stayed with the mirror for a little while after Jane left. He knew Jane thought the mirror was cursed, but he doubted it had any dark magic, she just wasn't used to hearing from magical objects and he understood how that could be unnerving. Kurt closed his eyes and thoughts focused, waiting to see if the mirror would make a sound for him. It didn't. He kept trying, even placing his palm on the glass and humming the tune he used to detect if something was light or dark magic. Still nothing. He opened his eyes and sighed, he had too much to do today to really spend the time he wanted to with this mirror, but he'd come back.

Before turning to leave, Kurt let his hand slid down the cool steel of the frame. "Blaine?" He called wistfully, his chest fluttering, but not really believing he'd get an answer.

Blaine hadn't answered him in six long years.

The cocktail party was going wonderfully, Kurt was in a dark green tux that looked amazing with his complexion, his hair perfectly styled and his spirits high. He was only very slightly buzzed from the champagne he was drinking, knowing he had to stay sharp because even though everything was running smoothly, he needed to be ready for anything.

Nathan looked particularly dashing this evening in Armani. Arnold might be the face of the company and the one people expected the most out of, but Kurt often thought Nathan should be. Just because he was the younger brother didn't mean he was less capable; he took over the running of Britton's Auction House New York five years ago at the age of thirty-two and they'd seen greater profit in those years than ever before. Kurt was proud to work for him, and grateful for the opportunity.

Kurt had been recruited straight out of school and quickly promoted to Assistant Jr. Curator, a position unheard of for someone his age. Kurt was good at his job-he loved his job-but right now he wanted to ditch his job and hurry back down to the storerooms because all he could think of was that mirror.

"I hear you've gotten your hands on some lovely books and furniture for this evening." He turned to his right to see and elderly lady who was dolled up in Prada and wearing too many jewels to be comfortable; they glinted on her like stars though, so he could see the appeal.

"Ah, Mrs. Acevedo, you look dazzling this evening."

"Oh please, with so many attractive young people here?" She looked Kurt up and down in a way that would have made him uncomfortable if he hadn't been used to it from her. Vivian Acevedo was a frequent at these auctions, and she spent as much time inappropriately flirting with anyone other than her husband as she did buying expensive antiques.

"Yes, we have a good selection this year," Kurt confirmed, "but you'll probably be more interested in the jewelry we have up for auction this evening; there's a René Boivin diamond bracelet I hand selected myself."

"Oh then I'm sure to want it." She gave him a wink and was, gratefully, called away by her husband after that.

That was how Kurt spent most of the evening-complimenting the clientele and talking up the auction items-not that they needed much endorsement; Britton's items spoke for themselves as only the highest quality antiques.

Still, by the end of the night, Kurt was exhausted. The party had gone beautifully and had loosened everyone up to spend obscene amounts of money at the auction. The Psalms Book went for more than Nathan was hoping, so all in all, the evening was a success – not even Arnold could complain.

Kurt was back in his office after the last guest had left and the paperwork that had to be completed immediately was done. His office was small compared to Nathan's and Angela's, the Auction House's curator who was away on maternity leave, but still, it was his office. He'd shown it to his dad last summer when Burt and Carole had come to visit, and Burt had gotten all teary-eyed and had patted Kurt on the back, telling him how proud he was of him.

Now, Kurt was sprawled on a soft leather reading chair; he'd untied his bowtie and had let it hang around his neck, his suit jack slipped off and back on its hanger. He was relaxing, paperwork done, trying to muster the energy to go home.

He looked up as someone rapped on his door and then Nathan slipped his head in, "Ah, I hoped you'd still be here."

"Come in Nathan." Kurt smiled as Nathan sauntered in, two glasses of scotch in his hands, "I thought you might want one of these," he said, holding one out to Kurt. Kurt took it with a smile. He'd never really acquired a taste for whiskey, something Nathan should remember by now – but he knew it was from Nathan's private collection, so he'd sip on it to make him happy.

"You should be proud of yourself," Kurt said as Nathan sat in a chair across from him. Kurt had a little sitting area set up in the corner of his office; he didn't like to have a desk between him and the person he was talking to during meetings. "Tonight was a success."

