Ahh! Okay so, SO MANY OF YOU asked for a sequel, which was LOVELY!

This is a 'verse rather than a multichaptered fic, so each one will be a oneshot, and that means no promises about when I will next update. Each one is pretty much stand alone, they are just going to be random snapshots of Kurt & Blaine lives progressing as a couple.

Smut & cursing in this one.

(Also this is my first time writing proper smut. So try and be nice to me and tell me what you think..)

Kurt whispered the password to the Slytherin Common Room into the skin of Blaine's neck one Thursday night, in the darkness behind the tapestry of Gormound the Great slaying a Hungarian Horntail.

"Just in case," he muttered, and they were close enough for Blaine to feel Kurt's cheeks heat up slightly rather than see them.

"Why, Hummel, should I take that to mean that you are inviting a lowly Hufflepuff into the great Evil Abode of Salazar Slytherin?"

He bit softly behind Kurt's ear as he spoke, chuckling as his feeble attempts to push him away in protest.

"Shut up, Anderson. It's just…"

"I know."

It had been three glorious weeks since the unspoken agreement to keep their budding relationship on the down low.

Three weeks of stolen kisses in abandoned classrooms, of looks and smiles shared across the Great Hall during breakfast, of Blaine discovering that Kurt might look like a bitch but he blushed all the time, and the skin of his neck bruised too easily, and there was this patch below his ear that if he nibbled just so…

Kurt whimpered, his knees buckling slightly and Blaine tightened the arm around his waist, hoisting their bodies closer.

"It's after curfew."

"Five more minutes, I prom…oh."

"I think you're becoming a bad influence, Hummel."

Blaine didn't think he would use his knowledge to sneak into the Sytherin Dorms. He wished he had a Gryffindor's courage, but the whispered word was a comfort to his mind and he tucked it away safely into a hidden corner of his brain.

Maybe one day, when they couldn't sneak around anymore, but right now Blaine was happy.

Blaine's favourite thing about being a Hufflepuff was the location of their Common Room, precisely a thirty second walk from the Kitchens, and Blaine had discovered in his second year that the House Elves of Hogwarts loved nothing more than making sure their favourite Hufflepuffs didn't go hungry.

Understandabley enough, this understanding suited both Blaine and Finn Hudson perfectly.

It was a Sunday afternoon and the Common Room was empty apart from Blaine, seated in front of the fire with a chocolate pastry in one hand, a quill in the other, and a dusty streak of sugar across one cheek.

Blaine was a messy eater.

He brushed a few crumbs from his essay on Dragon Slayings with the tip of his quill, and licked the remnants of chocolate from his fingers.

"Anderson."

Blaine carried on writing, his quill digging a little harder into the surface of his parchment, ignoring the voice because there was no way…

"Anderson!"

There must have been something in the pastry, he thought desperately. I'm too tired, I'm going mad, I've fallen asleep..

"Oi!"

Something collided with the side of his head with a loud and painful thwack.

Santana Lopez was standing next to him, hip cocked and examining her nails as though she were exceptionally bored. Her green robes seemed almost vibrant in the cheerful light of the Hufflepuff Common Room, her sinfully long legs all too visible from beneath the should-be-illegal length of her school skirt.

She smirked at him, one hand holding her wand which he assumed was reason for the throbbing patch above his ear.

The only Slytherin that Blaine wanted to see right now was, preferably, a lot less female. He sighed and turned back to his Dragon essay, wondering if she would go away if her ignored her for long enough.

The sudden weight and dip in the cushions next to him, told him otherwise.

"Do I want to know how you got into the Hufflepuff rooms, Lopez?"

She shrugged, reaching across him to rip his last pastry in half and wrap her lips around it. If Blaine wasn't 100% sure of his sexuality and didn't carry an inexhaustible fondness for a certain male Slytherin, then Santana would have had him on knees and begging at her feet by now.

But she knew that, and so he wondered why she was still licking her lips like that, still moaning slightly as she sucked sugar and chocolate cream from her fingers.

Maybe that was just how she ate.

"Lopez, aside from the rules you undoubtedly broke getting in what, to what exactly do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"No reason."

"If you only came here to irritate me and eat my food, then you've done it. Congratulations, I hope you can see yourself out, because I have a headache and this essay is due on Tuesday."

"Merlin, someone's snippy when they're not getting any."

Blaine's quill snapped in his fingers, "Santana!"

She held up her hand to shut him up, and swung her legs around to sit Indian style on the cushions next to him.

"I want in."

"Excuse me? You want in on…what exactly?"

"Your best friend."

She was looking at him, meeting his gaze unflinchingly with an unreadable expression.

