These boys in my head will seriously not shut up. So here's another long one, just because…because I can. This is a continuation from "Let The Games Begin" and "Common Ground" both of which are on my profile, and they make up the verse "House Unity" It might help to read the others first, maybe not.

This one has smut and underage drinking (Puck turned up, what do you expect…) also so homophobia, class/House discrimination. But there's a healthy dose of fluff as well.

Thank you so much for the awesome response! Everyone seems to love the HP/Klaine, and god I totally love writing it too. So as long as you want me, I'll be here!

I don't own. Anything. Except a computer.

Kurt was mad at him.

That was the only explanation Blaine's tired brain could muster as he poked dejectedly at his cereal with one hand, the other trying to keep his owl Dory from poking her beak into his corn flakes.

Kurt was mad at him and he had no idea why.

Blaine had pulled some spare parchment from his bag and scribbled a quick, you look beautiful today, darling, before sending Dory over to the Slytherin table during the morning post rush.

Kurt's eyes had lit up at the sight of the owl, he had grasped the note and unwrapped it eagerly, smiling all the while.

And then his face had fallen and the hand stroking Dory's back had stilled. He glanced back up at Blaine with an unreadable expression before hauling Santana to her feet and dragging her out of the Great Hall behind him, talking fast and gesticulating wildly.

Then she had thrown a glare at him over her shoulder and Blaine was left with a deadened weight in the pit of his stomach and he suddenly wasn't hungry any more.

He liked to leave Kurt notes everywhere. In his books and pinned to his pillow and tucked around the collar of his cat Evita, and Kurt usually just rolled his eyes and smirked and said that Blaine was a hopeless romantic.

But Blaine had found all his notes saved and hidden in a drawer in Kurt's bedside table and knew he loved them really.

But today he was mad and Blaine could only deduce that he must have done something wrong.

In fact, when Blaine thought about it, Kurt had been acting more and more strange these past few days.

There had been meaningful looks and significant glances during conversations, and when Blaine had asked what was wrong, Kurt would just give him what Brittany had dubbed The Kurt Hummel Angry Face, and say "Oh it doesn't matter," in a way that let Blaine know all too well that it most certainly did matter, but Kurt wasn't going to tell him.

It had built up and up until last night outside the Slytherin Common Room, and Blaine had leaned in for a kiss goodnight and Kurt had pressed firmly against his chest with the flat of his palms and pushed him backwards.

"Blaine," he said, very seriously, "Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?"

Blaine had racked his brains. Had he forgotten a birthday, or an anniversary?

But Kurt was born in October and their one month anniversary had been last week. So what?

"Erm. No," Blaine said finally, with a shrug.

Perhaps not his best line, in that scenario.

Kurt had glared and turned with a loud scoff and Blaine thought he heard a scathing mutter of, "Boys!" before disappearing into his Common Room without another word.

And now this morning, and Kurt clearly wasn't planning on helping Blaine out with this any time soon which meant he would have to work it out himself, something Blaine wasn't very good at. He preferred to just understand the problem, apologise, and move on.

But Kurt could be a touch melodramatic about…well, everything.

"Kurt's mad at me," he said, giving in and letting Dory finish his cereal while he stroked her feathers absently.

Brittany looked up from the crossword she was filling in, in her new copy of The Quibbler, and stuck her quill behind her ear while she gazed at him.

Blaine looked back at her. Brittany blinked.

"You know! You know why he's mad at me!" He said, pointing accusingly at her, "You know and you haven't told me!"

"Santana told me," Brittany said simply, rubbing Dory's feathers the wrong way until she clucked in protest.

"But…I what? I…Britt! I've been going mad here! Days!...I, you knew and you didn't….Brittany I'm your best friend!"

"Yes," she said, as though she didn't understand his indignation, which, he reminded himself, she probably didn't.

"Brittany I tell you everything, and you're not telling me the reason my own boyfriend is mad at me?"

She didn't break his gaze for a long time, and when she did she spoke very slowly, as though addressing a child, "Blainey it's not my secret to tell."

"What?"

She shrugged, going back to The Quibbler crossword, "Kurt clearly wanted you to work it out for yourself, otherwise he would have told you, right?"

