Title: Seek, Find, Keep (Part 1/2)
Author: mybriefeternity (aka aspiringtoeloquence)
Word Count: ~14,000 overall (This part ~5,300)
Spoilers: It's Hogwarts AU, so none past Season 2 characters.
Summary:Blaine is a fantastic seeker. So is Kurt, and they've both found what they've been looking for in each other. But as a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, can they make it? And will they ever feel able to tell the world?
A/N: This is Glee characters in the Hogwarts universe - with the exception of very minor tertiary characters being mentioned, Harry Potter characters do not appear. It was originally uploaded (in seven parts) to tumblr almost a year ago, and was based on the talented drawings of the fabulous laertena. So Lae is to blame. This is edited for some typos and minor re-phrasings, but it otherwise the same story that you can find on tumblr here. That post also has links to Lae's drawing, and some headcanon questions I was asked on tumblr. Uploading this now, because I have more in this 'verse (at the insistence of aubreyli and heathafeath).
"Right," Wes said, rubbing his hands together in a manner that could only be described as gleeful. "We have the big match on Saturday, so it's time for all of us to focus. Focus - do you hear me Jeff?"
"Why are you picking on me?" he asked, waving his bat alarmingly close to his teammates faces. "Nick's the one who's -"
"Stop squabbling," Wes commanded. "I need everyone to be their best." He began pacing. "Now, I know some of us are busier than normal this year, but I'm stepping up the practices, starting today. Three hours in the morning, three at night -"
"Wes, that's insane," someone objected.
"Dude, you can't do that," someone else added.
"We do have lives, you know," a third person reminded him.
Wes just glared at them for a minute.
"Well I am sorry," he said, not without a certain amount of sass, "if your busy social lives are interrupted by my valuing the honor of our house. Excuse me if I care about us winning. Excuse me if I presume that my teammates are willing to sacrifice a little of their time to make sure that Gryffindor triumphs on Saturday, and that idiot -"
"Wes," David said reasonably, leaning back against the wall of the locker room, "you know that's not what we're saying."
"You know we care," Nick added, hitting Jeff over the head with his bat as he tried to steal one of his chips.
"It's not about that," Trent affirmed, twisting his gloves in his hand. "But six hours a day? That's a lot of time."
Wes looked around, then thought for a minute. "Blaine, you're quiet."
The dark haired boy looked up from his parchment and blushed. "Sorry, what?"
The group collectively rolled their eyes. "Another love note, Anderson?" Wes asked. "Really?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he hedged, shoving the parchment into his pocket.
Wes rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't. I'm sure what you were doing was plotting strategy, and not at all reading the fifth owl-delivered note in the last hour from the new - Jeff, Nick, what on earth are you doing?"
The two paused mid whispered conversation. "Nothing," Nick said.
"Absolutely nothing," Jeff affirmed with what he believed was a disarming grin.
Wes sighed deeply. "Go shower and rest, all of you. I'll see you in the morning. 7am!"
There was a collective groan as people started to file out of the locker room.
"Hey," Wes clapped Blaine on the shoulder as they walked down the corridor, "David, Thad and I are going to watch Lord of the Rings tonight. You in?"
He hesitated. "Actually, I can't… I have… I have a thing to meet. I mean, do. I mean… I'm supposed to be -"
Wes tried to stop himself from smiling. "Would this thing happen to be a countertenor from -"
"I should get going," he said. "I don't want to be late."
Wes watched him run off down the hall towards the Gryffindor common room, then smiled and caught up to David and Thad.
He'd decided he liked this new kid. Anyone who made his friend (and the best seeker he'd ever seen) smile like Kurt Hummel did…
Well, he hoped it worked out. It seemed like Blaine wanted this, cared a lot, and it was really good to see… even if he was a little distracted sometimes.
He suddenly frowned. He was all for it, and all, but if Blaine hadn't woken up a little by Saturday he was going to have to take Jeff and Nick aside and ask them to keep an eye on him.
He didn't want Blaine to get a bludger to the head in his lovedrunk haze, after all.
Then they'd never win the house cup.
Oh, yeah. And Blaine would be hurt. That would suck.
