13:57

A/N: And. . .the end! Don't love the ending, but, meh, it's an ending. MASSIVE CHEESE. Be warned. Thanks so much for all of the support throughout the writing of this. There was a long hiatus, multiple meh chapters, and two accidental misuploads. Still, we made it through! So thanks again!

Harry Potter was in full-on diva mode. Kurt knew, because he was familiar to this modus operandi himself. So when the war hero put a hand around his upper arm and began towing him through the crowd, he knew enough to just follow. He had to swallow back a grunt of displeasure when the Boy Who Lived and Then Died and Then Live Again also grabbed Blaine, but one shot of angry green eyes closed his lips again.

They walked briskly, past the throng of students. When Headmaster Figgins bustled over, Mr. Potter just glared until he backed off. Kurt, admittedly, was not used to such strenuous exercise, and was panting a little by they time they finally stopped, just inside the first arches to the school. He could hear Blaine panting slightly as well.

"Okay," Harry Potter said sharply. "Explain."

Before Kurt even had a chance to begin to talk, the older man reached out and grabbed the elder wand from his hand. "And give me that back."

"Well excuse me," Kurt huffed, crossing his arms.

Harry Potter just raised an eyebrow.

"Professor Schuester played us," Kurt said finally. "He switched the goblets to make sure that Jesse ended up back here, instead of in the trap."

Harry Potter nodded sagely. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted him," he mused. "He had enough grease in his hair to power the Ford Anglia."

"Right. . ." Kurt shook his head, and tried to catch Blaine's eye. Except that it proved impossible, since Blaine was staring at the ground, kind of listing to one side. His right arm was wrapped around his stomach, as though in pain. Kurt instantly walked over to him, and slid an arm around the other boy's waist. Mr. Potter cleared his throat impatiently.

"He wanted the wand for himself. He said that he only wanted it so that he could be a singer. He wanted Blaine to summon it for him."

"Blaine is good at Magical Lyricism?"

"The best," Kurt said fondly, pressing a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's earlobe.

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Potter cursed. "He was the one who suggested hiding it like that, so that such a Summoning would work. Still, you boys should have known better than to do what he said."

Blaine jerked at that. Kurt himself stiffened, and his eyes flashed.

"What do you know?" he spat out. "You ignorant Neanderthal! He tortured Blaine. He used the Unforgiveable Curse, and Blaine still wouldn't summon it. How dare you, how dare you, how dare you!"

"Kurt, stop," Blaine whispered.

"No," Kurt said. He hugged Blaine's shivering body even closer. "Then he threatened me. He was going to. . .he was going to. . ."

The world fell out from beneath him as he remembered, yet again, how terribly, horribly close he'd come to dying that night. The world began to black out around him, and the only solid thing that he could cling to was Blaine's warmth.

"I'm sorry," Harry Potter's voice was disembodied, vague and quiet. "I should have known. . .only a true Hogwarts Champion could summon it. . .I'm sorry. But we still have the problem of what to do with the wand."

"You take it," Blaine said. Kurt could feel both of their arms wrapped around one another, and realized that the world was only black now because his eyes were closed. "We don't want anything to do with it."

"It doesn't work like," Mr. Potter sighed. "It will still be yours. I would have to defeat Kurt."

"Go ahead," Kurt muttered, his words muffled against his boyfriend's skin. "Just disarm me. I don't want anything to do with it."

He heard a muffled "Expelliarmus." Followed by "see you at the feast." He shuddered a little.

"Shhh," Blaine said soothingly. "It's okay. It's over. You're safe."

"I love you," Kurt gasped, squeezing his eyes even tighter together. He tasted salt on his lips. "I love you so much. And I was so, so scared. . ."

"It's okay," Blaine whispered again, his breath lifting the hair around Kurt's ear. "It's all okay, now. We'll go back and congratulate Rachel on her win, and ignore Jesse st. James' death glares, and eat a feast."

Kurt nodded. "Okay," he said finally. He lifted his head and finally opened his eyes. "But just so you know. . .I'd better not see you at that Feast until you've been looked over in the infirmary."

Blaine grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the deep bags under them, the creases at their sides. "I promise," he said.

xxx

The Great Hall was completely done up for the final feast of the tournament. The ceiling had been magicked to perfectly mirror the early spring weather outside, with crystal clear sparkling stars. Unfortunately, being done up also meant that silver and green banners were dangling from arches, and matching tablecloths covered all of the tables. Being partial to maroon and gold himself, Kurt was kind of annoyed by the overt display of Slytherin pride.

