A/n: Hope you're all staying safe.

I still own none of this, the characters are the property of RIB and JK Rowling.

Kurt glared at his boyfriend as he tried to make sense of what was he was being told, he shook his head, "I'm not sure I'm understanding what you're saying." Kurt unpacked the picnic basket onto the kitchen table, "what do you want me to do?"

"A hen night," Charlie repeated his assertion, "for Fleur." Kurt stared up at him vacantly, "it's a final blow out for a bride to be-"

"Don't explain it to me," Kurt's vacant stare twisted into a glare, "I know what a hen night is."

"Right," his boyfriend nodded, "and you know who Fleur is?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded, "I know who Fleur Delacour is, I've known her longer than you have." Kurt crossed his arms, "I've known her since I was with Cedric."

"I'm not touching that," he shook his head, "So, what's the problem?"

"She's not my friend," Kurt shook his head, "this is something your friends do for you. Or at the very least, your bridesmaids."

"Considering that the country is war torn, Fleur's friends won't be able to make it for the most part."

Kurt nodded, "but why now? This is awfully last minute, like an afterthought."

"I thought mum would have her a kitchen tea but I'm starting to think that mum doesn't like her very much."

Kurt shook his head, "You are so lucky you're pretty."

"What do my rugged good looks have to do with the matter?"

"You're just figuring out that your mother isn't fond of Fleur," Kurt shook his head condescendingly, "I could have told you that ages ago."

"It's not like it's obvious," he shrugged.

"It kind of is, none of your family likes her," Kurt rolled his eyes, "It's not her fault, it's not her fault." Kurt took a moment to think of the best way to phrase his observation, "its social disconnection. She's not accustomed to this modest lifestyle and they all think she looks down them because of her behaviours."

"She is a bit of a snob," Charlie shrugged.

Kurt shook his head, "she has a lifestyle to which she's become accustomed. You don't notice it because I don't live here and I bring the opulence with me wherever I go."

"No," the young man shook his head.

"Yes," Kurt found himself nodding his, "think about how much champagne I drink without occasion, all my dietary restrictions and how I reacted to the linens at shell cottage."

He pondered for a moment, "So you'll do it?"

"That's not what I said," Kurt stared the shorter man down, "putting together a soiree takes time and effort."

Charlie gestured to the breakfast spread Kurt was setting up, "you pulled this together in next to no time, you can do tonight easily."

"This is catered," Kurt crossed his arms, "I ordered this a week ago." Kurt cocked a hip and tilted his head, "you also turn a blind eye to my snobbery because you love me."

"Are you going to do this for Fleur?" Charlie squared his shoulders authoritatively, "mum's been kind of mean to her since last night."

"Your mother is not my problem," Kurt shook his head, "and you must think you have a penis made of Afghanistan's most prized opium specimen if you think you can subliminally order me to do it."

Charlie's shoulders slumped, "that's not what I was doing."

"Now you think I'm stupid," Kurt fired back.

"You're putting words in my mouth," Charlie shook his head.

"Oh," Kurt tilted his head, "so now I'm manipulative."

Charlie raised his hands in surrender, "I'm not playing any games! I just want to do something nice for my brother with the boys because he was mauled by a werewolf, and I thought you could do something for Fleur so she doesn't feel left out."

"I'm a boy," Kurt narrowed his gaze, "why would you assume I wouldn't want to go bar hopping with you? You're taking Ron and Harry, correct?" the young man nodded, "but not me?"

"Oh my god," Charlie grabbed tufts of his hair with one hand and shoved his other in his mouth to muffle a scream. He took a few deep breaths, "you don't want to go bar hopping with me, my brothers and Harry."

"Harry, my brothers and me," Kurt corrected.

"Same difference!"

"I don't," Kurt nodded.

"Then why are you being impossible?"

"Partly because it's fun," Kurt shrugged, stepping closer to the shorter boy and laying a hand on his tense shoulder, "Partly because you look so good when you're angry, and partly because this last-minute request means that I either have to do everything myself or risk ruining my relationship with my vendors."