Blaine stared at her, mouthing wordlessly as she pondered whatever word was six down, wondering when his best friend had gotten so damn smart, and why hadn't he noticed.

But then she dipped her quill into his milk rather than her inkwell, and the thought dissipated rather quickly.

Kurt ran hot and cold all day.

He smiled into Blaine's kiss as they met at the door, but turned to sit with Rachel Berry at the back of the class and leaving Blaine stuck next to tall, mohawked boy who Blaine vaguely recognised as the Beater of the Gryffindor team.

"Anderson, right?" he grunted as Blaine took a seat next to him. Blaine nodded, unsure whether talking was the right method of the communication. Maybe he should just shut up, because that perpetually angry scowl on the boy's face didn't look very inviting.

But not talking would be impolite, and Blaine Anderson was never, ever impolite.

"I..um. Are you new to this class?"

To his surprise, what could possibly be misconstrued as a grin broke across the Gryffindor's face, "Late transfer. Got kicked out of Dalton, the stuck-up Wizard Prep down South and found myself here last week."

"Oh. I'm…sorry?"

He grunted again, "It's not all bad. At least there are chicks here."

"Right."

They fell silent, copying notes from the board.

At least Blaine was copying, while the tall boy leaned back in his chair, rocking on the two back legs. Blaine tried not to think about the time Jacob Ben Israel had been doing the same thing in a Potions class, had leant back just a millimetre too far and crashed straight into Blaine's cauldron and been taking screaming to the Hospital Wing, with extra eyes sprouting from his face.

Maybe he should…

"That's kinda dangerous, you know?"

The boy looked at him, expressionless, as though trying to work out if Blaine was joking or not. Maybe he was weighing up the pros and cons of punching him in the face.

Then he let out a bark of laughter, and punched Blaine on the shoulder in what he presumed was an amicable way.

"I like you, kid. It's never too late to meet a new bro, I'm Noah, but you call me that and I will end you. It's Puck."

Well that was a comfort.

He held out a fist. Blaine stared at it.

"You bump it, dude. With your fist."

"Oh."

Blaine did, and felt a rush of something nice. Like comradeship. Maybe he would suggest fist bumping to Kurt.

Maybe he would, if Kurt didn't hate him.

"So man, you fucked Hummel yet?" Puck said as they paired off to practice Colour Changing Charms.

Blaine looked at him in shock, and the boy shrugged.

"Relationship news travels fast. Even I've heard about you two. Plus I've known Hummel and Hudson since we could fly, so…"

"Um…can we just…?"

Puck held up his hands, "Look dude I don't care. Shag who you want; teacher, Slytherin, Death Eater, the more the better, right? I'm just betting Hummel's into so kinky shit. I mean, he's a Slytherin, right?"

Blaine flushed slightly, stared down at his feet, something which didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh my god! You haven't done it have you?"

"Shh!" Blaine looked around desperately, but the room was filled with laughter and shouts and bright flashes of light and no one was paying their conversation any heed.

That didn't mean that Blaine wished to continue it, however, but Puck didn't seem to understand that.

"Dude, come on. It's been like a month, right?"

Blaine wondered when his life had become this; discussing his sex life with people he barely knew but who could probably kill him with their bare hands, in the middle of a Charms lesson.

The thing was, they hadn't actually talking about the progression of their…physical relationship. Mostly due to the fact that Blaine turned into a stuttering mess at the word sex and Kurt somehow had the ability to go from blushing virgin into fiendish, Slytherin, sex-god at the drop of a hat.

They kissed, a lot, sure. And there was that mind-blowing blowjob that time, and two weeks later when Kurt had let Blaine repay the favour when he snuck into the Slytherin Dorms and charmed the curtains around Kurt's bed soundproof.

And the kissing was pretty awesome too.

But Blaine was a virgin and he knew Kurt was too, and until now he hadn't at all questioned their sex life. They were both happy, and receiving occasional orgasms, that was enough, right? It had only been a month; that was normal, wasn't it?

Apparently not, according to Puck.

"We're taking it slow," he said finally, praying that Puck would let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go.

"Hey bro, I'm down with that. I once went so slow with a girl we were almost going backwards, but it's worth it in the end, right?"

He clapped Blaine so hard on the shoulder he stumbled, and had to sit down hard to stop himself falling. He chanced a glance at Kurt over his shoulder.

