Save All Your Kisses

AN: Starting to think I should re-watch Glee. x'D Please forgive any errors, whether they be spelling, grammar or time/events. This is un-beta'd and I'm using the Glee wiki to help me along.

I really loathe the character of Blaine. Darren Criss is perfect and he has a beautiful voice and he's super funny and I love him so much, but urgh. Blaine makes me want to rip my uterus out so I don't breed an attention-hungry, Kurt-spirit-crushing little fuck nugget like that (come on why would u ever cheat on Chris Colfer ffs no).

I'm introducing a new character to this. He's not all that important, but he plays a big part for Harry's character and bringing the war with Voldemort into his life.

scourgify and tergeo - cleaning spells

Sorry about the lateness of this omg. AS Chemistry sucks, man. I wish I'd stayed in my gap year ffs ah x_x;; Harry's personality: not bipolar, or split personality or MPD or anything - he's just an emotional wreck who can't remember why he's an emotional wreck. All gets explained, my lovelies.

"Wake up, sleepy head! Get up, get up, get up!" Harry snarled, a twitch of his fingers blowing the alarm clock to pieces. Four in the morning. Where the bollocksing Hell did he find quintuple Espresso's to go?

He shot into the shower, lathering himself in sweet-smelling soaps and washing his hair with vanilla essence shampoo - he dried it with a flick of his wand, neatly combed in an unmovable quiff and undeniably straight. He then placed a heavy glamour over his lightning bolt scar, covering it with Muggle concealer as a fail-safe. He sprayed himself heavily with deodorant, hoping that the woman would let him at least exercise. His towel was replaced with the Cheerios uniform and when he wiggled his toes, his socks crept up his feet so he could step into the boots. 04:13 his clock read. "Kreacher," he called softly. The elf appeared with a quiet pop, bowing low to the floor. "I need two quintuple Espresso things from Starbucks to go, okay? Don't get caught." The elf disappeared with a large grin, happy to do some illegal work - even if it was stealing two coffees from a major business chain.

He slapped himself across the face a few times, incredibly grateful for magic. With a flick of his wand, his bag was packed for the day and with a loud crack of Apparation, he was at the front door, locking it. "Here, master," Kreacher bowed lowly, appearing behind him. Harry smiled warmly, thanked him, and took the cups with him to the car. 04:18.

He shot to school, smirking when he saw the red figure of Sue Sylvester stalk into school. "Coach!" he called, swinging his bag over his shoulder and holding the two cups in his hands. He kicked his car door closed, the door locking automatically.

She sneered when she saw him. "You better not be trying to win me over, Bambi. I purged myself of any oestrogen years ago - your innocent doe eyes and childish way have nothing on my steel core of preying on the fears of teenage girls until they develop eating disorders and stealing candy from babies."

Harry tried not to snort. "Not trying to win you over, Coach. I just thought I'd come earlier in case I messed your coffee order up." Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the cups in his hands - she blinked, an expression of brief shock running over her face, before she smiled smugly; it seemed like the coffee orders had... Confirmed something for her. Harry didn't dare to think about it. "I didn't know if you'd want it piping hot or stone-cold or something, so they're both piping hot. If you want it cold, I'll take - "

"Stop rambling; I think the products you've used to tame your ghastly locks has gone to your head. Give me my damned coffee and go warm up or something - you're doing a full gymnastic circuit before I drill the routine into you. Sand bags says you're athletic - we're going to do a standing human pyramid and you're going to do a spinning flip to the top of the pyramid, understand? No wavering allowed. If the pyramid collapses, you will break your bones and I will laugh at you, before stripping you from the team. No... In fact, I will mount your head on a toilet seat and leave it to a necrophiliac homosexual. I will then give your headless body to a rapist and keep you warm to keep the streets clear if you mess anything up, do you understand?"

Harry nodded frantically, handing the woman her coffee. She took it with a smile and a slap to the back of the head. "You should be thankful I have an asbestos mouth and the boiling heat of coffee merely makes me aroused." She lowered herself down, glaring. "And if you tell anyone I drink this putrid filth, the only way to identify you will be your horrendous curly hair. Not even Porcelain will recognise your disfigured British teeth."

"Crystal clear, Coach." Harry nodded his head again, feeling like the Churchill dog. "It's a little chilly, so..."

Harry blinked rapidly when the woman disappeared - he turned around and she was nowhere to be found. "What the..." He craned his neck but the woman was literally gone. No sounds of Apparition... He shrugged, removing the lid from his coffee and took one deep swig, stiffening his shoulders and striding into the school. He was surprised that it was even open, but a woman like Sue Sylvester was terrifying - it was no surprise that she had been able opened the school early.

He first stopped by her office, knowing she had said to be there at 05:00 but he couldn't see her, so he walked to the gym instead. There he stretched, sprinted around the room ten times, stretched again and managed to finish his coffee as well. "Good!" the woman barked - Harry tried not to jump. She had a horrific ability to disappear or appear at a moments notice; he was tempted to ask if she was a witch, but that might get him in trouble with the Ministry if she wasn't. "I want to cartwheel around the room ten times with no pause, and after that you are to walk on your hands until I tell you to stop! Then you're going to put on these shoes," She held up white shoes like Santana's with an incredibly large heel on; he gulped. How was walking around in heels good for them? Surely it would strain their calves? "And you're going to run around the room again! Then we'll start on your high kicks, your tumbles - you're going to be my secret weapon, boy!"