"Arnold was pleased."

"Miracle of miracles!" Kurt laughed.

"Vivian ended up with that bracelet you liked."

Kurt nodded and smiled and sipped his scotch, "I thought she might."

"You'll get a hefty bonus out of this you know," Nathan said, leaning back casually in his chair. "A large part of why we did so well tonight was because of the items you selected."

"A bonus?" Kurt arched an eyebrow, he was paid well here, but still New York was expensive and he was paying off student loans, a bonus would be more than welcome.

"This is your first gala as Assistant Jr. Curator, I forgot that. You didn't know a bonus was coming?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, but I'm very grateful."

"Really Kurt," Nathan said, leaning forward in his chair, "you did brilliantly on this auction."

Kurt was about to protest that he hadn't been the only one to put in long hours on this, but the words caught in his throat as Nathan slipped a hand to his knee, moving it up slowly and deliberately as if daring Kurt to stop him.

Kurt sucked in a quick breath, god it felt good to have Nathan's hand on him again… but...he reached forward, lifting Nathan's hand from his leg. "Nathan," he scolded.

"Sorry," Nathan breathed, but Kurt knew he wasn't, "for a moment there I got lost in memories of old times."

The old times Nathan was referring to were something Kurt regretted. They'd had a very brief fling the first year Kurt started at Britton's. Nathan was older and sexy and worldly and Kurt was bright eyed and just out of college, and for about two months, thought he might be in love.

He hadn't been.

Nathan was too severe, too caught up in his work, too self-centered for Kurt to really fall for. In the end, it had been a good growing experience for Kurt; he just wished it was one he hadn't had with his boss.

One thing Kurt was grateful for at least was that it had been Arnold who hired him and Arnold who suggested his promotion, so at least Kurt felt better in knowing he wasn't one of those people sleeping their way to the top. Nathan had been mostly well behaved since they broke up, keeping things professional between them; he only slipped up if he'd been drinking. Like tonight. Tonight, Nathan had drunk too much and would probably regret coming on to Kurt in the morning. Probably.

"No need to apologize," Kurt said, standing and taking one last sip of his scotch. "I should be heading home."

Nathan nodded absent-mindedly before rising. "I have some things to finish up."

"Don't work too late, you deserve a break."

Nathan thanked him for his hard work once more before going to the door; he glanced back at Kurt and looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just shook his head, closing the door behind him.

Kurt was left alone to his thoughts, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing again that he and Nathan had never been an item.

He sighed and grabbed the hanger with his tux's jacket and the outfit he'd worn to work today, he then shouldered his messenger bag and was about to shut the lights off and lock up his office when he paused, looking at the vest he'd worn previously that day.

He ran his fingers down the soft silky fabric and scrunched his nose in concern. His brooch was gone. The dragonfly one he'd been wearing earlier. He put his bag down, looking on the floor and then getting on his knees to look under furniture. Maybe it'd come off when he was changing?

He groaned in frustration after looking for a solid ten minutes. He couldn't find it anywhere. Kurt prized his entire wardrobe, but that pin had been one of his more indulgent, expensive pieces. He couldn't lose it. He started retracing his steps, going back and flipping on lights to rooms that he'd been in that day. Still, he couldn't find the brooch anywhere.

Kurt sighed and anxiously combed his hand through his hair when a thought hit him. The storerooms. Had he noticed the brooch since he'd been down there this morning? Kurt headed that direction, using his keycard and passwords, nodding hello to Cynthia, one of the night guards.

Again, he retraced his steps – his path to the studio where Jane had been working – and all around that room, but still no brooch. Kurt got up from the ground where he'd been searching and smiled. He hadn't planned on going back to the mirror this evening, but since he had to look there anyway…

He felt an excited prickle down his spine as he went towards the back storeroom; he entered the room and flipped on the light, which buzzed and flickered for a moment before going out. Kurt looked up at the ceiling waiting for the light to return. Soon the emergency lights came on but the main lights were still off. Kurt didn't think much of it as he was immediately greeted by a soft murmuring sound. His heart leapt in his chest, the mirror was making noises! He walked up to the mirror, looking at himself, he saw his reflection grinning ear to ear. The mirror sounded like his little silver mirror had years ago, the same kind of whispering but louder.