Charlie let out a defeated sigh, "will you do it?"

"I'll do it," Kurt nodded, "not for your mother, not for Bill, and not for Fleur." Kurt fell into his arms, "but for you. For you, I will throw Fleur Delacour a hen night, but I won't enjoy it"

"Because you're the nicest person ever," Charlie kissed him softly.

"And don't you forget it," Kurt purred.

The kitchen door swung open and in came Mr Weasley, followed by Fred fussing over George, and brought up by Mrs Weasley and Fleur competing over who would fuss over Bill.

"Good morning Kurt," Mr Weasley smiled broadly, "Hipster Weasley."

"Good morning all," Kurt stepped out of Charlie's personal space, "who would like some tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," Fred and George chorused, "thank you."

"Ron, Harry!" Kurt called out for the pair, despite having sent Hermione up to get them a while ago. They appeared instantly from the lounge, "oh, there you are."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "we didn't want to interrupt world war three."

Kurt glared at his gangly friend, "brew a pot of tea for everyone." He turned to Harry, "get the crockery and cutlery ready."

"Ready for what? I haven't gotten breakfast started yet," Mrs Weasley asked, turning from Bill for the first time. Her eyes grew wide and there was a flicker of anger in her awe, "Kurt, you shouldn't have. I would have made breakfast for everyone."

"It wasn't an issue," Kurt brushed off her gushing, even when it never came, "I simply had to pick it up from the caterer."

"And we have to do the real work," Ron grumbled.

"Do you understand how laborious deciding on a menu with a caterer is?" Kurt quirked a curious brow, "they always want to show off and upsell you, even when you simply want a family style breakfast."

"There are pastries staring me in the face," Bill's voice sounded spacey when he spoke.

"Oh, please," Kurt blushed, "help yourselves. There's enough to feed an army of Ron's." he turned to George, "may I?"

"Please do," the boy held out his stump. He wagged a suggestive brow at Kurt, "sexy, right?"

"However could I resist a man with battle scars," Kurt teased as he analysed the below the elbow amputation, "this is a clean cut, they didn't try to reattach the arm?"

"It died instantly," George shook his head, "a result of the curse, they had to debride the stump to prevent infection. Doctor said he got good margins, whatever that means."

"Can you still feel it?" Kurt's mind was moving a mile a minute, "I read somewhere that people feel a phantom limb for years after amputation."

"Is that what it is?" George gaped at him, "I've had a cramp in my little finger all morning, I thought I was losing my mind."

Kurt produced an appointment card, "I checked the directory and found the contact details of the guy who made Alastor's leg, I made an appointment for Wednesday morning."

"What for?"

"This is your wand arm," Kurt explained, "what was your plan going forward?"

"I hadn't thought of it," George shrugged, "I lost the arm last night."

"They build the prosthetic around your wand," Kurt explained, his excitement swimming in his tone, "that way you can use magic as you had been up to now… well, almost."

"You use both hands to cast spells," George furrowed his brow.

"I have a greater technical skillset than you," Kurt chuckled, "I was using my right hand for wandless magic already, using a wand was a step back for me."

"Wow," George chortled, "I feel attacked by the assertion that you're a better wizard than me."

"I have almost three times the number of OWLs you do," Kurt smirked, "and I actually finished my sixth year. Whether or not I'm a better wizard was not up for debate."

"Kurt," Hermione's eyes were wide as she held the Turkish coffee pot, "can I have a word? In Private."

"Of course," Kurt nodded, "I have some news to share as well." She nudged her head in the direction of the lounge and he followed her, as soon as the door closed he spoke, "me first."

"Alright," she nodded, "go."

"I'm throwing Fleur a hen night as a favour to my boyfriend," Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'm not sure how that will affect your plans with Viktor."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, she summoned a piece of paper and handed it to Kurt, "this."

"This is the code to, or possibly coordinates of, the deplorable word," Kurt nodded to himself, "what about it?"

"It's a phone number," Hermione explained, "the area code is for the greater Oxford area, a cemetery on Headington Road."

