13:57

A/N: Super short chapter. Sorry. I'm back at work, and the ten hour days are just KILLING me. Eventually I'll get more into the swing, and hopefully return to my normal, longer chapters (as well as a more regular update schedule!)

Dinner that night verged on riotous conditions. All of the Hogwarts students were ecstatic that their two Champions were currently in the lead of the Triwizard Tournament (Hexiwizard Tournament? Kurt really wasn't entirely sure). Besides that, Figgins had announced that the problems on the Quidditch pitch had been repaired, meaning that the Quidditch competition could resume as usual. Not being a huge fan of the sport, Kurt didn't even know who was scheduled to play first. Being an astute observer of human action, however, he was pretty sure that the whooping and hollering coming from the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Houses meant that they were first up.

Everyone was in a great mood. . .or rather, Kurt correct, almost everyone. Jesse st. James was still stewing over being the lowest scoring competitor still involved. Karofsky was glaring at his plate. Santana was loudly pointing out that Blaine had been seriously injured and should have points deducted. Finn and Sam were just glumly picking at their food (which was worrisome enough – Finn was usually hungry enough that he was known to accidently devour a plate, if the second helpings weren't delivered quickly enough). And Kurt, well. . .

He wasn't sure which emotion was most present in his mind: concern over Blaine's condition, or the worry that he would be caught. After all, spectators definitely weren't supposed to assist the Champions. Blaine would probably be disqualified. Kurt might even be expelled.

He glanced up at the professor's table. Rumor had it that Coach Sylvester was able to read thoughts. He quickly imagined a pair of puppies. No change in her expression. Probably just a rumor, then.

"Hey," Mercedes said, poking him in the side. "Treacle tart. Your favorite. Why aren't you eating?"

Kurt shrugged, and grinned weakly, before taking a piece. It was hard to swallow down, with all the thoughts whirling through his head. He must have eaten enough to satisfy his best friend, however, for she stopped bothering him.

The minute that the meal was over, Kurt grabbed his bookbag and made a dash for the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey raised one eyebrow when he burst in the door.

"Don't you have somewhere else to do your homework?" she asked him.

"Did he wake up, yet?" Kurt asked, rushing his words together in his haste. Madame Pomfrey smiled a little at that.

"I told you, not until seven, at the earliest." When she saw his downtrodden expression, she relented a little. "you can go on in and sit with him. Kid sure is popular. . ."

Kurt almost skidded into the room, he was so excited. He hadn't been allowed in after the Task, and hadn't even been sure that Madame Pomfrey would let him in afer dinner. Still, he'd needed to come by, just needed to check and make sure that Blaine was still breathing, at least. Watching him faint, and knowing that he was the only one who knew. . .it had been killing him.

But as he walked into the infirmary, he was surprised to see that he was not Blaine's only visitor. Instead, Dave Karofsky sat in the only chair in the small room. He glanced up at the sound of Kurt's footsteps, his face already twisted into its near-perpetual sneer.

"Hummel," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"I. . ." Kurt froze for a minute, remembering those minutes in the bathroom before Blaine came in, remembering the terror in his gut. But then he glanced at his friend in the hospital bed. Courage. "I just wanted to check on Blaine. I was really worried about him."

Dave didn't say anything to that, just shrugged. He glanced down at the unconscious boy. Kurt cautiously walked further into the room, until he was standing just to Blaine's left. Gently, he brushed his hand against the other boy's. Blaine didn't react.

"You don't know what it was like," Dave said after a minute. "To be in that arena. . .when everyone was just staring at you, having this monster attack. . .but nobody helped. Nobody lifted a hand."

That's right. In all over the commotion over Blaine, Kurt had forgotten that Dave had been the first injury. He looked at the boy a little more closely, the tight white bandage around his head, the dark bags beneath his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "I mean, that minotaur was pretty awful."
"I'm fine," Karofsky said. "I'm not a girl, to cry about it. It's just. . .it sucked. It's supposed to be a game, but it fucking sucked."

Yeah, Kurt thought, he was kind of inclined to agree. With the exception of the uniforms that Zabini had clearly designed, he found very little positive in the Tournament. Well, and the presence of Jesse st. James, of course.

"Whatever." Karofsky stood up, and shrugged a little, as though uncomfortable in his own clothing. "Just. . .you're going to stay here, right? Because he. . .uh. . .he's a. . ."

"Yes," Kurt said, taking pity on the other boy, who was so clearly uncomfortable. "I'll be here."

"Good," Karofsky said, running a hand through his hair. Really, Kurt thought critically, he should consider growing it out a little bit. It seemed to have a pretty good texture to it, and would help to soften his harsh, brutish features. He was so busy restyling the other boy, that he almost missed his parting words. "Someone should be with him when he wakes up."