Kurt winked, flicked his wand at Rachel turning her hair a startling shade of orange, before his face returned to its impassive state.

"You're a very strange person, you know that?" He said, turning back to Puck.

"Hey, whatever man. You just make sure you treat Hummel right, okay? Hudson's been my bro for ten years, and that makes Kurt my man. Although," Puck appraised Blaine slightly, "I'm like, 100% sure Hummel could beat you in a fight."

"Of course he would. Kurt's the best dueller at Hogwarts, and I can barely hold my wand without dropping it."

"I mean a fist fight dude. Like man to man, no magic allowed."

"Seriously? Kurt's tiny and I…well I've never actually punched anyone, but I could probably do it, like, once or twice."

"Believe what you wanna believe man. But Kurt was fighting me when he was growing up. If he couldn't fight, do you reckon he'd still be alive? Now are you gonna charm me or not?"

When Blaine finally got out of the classroom his face was charmed into patchy green and red diamonds, and he was cursing the fact that Puck could be so crude and such a delinquent but still beat him at Confrontational Charms. He didn't think the point of the class was to dodge the spell every time Blaine attempted to charm him yellow.

Kurt breezed past with a quick, "You look ridiculous darling," before brushing him off and swanning down to his next class.

And then the rest of the day just got worse.

Santana sat next to him in Potions, and sat tapping her quill against the table top until he was forced to ask her to stop.

"Are you ever gonna sort your shit out Anderson?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Look. Kurt's pissed, whatever. Just do something about it, okay?"

"But I don't even know what I've done!"

She just rolled her eyes helpfully, and ignored him for the rest of the lesson.

Defence Against The Dark Arts had them practicing non-verbal spells, and Blaine swallowed hard as Kurt advanced on him with that glint in his eyes that normally meant he was about to do something very evil or very sexy.

Or sometimes both.

"Kurt I –"

But his vocal cords were cut off and he was caught in a body-binder hex before he could finish, and toppled to the floor where Kurt leant over him smiling and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Less talking, more wand-work, Anderson."

Then Puck found him in the corridor before History of Magic and did that guy thing where he clapped Blaine on the shoulder very, very hard.

"Dude. Sort the shit out with Hummel. He's moaning to me now about you."

Blaine rubbed his temples, breathing hard.

"Puck. I don't know what I have or haven't done, so if you would care to enlighten me then I will certainly sort my shit out with Hummel. But I can't apologise if I don't know what I'm apologising for!"

Puck gave him a strange look, "Seriously dude. Who said anything about apologising?"

"I…what?"

"You really have no idea do you. Damn."

He shrugged and turned away, pushing a first year out of his path as he parted the crowds down the hall.

"I hate you!" Blaine shouted after him, but Puck just turned and grinned.

"Your face still looks stupid by the way," he shouted back.

"Kill me now, please Britt," he said, dropping into the seat next to her at dinner, "Or at least take my mind off my failure of a life."

"Did you know that unicorn babies don't have horns?"

"I didn't know that, no. Hey Finn."

Finn gestured his hand in what Blaine presumed was supposed to be a wave, but was too distracted by his plate of food to say anything until at least half of it was consumed.

"Do you know if Rachel Berry is going to the Winter Dance?"

"Finn please don't talk with your mouth full. It's not attractive to look at."

"Man you sound like Kurt. Has he told you?"

"Has he told me what?"

"Whether Rachel Berry is going to the Winter Dance?"

"Finn, why would Kurt tell me that?"

"I dunno. I mean, he likes dances and stuff. And he's really really excited about this one, and I figured 'cause their friends, and you and him are like…"

But Blaine stopped listening and was looking at Brittany who was nodding so vigorously her head looked like it would snap right off.

"Britt…" he said slowly, "Is Kurt mad at me because I haven't asked him to the Winter Dance?"

There was a pause, and even Fin stopped chewing to watch Brittany. She bit her lip.

"But he wants to go so badly! And he thought maybe you didn't want to go with him because it's next week and you hadn't asked and you know he needs a long time to sort out his clothes and stuff and he thought maybe you were ashamed of him, or maybe you didn't want to go at all but he didn't want to ask you about it in case there was a reason you didn't want to go and he's been really upset recently but he didn't want to tell you and –"

"Britt, breath," Blaine said, clapping his hand over her mouth to block the tirade that spilled out, as though she'd been holding back from telling him for days and days.