Kurt focused a moment, seeing if he could hear anything else, but it was just that same incoherent whispering that he remembered from years ago. He tapped the glass and was rewarded by an echoing tap back. The mirror was awake with magic.

Kurt's heart was pounding in his chest; with all of the magic items he'd found in the past years, this was the first mirror. This was what he'd been hoping for since his own mirror went silent.

A way to try again, another chance.

Kurt took a breath and tried to calm his enthusiastic heart. He closed his eyes and focused, tuning out all other sound but the mirror, longing to hear seagulls or ocean waves or something that would connect this mirror to his long-lost friend.

"Blaine?" He whispered, his lids still closed, hope blooming in his chest.

Instead of Blaine's answering call, the whispering just got louder. Kurt opened his eyes in surprise. Never in the years of listening to his own magic mirror had he been able to make much out of the whispered words that vibrated from its glass. Now he could – it was definitely dialogue; many people were speaking all at once, voices overlapping, distinct voices, but he couldn't understand individual words.

The words were more than just indiscernible muttering; they almost sounded otherworldly. These were voices, but they didn't sound human.

Kurt took an involuntary step back; the hair on his arms prickling as the voices grew louder and stronger, filling the room. The sound was getting overbearing now and Kurt was worried anyone left in the building would hear it. It just continued to rise in volume, causing the mirror to pulse, and even making the wooden crates and other furniture in the room tremble. The noise was vibrating through his body, like the feeling of standing too near to loudspeakers at a concert, and making his heart pound in his ears.

"Stop!" Kurt yelled at the mirror, covering his ears and not knowing what else to do, "Stop!"

Just then, something buzzed through the air and right past his face; Kurt let out a yelp of surprise and then the mirror stopped. It grew completely silent, no yelling voices, no soft murmur, no tapping. Kurt found that he'd pressed himself against the wall farthest from the mirror. He raised a hand to his chest, feeling his heart drumming.

"Holy shit," Kurt breathed. What the hell? That was something he'd never experienced before. It had been a little unsettling, but mostly it just made Kurt all the more excited about finding this mirror. He took a step towards it, but was distracted by something whizzing through the air; there was a new sound in the room, a quiet buzzing noise that wasn't coming from the mirror.

It had to be an insect; how in the world it had gotten down there to the environment-controlled room Kurt had no idea, then again, maybe it had come from one of the crates? Kurt looked around until he caught a flash of gold in his peripheral vision and then turned back to the mirror.

There it was.

Landed on the top of the mirror's shining frame, was the insect that had been buzzing around the room. Kurt took a few steps closer, getting a good look at it. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes knowing he couldn't be seeing this right. He stared, stepping right up to the mirror and craning his neck up to see. And no, he wasn't seeing things, it was real.

There, on top of this enchanted mirror, was a sparkling green dragonfly with bright golden wings. It was his brooch. Kurt blinked a few times, watching the dragonfly flit its golden wings. It was beautiful, a real dragonfly, but not quite. The green of its body was too green and it shimmered like jewels, its wings were thin and delicate, but a solid gold, not the gauzy wings of a normal dragonfly.

It was his brooch somehow come to life.

Kurt held his breath and slowly lifted his fingers, hoping to catch the insect, but just as he was getting close, it lifted up in the air, glided around the room once and then came right back to land on the back of Kurt's hand. Kurt swallowed and raised his hand, studying the dragonfly closely. It was stunning. He could see its unblinking eyes and thin legs, long sparkling body and bulbous head, it was a living thing. He turned his hand over slowly to ease the dragonfly into his palm, but as soon as he did, it went still, dropping heavily into his hand – once again made of cool metal and colored glass.

Kurt slid down to sit on the hard cement floor, heart in his throat and his legs a little wobbly. He held the brooch, turning it this way and that, it was lovely and unique; that's why he'd bought it in the first place, but it was nothing more than a piece of jewelry now, the life in it gone.

Kurt was sitting next to the mirror and turned to look at it.

