13:57

A/N: Annnnnd we're back! Bit of a hiatus there, sorry. Got distracted with a pair of one-shots and a new AU: X-Factor. Highly recommend reading all of them. You know, not that I'm biased or anything. Anyway, the plot maybe thickens a little here. . .

Three days after the Champions had been announced, and not much had happened around Hogwarts. James was shooting angry looks at Rachel any time she sat at the Gryffindor table, and Finn and Sam had begun passing out bright pink "Reign, Blaine!" buttons, despite his embarrassed protests. Quinn had even more boys falling over her than before, which Kurt would have thought was completely impossible.

Professor Schuester had been over the moon, of course, quickly pointing out that of the six Champions, five of them were in Musical Lyricism. Kurt didn't point out that Blaine, Jesse, Quinn, and Karofsky also all had Potions together. Sometimes he thought that Professor Schuester had a complete lack of any life, so he certainly wasn't going to deny him what little enjoyment was left to him.

Unfortunately, it also meant that he'd completely changed all of his lesson plans to better serve the Champions. He winced and leaned over. Finn's attempt to create a protective shield by singing Celine Dion was particularly painful. . .and had a tendency to make strange, watery bubbles fall on people's head, rather than protecting them.

"Does somebody know how to turn Frankenteen off?" Santana shrieked after one particularly large bubble burst directly above her head. Blaine just grinned, leaned over with his hand above her head, and hummed "It's Getting Hot in Herre" until her hair was dry.

"Thanks," she said, turning to him and running one finger down his chest. "Dark, handsome, and talented."
"Not tall, unfortunately," Blaine said with a shrug.

Finn, meanwhile, had apparently decided that a bizarre thrashing movement would somehow improve his spell.

"Finn, what are you doing?" Mercedes asked.

"D-dancing?"

"Okay, okay," Professor Schuester said, walking over and putting his hand on Finn's shoulder. "I think that's enough for today. A really, really good effort." Finn grinned, and kind of bobbed his head awkwardly toward Quinn before sitting down. Kurt felt a sudden surge of affection for his goob of a stepbrother.

"Now then," Professor Schuester said. "Since I do believe this is the last class of the day for all of you, I'm supposed to remind all of you that the trip to Hogsmeade is tomorrow, and you absolutely won't be permitted to go if you don't bring a permission slip."

Finn's hand was instantly raised. Professor Schue put two hands to his temple and shook his head. "No, Finn, you can't just bring your slip from last year. It needs to be current."

Said swell of affection died abruptly when Finn began to kick at the ground in a pique. Kurt sighed, and pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag. "Here, Finn," he said, waving it under the other boy's nose. "I had Carole sign it ages ago for you."

It was like watching the sun come up after a day of rain. Finn practically flew out of his chair to hug Kurt. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he gushed. "Oh my gosh, I owe you so big for this!"

"Yes, well. . ." Kurt attempted to remove the wrinkles from his dress robe. "You do know what you agreed to do with me?" The look on Finn's face said that he very obviously did not. "We're shopping for dress robes to the Yule Ball. Remember?"

Affection officially gone, as Finn rolled his eyes up in his head and slumped to the ground. Blaine patted him on the back consolingly. "Hey, at least you know you'll look good for the dance."

Xxx

Kurt was a fan of Hogsmeade. It was hardly high fashion, and he'd obviously rather be shopping in London, or even Diagon Alley, but Hogsmeade was about the best he was going to get. And Gladrags was all right. . .it had gotten better, anyway, since Lavender Brown had bought it out a few years ago. Still. . .he knew that chances were that if he even ended up going to the Yule Ball, he'd be sending out for his own robes.

If he even went. Because really, what was the point of going to a high school dance alone? All of his friends would be dancing with their boyfriends, and he'd just be the obligatory waltz here or there, someone to hand a glance of punch to. Unless the rumors about Jesse st. James were true. . .

Kurt snorted. Even if the rumors were true, there was still no way a famous rock star like Jesse st. James would ever go to the Yule Ball with someone like him. Pointless fantasies.

"Finn, hurry up," Kurt said, tapping his foot anxiously. Rachel, standing beside him, was also bouncing up and down, clearly impatient to go. Kurt glanced over at her. "You don't have to wait with us. I'm sure Mercedes wouldn't mind hanging out with you."

"Mercedes would, of course, love to be graced with my presence," Rachel agreed. "But I also need dress robes. Now that I'm a Champion, I'll have to lead one of the dances. Presentation is very important, you know."

"Oh, honey, I know," Kurt said, glancing at her attire. "I'm just not sure that you do."