"So that's why he's been funny with me?"

She nodded hard, his hand still covering her lips.

"Because I didn't ask him to the dance."

"Dude, Kurt's a drama queen. He does shit like that," Finn interjected helpfully.

"Finn, just carry on eating okay?"

Blaine didn't get angry very often, and when he did it often manifested itself through looks and an avoidance of the culprit until he was happy again, usually through flying or studying in the library until after curfew.

Blaine didn't do confrontation.

But he was more than a little bit mad at Kurt, who hadn't appeared at the Slytherin table at dinner, who had led him on a merry dance because he hadn't asked him to go to the Winter Dance, of all the things to be mad about.

Kurt was leaning against a statue on the fifth floor, shooting bolts of light at the wall opposite, chewing his lip and looking so beautiful and so caught up in his own thoughts that Blaine forgot why he was mad for a moment.

But only for a moment.

"Kurt!"

He turned, his wand clenching and raising automatically.

"Blaine?"

"What the hell Kurt! You've been acting like a bitch all week because of a dance? Why didn't you just ask me to go with you, rather than getting mad at me for not asking?"

Kurt looked faintly sheepish, lowering his wand despite the angry Hufflepuff currently advancing on him. He looked almost…shy.

"Kurt, why didn't you just tell me?"

Now Blaine was there, in front of him, within touching distance and remembering how long it had been since they'd kissed (Only since yesterday morning, but that was far too long in Blaine's eyes.) he could feel his anger dissipating.

He'd never been good at holding grudges.

"I'm sorry," Kurt muttered, staring at his feet and twirling his wand between his fingers.

Well that was unexpected. Blaine had predicted a shouting match and being on the receiving end of a few curses, before Kurt stormed away.

"You're…you're what?"

Kurt glared, "I said I was sorry. Don't make me say it again Anderson."

Blaine wanted to laugh, but he knew Kurt would curse him if he did. He settled for a grin, taking Kurt's hands in his, turning them palm upwards to run his fingers across them.

"Seriously. That's it? You're mad for a week and then you're sorry? Is there any logic in your thought processes, at all?"

"Shut up," Kurt muttered, stepping slightly closer until Blaine could feel his warmth, "You make me illogical, okay? You make me do stupid things."

"Oh so now this is my fault?" But Blaine was grinning.

"Oh hush, before I jinx you."

Kurt closed his fist around Blaine's tie, pulling him in the last few inches and closing his eyes when Blaine was a hairsbreadth away.

"Does this mean we've had our second ever fight?" He breathed, watching Kurt's lashes flutter.

"Does it count as fighting if there was no actual fighting?" Kurt whispered back.

"We can fight if you want to," Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, drawing them closer. Kurt smiled.

"I can think of better things to do with our time."

"Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Will you go to the Winter Dance with me?"

"Oh shut up you…oh!"

Blaine was nervous.

What if Kurt didn't like his dress robes? What if they didn't match and Kurt got mad and sent Santana to kill him?

"Dude, stop like, hopping. It's pissing me off."

And why oh why did Blaine agree to let Puck wait with him? So far he had consumed over half the legal amount of Firewhisky, re-enacted far too many skits about life at an All Boy-Wizards Prep School, given Blaine an incredibly detailed description about what a girl looked like naked, and was currently listening the pros and cons of attending a Dance stag.

Why did Kurt insist on being fashionably late to everything?

Brittany appeared next to him, "Oh Blaine are we bouncing, that's fun!" and matched her movements to his.

She was a vision in pastel pink silk, with a trimming of silver feathers and blue flowers crowning her blonde hair.

Blaine had been more than dubious when Brittany had told him that Santana asked her to the Dance, but she'd been so happy, and Kurt had pressed his hand to Blaine's knee and told him to "Give Tana a little more credit. She's not all bad."

"You look beautiful, Brit."

She smiled, "So do you Blainey! Kurty will love you!"

"You know, if she starts calling me Pucky, we're gonna have a big problem here," Puck muttered low in his ear, and Blaine turned to respond but then Santana was advancing down the stairs – looking ravishing in dark, dark purple – and behind her was Kurt and everything Blaine wanted to say died on his lips.