His body ached. He was sure that his concealer on his scar had slipped from the amount of sweat pouring from him; he showered again, Scourgifying his uniform repeatedly and finishing it up with an incredibly strong Tergeo.

He redid his morning routine, brushing his teeth and styling his hair, rubbing concealer into his scar - he stumbled slightly when he had to step back into the much-larger heels, but he managed it all right. "This is hell," he muttered sullenly, slowly hobbling out of the female changing rooms and trying to find his way to his locker. Students passed, giving him the strangest of looks; he snarled back. "Where the hell is my locker?" he whined, pouting. Even if the shoes increased his height dramatically (from 5'8 to a crazy 6'1) some students still towered over him and blocked his view.

"Hello," someone greeted - Harry blinked up at the person speaking. He was tall, taller than him in heels. The taller boy grinned, holding out his arm for Harry to take. "My name's Charlie. I'm in the Senior year."

Harry took his arm. "I didn't ask, but thanks Charlie from the Senior year. I'm Harry and I don't understand the American education system - in British terms, I'm in year ten. By my Boarding School system, I'm in Fifth Year. I guess that's Sophomore?"

The boy laughed loudly, revealing pearly white teeth. He was incredibly cute, with side-swept curly black hair and golden-brown eyes. "Why are you walking around in heels, Cheerio? What's your locker number?" He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt coupled with tight jeans; people walked past hissing abuse at him, but he ignored it.

"Coach has some God-forsaken idea that if we can do our routine perfectly in heels, we'll be astronomical at Nationals in pumps. I guess my brief stint as Doctor Frank-N-Furter helped me out a shit-tonne," he muttered, ducking his head and nudging the boy to side. Green slushie fell where the taller of the two once stood. "Fuck off, you cunt," Harry snapped at the idiot with the second drink. "If any of that goes on me, you'll have Coach Sylvester on your back."

The person holding the cup bolted, knowing this was the new kid the rumours bragged about. If the boy now had the backing of Coach Sylvester and Mister King...

"How British are you! Chivalrous, too," Charlie winked, linking their arms again. "Darling, tell me, what's your locker? I'm now indebted to you." The boy blinked his pretty eyes, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Very. This morning I had crumpets and tea whilst wearing a top hat and a monocle; a typical British morning," Harry said dryly. "I just know my locker is near Noah Puckerman. Have you seen that beast of a Sophomore with a mohawk?"

The boy nodded knowledgeably. "You're in the completely wrong place." Charlie began to pull him down the corridor, making sure Harry didn't stumble too badly; the pair were soon striding at the same pace. "So, Harry from Sophomore year, what do you like to do?"

"Well, I'm now a member of both the Cheerios and the Glee club." Charlie snorted, trying to hide his cheeky grin. "Mr. Schuester thinks I'm related to Coach, but I think Coach thinks I'm related to Schuester because she keeps threatening to give me a buzz cut. Coach Sylvester also calls me Bambi and the Bat's Godson." Harry shuddered. "I don't want to be reminded that I'm King's Godson, you know? This is the man I flirt with to get out detentions early!"

Charlie cackled, his eyes dancing in mirth. "Wait - wait, so you're related to Severus King? You're his Godson, and you flirt with him? And Coach Sylvester wants to shave your head?"

"Yes. He once dressed me up in a corset and ladies underwear and had me prance around the school. I'm allowed to flirt with him." The taller boy laughed harder, tightening his grip on his arm. "Tell me about yourself, Charlie."

The other boy blinked, not expecting the conversation to turn to himself. "Well... I take Sophomore French because I fail all the time. Do you take Sophomore French?" Harry nodded, smiling shyly. "Huh. I don't know why I didn't see you the other day... You sit with the other homo, don't you?" Harry stiffened, his eyes flashing in anger. "Hey! None of that. It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to insult a gay kid when I'm homo myself."

"Why do you say it like you're disgusted?" Harry asked softly, eyes bright.

"Because that's what I get told everyday." Charlie said simply, gesturing to a locker emblazoned with 'fag' 'homo' 'cocksucker'. "I guess this is you, huh?" Charlie smiled, shuffling his feet but keeping his head high.

"You'd think they'd be a little more creative, wouldn't you?" Harry asked, giggling. "Like - 'pillow biter' or 'anal assassin' or 'knob jockey'. Maybe I should give them a list of terms..." Harry gazed thoughtfully at the graffiti. "Do you have a pen? I want to write twink."

Charlie cackled again, wordlessly handing a black marker pen. "Thanks." Harry twisted his head so that he was horizontal, writing TWINK over the graffiti and so it covered the majority of his locker.

"Harry?" Puck asked, watching in bemusement. "Why are you writing on your own locker? It defies the object..." He trailed off, catching the words written earlier. "If I catch whoever did this, Harry, I'll sort them out for you, alright? You're my boy now. You're my bro from another hoe."

"Er - I'll go, then." Charlie nodded to Harry and Puck and scuttled away.

"Wait! What's your number?" Harry called after him; Charlie turned around with a wide, beaming grin, running up to Harry and taking the pen, writing his number on Harry's hand. "Thanks!" Harry shouted when the man ran away again. He shook his head, smiling sweetly. "He's a cutie."