"You know," Kurt said, already changed out of his quidditch robes and back into his own clothes, a mischievous smile on his face as he toyed with the snitch in his hand, "I really don't see why they're all so excited. I mean, yeah, it was a good catch, you're a great seeker, but… I've yet to see you do something really, truly impressive…"
His boyfriend met the smile with one of his own as he turned around and swiftly pinned him to the wall in a kiss filled with promise.
"I caught you, didn't I?"
"I have practice to get to," Blaine breathed, his head leaning back as he soaked in the sunlight. It was said with such little conviction (and such little intent to actually move) that his companion took as much notice of it as he wanted him to. Which would be none.
Blaine looked down at the blue eyed boy who had his head comfortably resting on his knee and smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "Wes is going to kill me if I'm late again."
The boy smiled sadly. "No, he's going to kill you if he finds out you're with me. You're his best seeker - you could show up for practice an hour late, completely naked, with the legs of a goat and he'd just check to make sure you could still ride a broom properly."
Blaine snorted and played idly with a blade of grass. "Naked, huh?"
"With the legs of a goat, Blaine."
He smirked. "I do hear that I'm the hottest seeker around."
His companion corrected him - with a raised eyebrow - as he sat up. "Second hottest."
Blaine reached forward to straighten his best friend's dark green and silver tie, which was askew. "Maybe it's too close to call."
"Well, I guess we'll see on Saturday, won't we?" It was a challenge, but there was a sadness behind it, shining in the blue eyes that looked almost grey in the fading sunlight.
"Kurt…" Blaine reached for his hand and Kurt intertwined their fingers immediately.
"You know I hate it too."
He shrugged. "Hate what?"
He pulled gently on his arm - a reminder. "It's me. You don't have to do that with me, remember? Be you. And…" he took a deep breath. "I hate that we can't do this - be like this anywhere else. I hate that we have to hide, that I have to kiss you in empty classrooms and deserted hallways, in the back of the library instead of at breakfast or when I see you in the corridor between classes. I hate that I can't hold your hand when you sit behind me in Transfiguration. I hate that I have to lie to my friends when they ask where the marks are from, to my parents when they ask if I've found anyone special. I hate that I have to play against you on Saturday, not because you're so good - which you are -but because my best friends are going to be hoping that you get hurt - not badly, just enough to slow you down. That kills me, Kurt. It kills me that you got sorted into Slytherin when you transferred, it kills me that when I heard that I was briefly disgusted, like it made you someone other than you, someone other than the person I already cared about. I hate that I'm a Gryffindor" - he used his other hand to pull at his maroon and gold tie, picked up his scarf and threw it further away, like it was personally responsible - " and you're a Slytherin, and we're both seekers, and we're both so good at what we do that any of the tolerance that this school is supposed to represent would get thrown out the window if anyone ever saw us together." He took another breath and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air. "I hate that every time I kiss you they all spoil it a little because we're so afraid to let them see us together."
Kurt had remained still, just looking at him as he spoke. He swallowed, then leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Blaine's. "Yeah. That… I hate that." He brought a hand up to touch his cheek. "But I don't hate this. I don't hate us."
He leaned into the touch. "I know. Me either."
There was a long, comfortable pause as their lips met again in a kiss filled with longing, comfort and promises. When they each had pulled back to breathe Blaine squeezed his hand gently. "I really do have to go."
Kurt smiled sadly again. "I know. I'll see you in the morning?"
"At breakfast, yeah."
Across the hall, where I can't touch you, can't look at you without all our friends either laughing or fighting about it.
"I don't have practice tomorrow afternoon."
"Me either. Wes wants to have a strategy meeting with the chasers."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's wasting his time. Our chasers aren't the threat. It's me and Simmons he'll want to concentrate the bludgers on."
Blaine jerked his arm. "Don't say that."
He shrugged. "It's true. You know the seeker's the target. The only reason you haven't been targeted is because Arrcorn's convinced that Wes is going to be playing defensively."
Blaine blinked. "But… you know he isn't."
"Yeah, I do."
"Do you tell Wes anything I tell you about our team?"