"What?" Kurt shook his head, "that scroll is from before the invention of the first telephone, how could that be possible?"

"We live in a world with magic and you want to know how it is possible that someone knew something before it happened," Hermione glared at him as if he were stupid.

"Nothing about the deplorable word has made sense this far," Kurt shrugged, "it evades simplicity, it makes sense that the solution would be something that we'd be least likely to think of… and more sense that we're supposed to find it now."

"How do you mean?"

"For centuries," Kurt shook his head, "these numbers meant nothing, and in our age they suddenly mean something."

"The White Witch paid a terrible price to learn the deplorable word," Hermione warned.

"I've so little left to lose," Kurt shook his head, "and if that loss means the end of this war then it will be worth it."

"The need of the many outweigh the needs of the few," Hermione nodded, "but I need you, Charlie needs you, your family needs you." She took his hand, "let's not be hasty in our pursuit of the truth."

"We're going to need to get a list of everyone who was ever buried there, like ever," Kurt rolled his eyes, "by the time we've cross-referenced that with every possible wielder of the deplorable word's ancestry, we'll have exhausted our other options."

~0~

Kurt came down the stairs dressed in a skin-tight, all black ensemble that ignored his claims that he would be adopting a more modest dress sense. He had his purse in hand, ready to tip handsomely for the convenience of pulling together a spread and providing wait staff on such short notice.

Hermione had her arms crossed and was scowling at him from her seat at the bar, Kurt walked up to her and snatched the champagne glass from its resting place at her side, "I hope that's not what you're wearing."

"What does it matter what I wear?" she rolled her eyes, trying to reach for her drink before relenting and waving over the barman, "my sausage fest has been cancelled."

"Mandy and Tracey will be here," Kurt smirked, "supporting me through this venture."

"So," Hermione called for another glass of champagne as Kurt downed hers, "you don't need me sober."

Kurt shook his head, "in forty-five minutes, Tracey is going to suggest that we move this party to the streets. Where we're going to bump into a certain Bulgarian bon-bon."

Hermione's face lit up and Kurt snatched away her fresh glass and sipped deeply as her mind worked, "you didn't."

"Your room will be decked out with rose petals, chocolates, champagne, condoms and lubricant," Kurt wagged a suggestive brow, "so you need to keep it tight so you can sweep that eastern European stud off his feet and convince him to come back to your place to help you practice your sword swallowing."

She got to her feet and took off in a sprint, she stopped short of the stairs and turned back. She hugged Kurt tightly and kissed his cheek, "thank you."

"Watch the make-up," Kurt chastised her, "and don't thank me, I couldn't have stood being on the chase with you all sulky."

Kurt watched her scurry off, following at a more dignified pace after speaking to the Head Waitress. Kurt stood in the formal lounge, waiting for the wood in the fireplace to wake in the plume of emerald flames that would announce the arrival of his friends. Kurt thought of how even this weekend, their last normal time before Harry turned seventeen and they could go adventuring, was bogged down with formal pleasantries and proper behaviours which he knew he would grow to remember when he was living on the run.

The first to arrive was Tracey Davies, she had a bottle of tequila and whole pineapple with her, "Sup slut!"

"Tracey Anne," Kurt smiled broadly at his friend, "welcome to my home."

"This is nice," she looked around the room, "it's so white."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled politely, "why do you have a pineapple with you?"

"Tabasco too," Tracey nodded, "instead of salt and lime, pineapple and tabasco for the tequila shots. We'll have everyone in bed by midnight."

"You are a heaven send," Kurt grinned at her.

"Don't thank me," she shook her head, "this is all Willa."

"Well," Kurt pursed his lips, "pass on my thanks to Mrs Davies."

"Ms Rosier," Tracey corrected, "she's a feminist."

"I think I'd really love your mother."

"That's what we all think," Tracey rolled her eyes, "until you meet her."

"Mandy Brocklehurst and her beautiful breasts are in the house," the girl announced, pulling their attention. She did a little dance and then donned her standard deportment, "And I brought Lisa who was very upset that you didn't invite her."