"My best…Brittany? You…want in on Brittany?" He spluttered unattractively, dropping his broken quill altogether.

She shrugged.

"I mean Kurt said…but I didn't…I never –"

Her eyes narrowed, "Kurt said what, exactly?"

"He just mentioned that you might…And what? You came here to gloat? To ask for permission, what?"

Santana said nothing for a moment. She was hunched over, spinning her wand between her fingers and Blaine had never seen her look so uncomfortable. The hostility within him that only seemed to spring up whenever she was around, lessened slightly.

"I wanted to ask for your help."

She spat the word like it was poisonous, and Blaine was torn between laughing and hugging her. Or throwing her from the Room and telling himself it was all a bad dream.

"Look, Lopez. Brittany's my best friend in the whole entire world, and do you honestly think you can break into my Commons and ask me for help…getting her, when we both know you'll do her once and then move on?"

She stiffened, glared, and her backbone snapped back into its ramrod straight position.

"Fine."

And she was gone, stalking away swinging her hips like a pendulum, heels clicking on the tiled floor.

Blaine chewed the end of his quill for a moment.

Had he been too harsh to judge her so quickly?

Santana Lopez was Kurt's best friend, was the only one aside from Brittany who knew about their relationship. She had clearly done enough to earn Kurt's trust and friendship, maybe he shouldn't have judged her intentions so quickly…

A warm body filled the space next to him, as Brittany appeared and nuzzled her head into the gap between his neck and shoulder, hooking herself under his arm.

Blaine ran his fingers through her hair, thinking.

They had been born two days apart, had been friends since they were old enough to levitate from their cribs and vanish the other's toys.

She was his first kiss when they were eleven, the day they got their Hogwarts letters and ran laughing and crying into each other's arms, and she's tasted like lemonade and cookies and girl and from that moment on he'd just known.

There had been hints of a marriage between them, arranged by their mothers before they were even old enough to talk, but he'd told her first, during the Christmas of their third year at Hogwarts as they sat in front of the fire sharing sweets and secrets.

"I like boys," he'd whispered, his face scarlet.

She'd shrugged and told him that was "alright as long as you share the nice ones with me."

Brittany had held his hand the day he turned fourteen and told his parents, and he'd cried with relief onto her shoulder when they didn't turn him away.

"Was Santana in here?"

"Yeah, she was, Britt."

"I like her."

"Oh?"

"I drew a picture of a unicorn and she said it was lovely and she has it pinned above her bed."

Blaine chuckled, "Your unicorn pictures are pretty awesome, Boo."

Brittany snuggled sleepily into his side, and he set about charming ink stains from his parchment and fingers. "She scares me a little bit, but I'd like to see her Common Room one day. Wouldn't you like to see Kurt's?"

Blaine bit back a smile, "Sure I would, Britt."

He thought of the Slytherin Password, about how easy it would be to stroll in, like Santana, and whisk Kurt into his arms.

But Blaine although preached about House Unity, and was civil to most of the Slytherin's, he couldn't quite forget the time he was twelve, and three Slytherins had cast the body-bind hex on him in the dungeons, and left laughing.

The time they had charmed his robes to get smaller and smaller throughout the day, until he couldn't breathe.

The times they had mocked his hair, his politeness, his best friend and Blaine might have been a pure blood but Slytherins could smell fear and weakness, and they pounced like wild predators onto lesser prey.

There were moments Blaine could remember, where he would try to be like Kurt Hummel. He would walk tall, and not care, and keep his wand up his sleeve ready to draw out if anyone so much as thought about teasing him.

But his wand had fallen out and rolled under the soles of his feet, and Blaine had tripped and stumbled and accepted that maybe he wasn't really a fighter, and maybe confrontations were best avoided if possible.

Blaine had known he was a coward ever since the Sorting Hat had whispered into his mind, refusing to place him in Gryffindor.

It hadn't mattered to anyone, of course and Brittany had been placed in Hufflepuff too. But his mother had been a Gryffindor and his father a Ravenclaw, and Blaine had clutched the edges of the stool with his eyes in darkness and prayed for Gryffindor.

"Hmmm…I don't think so. It better be…HUFFLEPUFF!"

Blaine just lacked the courage.

Monday evening and Blaine was in the Library, maybe trying to finish his Dragon Slaying essay, definitely pretending to not be waiting for Kurt.

A slim arm crossed his chest, wrapping him in a hug as he felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Kurt smelt like vanilla and sandalwood and felt like home.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

Blaine smiled, and turned his head down to kiss Kurt's arm through his school shirt. Kurt only called him that in rare moments of tenderness when they were alone, and when he knew Blaine wasn't okay.

"Mmm."