"Well, no, I don't, but you're -"
Kurt's volume rose a little. "But I'm a Slytherin, right? I'm a Slytherin, so naturally I must run and tell them everything you tell me about your friends. Because I'm out to win, and that's all I want, isn't it?" He snatched his hand away.
"Kurt, that's -"
"I mustn't care about you, or about anyone except myself, and I must be evil, because I'm in Slytherin. It doesn't matter that some of the Slytherins I know - most, in fact - are really good people, or that I do really care about you - so much it hurts to think about sometimes, and it doesn't matter that I would kill to stand up at breakfast and walk over to the Gryffindor table and kiss you while you're drinking your orange juice - the one without pulp, because you have a ridiculous hatred for actual fruit in your fruit juice - and then turn to Arrcorn and Simmons, and Wes and David, and everyone else who is staring at us and say 'Yes. Yes, I did just kiss the Gryffindor seeker, and yes, I am going to kiss him again in a moment, and if you don't like that then… throw me off the team, kick me out of Slytherin house, whatever. I don't care!' But none of that matters, Blaine, because obviously I'm just here to get information to take back with me, aren't I?" He stood up and there were tears in his eyes. "You know, I really thought you knew me better than that."
Blaine stood up quickly and grabbed him by the hand. "I do! I didn't - I didn't mean it that way. I just… I know the team means a lot to you - quidditch means a lot to you… because of your dad, and - I just… I wasn't thinking. I know you wouldn't, and you know I don't think that about you, or of your house. Not anymore. I just… it means a lot to you."
He brought his eyes to meet Blaine's. "You think it means more to me than you?"
He didn't say anything, and Kurt took a step towards him.
"Blaine, listen to me, okay?" He took a breath. "It doesn't. Nothing means more than this, okay? Nothing."
Blaine bit his lip then smiled. "Me either. I mean, I - it's the same for - I mean -"
Kurt kissed his cheek and sighed. "I know what you mean… and you should go to practice. I'll see you in the morning, and I'll meet you here after class tomorrow." He picked up the Gryffindor scarf and wrapped it around Blaine's neck.
"I wish I could give this to you."
He tucked the end in carefully. "I wish I could wear it."
"I still carry this, you know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of faded parchment. A scribbled thank you note he'd gotten from the new kid on his first day, after he drew him a map of the route to the great hall from the library.
Kurt reached into his own robes and pulled out his own sheet, folded and worn in the same way. The map. "Me too."
"I really, really don't want to go."
He kissed Kurt quickly before he ran off. "Bye"
He turned. "Yeah?"
He walked back over to where his Firebolt was being held out to him with a fond smile and a raised eyebrow.
"I'm going now."
"You do that."
"I know. You should work hard. I hear your competition is pretty great." He smirked again.
"I think so."
They both just smiled for a few seconds and then Blaine ran off again. He looked over his shoulder as he left, watching the sunlight hitting Kurt's hair as he knelt in the grass and picked up his own scarf and the cups they'd been drinking from, as well as the thermos of butterbeer. The trees in the glade framed him, and it looked like magic. To Blaine… it looked like heaven.
With a sigh he reached for the doorknob, looked out to check the corridor was deserted, and stepped out of the Room of Requirement.
He knocked briefly on the door to indicate that his coast had been clear, knowing Kurt would wait a few minutes before leaving, pulled his broomstick closer to him and made his way down to the quidditch pitch, absentmindedly playing with the parchment in his pocket.
When they'd first found the Room of Requirement they hadn't asked for anything specific. Their special place, their very own enchanted glade, had just appeared to them one day as they were trying to find somewhere - anywhere - where they could be themselves. And after they'd found it Blaine had asked Kurt what he'd been thinking, and when Kurt had told him Blaine had been shocked at how closely his best friend's thoughts mirrored his own.
All they'd asked for - each of them - was 'somewhere that we can be together.'