"Explain yourself," Lisa demanded, her arms crossed, "Finn said all partners are created equally."

"I thought you'd want to spend time with your boyfriend before he turns seventeen tomorrow and disappears," Kurt shrugged, "Potentially forever."

"It's not like it's Neville's birthday or anything," Mandy rolled her eyes.

"You spent all day with him," Kurt scolded her, "and he won't be leaving you to face his death, he's Head Boy."

"And I," Tracey smiled broadly with stars in her eyes, "his Head Girl."

"If this bitch comes for my man, she will make a racist out of me," Mandy warned her friend, "and I will become a Death Eater too."

Tracey waved off Mandy's threats, "we're pretending to be concerned about Harry Potter being sad and alone."

"Don't worry about Harry Potter," Lisa smirked, "I have that covered, if you know what I mean."

"I just threw up a little in my mouth," Kurt groaned.

"I want to stab my ears for hearing that," Tracey shuddered as she handed over her supplies and Kurt instructed the staff.

"Wow," Lisa gaped, "way to shame me for embracing and owning my sexuality like the feminist I am."

"There's nothing wrong with you having sex," Tracey shook her head, "there's also nothing wrong with you enjoying sex."

"I have sex," Mandy shrugged, "Kurt has sex."

Tracey moved to interject, "Kurt-"

"Kurt will correct her when she's wrong," he smirked suggestively.

"You didn't," Tracey grinned spectacularly, "you did."

"I am grown," Kurt preened at the attention.

"The double standard!" Lisa protested.

Tracey shook her head, "No double standard, Hipster Weasley is smoking hot!" she breathed heavily, "I want to get a taste of him."

"I'd take a serving," Mandy nodded her agreement.

"Neville Longbottom is so sweet he's like cotton candy melting in your mouth," Tracey explained, "and Harry Potter… is Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter might not have a stand out trait that endears him to the world other than technically being alive," Lisa was impassioned, "and it doesn't matter that you don't all want to pile up on top of him but the fact that I love him should be enough for you." She crossed her arms, "that should make him good enough."

Kurt crossed his arms, "and he treats you well, I assume. I've never heard you complain…" Kurt was silent for a moment, "or maybe you do complain, sometimes I don't listen to you."

"Evidently," Hermione shook her head, "you just spoke over her."

"What was she saying?"

"I was say-" Lisa shook her head, "it doesn't matter. I'm happy with Harry Potter, he is my portion."

"See," Kurt shrugged, ignoring the chime of the doorbell and leaving it for the staff, "I was agreeing with you, some people like dry toast and black coffee."

"It's called the East Berlin diet," Tracey nodded.

"Bonjour," Fleur announced herself as she entered the great room with her sister, Nymphadora, Ginny and Luna in tow.

"What's she doing here?" Lisa hissed.

"This is her future sister in law's hen dinner," Mandy hissed back, "I think they were being polite, give her the tiara."

"Fine," Lisa smiled politely and stepped forward, "Hello Fleur, I'm Lisa Turpin- Harry Potter's girlfriend." She produced a silver tiara with 'bride to be' in hot pink letters, "may I place this on your head?"

Fleur bowed politely, "Merci."

"Garcon," Tracey called out, "tequila."

Kurt stepped forward as another waitress served them welcome drinks, "tonight we brave few gather to celebrate Fleur Delacour's impending nuptials and her last night of freedom. Let us raise our glasses and have some fun."

"Tomorrow afternoon you'll be in my club," Tonks raised her glass and immediately put it to the side when the rest of the group sipped.

Another waitress handed out shots of tequila with a wedge of pineapple resting on the rim, Tracey took the wheel, "you drink the shot and then eat the tabasco covered pineapple."

"Fleur," Hermione smirked, "would you like to make a toast?"

"To the life I will build with Bill," she downed her tequila and chased it with the pineapple. The tabasco sauce caught her unawares and she coughed loudly, "may it be far from his mother." The group giggled but Ginny sulked, "another!"

"Indeed," Mandy encouraged, "for tonight, we dine in Valhalla!"