Rachel, of course, was beside herself. She was seated at the head table, sandwiched between her two dads. Headmaster Figgins had promised that she would have an opportunity to make an acceptance speech later in the night, and ever once and a while she would gasp and furiously write something on a pad of paper she kept beside her (covered in gold stars, of course).

The rest of the students are spaced out at throughout the tables. There's no House divide tonight, not after Harry Potter explained what had gone on. Granted, there are very few Slytherins at the Gryffindor table, but the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are spread all over, and the Beauxbatons girls are happily flirting with all of the boys, while the Durmstrang boys still sat by themselves.

Finn was unhappily plunked beside Kurt, resting his chin on his hand and sighing every once and a while, gazing adoringly at Rachel. He'd been like that ever since Rachel had blown him off to hug Blaine. Since then he had followed Kurt back to the Gryffindor room, and sat on Hugo's bed while Kurt changed into appropriate dress robes. He'd only eaten three chicken legs and a dozen treacle tarts since arriving at the feast.

"She's way too good for me," Finn sighed for the third time. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Hey, guys!" Sam said enthusiastically, sliding onto the bench opposite them, and tugging Quinn alongside him. Kurt watched curiously. When the Beauxbatons girls have first arrived, he wouldn't have, in a million years, been able to imagine her giggling while being pulled down onto a bench, especially if she were being tugged by trouty-mouthed Sam, with unbrushed hair and appalling fashion sense. Then again, he thought, a lot of things had changed.

"Hi, Sam," Finn sighed. Quinn cleared her throat, and Kurt realized abruptly just how over the pretty girl his half-brother was. "Oh, hi, Quinn."

Quinn just glanced over at Rachel, a strange little half-smile on her face. Kurt just sighed again. The feast was very nice and all, but what he really wanted was for Blaine and his father to return. Or, at the very least, for Mercedes to show up. All of the other students were excited and celebrating, but he just didn't feel like it much. He couldn't get the memory of being frozen, unable to move, the picture of Blaines' face contorted in pain, the silent screaming, out of his mind. He doubted somewhat that he ever would.

There were a pair of empty seats at the head table: neither Professor Schuester nor Blais Zabini were seated in their traditional seats.

Kurt closed his eyes, leaned forward and rested his head on his forearms. A heavy hand clapped him on the back.

"I know how you feel, dude."

But Finn didn't. Nobody did, nobody who wasn't in that clearing.

"Oh, there you are."

At first, Kurt assumed that Figgins had just accidently amplified his voice, without any intention of doing so. But when the Headmaster ontinued to speak in his overly enunciated manner, he realized that it was intentional, and lifted his head wearily. "Harry Potter! Mr. Harry Potter! To the head table, please!"

Kurt's eyes widened. Standing in the entrance to the great hall was not only Harry Potter, but also James, and beside him, Mercedes. No, not just beside him. . .Kurt's eyes trailed down James' arm, to where his fingers interlocked with Mercedes. He was pretty sure that his chin hit the table.

"I didn't know that Mercedes was dating James," Finn muttered.

"Me, neither," Kurt admitted, continuing to watch with wide eyes as the two made their way to the Gryffindor table. He knew his best friend very well, but he'd never seen this expression on her face before: her mouth kept tightening and twitching as though she were trying to fight back a smile. She kept glancing sideways at James. For his part, he couldn't seem to keep from smiling, green eyes sparkling.

"Mercedes, boo. . ." Kurt said as the two sat down. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting a little sumthin-sumthing?"

"Okay, one," Mercedes said, holding up a finger, "you are neither black enough, nor gay enough to say sumthin-sumthing. And two. . .I tried to tell you, but you were so caught up in the competition. . ."

Kurt felt like hitting himself on the forehead. Looking back on it, he could remember all of those moments when she had tried to tell him something, and he'd blown her off for Blaine, or for Rachel, or for spying on people from secret tunnels underneath the Forbidden Forest.

"It's okay," Mercedes said, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm happy, now. Isn't that the important thing?"

Kurt smiled at that, what felt like his first smile of the day. "Yeah," he said, nodding a little. "Yeah, it is."

Finn stood up, nearly knocking over his plate of food (though Kurt noted that he somehow managed to balance it on the edge of the table.). "You're right." He said, nodding his head. "Being happy is the most important thing."

"Oh, no," Kurt whispered. He exchanged a mortified glance with Mercedes, who just gripped James' hand even tighter. "Finn, don't. . ."