"Okay..." He took a deep breath and reached out with his open hand to touch the glass, "What in the world are you?"

Kurt was back in his apartment in SoHo sitting at his sewing table and flipping through his book on magic and witchcraft. After leaving it hidden under his bed for years, he'd started reading it back when he and Blaine were talking. In fact, he'd spent a lot of time in the fall and winter of 2012 studying it and other books, trying to find out if there was something he could do to help Blaine's aunt, and if it was possible that magic really was making her sick. He never had a chance to share with Blaine what he had learned; he'd mastered the spell on health and happiness. It wasn't a cure all by any means, but it did ward off minor illnesses and created a feeling of contentment. He wondered if it would have helped Helen. It didn't matter though – Kurt didn't know at the time, but he wasn't going to talk to Blaine that next summer.

In the years that followed, Kurt had learned more about magic than he thought was possible at 13 years old when this book had made him so nervous. He could successfully cast several spells, he knew charms that aided in many situations – just little things like getting his clothes not to wrinkle, or conjuring light, or how to repair small broken objects, to heal minor cuts and bruises, or help getting a soufflé to rise perfectly. It was mostly household magic, used in bygone times by housewives to help in their day to day activities. Still, it was a thrill every time a spell worked.

He loved that he did more than just detect magic now, he performed it. A little at least. There were still whole chapters in his book that he wouldn't mess with. He steered away from anything that seemed like it could be dark magic and he wasn't really interested in ghost, sprites, or summoning anything.

Kurt had, however, practically memorized the chapter on mirrors. After that first summer where Blaine didn't show up, his hand mirror had started to grow quiet, until it was completely silent and no divination charm he attempted could wake magic in it anymore. Maybe it didn't even have magic anymore. In any case, it seemed like his connection to Blaine was gone and he had no idea why.

Kurt tried not to think about Blaine too much; that first year or so, he'd been in Kurt's thoughts continually. In fact, if it hadn't been for Blaine's encouragement, he didn't even know if he would have moved to New York when he had, or if he would have enrolled in NYU and found his passion for studying history. It was a surprise to him to give up the dream of performing for a living, but he didn't really miss it. Growing up in an antique shop and knowing about the magic connected to old items-it just made sense that this was what Kurt was meant to do.

He hated that he never got to tell Blaine that. He hated that he didn't know what happened to Aunt Helen. And he hated that six years later, when he did allow himself to think of Blaine, he still missed him like crazy. Not even memorizing every word his book had on mirrors could bring his long-lost friend back to him.

Kurt didn't flip to the chapter on mirrors this evening though; tonight, he was more interested in a short section the book had on transfiguration. He'd read it before, a complicated spell for turning inanimate objects to life. He'd never attempted it; firstly because the ingredients needed for the spell weren't easy to come by – where would he get bat's heart anyway? And secondly, because it sounded a little risky to him – did he really want to be responsible for giving life to something?

It seemed like some kind of transfiguration spell had to have been cast on his brooch tonight. Kurt thought back to the voices he'd heard from the mirror in the storeroom; was it possible that someone had performed a spell through the glass? Kurt sighed and hung his head in his hands. He wasn't getting anywhere, and he was probably not looking at the big picture anyway.

The most important thing was to get that mirror away from Britton's. If Jane had heard it, others would too, and if the mirror was somehow performing magic, even light magic, Kurt had a responsibility to protect people from it. Kurt considered purchasing it himself, but despite Jane's assertion that she didn't think it'd sell well, the mirror had to be worth a great deal and Kurt wasn't sure how he'd afford it.

He sighed and got up from his table, stretching his arms over his head and glancing out his window to see the sun coming up golden and bright over the horizon. He'd stayed up all night. At least he had today off. He looked down and realized he was still in his tuxedo shirt and pants. He was fuzzy-headed and felt grimy and rumpled.

He walked to his bedroom, smiling as he entered; it was small but well-organized and tastefully decorated if he did say so himself. He'd brought a few things from home, like his brightly lit vanity, but he mostly started fresh when he got this apartment, a warmer cozier look than his bedroom in Lima had been. More refined than the apartment he'd shared with Rachel.