Kurt, Hermione, Lisa and Tracey roared their agreements and they all took the second shot. Kurt leaned closer to Hermione, "That's enough for you. Go stand with Tonks, she isn't drinking either."

He then sashayed through the crowd to Fleur, he summoned a box with a flourish that would have looked like close-up magic to the muggle staff, "a gift for the bride to be, we all chipped in." Kurt lied through his teeth but there was no way she would know that, "Open it."

Fleur opened the box and ripped past the mountain of tissue paper, she came up holding a lacey black thong, "Kurt, this is-"

"Victoria's Secret," Kurt nodded, "the finest French lace and Chinese silk come together to make the sexiest negligee on the market." Kurt wagged his brow suggestively, "to make your wedding night extra special."

"Thank you," she hugged him tightly, "for all of this."

"I'm the Best Man's significant other," Kurt smiled politely, "it's the least I could do."

Kurt left her with her sister and his friends to fawn over the gift while he made his way to the fringe, where Luna and Ginny were standing, "Hey Luna, what's wrong with her?"

"Did you not hear the dig she took at my mother?"

"Calm down," Kurt rolled his eyes, "it was a joke."

"And we all know that's not why you're angry," Luna smirked.

"Oh," Kurt held back a giggle, "this is about Lisa, and the fact that she's Harry Potter's girlfriend."

"No," she crossed her arms, "this has nothing to do with her."

"Are you sure?"

"Fine," Ginny relented, "it bothers me that he's with her and she doesn't even like quidditch! She's a girly-girl who cares about her hair and…"

"You think Harry should be with you?"

"He certainly shouldn't be with her," Ginny sulked, "see me, I'm not like other girls."

"Oh," Kurt nodded condescendingly, "and you think that makes you better than us?"

"I didn't say anything about you."

"You didn't have to," Kurt shook his head, "You implied that you were more deserving of Harry Potter's attention because you're not like other girls." Kurt crossed his arms and cocked his hip, "As if there is something wrong with 'other girls', your implication is that we're vapid because we care about the way we look more than we care about quidditch. You forget that every single one of those girls is an A student with a bright future ahead of her being who and what she wants."

"You're taking this out of context," Ginny shrugged.

Kurt tilted his head and smiled condescendingly, "You can wear the fact that you're not like other girls as a badge of honour, there's nothing wrong with that. The problem arises when that distinction is drawn around the fact that your subversion of expectations makes you better than other girls."

"I'm not like other boys," Kurt shrugged, "but that isn't the feather I wear atop my cap. I'm quantifiably better than my peers, not because of my interests but through measurable metrics like our academic results."

"Look-"

"No, you look," Kurt pointed at Nymphadora and Hermione, "Do you think they're talking about how they're better than other girls or do you think they are minding their damn business and having fun? Mind yours Ginny."

Kurt turned and walked away from the pair, helping himself to some of the canapés that were being circulated by the wait staff. He mingled politely as they lined their stomachs in anticipation of a long night of drinking.

Tracey stepped up to him, "did you get a stripper?"

"Certainly not," Kurt gaped at her, "Apparently, I'm not old enough to do that, we'll find something where we're going." He waved over a waitress for a fresh glass of champagne, "Would you have the head waiter call the car service."

Kurt cleared his throat and called all eyes to him, "Ladies, we will depart shortly. To dance and drink the night away, first blood will be drawn at Language- a leather bar in Camden town. Worry not my compatriots, for I have prepared a leather for you." Kurt gestured to the clothing rack that stood near the stairs, "we depart in fifteen minutes."

Hermione adjusted her cleavage and pursed her lips, "how do I look?"

"How do you feel?"

"Sexy," she grinned.

"That's all that matters."

~0~

Kurt wasn't surprised to see Hermione kissing Viktor Krum goodbye in the foyer that morning, he was up to open for this morning's vendors but elected to allow them this moment of intimacy. They were in a bubble that would never be replicated no matter how long they continued to love each other and he didn't want to colour their moment with his presence.