But his half-brother, who didn't listen to reason in even the best of circumstances, seemed even less inclined to listen now. Instead, he stalked to the front of the room, until he was standing directly in front of the head table. "Rachel Berry, I love you." He said. Rachel gasped and stop talking, mid-sentence. Her hands fluttered up to cover her mouth, but even over the tips of her fingernails, her cheeks could be seen to glow a bright red.

"I love you," Finn said again. "And I know that you're, like, a Champion now, and I'm just this random guy, but I love you. And I'm going to prove it to you."

Kurt was pretty sure that this wouldn't be necessary under normal circumstances. In fact, he was certain that it normally wouldn't be, since he had been forced to listen to Rachel expound upon his brother's many "amazing" qualities more than once over the course of their friendship, and over the course of the year for that matter. As it was, however, it appeared that Finn's surprise declaration had struck her speechless, which was a miracle in itself.

Finn, however, had never been terribly empathetic. So, instead of recognizing that the tears welling up in Rachel's eyes were of supreme joy, Finn clearly saw them as. . .well, Finn probably didn't see them at all. Instead, he just cleared his throat, spread his arms, and took in a deep breath.

"Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere. . ."

Seriously? Kurt wondered. How was this a romantic song at all? Rachel, however, perked up immediately, her hands dropping from her mouth, and her lips pulled back into a broad smile. She opened her mouth and began to sing along.

"Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit, he took the midnight train going anywhere. . .

"Ba-dum!" Sam, Artie, and Mike sang, standing up.

"Singer in a smoky room, smell of wine and cheap perfume, for a smile they could share the night it goes on and on and on and on. . ." Kurt whipped his head to the side, amazed to see Jesse standing on the table, singing now. Even more surprising was when Karofsky stood up beside him, singing in an unsettlingly pleasant bass, "strangers, waiting, up and down the boulevard, there's shadows searching in the night."

By the chorus, it seems like everybody in the hall was singing along, and even Kurt found himself joining in, his cheeks hurting a bit as he smiled. He wasn't ashamed to admit that most of the reason he was grinning was because of the way that Finn and Rachel kept staring at one another, as though the rest of the room didn't exist, the way that Mercedes and James were holding hands the entire time, and the way that Sam and Quinn kept bumping shoulders and hips.

He didn't think that Finn had intentionally invoked any Magical Lyricism, but then again his half-brothers' control over his magic had always been tenuous at best. Regardless, there was no doubt that the song had lifted the spirits of everybody in the hall, and Kurt felt intense stirrings of hope deep within his breast.

Midsong, while everyone else was still singing and faling madly in love, Kurt felt his gaze suddenly pulled to the back of the hall. Two figures were standing there, though Kurt's eyes fell unwaveringly on the shorter figure. Blaine and his father stared into the hall, obviously surprised by the sudden outbreak of song. As Kurt watched, however, Blaine's lips twitched, and then slowly lifted into a smile. Even smiling, he looked exhausted, deep shadows under his eyes, and lines Kurt had never noticed etched across his forehead. Mr. Anderson had one hand placed supportively on his son's shoulder. They walked in together. Blaine started to head toward the Gryffindor table, but Mr. Anderson steered them left instead, so that they were sitting with the Hufflepuffs.

When the song ended all of the students clapped, except for Finn and Rachel, who were still standing and staring at one another. Finn's hands were clenched, and his chest was heaving.

"Yes," Rachel gasped, holding her hands tightly to her chest, as though clasped in prayer. "Yes, Finn Hudson, I will marry you!"

Finn's mouth gaped open. "Wait. . .what?"

Kurt snickered. Figgins chose that moment to rush forward.

"Er. . .yes. . .no marriage between any witches or wizards under the age of seventeen."

"I'll wait!" Rachel yelled fiercely. Finn just walked back to his seat and collapsed into it.

"What just happened?" he asked. Kurt snickered again.

"Congratulations on your impending nuptials," he whispered. Finn just blinked at him.

"Now then," Figgins said, clearing his throat. "We have already declared Ms. Rachel Berry the Triwizard Tournament, but we have another announcement today."

Kurt straightened up. He was always interested in change from the norm.

Figgins snapped his fingers, and Coach Beiste walked over to him, holding a massive trophy that dwarfed Rachel's for winning the tournament. Kurt glanced at Mercedes and lifted an eyebrow.

"As many of you know. Lord Voldemort almost returned today. . ."