The truth of the matter was that 99% of the time, Rachel was dressed fine. Not terribly fashionably, but not heart-stoppingly poorly, either. Then again, 99% of the time, she was wearing the Hogwarts uniform. When she wasn't, it just got. . .ugly.

Today, for instance, she had decided for whatever God-forsaken reason that pairing red tights with a navy skirt and a green sweater with an owl on it was a good idea. Which maybe it was, if she was trying to get on a worst-dressed list, or only be attractive to colorblind farmers.

Kurt thought that either was probably possible when it came to Rachel Berry.

Finn finally came out, after Kurt would have sworn that he'd seen every other student at Hogwarts leave. His stepbrother was slouched over, hands thrust deep in his pockets. He glanced up at Kurt, and did a slight doubletake to see Rachel beside him.

"Is she coming?" he grumped.

"Yes, unfortunately," Kurt said. "Now then, I was thinking that we could begin with. . ."

"Hold up, man," Finn said, reaching out one large hand and plopping it down on Kurt's sweater. Which normally would not be okay, but fortunately he was just wearing a wool blend coat, so it wouldn't be unduly difficult to wash out whatever chip grease Finn left behind. Still, he stared at the hand a bit distastefully. "Blaine said he wanted to come, too."

"Oh, really?" Rachel asked, perking up instantly (as if she weren't already as perky as a chipmunk hopped up on cocaine, Kurt thought). "That's incredibly fortuitous. Maybe we can share notes on our theories regarding our clue. Finn, did you know that I'm a Champion?"

"Yeah, um, that's totally cool, Rachel," Finn said. His voice indicated that he did not find it cool at all. After having spent a week listening to her expound on the subject, Kurt did not find it particularly cool anymore, either. What was cool? The idea of spending an afternoon with Blaine Anderson. Kurt was beginning to think that he could get very behind this new outing.

Before he had the time to decide whether this had the potential to be the greatest afternoon of his life (shopping + Blaine + Finn being there to divert Rachel's interest) Jesse st. James walked by, followed by his coterie of thugs. As per usual, Jesse completely ignored Kurt, but did smile charmingly at Rachel.

"Ms. Berry, looking ravishing as ever," he said as he strolled past. Rachel grinned, and bobbed up and down on her feet.

"Thank you, Jesse, that's very kind," she said, shooting a pointed look toward Finn. "It's always good to know that somebody has noticed the extra effort occasionally given to one's appearance."

"Psh," Jesse clucked. Kurt noticed that he was wearing particularly tight, silver pants. Now, normally Kurt was all for a little flair – let your freak flag fly, that's what he said (provided it was within the realm of experimentation and not fashion disaster) but he thought he could actually see his reflection in those pants. He was so busy inspecting the pants that he didn't catch the start of Jesse's response. "…need to, though it's always appreciated. At least. . ." here Jesse leaned over, and scooped up Rachel's hand "by those of us of discerning tastes." He brushed his lips across Rachel's knuckles before continuing on.

One of the goons, the bigger one, shoved Kurt rudely. As their bodies made contact, Kurt was pretty sure that the other boy gripped him around the upper arm, though he couldn't be sure, it all happened so fast. . .

"Watch your eyes, you little fag."

Somehow Kurt ended up on the ground. But that. . .that couldn't be right. He was at Hogwarts. These kinds of things didn't happen at Hogwarts, they happened back home, in London, they happened in elementary school, they didn't. . .

It must have beeen some kind of bizarre flashback. Perhaps he was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Yes, that was it. Seeing the dress robes that Finn had been planning to wear to the Yule Ball must have sent him into some form of shock. He most definitely had not just been shoved by a visiting student in the Hogwarts courtyard.

Right?

"Hey, guys!" an out-of-breath Blaine came up, just as Finn was helping Kurt back to his feet.

"You really should work on your poise," Rachel said crticially. "If you practiced ballet, as I have since the age of three, you wouldn't be nearly so clumsy. Hello, Blaine, how are you today."

"Good," he said with a grin. He high fived Finn, and nodded at Kurt. "You okay? Trip or something?"

"Or something," Kurt said, but it was really hard to concentrate on his newly discovered mental disorder when Blaine was smiling like that. He shook his head, trying to chase away the cobwebs. "Come on, let's go."

They fell into a natural gait, Finn and Rachel up front. Finn naturally walked quicker, with his long strides and Rachel was. . .well, Rachel. Blaine and Kurt fell back a little way. They walked in silence, their hands brushing against one anothers every few minutes. The path was really too narrow for two people to be walking it together, and Kurt kept waiting for Blaine to speed up or slow down. He never did.