They held hands and spoke in whispers too low for him to hear, Viktor smirked and Hermione giggled- a violent blush colouring her cheeks. Then they repeated the action in reverse, with Hermione smirking and Viktor blushing. He kissed her on the cheek and exited the house, Hermione leaned against the door for a moment and then proceeded to do a victory dance that would have embarrassed her to no end if she knew that somebody had seen it.

Kurt appeared at the top of the stairs as soon as she had recomposed herself. He walked slowly, a knowing smirk on his face, as he held her attention and her mind moved a mile a minute- trying to figure out how much he had seen. Kurt preened with the power he had in this moment, standing ever so slightly taller.

"What?" Hermione shrugged at him, she'd decided to play dumb.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Kurt pursed his lips and admonished her with the slightest wag of his finger, "you can't keep anything from me?"

"Oh," she smirked, "is that so?"

"Of course," Kurt matched her smirk, "I'm Kurt Elizabeth Hummel."

"Well Lillibet," she shrugged ever so slightly, "I have nothing to hide, nothing to share either."

Kurt nodded ever so slightly, "very well." She walked toward the stairs leading to the great room, "are you not going to put on pants before breakfast? Isn't it just a waste of hot water if people can't tell that you've completed your ablutions?"

"Were you listening in like a creep?"

"Not listening in," Kurt shook his head, "but I was awake and proximal to hear the shower running… and run it did."

"Perv," Hermione grimaced.

"It was running when I passed to start my aerobics," Kurt shook his head, "and it was still running when I was done."

Hermione blushed, "oh."

"Haven't you heard of water waste," Kurt admonished her and she bowed her head. Kurt smirked, "now tell me what you will."

"I thought we didn't do that anymore," she smirked.

"I said I wouldn't do it," Kurt pursed his lips suggestively, "that doesn't mean that I'm not open to listening to your escapades." The doorbell rang and Kurt moved to open it, "this I have had planned for a while."

The room was flooded with workers carrying different kinds of equipment, Kurt pointed them downstairs, Hermione gaped at him, "what is this?"

"Best friend breakfast and spa day," Kurt smiled broadly, "a fresh haircut for me, get our nails done and facials before we brave the great unknown."

"Oh my gosh," Hermione beamed.

"We need to cast our worries aside for just one day," Kurt assured her, "and bask in our love for each other."

Hermione wiped away an imaginary tear, "that's so thoughtful of you… and so unlike you." She stared at him curiously, "so was throwing Fleur's hen night… are you trying to make up for all the wrong you've done in case you die?"

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione," Kurt scolded, "I'm never wrong." He straightened his shoulders, "and I'm certainly not going to die and leave Charlie to be loved by someone else, honestly."

Hermione shook her head as she allowed him to lead her down the stairs, Kurt had her seated in the recliner next to his and they were served flutes of champagne. Hermione lifted her glass, "to Harry Potter, Happy Birthday."

"Happy Birthday," Kurt agreed with a clink of their glasses. Kurt sipped at his champagne while he picked out a clear polish colour for his nails, "Tomorrow, we adventure."

"Where do we begin?" Hermione shook her head, "do you have a clue."

"The smart place to start would be with 'RAB'," Kurt shrugged, "but the problem with initials is, they could belong to anybody- both living and dead."

"Well, the note said that he would already be dead," Hermione pointed out.

"No," Kurt shook his head, "it said that he would be dead when the Dark Lord discovered the fake Locket, that could mean that the person was older and assumed that the Dark Lord might not check in on the Horcrux until he found himself susceptible to the woes of mortality."

"So," Hermione rolled her eyes, "that puts all the names back on the board."

"The use of the moniker 'The Dark Lord' tells us something as well," Kurt smirked with excitement, "this person held the Dark Lord in high esteem, that title bares the markers of respect."

"Rabastan?" Hermione suggested his uncle's name with great caution, "RAB could be the first three letters of his name."

"Rabastan LeStrange remains loyal to the Dark Lord," Kurt shook his head, "and he certainly isn't smart enough to pull off a double cross on this level, for this long."

"He was smart enough to keep your existence a secret from everyone for the last seventeen years," Hermione countered.