And then, Kurt was alone. Or, alone but for the unconscious boy. Kurt settled into the chair that Karofsky had just vacated. He stared at Blaine. The other boy didn't look harmed. Sure, his skin looked a little rough, but that was likely because he was just a regular boy, and didn't engage in the vigorous moisturizing routine that Kurt knew was so important. And true, there was a bit of a shadow dusting his chin and cheeks, but it was most likely because he hadn't shaved. And granted, his dark eyelashes looked like sleeping butterflies on his cheeks, and his hair looked soft and touchable, and his lips looked like pillows that Kurt just wanted to kiss and

Whoops. Let his thoughts get away with him again.

In all honesty, Kurt didn't really now what to do. Madame Pomfrey had certainly healed him up, and he'd probably be right as rain the following day. Kurt had just wanted to make sure that he was still alive, just to doublecheck, but now that he was here, now that he saw that Blaine was breathing, he didn't know what to do.

He glanced at his watch, which read seven o'clock. That was kind of weird. . .the nurse had told him that Blaine would wake up at seven, right? Kurt glanced again, just to doublecheck: 7:02. Kurt drummed his hands on the edge of the chair rest. 7:03. He brushed his bangs back. 7:04. He inspected his fingernails which were, as usual, meticulously clean. 7:05.

"Oh, this is just ridiculous," he muttered. Which was in itself ridiculous, because since when did Kurt Hummel talk to himself? He reached out impulsively and grabbed Blaine's hand. Nothing happened. Which wasn't surprising, really. This wasn't an overwrought Broadway musical. People didn't just wake up from magic-induced coma's because somebody touched a hand. Hogwarts was far from Broadway.

But, Kurt mused for a moment, it was kind of similar to Disney. . .he glanced nervously at the door, and then at his watch again. 7:06. He wondered what the chances were that somebody would walk in. He wondered what Blaine's lips tasted like. He wondered how Blaine would react. . .but really, he was just trying to help. And it worked in all the movies. . .

Slowly, Kurt stood up, leaning over Blaine, staring down at the other boy through fluttering eyelashes. His heart drummed, painfully loud in his chest. He was close enough that he could feel Blaine's breath on his cheek, could smell the mintiness that came with any of Madame Pomfrey's. He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and

No. No. He jerked back abruptly, his hand going to cover his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. He couldn't believe he had almost done that, that he had almost kissed Blaine when the other boy was asleep. How was that any better than what Karofsky had done? He'd seen Blaine after that, seen how shaken the other boy had been, and he refused to put that look of abject terror back.

And besides that. . .Kurt had still never been kissed. There'd been a brief stint with his cousin's best friend when he was nine, but that was more in the way of experimentation. He didn't want his first kiss to be something fake, something not real.

He was shaking as he fell into the chair, glad that nobody else was present, so that he had the chance to put himself back together.

"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"

Scrap that.

Finn and Sam came barreling into the room, screaming at the top of their lungs. Clearly, neither of them had noticed his presence yet.

"Six! Five! Four!"

"Hi, Kurt."

Well, Finn at least had noticed him. Sam, however, continued to happily count on by himself.

"Three! Two! One!"

Before the last syllable had left his mouth, Blaine groaned, and slowly fluttered his eyelashes. One hand went to his head.

"Good morning, Princess Sparkles!" Sam cooed, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Blaine's head, which was half-heartedly fought off. Finn grinned, and nuzzled into Blaine's side.

"Blainey-bear!" He exclaimed. Kurt lifted one (perfectly tweezed) eyebrow. The Gryffindor boys' dorm consisted of a lot of grunting as the boys got ready for bed or woke up. An occasional whoopee cushion would punctuate the silence. Every now and again a drunken stumble would result in one boy sleeping in another boy's bunk. That was about the extent of affection. Apparently, something very different went down in the Hufflepuff rooms.

"Gerrof," Blaine grunted, shoving ineffectually at the two larger boys. "I'm injured."

"Psh," Finn said, rolling his eyes. "Do you know how many times I"ve ended up in here after a Quidditch match?"

"Or after running into a door?" Sam added helpfully. Finn nodded.

"That, too! Or the time Madame Trelawney busted my head open with a crystal ball? Madame Pomfrey's the best. . .nothing hurts afer one of her potions!"

"Here," Sam said, shoving a massive, chocolate soaked napkin in Blaine's face. "Eat this. Dinner was awesome! Everyone was celebrating because you and that Rachel girl are winning."

Kurt stood up, and tried to gather his things without being noticed any further.