"No," Harry Potter said, standing up and waving his arms over the startled outbursts of the students. "No, he didn't. Ignore him. Voldemort is dead."

"Fortunately, he was stopped by two of our brave students," Figgins continued, as though he hadn't been interrupted. "For demonstrating the loyalty and integrity that are staples of the Hufflepuff House, for displaying the bravery and tenacity of a Gryffindor, for employing the wisdom and intelligence of a Ravenclaw the Special Award for Services to the School is awarded to Mr. Blaine Anderson."

Kurt was the first one on his feet, furiously clapping his hands and grinning so widely that it hurt. He spun around to face his boyfriend. Mr. Anderson wore a tight smile and was clapping faithfully. Blaine just looked shellshocked. Across the crowded room he caught Kurt's eye. He looked confused, and a little scared.

Figgins cleared his throat. "Also, for keeping a cool head and using the logic of a Ravenclaw, for actions as cunning as a Slytherin and reckless as a Gryffindor, and with the love of a Hufflepuff, this award is also given to Mr. Kurt Hummel."

Kurt's legs gave out. His knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the ground if Finn hadn't tightly gripped him beneath the elbow. Kurt couldn't believe it. He hadn't done anything. . .he had disarmed a war hero while wearing an invisibility cloak, and accidently called for a wand that didn't even belong to him. Blaine was the one who had been courageous, Blaine was the one who had saved the Elder wand. The world was spinning above him.

Vaguely, he could hear the students in the hall chanting for a speech, and Figgins asking for silence.

"Young men," he said, five times before everyone had quieted down enough for the headmaster to continue. "Young men, you two have demonstrated the finest qualities that Hogwarts could ever ask for. You faced great adversity tonight, and pulled through it with a strength that few adult wizards ever could. Hogwarts has always had a tradition of Houses, and House competitions, but tonight, you two young men proved that it is the marriage of these qualities, the combination of characteristics and traits, that make for a great wizard.

"You two did not live tonight because Kurt was a brave Gryffindor, or Blaine an honest Hufflepuff. You survived because you are both Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Slytherins."

Kurt gasped. The air felt thick and hot. It was the most eloquent that he had ever heard the Headmaster, but he still couldn't connect it to him. He was just Kurt Hummel – moderately decent student, snarky attitude, fabulous dresser. He wasn't. . .he wasn't popular, or a Quidditch player, or the top of his class, or a prefect, or a hero. He was just plain old Kurt Hummel.

"Kurt. . .Kurt. . .are you okay?"

He glanced up. The air cooled down, the claustrophobia retreated, and the warmth that he'd felt while the hall was singing returned. Because he was staring up at Blaine. Kind, brave Blaine, who looked beyond exhausted and pain.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm okay."

Together they walked up to the head table. Even Rachel was grinning and clapping, surprisingly not disappointed by losing a moment of spotlight. Figgins handed them his magic wand and stepped back.

"Hi," Blaine said softly, his voice cracking a little. "I'm not very good at talking about my feelings. I'm much better at singing them." Several of the students laughed in the audience. Even Blaine laughed a little. "But, um. . .I just want . . .I want to say something."

A silence fell over the hall, and even in his state of confusion, Kurt could appreciate that only Blaine Anderson could cause a silence so profound that he could hear the gentle tread of the house elves feet in the kitchen. Blaine turned to Kurt, and in a voice that was melted butter, half-whispered, "I love you."

Figgins jumped forward and wrenched the wand out of Blaine's hand. "No more marriage proposals!" he gasped.

Kurt ignored him, and turned to Blaine.

"I love you, too."

Nothing was solved that night. Professor Schuester's trial was still pending. Jesse st. James was still plotting revenge. James and Mercedes would struggle with a balance between a comfortable relationship, and the surveillance of the paparazzi. Quinn had to go back to Beauxbatons, and Sam had to stay at Hogwarts. Finn was still a hopeless oaf, and Rachel was as loud and irritating as ever. Mr. Anderson was cold and distant. Figgins was ineffective, and the rest of the teaching staff wasn't much better. But in that one moment, with hazel eyes trained on his, tired as they were, the world was perfect.

A/N: No Grawp. I lied. I really wanted to put in Grawp, but failed. Perhaps I'll go through and edit this final chapter, and add Grawp.

Please, check out some of my other stories! Beyond the End and Building Bridges are my personal favorites. . .yay for AUs. Also, look for new updates of Concrete Jungle, my only future, canon fic, in which Brittana and Klainchel are in NYC. And thanks again for reading. It's been a trip!