"Touché," Kurt nodded, "but what would he have to gain? He still serves the Dark Lord and remains loyal to him."

"You might not consider Horcruxes to be too dark to think of," Hermione shrugged, "But to a lot of people, they are as dark as it gets."

"You think he had a moral objection to the Dark Lord's use of Horcruxes, but he was fine with the killing, torture and prejudice?"

"It might not be the sexiest answer but it's a start," Hermione shook her head, "I don't see you offering any solutions."

"I bet you Harry has convinced himself that it was his father," Kurt joked.

Hermione smirked, "with no evidence to support the claim."

"We're so bad for laughing at a broken orphan boy who wants so badly to connect with his parents that he will lie to himself despite logic saying otherwise…"

"It would be sad if it wasn't so funny," Hermione smirked.

"On a serious note," Kurt looked to Hermione for answers, "do we have any leads?"

She shook her head, "it's not like we were left a lexicon of answers, just more and more questions." She mirrored his curious look, "do you have a footing on how to destroy them?"

"Without the sword of Gryffindor," Kurt shook his head to the negative, "I'd need to hold one to know how to destroy one."

A mischievous smirk spread across Hermione's pretty face, "You could hold Harry Potter."

"Don't be disgusting," he chastised her, "I'm about to eat."

"Okay," Hermione tried to come across more seriously, "you've theorised that he's a horcrux, why not use him?"

"Harry would be a very primitive and volatile iteration of the magic," Kurt shook his head, "very different from the polished kind we're going to encounter. Destroying the soul piece that lives in Harry Potter is as simple as killing Harry Potter."

"Which you're going to do?"

"As soon as we've destroyed all the other horcruxes and killed Voldemort," Kurt nodded, "it's my duty."

~0~

Kurt was dressed in his designer suit and cape combo for the wedding when he, Hermione and Viktor appeared on the boundary of the Weasley property with a barely audible pop. Kurt approached the burrow with hopes of getting a moment alone with his boyfriend before the festivities commenced.

As soon as he entered the lounge, he was stopped by an unfamiliar red head, "Kurt."

"Wow," he shuddered, "it is really unsettling to have a stranger use my name with such familiarity."

"It's me," the boy rolled his eyes, "Harry Potter."

"What happened to you?" Kurt gaped at him, "and why?"

"I'm incognitio," Harry shrugged, "it was Mad-eye's idea."

"To turn you into the long lost Weasley?"

"To allow me to blend in," Harry countered.

"Oh," Kurt nodded to himself, "taking a break from the burden of celebrity, are we?"

"Something like that," he nodded, "giving my heart a break."

"How can I help you?"

"Where's Hermione?" he looked around Kurt for his friend, "this has to do with her too."

"She and Viktor went straight to the chapel," Kurt explained, "I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Charlie."

"Rufus Scrimgeour was here earlier," Harry explained, "he was here to read Dumbledore's will."

"Cool story," Kurt tried to catch sight of Charlie but could not see him.

"He left this envelope for you," Harry produced a thick, full sized manila envelope and handed it to Kurt. The boy watched curiously as Kurt eyed the envelope before tossing it in his purse without opening it, "Do you know what it is?"

"No," Kurt shook his head, "but it won't make any difference right now."

"He left me the snitch from my first quidditch match, left Ron his deluminator and a book for Hermione," Harry prattled on, barely holding Kurt's attention, "he also left me the sword of Gryffindor."

This drew Kurt's attention, "do you have it?"

"No," he shook his head, "According to the Minister, Dumbledore had no right to leave me the sword."

"It's the property of the school," Kurt agreed, "the Headmaster cannot leave public property to you."

"But is came to me in the Chamber of Secrets," Harry countered.

"As it would have for any true Gryffindor student," Kurt argued, "Hermione could have just easily pulled it out of the sorting hat as well."

"Why does it sound like you don't want us to have the sword?"

"I want that sword more than anyone," Kurt assured him, "I just know the basic civics of the matter."

"Is that what you get up to when you're not eating happiness?"