The stadium was packed. Blaine could hear them - the crowd - from the dressing rooms, as Wes paced in front of them reminding the team of things they already knew. This was the big one - Slytherin and Gryffindor, the two houses with the most animosity towards each other and, although it wasn't official, everyone knew that this match would, for all practical purposes, decide who got the house cup. The two were evenly matched in points, and whichever house lost that day would have an almost impossible task if they wanted to match the other's lead by the end of the year. This match was everything, Wes told the assembled team. It was a chance to prove that Gryffindors were brave, fearless, and above all, better than any damn Slytherin. This was for glory, for their house, for Godric Gryffindor, for every student that had ever worn red and gold within these grounds and the thousands that would in years to come. This was it. Their moment to shine…
Jeff rolled his eyes and Nick informed their fearless leader that he'd been watching too many muggle sports movies. Also, could they go kick some snake-y Slytherin butt, already?
Wes frowned and told the beaters to remember their jobs, and not to hit each other over the head with their clubs.
Blaine had been sitting quietly in the corner during the pre-match talk, brushing off everyone's concern by saying it was just nerves, and when everyone started filing out of the room he snapped back to reality. He had to go play Quidditch. He had to go catch the snitch, just like always. He was good at this. It didn't matter who was on the other team. He knew what he was doing.
Except then he saw the Slytherin team saunter out, led by Arrcorn, their troll of a team captain, and he spied the Slytherin seeker, laughing with the two beaters - Santana was looking ready for battle - robes flying and his green scarf making those eyes pop like nothing else Blaine had ever seen. He smiled as he remembered that the scarf also served another purpose - he happened to know that the seeker's flawless pale neck was not entirely free from blemish… a result of their late meeting on the Astronomy tower the night before last. Kurt's eyes flew to his and Blaine saw the corner of those lips lift slightly. He was jolted from the pleasant memory and slightly speculative fantasy of exactly what those lips were capable of by a voice.
"Stop eye-balling the competition, Anderson. Don't worry, Wes has a plan. He won't be a problem."
He turned to see Nick and Jeff pulling their gloves on, smiling in what Blaine logically knew was a friendly way, but he couldn't fight the feeling of dread that had engulfed him.
"What do you mean?"
Jeff shrugged. "Thad thinks that their new chasers need work - Wes reckons Arrcorn'll want it over as soon as possible."
Nick put a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder. "He asked us to keep Hummel off you, let you do your job and get this over with, in case Arrcorn has something nasty up his sleeve."
"You - you don't need to do that," Blaine argued. "I can look after myself. I mean, sure, he's fast -" and unbelievably wonderful, and the sweetest person I've ever met, and his hand fits perfectly in mine - "but I can handle it, you don't need to focus on him, it'll be -"
"Dude," Jeff said, "we're just doing what our fearless leader has dictated."
"What did I dictate? Nick, put down those chips, are you insane? You're about to fly, and you know how you get when you - hey, are those gummy bears? I want a green one."
Blaine addressed Wes, who had approached and was biting the head off of his gummy bear in a rather vicious fashion.
"Wes, don't you think that they should concentrate on keeping the chasers occupied? We know Quinn Fabray is good, even if she was gone last year, and the new -"
"Blaine, calm down." Wes took in his frantic arm gestures and patted him on the back. "It'll be fine. No one's going to get hurt, or anything. It's Quidditch. But this is important, and I'm going to make sure our best seeker can do his job. Just catch us a snitch - let me worry about the rest."
Yeah, it's just flying in the air on magic broomsticks with other people around you and guys with bats pelting things at you as you try to find a goddamn golden golf-ball with wings. No worries, Blaine. And your best friend, the one your friends are plotting against. Don't worry about him.
"I just… I don't want anyone to get hurt." He took a deep breath and had a half of an idea. "And I… I want us to be on even footing. Ku - Hummel and I, I mean. I want… if I catch the snitch, I want it to be because I'm faster than him. Because I - I just… it's important, okay?"
Wes gave him a look. "We're a team, Blaine. And we're your friends. We've got your back."