Kurt settled on the desk in front of him, unceremoniously pushing Blaine's dragon essay to the side, and cupping his face with both his hands.

"Talk to me."

Blaine looked up into Kurt's green eyes, overwhelmed suddenly by the rush of emotions he felt towards this boy, this beautiful, bitchy, sarcastic diva who could slay him in a verbal battle, a wand duel or even on the Quidditch pitch.

"I was just thinking about…whether I was good enough for you."

Whatever Kurt had been expecting him to say, it clearly wasn't that. Blaine saw a flash of amusement fade into worry in his eyes.

"Oh Blaine. Why on earth would you think that?"

Blaine shrugged one shoulder, his face burning under the intensity of Kurt's gaze and he had a sudden desire to hide under a rock and not poke his head out for days.

"I just, you know, you're beautiful and clever and…I don't know, cunning and ambitious and you're such a Slytherin, but you're not because you're in a House all of your own. And then I'm just…a Hufflepuff."

"Hey, look at me okay? You are not just an anything. You are Blaine Anderson," Kurt leaned in and kissed his forehead gently, just a brush of lips against skin.

"You are kind," kiss, "and beautiful," kiss, "and loyal," kiss, "and you put up with me when I'm horrible to everyone," kiss, "and you can kick my ass at Quidditch Anderson, and you know it. It's not a question of whether you're good enough for me, because we both know the answer to that. It's whether or not I can be good enough for you."

Blaine lunged forwards, catching Kurt's lips with his, gripping his hip with one hand and his hair with the other. Kurt whined into his mouth.

"Blaine…we're in the library…we…Blaine…we need to…stop…"

"Don't wanna," Blaine mumbled into his collarbone, pulling the buttons of Kurt's shirt open to kiss down, down, down his chest.

Kurt caught his chin and pulled Blaine's head back up to kiss him hard, "Come on."

They stumbled and tripped along the dark corridor, giggling into each other's mouths and hushing their laughter as Blaine tripped over his laces.

Kurt pushed him backwards into a dark classroom, muttering a charm to lock the door as Blaine fell against a desk, his tie and robes askew, panting and choking for breath as they kissed and laughed and kissed some more, until Kurt pulled away and looked at him.

He bit his lip. Blaine opened his arms, reaching for the boy, "Come here."

He had never seen Kurt look so nervous.

"I kind of wanted to try something, just let me. Okay?"

Blaine tried to reply, but Kurt had dropped to his knees on the cold floor of the dark room, without once moaning about what it would do to the fabric of his trousers and Blaine's words got kind of stuck in his throat and came out as a whimper.

Kurt looked up at him, biting his lip hard, hands on Blaine's hips and his eyes begging, pleading.

Blaine nodded, not trusting his voice.

Kurt kissed his hip through his trousers, one hand pulling the shirt from the waistband and sliding the zipper down while his mouth moved in patterns over the cloth.

Blaine wanted to shut his eyes, but couldn't. He wanted to breathe, to moan, to say or do anything but his hands were gripping the desk edge and his throat was too dry. His pants fell to the floor and Blaine felt Kurt pull them off his feet, throwing them behind him.

He moved his face, his breath ghosting over the bulge in Blaine's boxers, his cheek brushing against the cotton.

There was a pause, and Blaine felt cool fingers slid into the band of his boxers, felt them drawn over his erection leaving him bare to the cool air. Kurt's breath was warm and left a trail of goose bumps in its wake as he exhaled.

"Merlin, Kurt. Please."

A deep breath, him or Kurt, he wasn't sure.

Then warmth and wetness and Blaine's head fell backwards as Kurt's mouth closed around him. His hands sprang forwards to curl into Kurt's hair, holding him still.

"Gods, Kurt."

His mouth slid up and down, his tongue pressing just there, as he reached the head and there was one hand closing around the base, one softly cupping Blaine's hip and rubbing gentle circles.

Blaine could head himself gasping and moaning and whimpering but did it matter how much noise he was making when Kurt was working his cock just so, with that hot mouth, twisting and sucking and pulling off to lick one wet strip from the base to the tip and oh, oh, oh, everything was so…

And oh, he felt the back of Kurt's throat contract, his mouth stretched wide as he took as much of Blaine as he could muster, and their eyes met, Kurt all thick lashes and god, he was an angel and he met Blaine's gaze and fucking moaned around him and…

"Kurt, Kurt…fuck, please. Kurt…I…"

Blaine was all hands and fingers and nonsensical ramblings, desperately trying to grip something and there was only Kurt, and it was all, always Kurt, and he couldn't stop his hips thrusting forwards just the slightest bit, looking for something, anything to ease the building pressure.