"What about me?" Puck pouted, crossing his meaty arms. His expression softened. "Are you warm enough like that? Satan always complains about being cold in her uniform but she has a jacket - you don't."

Harry shrugged. "I'll be fine." As he spoke, he shuddered, a cold wind gusting down the corridor. He opened his locker, placing his bag at the opening and shoving in his textbooks. Puck made a snap decision and removed his letterman jacket, slipping it on Harry's shoulders.

"Keep it on. I'm a badass - the cold won't even fuck me with, you know?" He swaggered away, leaving Harry staring at him with a bright blush on his face.

Whispers followed him wherever he went. He was torn between blaming the shoes - he got a few remarks about them - and blaming Puck for giving him his jacket. "Is he going out with Puckerman?" How did wearing someone's jacket mean you were dating them? "I know he had sex last night. Look at how he walks!" Did he walk funny? He changed his stride slightly. "I thought Hummel was like, in love with him?" He rose an eyebrow. No, Kurt was in love with Finn, he wanted to correct. "I heard he slept with the Football team to make them leave him alone."

And just like America's Founding Fathers, the jocks at McKinley High were totally closeted homosexuals. Harry chuckled to himself, kicking open the French room door, lips pursed. Kurt was sat at the front, filing his nails and smirking at him condescendingly. "You're just like me!" the countertenor chirped. "You're an evil straight guy converter!" With his bit said, he burst into loud giggles.

"Charlie, darling!" Harry beamed, ignoring Kurt for the meantime. "Come sit with me! Kurtiekins thinks it's okay to be mean to me."

The senior grinned widely, moving to sit behind Kurt. Harry sat down next to him, crossing his legs. "Hello again, Harry from year ten or Fifth Year, depending on the educational system. Oh, and self-confessed twink."

"Don't be like that, H-Harry," Kurt giggled, interrupting.

"I thought Hummel was like, totally in love with him?" Harry mocked, making his voice incredibly high-pitched and feminine. "Heard he slept with the Football team to make them leave him alone! I know he had sex last night. Look at how he walks!"

Charlie laughed slightly. "I think you forgot the best rumour yet." Harry turned, one eyebrow cocked, a half-smile on his lips. "The one why you're hobbling," he expanded. "Gay foursome involving you as the bottom, Puck on top, Kurt in the middle and Mr. King as the dominant. Who knew you could fit three cocks up your shitter?"

Harry slammed his head down on the desk, bringing it up and slamming it down again. "It's too early for this, I swear. I wake at four, have Coach threatening to donate my dead, still-warm decapitated body to a necrophiliac rapist, I have a quintuple Espresso shot for breakfast and then non-stop exercise from half four until eight. If people don't shut the fuck up with these rumours I will slaughter them!"

Kurt and Charlie both began to roar with laughter when their French class became silent; Kurt gave a silent 'fuck you' to composure and began to lean, clutching his legs tightly together and resting his head on Harry's. "Hey - Harry, I haven't done your hair yet. You want cuddles?"

Harry lifted his head slightly, somehow managing to look the boy in the face. Their noses were touching and Kurt could feel the soft puffs of Harry's cold, coffee-scented breath on his face. "Can I have cuddles without you messing the quiff?"

"No." Kurt beamed, sitting up and leaning against his own table. "I'm sure... Charlie darling," Kurt snickered again. "Would love some cuddles. Noah, definitely, but Charlie would love some too, right?"

Charlie blushed but there was a pleased little smile on his face. Harry rose an eyebrow at Kurt, who rose a daring one back. Harry pushed himself up and pulled Charlie's legs to him, throwing himself on the boy's lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. Kurt pouted.

"Whose number is that?" Kurt asked curiously, looking at the marker on Harry's hand. He was shocked to discover jealousy rising through his body, burning the tips of his fingers and his chest compressing uncomfortably. He tried to shake the feeling off, but his stomach did an unusual flip when Harry turned to grin at Charlie and not at him.

"Just this cute guy," Harry waved away his hand like it didn't matter. A small smile grew on Charlie's lips, barely distinguishable through his bright red blush. "You know, you don't look very hard for homosexuals in this school. I found Charlie here on day three." Harry wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. "And I'm pretty sure Karofsky was checking you out the other day. And; this rumour of me sleeping with the American Football team... Come on. Got to be a bit of truth there."

"'American'?" Kurt asked. "Is this because England calls soccer football?" Secretly Kurt was mortified. He knew nothing of the upper years - to find that the strange Senior who sat in on their French lessons was gay... It was a massive blow to his ego. He prided himself on knowing everyone and everything; and if this Charlie thought he was going to take Kurt's place then - wait, what?

"You carry the ball around and then someone kicks it at the end - how the hell is that football?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow when Kurt didn't reply, opting instead to bite his lip in wide-eyed terror.

I can't crush on the only gay guy who's shown an interest in me, can I? That screams desperation! "Kurt?" Harry snapped his fingers in front of the boys face, his knees precariously placed on Charlie's lap - Kurt sneered when he noticed the other boy blatantly check out Harry's ass in those tight Cheerio trousers - one arm keeping him steady on the table and those emerald eyes about an inch from him. "What's wrong, sweetie?" If I lean forward now... Kurt tried to shake away the want to see if those lips were as plump as they seemed - he licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Nothing, Harry," Kurt tried desperately not to squeak. "Erm - we need to practice our number for Glee, so... cometominetonight?" His cheeks were boiling hot.