This morning, he could hear the cars on the street below him, and the squeaky plumbing that acted up when his neighbor started a wash, the oboe player down the hall must have been back in town because he could hear her doing scales-but his lips tipped up in a smile as he tuned that all out, standing there in his room and focusing on nothing but the magic he knew was around him.

There was the paperweight he'd taken from the antique shop with him when he moved, wind still rushing through it. The nightstand that was his first furniture purchased in New York; he'd gotten it at a flea market, both because he loved the late 1920's look to it and because of the soft strains of harp music it emitted. Then there was the desk lamp he brought from home that sounded like a distant crowd cheering and reminded him of his dad watching football. All of them together made the sweet symphony that sounded like home.

Kurt drew in a deep contented breath and then grabbed a change of clothes and moved to the tiny bathroom off his room.

Kurt slipped out of his dress shirt and slacks and eased into the shower; he turned the water up a little hotter than normal and braced himself with his palms against the tile, letting the hot water run down his shoulders and back as it worked out some of the tension in his muscles. He was tired, but his mind was still going a mile a minute; he couldn't stop thinking about the loud whispers of the mirror, the success of the auction, his brooch buzzing and flitting around the storeroom, Nathan's hand on his thigh…

Okay, standing in the shower wasn't a great time to be thinking of Nathan touching him. He was glad things with Nathan were over, but at the same time, it'd been a while since Kurt had been with someone and he felt a little needy. Oh, and of course his mind would drift to Blaine now, his warm, sincere voice and all the hours upon hours they'd spent talking about everything under the sun. There were still parts of Kurt's life no one knew besides Blaine.

Honestly, he hadn't thought about him this much in years, but after everything with that mirror, how could he not think about Blaine? It was a magic mirror that had brought them together. And while his friendship with Blaine had been sweet and innocent, he found that with the mood he was in, standing naked in the shower and thinking about the first boy he'd ever fallen for wasn't a great idea.

He stood up straight and washed his hair and used his lavender scented body wash – the expensive one he only used when he really needed to relax. He got out of the shower, toweled off and dressed, but still, he could only think about Blaine's voice and how much he missed him. It was making him angry.

Sure, his mirror didn't seem to work anymore and it was very doubtfully Blaine's fault, but still, it was Blaine who had left him high and dry without explanation. Blaine who had promised to come back every summer and then just… didn't. Blaine who he'd given his heart to at a young age and was now haunted by as an adult. And now, Kurt was on the cusp of the biggest magical discovery of his life and all he could think of was some teenaged boy who'd abandoned him years ago.

It was maddening.

Kurt trudged through his living room to the kitchen; too preoccupied to cook, he just pulled out a yogurt and started some coffee. He leaned against the counter as his coffee percolated and slowly ate his strawberry-banana yogurt, going over in his mind everything that had happened last night.

The magic he'd seen had been wondrous, the voices though… they had been unnerving. The way they had risen in volume and felt like they were entering the room. Then there was that etching on the side of the mirror which made him think someone had once used this mirror for magic.

Kurt finished up his yogurt, tossing the empty carton and pouring himself some coffee, forgetting to even put in sugar or cream. Before it had gotten so loud, the voices in the mirror at Britton's had reminded him of the way his hand mirror used to whisper. Was it possible that it wasn't just Blaine that had been communicating through the glass back then? Maybe the whispers weren't just a sound caught in the mirror but multiple someones somewhere actually speaking through it. That thought made chills run down Kurt's spine.

He took a sip of coffee and grimaced looking down at his mug; he really didn't enjoy black coffee. He took a moment to doctor it, using more sugar than needed, but he always did that, and then, distracted, he went back to the living room. He bumped into the corner of his sewing table and cursed under his breath as his book fell from the table top and hit the ground with a thud.

"Damn it." The book was old and he was careful to treat it well, he didn't want the spine to break. He knelt down to pick it up but paused when he saw what chapter it had fallen open to, "Hexes & Curses".

He frowned and placed the book back down on the table, sitting with his coffee as he scanned the chapter. His book had fallen open to this section many times in the past years, but Kurt hadn't bothered with it – it was part of the book that dealt with dark magic so Kurt hadn't wanted anything to do with it.