Blaine came with a cry and a jolt, and a flash of darkness, his fingers gripping tight to Kurt's hair, his head thrown back and the edge of the table digging hard into his ass. Kurt swallowed as much as he could, a trickle of white leaking from his lips to drip over his chin down his throat.

Blaine trembled, boneless, and his legs buckled. He slid down the desk and came to rest on the floor beside Kurt, paying no heed to his half-dressed state. Did it matter than he was sitting bare-assed on the cold floor of his Transfiguration classroom, clad only in his shirt and socks and Hufflepuff tie, when Kurt was wiping his hand across his mouth shamelessly, smiling at him widely with his eyes watering and his cheeks flushed?

"I…Kurt, I…"

Words failed him, so he held out his arms helplessly, trying to convey everything he was feeling in one gesture.

"I'm going to take that as a complement, Anderson," Kurt said, shuffling forwards and curling himself into Blaine's arms, his head on his chest, one hand on Blaine's bare thigh.

Blaine nodded, "Do. Should I…?"

He half-gestured towards where Kurt was still visibly hard, but Kurt pushed his hand away.

"It's fine. This was about you. Of course you can feel free to return the favour whenever you want to, just not tonight."

Blaine titled Kurt's head up to meet his lips, tasting himself on his tongue and Merlin, if that wasn't one of the hottest things ever.

"You know, my dad was a Hufflepuff," Kurt said when he pulled away.

"Can we please not talk about your father while I'm half naked, and you taste like my come? Please."

Kurt smacked him on the chest with the flat of his palm, and Blaine caught his hand and bought it to his lips, kissing the inside of the wrist, the skin up to the elbow.

"I'm just saying. You're sitting there having a House Identity crisis because you were placed in a predominantly good House, with a good reputation and a history of churning out good people. And here I am, with a Hufflepuff father and a Gryffindor mother, and look where I get put."

Blaine wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, at Kurt curled against him trying to continue their serious conversation on Blaine's crisis of existentialism, while he was sprawled and mostly naked on the floor.

"But maybe it doesn't matter," Kurt continued, drawing swirling shapes into Blaine's chest, "Maybe the Houses are what those put in it chose to become."

"I think that is a wonderful way of looking at it."

"Of course you do, I said it."

"Okay Hummel, you've officially ruined the moment. Now can I please put my clothes back on, because my ass is freezing here."

Blaine left the Hufflepuff Common Room late the next morning, still lacing his shoes and tying his tie as he tripped through the door.

He blamed Kurt. Before Kurt came along and started giving him wonderful blowjobs late at night in Transfiguration classrooms, Blaine had never been late.

He was trying to remember what he had done with his wand when he walked straight into a very solid something at the foot of the stairs.

He looked up, and Kurt looked back.

"Hummel?"

Blaine looked around; the hall was mostly empty, just a few stragglers running ahead and he knew that the majority of the school would be at breakfast right now.

"I was thinking, maybe we could go to breakfast together?"

If Blaine had thought Kurt looked nervous last night, it was nothing to how he looked now, staring at the floor and ringing his hands together.

Blaine wondered which was scarier for the Slytherin boy; going down on your boyfriend for the first time, or suggesting they make their relationship public.

"Together, together?"

"Um. Yes."

Blaine thought of the intensity of yesterday, the swell in his chest every time he saw Kurt, every time he thought about Kurt. He pictured the look in Kurt's eyes as he fell to his knees, the tender kisses he placed on Blaine's head when he was upset, the ferocity with which he argued about Blaine's qualities.

Did it matter, ultimately, what the rest of the school thought? Would they even think anything at all?

Hogwarts had become more progressive, it was true. Since the fall of Voldemort and the disbanding of Dark Wizards there had been less initial prejudice, less judgement against InterHouse couples.

But never had Blaine heard of a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff, much less two males.

Kurt was still standing there, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Blaine took his hand.

"I would love to go to breakfast with you, Kurt Hummel."

Blaine used the Slytherin password one week later, holding tight to Brittany's hand as the stone wall slid back as he spoke.

"Horcrux."

Kurt bounded through the green and silver clad teens, skipping between chairs and tables to throw his arms around Blaine's neck.

Santana followed him, glaring, and he shrank back slightly.

"I don't really hold grudges," she told him later, and he thought he might have seen the flicker of a smile on her face.

Kurt still carried his wand up his sleeve and sometimes there was somebody stupid enough to make a comment, maybe a hiss of "fags" or "blood traitor" because even at Hogwarts, old prejudices die hard.

But Kurt was the best in the school at duelling for a reason.

Because it didn't matter what House they were in, really, and they knew that now. Together they weren't a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. They were just two boys, two wizards, two teenagers falling hard and fast into something a lot like love.

Reviews are awesome & stuff and I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.