"Sure. Where do you live?" Harry asked softly, cocking his head in amusement. Charlie had a sour look on his face, while Harry's slowly became knowing and a devious glint appeared in his eyes. "Are we still doing Hurt? I realise I never actually gave you a choice in that. I mean... We could do a love song. Have you heard of the band Ludo? They have this great song called Horror of Our Love... Schuester will shit himself."

"You mean the song where the guy loves someone so much that he wants to be 'one' with them?" Charlie asked dryly, shifting his legs and making Harry slide down, the boy catching himself in time. Kurt scowled when Charlie gave him a victorious wink.

"Yeah," Harry beamed. "He won't see that, though, he'll just hear; I've murdered half the town, left you love notes on their headstones. I'll fill the graveyards until I have you. And he'll hopefully burst into hysterical sobs and shave his hair off. I'm serious; that much product is not good for his health... Or my already damaged eyesight."

"I've never heard of Ludo," Kurt smoothly interjected. "Do you have the song on your phone? We can listen to it together!"

"Oh, I do, I think!" He removed his phone from his bag, starting his phone up. He searched for an audio hole and couldn't find one. "I can't find an earphone port, but it doesn't look like the teacher is turning up, so... Come sit here, Kurtie." Harry pointed at his own vacated seat. "You can learn the lyrics for tonight, and then you can candlelight serenade me and then I can serenade you in Glee tomorrow while shaving Mr. Schue's hair off."

Harry was oblivious, naïve and very much innocent to the world of teenage boys, being as the only people he ever found attractive were Draco, Kurt, Charlie and Puck; however, he was not unaware of the glances his new favourite person was throwing at the dark eyed boy. Charlie was winding Kurt up, accidentally touching Harry's backside in clear view of Kurt, while Kurt was giving as good as he got with backhanded insults to the Senior and near-constantly touching Harry's hand, arm, leg or face. And it was starting to annoy him. Kurt was absolutely adorable and Charlie was roguishly handsome - but God damn just because he was affectionate, it didn't mean he was going to fuck them or love them or romance them or even fucking dine them! Sure, he played along, grinding his hips slightly when Charlie got particularly vehement or gazing at Kurt through hooded eyes, but it was real fucking annoying. He guessed that Charlie wanted some fun while Kurt wanted commitment...

And Harry wanted friends.

With that in mind, he kept the music playing and opened up contacts, clicking on Draco. Charlie choked at the image George had set for Draco but Harry paid him no heed, sending a message simply reading, Draaaaaaco.

What's wrong, love? Draco sent back immediately, making Harry incredibly happy.

Speak French to me.

Why? Harry could see the confused eyebrow but the pleased half-smile already.

Because the French teacher isn't here, I'm sat on a hot guy's lap and you know how excited your French gets me. Draaaaaaaaco.

Charlie coughed loudly, turning to the side like he hadn't been reading over Harry's shoulder. Harry gave him a cheeky wink but let out a squeak when his phone began to buzz. "Answer the phone, Potter!" Draco's sharp voice rang out as his ringtone - Harry positively beamed when he clicked 'answer'.

"Hello, stranger." Harry chirped. Draco began babbling in French, Harry unable to understand on it. He was sure he heard the word 'want' several times but Latin really didn't help. "Are you... Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Yes." Draco said simply, before continuing on in French. "Although my hand has nothing on you, Potter."

"Wanky," Harry replied, wiggling his eyebrows at a blushing Kurt. "Are you nearly done? Oh! Guess what, Dray?"

There was a series of curses and Harry's name fell from Draco's lips. "What?!" Draco growled out. "What? You nearly ruined that."

Harry snickered. "I joined a cheer leading squad. You'll be coming to stay with me soon, won't you, sweetie? You've read those books I gave you?"

"Don't come on Tuesday. Come to the Manor on Saturday - I have everything packed and ready. I'm coming to live with you as soon as I can." Draco paused. "Awesome. I'll have to ruin your uniform then - wait, are you wearing a skirt?

"No!" Harry laughed. "Have you been reading those books?"

"The American Founding fathers were that closeted they often had tea with Mr. Tumnus."

"I didn't think you knew normal literature!"

"I don't. I read it in an insult book."

Puck was pissed. So what if he lent Harry his jacket? It didn't mean they were banging! Not that he'd mind - Harry the best ass he'd ever seen, and he slept with Quinn, you know? He'd been all up in her and the sight was permanently etched in his mind - but Harry's ass in that damn Cheerio uniform was the best thing ever. It was so... Round. Perky.

Shit, was he gay?

No. He couldn't be! Not gay. All the women he'd nailed would be testimony to that - fuck, he'd gotten a girl pregnant, you know? He banged MILF's for fun and - kind of money, but he wasn't a prostitute or anything, he really did clean their pools too. It's just... Over the winter, business wasn't booming and he has a baby to provide for, right?

But why should he limit himself to women? Surely there were men out there, hiding in their closets with their fucked up kids and wives that cheated on them... He'd bet they'd pay, like, ten times more! His baby could have everything!