He was about to disregard the section again when his eyes landed on a sentence that made his throat go dry.

"The most powerful incantation can't be held by a mortal, to make use of it you must first place the spell in an enchanted object. Only then can the witch summon magik too powerful to wield on her own."

Kurt's fingers were shaking as he flipped through the rest of the chapter – all about how to endow an object with dark magic that could then be bent to the conjurer'swill. It even had a small illustration of a young woman carving initials onto the back of a pocket watch to calm the dark object and its magic as her own.

There was a reason Kurt had never come across this kind of marking in his magical studies. He only studied light magic and this seemed reserved for something dark and powerful, something cursed, something dangerous. Meaning the mirror at Brittons…

"Oh god." Kurt breathed and then leaped up from the chair so fast he almost tipped over his coffee. He knew the mirror was powerful, but cursed? Something full of dark magic? That was so much worse.

He grabbed the book and raced towards the front door, stuffing it unceremoniously in his book bag and slipping on a pair of shoes by the door. He was about to leave when a thought hit him and he raced back to his bedroom, dropping to his knees and pulling a box out from under his bed.

He hadn't opened this in years, but he dug through it until his hand landed on the cool, smooth metal of his magic hand mirror. He lifted it up, letting the light that was coming through his window cast rainbows off it like he remembered it had the very first time he'd found it.

He stood and wrapped a hand towel around the glass before placing it in his book bag, rushing out of his apartment.

Kurt hurried into Britton's Auction House so quickly he didn't even notice which doorman was working today; he didn't stop to talk to anyone, or check to see if Nathan was here, he just headed straight for the staircase to the basement.

Britton's was closed today so there was just a skeleton staff anyway, which Kurt was glad of.

"I thought you were off today!" He heard one of the security guards call from behind him.

He just called a quick, "I am!" over his shoulder.

In moments, he was pressing in his passcodes and going through two sets of doors, racing through the main storeroom, and to the little back room where the mirror was. He closed the door tightly behind, noticing the emergency lights were still on; meaning the normal lights and security cameras in the room must still not be working. That could be a blessing in disguise. Kurt had pulled out his book, flipping to the page with the instructions about how to create a dark magical object.

He walked up to the mirror – it was silent right now – and looked at the initials carved into the side; he lifted his fingers and brushed them over then indents. S.C.

Kurt knew from the start that this mirror was powerful, but he really hadn't thought it was dark, maybe because he was so excited about the prospect of connecting to Blaine again. But now he looked at it in a new light and it made a shiver run down his spine, it really could be dark. If it was, it was a kind of dark magic Kurt had never encountered before – all the dark magic he'd come across up until this point was created the same way that light magic was – by powerful magic being performed nearby and bits of surplus magic embedding in the object. Kurt had never come across something that was purposefully created to be malevolent.

He took a long thoughtful breath. He didn't need to jump to conclusions; just because he came across an illustration of someone using their initials to enhance a spell in a chapter on dark magic didn't mean that the practice was always dark. Right?

Kurt licked his lips and sat down cross legged on the ground as he pulled out his little hand mirror. He remembered when he first got it and it had gone silent, he'd used the charm from his book to see if it was light or dark magic and that's when he first started talking to Blaine.

He'd tried the charm again over the years, without getting the mirror to wake – he'd always thought maybe that meant something was wrong with the magic on the other side, wherever Blaine was – but now… well he needed to know for sure if this new mirror was dangerous or not and this charm did seem to work on mirrors when the tune his mother taught him did not. Maybe mirrors in general held magic in a different way than other objects? Something to do with them being used for communication? Kurt didn't know. And what was important right now was finding out how dangerous this mirror was.

Kurt placed his hand mirror on the floor next to him and pulled out his book. He took a few calming breaths; he'd been rushing around and impulsive since Jane had shown him this mirror yesterday, he needed to stop for a moment and think.

This mirror was more powerful than his hand mirror had ever been, and when he'd tried the charm on the smaller mirror years ago, he remembered how it had lit up and glowed and almost burned his hand- was it really a good idea to try the charm on this bigger and more powerful mirror?