"So. . .uh. . .you nervous about the first challenge?" he finally asked, just for the sake of saying something. Blaine shrugged, his gaze still directed forward.

"Don't know," he said. "I mean. . .I think I figured out the clue, but. . ."

"Can I. . .can I see it?" Kurt asked. Blaine didn't respond at first, but after a moment reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. Kurt stared at it for a long minute.

From lean lines to dangerous curves

Up in the air the return of high hair

To know what she rode in on

You'd have to be there

Oh my Dumbledore. Kurt knew this. He knew the answer, because they were all the headlines from his favorite Vogue cover ever. He glanced sideways at Blaine. "It's. . .um. . .it's an egg," he said. Blaine nodded, not looking at all impressed.

"Right, for Lady Gaga," he agreed. "But what does that. . .wait a minute. . ." he suddenly seemed to realize something, and turned around to stare at Kurt, his mouth hanging open just the slightest bit. "How did you. . ."

"You read Vogue?" Kurt asked in disbelief.

"The Marion Cotilliard cover is only my favorite ever," Blaine said with a wink.

"Be still my heart," Kurt said dramatically. No reason Blaine had to know he was being one hundred percent serious when he said that. Also. . .check two in the gay category. "If you like Patti LuPone, you might just be the perfect man."

"Don't be silly," Blaine said, and, Kurt had to admit, his heart sunk just a little. "Every person with half a brain loves Patti LuPone. The Robber Bridegroom, Les Mis, Anything Goes, and, I don't know, a little play called Evita?"

Kurt had to stop walking for a minute. He didn't believe in God, and this was the reason why. No God could possibly be so cruel as to create the most perfect man in all the world, and make him unattainable. Kurt glanced up at the sky. So unfair.

"You know, we should hang out sometime," Blaine said casually. "I didn't think anyone else at school was interested in musical theater. Except, you know, Rachel, and uh. . ."

"Did you really kiss her?"

Okay, that was perhaps not the most suave that Kurt had ever been, but he had to know. Enough tabulating up gay and straight points. Blaine just laughed.

"Er. . .yeah. I think it was my third year? It was right after Musical Lyricism. She was crying and. . .could we not talk about this?"

"Yeah, of course!" Kurt was quick to agree, because really, he didn't want to imagine his arch-rival kissing the most perfect man in the entire world (next to Blais Zabini, of course. And maybe Jesse st. James). Instead, he brought up Quidditch, because it was a rule that every boy on earth loved to talk about Quidditch. Blaine, Kurt was sure, was no exception.

And indeed, Blaine proved the rule. Kurt knew he had to like the sport. . .he'd just made the Hufflepuff Team the year before, as an alternate Seeker. What he didn't know was that Blaine also knew the statistics and rankings of every team. Kurt spent the next five minutes just nodding his head and grinning when it seemed appropriate.

Searching for dress robes was surprisingly pleasant. Rachel was so distracted by staring at Finn that she didn't even realize that Kurt had manhandled her into a very flattering dress, that truly accentuated her lithe, tiny figure. Blaine was still going a mile a minute about Quidditch, and distracted Finn enough that the seamstress got all of his measurements before he managed to fall off the stool for once. Kurt even found an acceptable pair of cufflinks.

"Dumbledore, I'm glad that's over," Finn huffed as they poured out of the shop. "Three Broomsticks?"

Rachel and Blaine agreed immediately, of course, though Kurt took another moment to consider. It wasn't that he disliked the Three Broomsticks – everybody liked it – but he had agreed to meet up with Mercedes later, and she was almost certain to be in Zonko's. Then again, he got to hang out with his best friend all the time, and surely some family bonding time was in order. . .

"Okay," he said. So they tromped in. Rachel and Blaine grabbed a table, while Finn went to grab them some butterbeers. Kurt excused himself to use the restroom. He could feel the way that his hair was flipping every which way, and the fact that he'd been tromping around outside all day simply wasn't an excused to be less than perfectly coiffed. Sure enough, when he saw his reflection in the restroom mirror, he had to sigh. Completely disheveled.

After ten minutes of trying to tame his wild tresses (really, there were about five strands that refused to go where they belonged, even after he'd magicked them thoroughly) he realized that he'd better just give up. He was just about to turn and leave when the door banged open, and the massive kid from Durmstrang walked in. What was his name again? Dave?

"Hey, fag," he said, and Kurt's heart instantly sank. So it hadn't just been a weird, PTSD moment, then. It had really happened. The Neanderthal had shoved him over just because of his sexuality. He couldn't stop the sneer from coming over his face.