Was that gay?

Was that prostitution?!

No.

He was just... opportunistic!

But, shit did he need a wank. The tales of him supposedly banging Harry were just making him hard, but he just banged women mostly so maybe he was like, bisexual or something? Just the thought of Harry in that skin-tight Cheerio uniform...

Definitely needed a wank.

Santana beamed to herself, surprisingly chipper for someone who had just been turned down by Puck for a quick session in the janitor's closet. She was the co-head captain of the Cheerios and, while it kinda' sucked she had to share it with a boy who turned up on Monday, she was the co-head captain! Of Sue Sylvester's squad!

If it weren't for little Quinnie, fucking with no protection - and seriously, had she not heard of the pill or rubbers or something because Puck never pulls out - she would be some sassy, hot bitch who was being almost shat on by precious little Quinn.

And now look at her.

Top of the pyramid, sharing it with one of the greatest fags she'd ever met; not that she'd admit it, but she'd met many fags in Lima. He was funny, sassy with the right amount of 'rebel' - it was a damn shame he liked cock, you know?

Although she still wasn't sure why Sue had grinned so brightly at the name Harry Potter, or asked if he had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, or pure green eyes, if he had I must not tell lies carved in the flesh of his hand... But, she told the coach she'd look and check and yes he was around 5'8 and his best friend's name was Draco - and yes he once had a boyfriend named Cedric but no he didn't have a lightning bolt scar and yes there was some shit about lying on his hand.

And she wasn't sure why she hadn't even tried the boy like she had Santana...

But it didn't matter, because he was a tumbler and acrobat and gymnast and she was the top of the pyramid. She was the shit! She just shared the shit with Harry... and she didn't mind it that much. But if he groped her and it turned out he was using this homo thing to get with her she'd go Lima Heights Adjacent (even if she didn't actually live there) all over his perky British ass and then fuck him raw. With Brittany. He seemed kinky enough, and he cared about Britt! Nobody ever asked where she was - they always assumed she was fucking a guy or had gotten lost or forgotten how to use a door or chair or her legs... Where was she?

She was at the top of her game, and she had precious little Quinnie with her religious virtues against abortion; or just being hit in the stomach repeatedly until she bled - and little Harry Potter who liked cock with his strange, probably self-inflicted scar on the back of his hands and the prettiest green eyes she's ever seen to thank.

Not that she'd thank them.

Harry wouldn't stop bounding from lesson to lesson or poking Kurt until he laughed, or giving Charlie flirty smiles and subtle winks and when Brittany gave him a cherry red lollipop at lunch, well. They'd chosen to all sit in the choir room, bonding like club members should. It just meant that Harry could squeak and squeal and bounce without losing his 'badass' rep - not that Kurt, Santana nor Puck told him that, though.

He was so excited! "Draco's coming!" He beamed, telling an incredibly lacklustre Kurt. He didn't know why the boy was so downtrodden; Draco was his best frenemy he often fucked. No strings, just pleasure and, if it weren't for the fact that they fucked, they'd probably be like brothers. "I'm so excited. Please don't provoke him," He turned big, watery eyes on Kurt who shifted, clearly annoyed. "You can chat about clothes and he sings really well, too. He looks like he sings bass or something but I'm pretty sure he can hit a high F, like you can in your sleep but threw because you're in a backwards town. I bet you can hit a high G, though, so I think you'll love him because he's so competitive but you'll be better, which means presents for me."

Kurt made moon eyes at him, pouting softly. Rachel Berry let out an obnoxious squeal behind him; "What do you mean he threw the no - "

"Lips, Man Hands. Zip them. Nobody cares about your questions," Santana spat, her hair bristling like a cornered cat would bush up its tail.

"Draco's coming!" Harry chirped, cutting in.

"Well, yes, you've told us that but - "

"LIPS!" Santana, Brittany and Quinn chorused, the two Cheerios surrounding the countertenor and stroking Kurt's hair and arms. Quinn wanted to join in, but she was no longer a Cheerio so she settled for smiling warmly at him.

"Now, Kurt," Santana began.

"Coach says that she wants to ask you," Brittany added, looking at Quinn; Kurt snorted. Obviously practised.

"If you'd like to join the Cheerios because Fat Patricia has broken her wrist,"

"From shoveling too many chips," Santana hissed angrily.

"And we need another male because Harry has thrown the balance off. Plus, you could like, make out at Nationals and it'd be totally hot." Brittany sighed dreamily.

"Hey, Harry, can I paint your nails?" Santana asked, holding up his thoroughly chewed nails. "On second thought... Porcelain, sort these out for me. He's a biter."

"You're a what?" Kurt hissed, shooting up from his chair and ripping Harry's hand from Santana's grip. "Oh, Jacobs. These are disgusting! How can a gorgeous British guy like you have such horrendous nails?"

Harry looked up at him with a bright, pleased blush. "You think I'm gorgeous?" he cooed. "That's sweet." Harry then began to fellate the lollipop; Kurt knew he was performing fellatio on the sickly sweet because he was smirking and looking up at him with lidded, lust-blown eyes. There was hardly any green left, just the outer ring and dilated pupils. Kurt didn't even blush, so caught up in his task. He cut them all down to size, ignoring the soft sounds Harry made, his mind processing that they were lewd and suggestive but his nails were truly horrendous. "Kurrrt." Harry moaned, expecting Kurt to flip his shit.