He tried to keep his voice level. "I know." Over Wes' shoulder he saw Kurt leaning nonchalantly against his broomstick as Arrcorn talked. He looked bored for a few seconds, then his posture abruptly changed and he seemed to be arguing. They were too far away for Blaine to be sure, but he was willing to bet that Kurt's cheeks were flushed from the slight chill, and possibly irritation with whatever his captain had said. Not as flushed as they would if Blaine touched his fingertips to his cheek, or looked at him a certain way before he kissed him. God, Blaine just loved the way - but now was not the time for that. "I know you do, Wes, and I appreciate it, I do… but I'd also appreciate a little faith here. I thought you trusted me."
It was a low blow, and Blaine felt a twinge of guilt at the look on his friend's face.
"Of course we do, Blai…fine. They'll back off until one of you gets close. But don't try anything stupid, okay? We do have your back."
He smiled. "Thanks. Really."
Wes smiled at him slightly suspiciously. "Just do us all a favor and catch the snitch."
Blaine looked over at his team, then across at the Slytherins. He could have sworn he saw Kurt wink at him. He smiled. "I intend to."
As soon as they heard the whistle pierce the excited murmuring of the crowd fourteen brooms hurtled into the air. Trent soared over to take his place, gloves at the ready in front of the hoops. David was already off with with the quaffle, passing it off to Thad, who aimed it at Wes, who didn't quite get there fast enough and - damn, Quinn was on good form. So much for Thad's theory about the chasers. Blaine had given himself some height, so he could survey the pitch, use it to his advantage, and was simultaneously trying to follow the progress of his teammates and search out the telltale golden flutter of the snitch. Kurt seemed to be doing the same, circling slightly, and when their eyes met Blaine was reminded of the first time they'd flown together.
It had been a few days after they'd met, before Kurt had been sorted. He was attending classes without knowing who his housemates would be, and Blaine had been absolutely and totally invested in helping the new boy since he'd turned around and heard the words "Excuse me. Um… hi! Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." He'd given him directions, and Kurt had passed him a thank you note in Transfiguration, and Blaine had complimented him (and Kurt had complimented right back) after choir practice (because, dear god, did he make that class even more fascinating to Blaine), and Kurt had snarked right back when one of the Slytherins had made a comment about his hair, and then they'd run into each other in the corridor after class the next day and ended up talking for hours (Blaine had been late to practice). They'd written each other notes all that week, and when Blaine had mentioned he played on the Gryffindor team Kurt's eyes had lit up and he'd said, quietly, that he used to play, and he'd missed flying. Blaine had barely paused before inviting him to go flying the next morning before class, and they'd spent a wonderful hour laughing as they skimmed over the lake and the grounds, weaving in and out of the tall towers. It had been obvious to Blaine that Kurt must be a seeker, and he'd told him to make sure he tried out for his house team once he was sorted - with no real doubt in his mind that Kurt would be a Gryffindor. He couldn't not be. And even the thought of possibly being replaced didn't really upset him as much as he'd thought it would. Because he really enjoyed the idea of Kurt making friends with all of his friends, and getting to sit next to him in the Great Hall for meals every day, and going to all their classes together, and watching him fly, just like that first day, their eyes meeting as the wind rushed past them, hearts racing, eyes bright -
"Anderson, I'm so sorry, are you busy?"
He looked over to find Wes gesticulating wildly at him from a few hundred feet away.
"I don't mean to trouble you, but I thought you might like to try finding a snitch…?"
He waved his arm in apology and tried to focus. This was not helped by a sudden gust of air and a voice in his ear. "Touchy, isn't he?"
He caught the scent of vanilla (as though he hadn't recognized the voice) and smiled without turning. "Aren't you supposed to be busy?"
"I thought I'd come visit." Kurt came to casually float in front of him. "Having fun?"
"It's a riot." He nodded down. "Should you be over here?"
Kurt shrugged. "They'll think I'm employing psychological warfare… well, those who know what the words mean will, anyway."
Blaine tilted his head. "Are you?"
Kurt just rolled his eyes.
Blaine smirked and nodded down to the action, where Quinn had just responded to Thad's goal by scoring one of her own. "She's on good form today."
"She has something to prove."
He looked back up. "And you don't?"