"You're such an ignoramus," he hissed, and tried to brush past the other boy. Dave Karofsky, however, reached out one meaty forearm and shoved him back against the wall. Kurt gasped sharply as pain flared up from where his spine met the hard bathroom wall.

"Saw you checking out Jesse, fairy," Karofsky hissed. "And I just want to make sure you know to keep your eyes to yourself."

"What, jealous?" Kurt asked. One side of his brain was yelling at him to shut up, just shut up, but the other side was way too angry. "Wish you could get anyone to check you out?"

"I'm not. . .what. . ." Karofsky seemed genuinely confused. "I just don't want you infecting someone."

"Then why are you standing so close?" Kurt sniped. "Shouldn't you be afraid of catching the gay?"

Karofsky jerked at that, his forearm pressing more forcefully into Kurt's neck. He gagged a little, and realized he could only get in a thin stream of breath through his nose. Little black specks were dancing in his vision.

"What's that?" Karofsky grinned. "Finally done talking? Finally learned to shut up?"

The black spots were intermingled with white, now, and Kurt realized, with a sinking feeling, that he really might die there. It was the worst feeling ever. . .absolutely no dignity. Some drunk wizard would walk in and find his dead, cold body. . .probably lying in a puddle of urine. . .really, not the way he'd ever planned on going.

The door creaked open then, and Kurt could just hear a familiar voice through the buzzing in his ears. "Hey, Kurt, are you all. . ." The voice trailed off. Kurt tried to respond, but Karofsky's arm was still crushing his windpipe, and it was totally going to bruise (if it didn't kill him). Kurt was pretty sure that there wasn't enough concealer in the world to hide the purple marks that would no doubt appear on his neck.

And then, abruptly, the arm was gone, and Kurt could suck in air again. It burned a little, but he breathed deeply anyway. His knees gave way, and he sank down to the floor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Blaine was standing over him now, his fists clenched and breathing heavily. My knight in shining wizarding robes, Kurt thought, a little fuzzily. Except that they still couldn't use magic off school grounds, and Karofsky was almost a foot taller, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. Oh dear, Kurt realized. We're both going to die.

"Just teaching the butt boy a lesson," Karofsky said. And that really set Blaine off. He leapt across the bathroom, shoving Karofsky hard against a sink. Kurt caressed his neck with his fingers. The skin felt hot and tender. He hissed a little.

"There is nothing wrong with being gay," Blaine whispered, his voice sounding almost deadly. "Kurt is an extraordinary person. And you. . .you're just ignorant. And scared. Because when we're out of school, Kurt's going to be successful, and Jesse's going to be successful, and you're going to be scooping up dung on. . ."

Kurt must have died. Or passed out. It had to be a dream. It was the only explanation. Because one minute Blaine was issuing a diatribe, nose just inches from Karofsky's own, his arms trembling with either anger, or the effort of pushing at the bigger boy, and the next minute Karofsky lunged forward, not to push Blaine back, but to crush their lips together in a kiss.

Weird, Kurt thought. And a little kinky. He'd never really thought he was into that kind of thing.

Except then they pulled apart. Karofsky looked absolutely terrified, shoving Blaine off his chest and running out the door. Blaine just lowered his head, and grabbed onto the sink as if it were the only thing holding him up. Kurt stood up, wincing a little as a shot of pain ran down his back.

"B-Blaine?" he asked, his voice a little shaking. "Are you. . ."

"I'm fine," the other boy said, but he didn't look up. "Are you okay?"

"Well, my skin is going to turn a glorious shade of purple and black tomorrow, but I'm okay," Kurt said. "Thank you."

"It's fine," Blaine said, but when he turned and walked toward the door, Kurt realized that it definitely, definitely wasn't. The older boy paused at the door. He raised one hand, and without looking back said

"Kurt. Please. Promise me you won't tell anyone about this. Please."

So Kurt promised, and they went back outside.

A/N: Phew. Always need to throw in a little angst. KISS SWITCH! Bam. Partially, because I am a fan of Blainofsky. I just feel like he's a little stronger than Kurt, so the relationship wouldn't be as abusive. Also, apparently I just ship Blaine with anyone. Seriously considering a crack!fic in which each chapter is another Blaine ship. Just imagine it. . .Blainttany, Blinn, Blue Sylvanderson, Blill/Waine. . . .it's genius, I tell you, genius!

COMING SOON: Bum Bum Bum. . .the first task! Also, the first Quidditch match of the season, which will obviously be Hufflepuff v. either Gryffindor or Slytherin, haven' decided yet. Also, Kurt finds ANOTHER guy to crush on, Finn and Rachel get a little closer, Sam tries his hand at dating three girls, and Jesse wears leather.