He didn't. He filed them, clipped them again until they were ridge-free and soft. "Would you like square, claw or rounded?" Kurt asked politely, almost tempted to just round them off.

"Can you do claws?" Harry looked down at his nails - his nail beds were thick but his nails were quite short. "I mean, could you imagine? Just walking along and then bang, I'm a cat."

"Of course I can do claws. Santana, when I'm done with this hand, could you paint them silver and green? Like a silver explosion from the cuticle, fading into the green?"

I think they think I'm a girl.

Harry threw on his tightest jeans possible, black with a slight shine like leather, tucking in his white dress shirt and clicking everything into place with braces. He undid the first two buttons of his collar, pulling it out and straightening it and then starting on rolling his sleeves up. He wanted to look nice but also effortless; he had two options. One, his dragonhide boots, which were a little flashy. Two, ankle boots that were steel capped but incredibly soft on the inside and out.

He ruffled his hair, allowing the sides to droop. He didn't want to be too together - charmingly messy was his calling. If he spent all of his time primping like Draco... It just wasn't natural. He preferred natural over hours-in-the-bathroom; while it was pretty and probably a hell of alot better than natural... Hm. Ankle boots it is.

That decided, he stuffed himself with a banana and an apple before getting in his car. Kurt had texted him his address just after Harry had arrived home - Harry shot back 'thank you'.

However, he would have been grateful for directions, because he barely knew where he lived, let alone someone else. The GPS system in his car was no use - he didn't know how to work the bloody thing!

He pulled up a road that seemed right - his magic was certainly acting like it was right, dancing and leaping through the air, making it hard to breathe from being so heavy - and he was incredibly pleased when he saw Kurt standing in the doorway of one of the houses. He pulled in and shut off the car, giving himself a moment to breathe. They were just singing, sure, and Kurt seemed like the hopeless romantic who wanted his first time to be candle lit with rose petals and loving kisses, so he had nothing to worry about; but they would be in close proximity and they could only get attached to their friendship from here on out. He was also, assumingly, the first openly homosexual boy who had shown interest in him, and he didn't know if that would work with him or against him.

He slid out, smiling brilliantly at Kurt. The other boy looked fabulous, as per, but his hair was almost scruffy. Like he'd ran his fingers through it from feeling too prim and proper. "Hullo," Harry greeted, his smile becoming a touch nervous. "Have you thought any about what we're going to sing?"

"Well, Christina Aguilera is perfect for my vocal range... But, at the same time, I don't think Mr. Schue will choose our song anyway, so why don't we go with Ludo?" Kurt smiled welcomingly, gesturing to his home. He smoothed a piece of hair out of his face; Harry pushed it back, unthinkingly. "Ah - erm, come in! My dad has a date with Finn's mom, so he'll come in at around five and go get changed. Have you eaten?"

Harry followed the boy, admiring the homely feel to the countertenor's house. Pictures lined the walls, all but one containing pictures of Kurt. It was obvious that Kurt's dad loved him very much - he daren't ask about his mother. Once Kurt got a little older, she stopped appearing in the photographs. Divorced? Dead? He wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to press. As far as Kurt was concerned, Harry's parents were alive and kicking about.

"No, I haven't," Harry replied, shaking off his distraction. "I had some fruit. We really to practise, though. Is Mr. Schuester always so... behind on things?"

Kurt chuckled, the sound soft and at the same time loud, leading him to the living room. "Yes. Sectionals was awful." He shook his head. "So... Ludo. How are we going to do this? You can do the opening, obviously, but there are no high notes."

"We can change that," Harry waved his hand, as if he was getting rid of the concern. "We can make it softer. Use the piano - I can play, so when you sing I'll change accordingly, yeah?"

"I think Brad will kill you," Kurt bit his lip in thought. "I have a keyboard. We'll try that."

Kurt scurried away, leaving Harry by himself. He hoped that Kurt's father didn't return when he was on his own; Kurt had flat-out asked him and hadn't even consulted his father on the matter. Is that what you did? Or was Kurt's dad incredibly lenient?

Kurt returned, holding the bulky thing awkwardly. "Do you know the notes?"

"I play by ear," Harry murmured. "I can't read music."

"Oh, really?" Kurt breathed, looking fairly awestruck. "I hope you're good, then. That's a good talent to have."

"Isn't it?" Harry beamed, removing his phone from his pocket and finding the song. He listened to it, nodding at some points. "Do we have to do the whole song? My memory is pretty damn awesome but I don't know if it'd be easier to record me playing the entire thing to remember, or just recording it and playing it in Glee. We don't have enough time to change the chords as well as write them down, and that's hindered by the fact that I can't tell you what the notes I'm playing are."

"I can play the piano, too, you know." Kurt frowned. "Record you playing it and memorise it; the song has to be shortened to two minutes or so, but if you play it we can have the 'wow' factor."

"All right," Harry began to play what he knew sounded right, changing it when Kurt shook his head. "All right. I'll play it through and record it. We can sing along, then, too."

"Right! You'll be singing the opening - none of that belting stuff you did for Bohemian Rhapsody. Soft. Whimsical. Melancholy. With a tinge of bitterness or regret. It's got to be deep."