Kurt flipped to the back of the book where the charm was and then looked up at the mirror… finding out if this thing was dangerous or not was important. He nodded to himself, decision made, and glanced down at the charm, reminding himself how it went. He was going to do this because he honestly didn't know what else to do. He closed his eyes and stretched his hand out on the smooth glass of the mirror.

He focused all of his energy and shut out all sound but his own voice, and then recited like he had when he was thirteen, "Golden light shine forth form here. Dark of night attend near. Nature come and nature called. Nature young and nature auld."

Kurt's eyes immediately snapped open and his stomach lurched as a loud resounding clang came from the mirror; it rang through the small room, making the very walls vibrate, and before Kurt could do anything else, the whole mirror started to shake and rattle, like it alone was being tossed about by an earthquake nothing else in the room could feel.

"Oh crap!" Kurt sprang to his feet, backing away from the mirror. The glass started to bend in and out like it was breathing, the crack down the length of it widening. "No no no no." Kurt gasped, his heart pounding; he glanced back down at his book still lying on the concrete floor. He knew there was a reversing charm in there, but he'd never used it and didn't know how it went.

He took a quick step forward towards the book and then froze, the crack in the mirror groaned and then started to leak, water trickling out of it and pooling on the floor. Kurt forced himself to move, scooping up his book before it got wet; he started flipping through the pages, "What do I do? What do I do!"

His eyes landed on the reversal charm just as there was a terrible snapping sound and Kurt looked up to see the crack in the glass split open – In that moment, Kurt felt suspended in time, knowing he had to do something but unable to move fast enough before water was gushing through the mirror, fast and heavy like water spouting from a geyser.

It hit Kurt's body hard and knocked him off his feet, his book flying out of his hands. He only had a split second to look back at the mirror; it was as if its glass was completely gone and all that was left was a large oval opening for water to shoot through. It was filling up the small air-locked room quickly. Kurt was struggling to get to his feet, soaked in salty tasting water, his book nowhere in sight. He finally stood and the water was already somehow up to his knees – swirling around the room and rising fast.

"Oh god!" Kurt turned frantically in a circle looking for his book, he needed that charm now!

He heard what sounded like a shout from behind him and spun around to face the mirror, but that was a bad idea – it was still gushing out water and Kurt had to quickly cover his face – he slipped again, this time going completely under the rising waterline, the sounds of the torrential water muted under the surface. He opened his eyes and looked around for his book, seaweed and sand flitting through the stirring water. He stood to take a gulp of air before plunging under the water again. It was high enough for him to swim through now and he did, glancing everywhere for his poor drenched book, hoping he'd still be able to make out the reversal charm.

He stood again to draw in a breath, the water was up to his neck now and the furniture in the room was floating in it, he couldn't see his book anywhere. "Shit!" Kurt yelled before taking a long deep breath and submerging himself again. Something hit him hard in the side, a coffee table pushed around in the water by the stream still coming from the mirror, but Kurt just kept looking.

He was about to go up for another breath of air when finally through the churning water, he saw his book lying on the ground, sunk down to the bottom of the room a few feet away. He started swimming towards it, but the water was pushing it farther from him and his lungs were aching from a lack of oxygen. His vision started getting blurry; he reached towards the book, unable to reach it, when another hand stretched out and someone else grabbed it. He couldn't get a good look before the person was swimming upwards.

Kurt quickly kicked up to the surface, gulping in air and treading water; the mirror itself was underwater now, so at least that meant there wasn't a jet of water hitting him anymore, but Kurt couldn't even be grateful for that, his heart was in his throat and he was about to start panicking. The water would be at the ceiling soon and Kurt didn't know how to stop it.

"Here!" A voice shouted, and he felt someone pull him by his shoulder until his feet hit something solid beneath him – one of the large wooden crates in the room. Kurt was able to stand on it and have his shoulders and head out of the water.

Before he had a chance to understand what was going on, someone was thrusting his open and waterlogged book at him. "Read this!"

He glanced down at the page, it was the reversal charm. Thank god. Kurt didn't waste any time, but just shouted over the din of the flooding waters, "Hear these words heed them now. Spells before we disavow. Take this magic turn it 'round. Send it back from whence it bound!"