"That," Kurt nodded, "and punching you in the throat."

"Please don't," Harry clutched at his throat defensively.

Kurt put his hand on the stranger's shoulders and smiled at his friend behind the unknown face, "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," he grinned, "same to you-"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ignore me," he blushed violently.

Kurt decided to give up on his boyfriend and let Harry off the hook this one time, "let's go catch up with Hermione and Viktor."

"Shouldn't we wait for Ron?"

"He'll find us," Kurt shook his head, leading the taller stranger out of the house and into the ornately decorated yard. Kurt walked arm in arm with the stranger known to him as Harry Potter to the corner where Hermione was standing next to Viktor; she was wearing a lacey red cocktail dress and he was wearing something akin to a military uniform.

"Who you got there Kurt?"

"This is Barny Weasley," Kurt answered with a polite smile, "unfortunately, he is completely mute."

Hermione smiled broadly and started to sign, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, I sign slowly. It's nice to meet you." Harry simply stood there and stared at her as she attempted to communicate with him, "why isn't he responding?"

"He's American," Kurt shrugged, "he signs in American Sign Language."

"But he's mute, he can hear me," Hermione glared at the blank faced taller boy, "he could definitely respond."

"He's not very bright," Kurt shook his head.

"That's enough of that," Harry chastised him, "I don't like this game anymore. You know I don't like it when you imply that I'm stupid."

"I wasn't implying that you're stupid," Kurt countered defensively, "I was saying it outright, you're not very bright."

"Why does he look like that?" Viktor asked after a moment of silence.

"I'm trying to fly under the radar," Harry explained.

"Not with that cover story," he shook his head, "that was too interesting, a mute American Weasley? Keep it simple."

"I didn't come up with the story," Harry glared at Kurt.

"I was bored," he shrugged.

"Did you not find Charlie?"

"No," Kurt's shoulders slumped for a moment, "that mission was unsuccessful." He crossed his arms, "it's really sad how quickly one acclimates to failure."

"And the slippery slope to self-pity," Hermione reprimanded him.

"Is this about the deplorable word?" Viktor tried to empathise with Kurt, "you've turned nothing into something multiple times, have you hit another wall?"

"No," Kurt rolled his eyes, "not a wall so much as I've still got quite a bit of work to do, and not much time to do it in."

"Which is why you delegate," Viktor shrugged, "I will help you with your work, so will Charlie. Hermione will do her part."

"Just not going to include Ron or me?"

"I cannot speak for your intentions or those of Ron," Viktor shook his head, "I do know that Kurt's happiness is Charlie's happiness, and so is Hermione's- I cannot be happy unless Hermione is also Happy." The taller boy smirked and Hermione blushed, "those are our motivations for helping to resolve this… issue."

"Viktor is so sweet," Kurt smiled, "now I'm going to have to have sex with him."

"I politely decline."

"Good answer," Hermione chorused with Charlie as he appeared.

"if you were easier to find I wouldn't be offering myself to other men," Kurt wrapped himself around Charlie as he spoke, "sure, he's handsome, shy and sentimental-"

"What am I?"

"Abrasive and witty," Kurt smiled sweetly, "rugged."

"Unrefined," Hermione muttered under her breath, earning herself a glare from Kurt.

"That's why I take you by the handle," Kurt smiled sweetly.

"Kurt," Harry chastised him, "that's not appropriate."

Kurt quirked a curious brow, "I don't follow, did the young'uns change the meaning of handle?"

"I thought you were changing the meaning," Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, "Your statement wasn't sexual?"

"No," Kurt shook his head.

"I'm a little tea pot," Charlie shook his head at the boy as he gestured to his handle and his spout.

Kurt's disappointment was evident in his tone, "you're just gross, we're in polite company."

"This is why…" he shrugged, "well, you know the rest."

"I thought we retired that joke," Hermione glared at the red-haired boy.

"We definitely did," Kurt agreed, "it was ruined when someone made it too real." He shook his head, "do you know how long it took me to cultivate the kind of relationship necessary to make that kind of joke?"

Hope you like it, Reviews are love.