Harry nodded, beginning to play. He slowed down slightly, just enough for Kurt to smile widely. "I'm a killer, cold and wrathful... Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom. I've murdered half the town; left you love notes on their headstones... I'll fill the graveyards until I have you."

Kurt cut in, making Harry blink and shift his hands to the higher keys, still tapping out a slow, soft melody. "Moonlight walking, I smell your softness. Carnivorous and lusting, to track you down among the pines. I want you stuffed into my mouth... Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you - "

"Love, I'd never hurt you," Harry smoothly injected, hands sliding to the lower notes before going to the higher ones again, giving Kurt a nod to carry on after him.

"But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix. I will eat you slowly..." Kurt smiled approvingly, liking what Harry had done. "Chorus together, okay? Speed it up a hell of a lot."

Harry did just that. "The bit after should be the ghost part; you sing up until the 'and bury me' part, and then I'll join in. We'll both sing the chorus again but you've got to belt it out, okay? Show them your highest notes. I know it's hard because we've only had tonight to practice, so I know things like high F are going to be hell to reach without cracking - Circe knows Draco used to screech like a banshee - but we've got to try, right?"

"I'm always practising my high notes," Kurt admitted shyly, fingering his sleeve before stopping and straightening his shoulders. "The high F won't a problem."

Harry was bouncing throughout the day, eager for Glee. They'd had another run through in Harry's car at lunchtime, Kurt hitting his parting note brilliantly, and Harry knew they'd be excellent. Hopefully Mr. Schue would realise that.

When the final bell rang, he was the first out of the room but not the first in the Glee room. Rachel was already there, a wad of musical papers in her hand and a self-confident smile on her heavily made up lips. Harry didn't acknowledge her, choosing to sit at the back of the room and let his right leg bounce. The room filled up quickly, everyone surprisingly excited for this task. Santana bounded to him, tugging along an innocently smiling Brittany by her pinkie. Puck followed soon after, confidently sitting next to Harry despite not saying a word to him all of yesterday. Harry had placed his jacket in his locker, scurrying away before anyone saw him. He was curious about the padlock on his locker, instead of the usual number system that Harry had, but he didn't question it. The wizard perked up when Kurt entered the room, waving energetically. He pouted when Kurt sat in front, spidery hand moving closer and closer to ruffle that perfect hair.

Kurt shrieked, standing and scowling at a giggling Harry. "What are you doing?" Kurt whined, carding his fingers through his hair to try and make it lay flat. "Do you know how long this took me?"

"You didn't wave back." Harry replied as if that was all the encouragement he needed. "I don't much enjoy being ignored, Kurtiekins, especially when I'm going to be serenading you into a gooey puddle in a few minutes."

Kurt sniffed like he'd smelt something foul, still smoothing down his stubborn hair. "It's more like I'm going to be serenading you, Potter. We're going to maintain eye-contact throughout, do you understand? We're going to make Mr. Schue so uncomfortable that he'll wish he'd never made this stupid assignment." Kurt sat down, crossing his legs like a woman and ignoring the pale boy.

Harry felt like he'd been slapped in the face. Stupid assignment? Harry had a lot of fun, actually, especially with their potentially sinister choice of song. Uncomfortable? Who the hell was uncomfortable by two boys looking at each other? Eye-contact to make him uncomfortable? Not friends backing up friends... or, something? He pulled back, his good mood diminished. He really couldn't wait for Draco to come to him.

Mr. Schue entered the room, grinning brightly at all of them. "Hey, guys. Who wants to go first, then?"

Rachel shot up, dragging the much-taller and cumbersome Finn with her. "We do!"

Finn began to belt out a surprisingly good rendition of "Iris". Rachel jumped in after the opening line, pulling a face that made her look a little constipated. But shit did she have a good set of lungs on her.

Everyone clapped when their song ended, although Santana was sneering and muttering under her breath in rapid Spanish and Puck was texting in his other hand. "Next?" Mr. Schue asked. "That was brilliant, you guys. I really felt it."

"I will," Santana sighed, standing up and pulling Brittany with her. Brad started - Harry felt his throat close, his eyes widening. "As long as she needs me... Oh, yes, she does need me. In spite of what you see, I'm sure that she needs me." Harry clapped the hardest this time, eyes glistening. Brittany wasn't a brilliant singer, but there was such an innocence and honesty to her singing that made it incredibly powerful and touching.

Puck stood next while Schuester gushed about Santana and Brittany. He swung a guitar into his arms and began to strum the melody to "Back to Black". Quinn had Harry in floods of tears when her own brown eyes welled with tears at the beginning of the song. "He left no time to regret, kept his dick wet with his same old safe bet... Me and my head high, and my tears dry..." Harry, who had found out all the sordid details from Kurt, was left painfully touched by Quinn's sorrow and fear. He tried to stop himself crying before anyone noticed, but Santana's concerned eyes caught his own and he shrugged, smiling miserably.

Tina and Artie were both brilliant singers, but Tina suffered massively with a fake stutter. Harry was instantly reminded of Professor Quirrell, making him shift awkwardly in the red seat. He couldn't enjoy their performance, despite how pretty Tina's voice really was.

Kurt stood after Mr. Schuester stopped praising Tina and Artie, shooting Harry a look. Harry smiled softly at Brad who gave him a scowl, grudgingly moving away from the piano to let Harry take his place.