There was an immediate sound from under the surface, a muffled thud and then Kurt's feet started slipping off the crate as the water in the room began to violently suck back towards the mirror.

"No no!" The other person in the room shouted.

The water was swirling out of the room quickly, and if Kurt wasn't careful he was going to be sucked into the mirror with it. He swam against the flow of the water and latched onto one of the heavy crates that was steadily staying put; he saw the blurred figure of someone drifting past him, stuck in the current and being drawn in towards the guzzling mirror. Kurt instinctively reached out a hand, grabbing the person as they shot by; they clasped Kurt's hand back with a tight and desperate grip.

They stayed like that, Kurt holding onto the crate, and someone else holding onto him, until the water level receded and their bodies floated down to the ground.

Kurt let go of the hand he was holding once the water stopped moving; he gasped deeply as he found himself sitting on the cold wet floor of the storeroom, his book soaked and lying next to him. He looked at the mirror; it was back to normal, glass intact with just a very fine crack going down its middle.

Kurt's eyes stung and his throat was raw and he was dripping cold salty water, but he was alive. He hadn't drowned or been sucked into a magic mirror, and besides the water dripping off everything in the room, he'd come out of that unscathed.

His breath caught as he remembered he wasn't alone and he glanced quickly around the room, his eyes falling on the form of a man a few feet away, who was lying on his back, a hand resting on his stomach, which was rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, hurriedly crawling over to him.

He leaned over the stranger's face; he was young, and handsome. Tan skin, defined jaw, thick black hair plastered against his head. The man opened his eyes and Kurt found himself staring into irises so golden they barely seemed possible.

Then, the man's lips slowly tipped up into a smile. "We didn't drown then?"

"No. I guess we didn't," Kurt said, his voice nearly stuck in his throat.

The man nodded and then sat up with a groan; he ran a hand through his wet hair and glanced around the room before looking back at Kurt. "Where in the world am I?"

"Um…" Kurt started, but then stopped, thoughts unsettled, both by what had just happened and the gorgeous man staring at him.

The man lifted his eyebrows and then very deliberately looked Kurt up and down before coming back up to meet Kurt's eyes. "Wow," he breathed and Kurt could feel himself blush, very aware of how his wet clothes were clinging to him because they were doing the same thing to the man next to him.

"You, um…" Kurt cleared his throat, "Are you hurt?"

The man shook his head, "No are you?"

"I don't think so." They both were silent for a moment before Kurt remembered the man's question, "You are in the basement of Britton's Auction House."

The man scrunched his brow in confusion, "I'm not even sure where that is."

"You don't work here?" Kurt asked, voice going higher at the end, he was starting to feel nervous.

The man laughed, it was a wonderful laugh. Warm and somehow familiar. "No. I'm pretty sure I came from there." He pointed to the mirror and Kurt turned to look at it. If he hadn't just seen it flood the room, he wouldn't have been able to tell by looking at it that it wasn't just a normal antique mirror.

"You came from the mirror?" He blinked and looked back at the water-soaked man sitting in front of him.

"It seems so. Not that I live in the mirror." He hurried to explain.

"Then should I have let you be sucked back in there?" Kurt asked, wondering what this man was and if Kurt should have let him go back where he came from.

"I think you saved my life by stopping that from happening, pretty sure I would have drowned."

"Oh."

"Britton's Auction House?" The man said, his face lighting up, and really he was gorgeous, "Isn't that in New York?"

Kurt nodded, mind still trying to catch up with what was going on.

The man stood and reached a hand down to help Kurt to his feet. Kurt clasped hands with him and rose; they both stared at each other for a long moment before Kurt realized they were still holding hands and standing close.

There was a cut on the man's cheek that was bleeding, but he didn't seem to have noticed it; he was smiling broadly at Kurt and it made his stomach flutter. Kurt cleared his throat, dropping the stranger's hand and backing up. "Um… I… I guess I should introduce myself, my name is-"

"Kurt," the man finished for him, with an inflection that Kurt had only ever heard one person use when saying his name.

"Oh my god," Kurt could literally feel his jaw drop, "Blaine?"