Kurt seemed to consider this. Below him Arrcorn and Wes were fighting with the referee over the validity of one of Slytherin's tactics, and Trent had been momentarily stunned by a bludger to the head… hit by Jeff, who was looking sheepish as Thad yelled at him. Nick and Santana seemed to have developed a side-game for the time-out, in which they hit bludgers at each other. They were both laughing.
Kurt finally spoke. "I don't think I have to prove anything. Not to them, anyway."
Blaine smiled. "Good. Because when they see us talking they're going to be mad."
"Hey, I'm seeking up here. Don't know what you're talking about." He made a show of leaning over to scour the pitch. This exposed part of his well-shaped arm.
He paused. "Kurt, are you trying to distract me?"
"Is it working?"
The whistle blew to signal the end of the time out. Blaine reflected that he had never moved less in a game of quidditch.
"BLAINE ANDERSON, IF YOU ARE QUITE DONE -"
"HUMMEL, WHAT IN THE LOVE OF -"
They both sighed.
"Bye," Kurt said, speeding off.
"Nice scarf," Blaine yelled after him.
Kurt threw his arm back in a sign that had once gotten Jeff detention in Potions class.
They were both smiling.
By the time the score was 110 - 120 in favor of Slytherin (Quinn really was very good, and that new chaser wasn't fast, but she was smart), Blaine was starting to get annoyed by the few snitch sightings. He'd thought he might have seen the flutter of golden wings a couple of times, but each time they disappeared before he could get close enough to check. Then Kurt had dived on the other side of the stadium, and Blaine had been torn between pride and the desire to internally berate himself… but he didn't have to make the choice because Kurt had come up empty handed. They'd even spotted it once, about halfway down the pitch, at almost the same second. They were both good, but Blaine had a slightly better broom that Kurt did, so he was pretty sure that he could beat him there by a few seconds - he dodged Thad, Quinn, and Wes and he was so close… except the snitch was gone. In the second it had taken him to weave around Wes, and Kurt to weave around David, it had gone again.
Blaine tightened his scarf around his neck and scowled. He could think of a whole host of things he would rather be doing. Yes, he loved Quidditch, but they had been up here quite a while, and he was supposed to meet Kurt in their room tonight (after the victory/cheer-Wes-up party, depending on the outcome) for post-match hot chocolate. He had been promised marshmallows.
Quidditch was all very well and good, but he wanted his goddamn marshmallows. Preferably with a side of Kurt's lips.
He was just considering whether he'd have time to run up to his room to grab his hair gel, his eyes automatically covering the pitch, when he saw it.
Golden wings fluttering in the far corner of the field.
And in his peripheral vision he saw a green blur notice them as well.
Oh, it was on. He smiled.
He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a certain excitement to competing with Kurt - a tension that carried over and made their secret meetings just a little more heated than they might have been otherwise. It was forbidden. It was charged and competitive.
It was pretty damn hot.
But Blaine didn't have time to think about that now, because he was streaking across the pitch, matching Kurt, and he'd get there, and he'd win, and then he'd win their little bet and Kurt would have to - and even if he didn't win, and Kurt was insufferable, it would be alright because they'd still be together.
And Blaine was beginning to think that that was better than a lousy snitch. Or even the House Cup.
He was so close, just a little -
"Go Blaine! We've got your back! Hey Hummel, try and catch this!"
He didn't even register whether it was Nick or Jeff. He turned his head and saw the heavy bat as it swung back from its hit, and the dark blur of the bludger heading towards them, aimed at Kurt.
Kurt, who was entirely focused on the snitch. Blaine played quidditch by instinct. He sometimes called it luck. Kurt was intently focused. Always.
And now there was a bludger aimed at the back of his head. Kurt wasn't avoiding it. He wasn't watching. There wasn't time to shout. That would just make Kurt turn into the impact.
Blaine had processed all of this before the bat had swung completely back, and he'd made his decision before it had even reached his conscious mind.
He didn't have the time.
Kurt didn't have the time.
They didn't have the time.
As the whistle of the bludger reached his ears he turned sharply.
He felt his body jolt… and then everything went dark.
Tags: hogwarts!klaine, like i write any other pairing, media: fic, pairing: kurt/blaine, rating: pg, sfk