Puck watched Harry's and Kurt's performance with... something curling in his gut. "I'm a killer, cold and wrathful... Silent sleeper, I've been inside your bedroom. I've murdered half the town; left you love notes on their headstones... I'll fill the graveyards until I have you." Harry's voice was broken and soft, but his eyes held steady on Kurt's.

"Moonlight walking, I smell your softness; carnivorous and lusting to track you down among the pines. I want you stuffed into my mouth... Hold you down and tear you open, live inside you." Rachel let out a loud, sharp gasp at Kurt's high notes. He had dragged out the "you" into a high F - the very note he threw in his Defying Gravity audition. Puck's eyes flickered to the Schuester, the beast of a boy smirking when the man's mouth dropped open. Puck couldn't decide if it was for the note or the song choice, but the mohawked teen was amused. Puck was sure their song didn't sound right - sure, it was soft and stuff, but it had nothing on the original. And Hummel's high notes were stupid.

"Love, I'd never hurt you," Harry cut in, Kurt's note still echoing through Harry's words. Puck felt uncomfortable by the raw emotion the dark-haired teen was showing, uncertain about why he was jealous.

"But I'll grind against your bones until our marrows mix. I will eat you slowly..." Kurt maintained his high pitch, although Puck didn't know if it was a high F or not. He amused himself by watching Berry's facial expressions - at one point her face was smug, believing she had the entire competition in the bag, but now she was pale and terrified.

"Oh, the horror of our love... Never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood." Their voices intertwined beautifully, Harry's soft tone backing up Kurt's high notes.

"You're a ghost love, nightgown flowing, your body blue and walking along the continental shelf. You are a dream among the sharks; beautiful and terrifying, lit and restless... We dance in dark suspension." Puck was sure male voices weren't supposed to hit such high notes. Did Kurt have his dick cut off? Puck looked at the boy's crotch; nope, he definitely had a penis. Rather large penis, actually - what?!

"And you bury me in the ocean floor beneath you, where they'll never hear us scream..." Harry's voice was louder now, cutting over Kurt, his fingers flying over the keys like they were nothing. Puck was fascinated - for a short boy, he had long, spindly fingers. The green and silver paint merely enhanced them, the tips a sharp claw.

Harry moaned when Puck pulled out - he began to pound, and those sharp sharp nails dragged so wonderfully down his back and Kurt sucked a particularly sensitive spot on Harry's neck, one hand fisting his cock, the other tweaking and twisting his erect nipple. Puck smirked devilishly at Kurt's porcelain skin, covered in bite marks and angry red scratches, at those big hand prints on perfect hips, and his own tanned hand pumping his cock.

"Oh, the horror of our love... Never so much blood pulled through my veins. Oh, the horror of our love... never so much blood..."

Puck kept his eyes firmly on the ground, not ashamed of his erection but unable to face the two boys he'd popped it over.

"Well... that was... Brilliant, guys. Kurt... How...?" Mr. Schue stammered, looking between the two.

Kurt smirked, opting not to answer. "Next?"

Santana noticed Harry roll his eyes and watched as Harry stood, brushing past Kurt and picking up his bag. "Gotta' go," he said to Mr. Schue, leaving the room without another word.

Kurt looked a little upset, deflated, but anger boiled through Santana's stomach and she wasn't sure why. She was pissed off at Harry for leaving without saying goodbye to her or Brittany, and pissed off at Kurt for being so dismissive. Didn't he know a good guy when he saw one? She glared at him spitefully, leaning in her chair and crossing her arms.

"But... we haven't finished..." Mr. Schue nearly pouted, feeling dejected. They were good!

Harry strode through the bare hallways, slamming into Snape's door. "We have to talk, right?" He then put up a tonne of privacy wards and alarms, raising his eyebrow.

Snape nodded, pausing on his work. "We do. I want to see the Wizarding World for myself."

Harry bit his lips softly. "You won't like it. Dumbledore is dead. Voldemort very nearly won - Neville managed to decapitate his snake just in time for me to counter attack Voldemort's spell without dying by snake. However... Why are you here?"

Snape stiffened almost unnoticeably, but Harry hadn't won the war through sheer luck. He was smart, quick - every detail was noted and triple-checked. He knew that Sue Sylvester was a squib who subscribed to every wizarding newspaper in the world. He knew that a woman with the last name Fabray was a Muggleborn witch. Hell, he even knew that Figgins hired a man who was a known paedophile from a large donation. The headmaster thought it was hidden, but hacking an incredibly weak computer system was one of the few muggle skills that he thrived at. "I was... Dumbledore wanted to hide you, Potter. That's what he told me. He bought you a house - my house - and told me to scope out the area. When I arrived, he told me that no matter whom I contacted, they would not receive me or my owl-mail. I went to the American wizarding community - I was black-listed for smuggling Potions ingredients that I 'served time for'. I went to the Canadian wizarding community - I didn't exist. No birth records; I was a criminal. My magic was then stripped almost half-way by their head Auror and I was forced to stay here. I can't leave Ohio or I'll be arrested and given the Kiss for a crime I didn't commit."

Harry was frowning in disgust. "I'll sort things out for you. I'll sue them all."

"See that you do, Potter."