"Speaking of winning," Finn said, taking a massive bite out of Blaine's treacle tart. "What happened to you? They deducted ten points because you were injured. That means you're tied with Rachel, dude!"

Kurt paused for a moment. This he did want to hear, and he didn't care if he was technically intruding or anything. He figured that he had earned it, after saving Blaine's life.

"Yeah. . .about that. . ." Blaine's eyes shifted around Finn and Sam, and settled on Kurt. "Could I talk to Kurt for a minute?"

"Totally," Finn said agreeably, settling deeper into the bed.

"Um. . .I think he means alone," Sam said. Finn looked confused, but allowed himself to be led out.

"Kurt. . ."

Blaine's voice was low and rough, and sent delicious little shivers down Kurt's spine. He didn't want to make eye contact, he really didn't. He knew that his face would instantly turn tomato red, and he knew that he would probably stutter, and he knew that his eyes would be screaming at the other boy something incredibly embarrassing (possible "I love you!" or "kiss me!" or "live in my house, I'll be your shelter, just pay me back with one thousand kisses").

"Kurt, what happened?"

Well, that was confusing enough that it caused Kurt's head to jerk up. Blaine was just staring at him, with those green-gold eyes. "What do you mean?" Kurt asked.

"I know you were awake," Blaine said. "I saw you. When the. . .the hydra had me. I saw you in the stands."

Oh my Dumbledore, Kurt's traitorous head started screaming. Blaine noticed you. Even in a sea of crazed faces, he noticed you!

"You were the only one moving," Blaine continued. "So you were kind of hard to miss. Did you see what. . .do you know why it dropped me?"

Kurt considered for a long moment. On the one hand, his father had always taught him that honesty was the best policy. On the other hand, he really, really didn't want to be expelled.

"I think I might have seen someone moving in the teacher's section," he said instead. Something shifted in Blaine's face, a fleeting emotion that Kurt couldn't quite identify, just there and gone almost in a flash.

"Oh," Blaine said, and his gaze dropped for the first time. "Okay then. Could you, uh, tell Finn and Sam that they can come back in?"

"Sure," Kurt said, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He quickly walked out, and sent his stepbrother back into the room. The minute Sam had disappeared from sight, he leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down, gathering his knees to his chest.

Blaine was going to be fine. Hogwarts was in the lead for the Triwizard Tournament. Jesse st. James knew his name, and the most famous fashion designer of all wizarding time was in the castle. Everything was amazing.

So why did Kurt feel so much like crying?

Xxx

Blaine was back at breakfast the next day, looking as good as new. Similarly, Karofsky had abandoned his bandages, and everything was feeling more or less back on track.

"This is ridiculous!" Rachel fumed, stomping over to the Gryffindor table and flopping down. "Look at him. Just look at that creep!"

Yes, things were definitely back to normal. Kurt sighted along his friend's finger, unsurprised to see Finn, scuffing his feet and talking to Quinn, Santana, and Brittany. He did notice, however, that Quinn seemed more focused on Sam, who was standing right there, as well.

"Doesn't he know that I have the highest score in the tournament? Me! I'm the star!"

"Sweetie, you only have the highest score because Blaine lost out on a technicality," Mercedes said. Rachel screwed up her face and looked about ready to let out another tirade, when Headmaster Figgins stood and placed his wand at his throat.

"Hello, students. Just a reminder that the first Quidditch game of the season will take place tonight. Also, Nearly Headless Nick has recently become Entirely Headless Nick. If somebody finds his head, please return it to his wandering torso. Finally, just a reminder to all students that the Yule Ball will take place in one months time. Attendence is mandatory. Also mandatory: Dance lessons with Coach Sue Sylvester. That is all."

Mercedes clapped her eyes excitedly, nearly hopping up and down in her excitement. Rachel scowled more. Kurt just sighed. Though he was always up for an opportunity to demonstrate his superb fashion, he wasn't sure that he was quite in the mood for all the fanfare and spasms of people trying to find dates. The Triwizard Tournament had only complicated things. . .the normal couples weren't a guarantee anymore.

Rachel was still glaring at Finn. Mercedes was glancing around hopefully. Kurt just put his head between his hands. It was going to be a long three weeks.

A/N: Just as a note: Starting the Blaine Crack!Ship! story next, because I have an idea for the first chapter that just won't leave me alone. Blainttany! So look for that!

COMING SOON: First Quidditch match! (next chapter, for real!) Kurt gets invited to the ball, Rachel and Finn get a little closer, Mercedes is disappearing, and Sam somehow ends up dating three girls. Plus. . .somebody is on to Kurt's secret. . .