Because Kurt was beautiful, sure, and he was always going to be beautiful. When he was soaking wet just out of the shower; or splattered with mud and rain from Quidditch; or tired overworked with bags under his eyes and his hair messed up, Kurt still shone with that ethereal beauty. There was just something in the graceful curve of his cheek, the brush of his lashes as he blinked, the way he held himself as he conducted mundane tasks.

But somehow as he walked down the stairs to meet Blaine, dressed to perfection in jet black dress robes, with a winged collar and an emerald green bowtie, Kurt was just…

"Wow," Blaine thought he said.

His heart swelled as Kurt manoeuvred the steps towards him, because this boy was his. This angel who pretended not to, but totally loved it when Blaine attempted to be romantic. Who could probably kill a guy without batting an eyelash, but who preferred to singing and dancing, cooking and playing Quidditch over fighting.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly as he reached Blaine, who wordlessly held out his arms to take Kurt into them.

"Hi," he whispered back, their eyes meeting and holding each other like a challenge.

"Uh. Dudes?"

"Shut up Puckerman, they're having a moment."

"Still a Hufflepuff, then," Kurt said, touching the yellow silk of Blaine's bowtie with the tip of his index finger.

"You can talk, Mr Slytherin."

"Oh yeah. Through and through."

The Great Hall had been transformed into a sparkly grotto, hung with lights and snow and everything covered in inches of white and silver glitter. It was dark but the stars in the sky above them filled the room with a gentle, eerie light. There were towering Christmas trees, right up to the fake sky, and fairy lights that flickered and flew from branch to branch.

Students were flocking and thronging the dance floor to the sounds of The Weird Sisters, as they screeched about banshees and hippogriffs.

Kurt was standing awkwardly next to Blaine on the edge of the dance floor, too far away to touch but not close enough to pretend it wasn't intentional. Blaine gritted his teeth.

Their happy bubble had survived through the doors and past 70% of the students, most of whom were too busy, too distracted to care. But there had been a few looks, some faint murmurings run through the crowd and Kurt had seen, heard, and stiffened.

Why now?

They'd been a public couple for over a month, had walked to class and kissed each other in front of hoards of students, had laughed and ignored the few prejudices they'd had the misfortune to hear, so why did those select few really feel the need to ruin their night?

"Dudes, lighten up!" Puck said loudly, swinging past them and pushing a cup full of…something into each of their hands.

Kurt scowled at him, and appraised the cup with a faint look of disgust on his face before swallowing it all in one.

"We're fine, Puck."

"Seriously though, you know that if anyone starts something tonight, I got your back?" Puck said, leaning in close.

"We don't need a knight in shining robes, Puckerman. We need people to stop being such bigoted assholes!" Kurt snapped, his voice rising dangerously with every word. Puck raised an eyebrow, clapped Blaine on the shoulder with a you know where I am look, and backed away.

"Kurt, I'm –"

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry, Anderson. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just…I need a minute, okay? Enjoy yourself and I'll come and find you."

And then Kurt was gone in a whirl of black. Blaine chewed his lip for a moment, unsure what to do. He fell backwards into the chair behind him, and stared into the cup of punch for a long time.

"You drink it, Anderson."

A tiny brunette had appeared in the chair next to him, considering him with a critical eye as though picking him apart piece by piece, and trying to work out the most appealing way of putting him back together.

"I know."

Blaine took a deep swallow, coughed, spluttered, and was forced to swallow the mixture before he regurgitated it all over himself.

"I suspected Puckerman had done something questionable to the punch. Please don't tell me you took an opened drink from him trustingly?"

Blaine looked at her, and cradled his cup of spiked punch in his hands. Once you got over the burning taste of Firewhisky, the concoction was actually quite pleasant.

"I thought as much. Hufflepuff's, honestly. You'd take a ticking bomb if someone asked you to hold it for them."

Blaine looked from her, to his cup and back again. Then he raised it to his lips and swallowed over half in one gulp. If he was going to sit here and listen to Rachel Berry, he was going to need more than a little liquid courage.

Three cups of spiked punch and one shot of something that looked like it had once been something a Blast Ended Skrewt excreted – "Dragonhide Tincture, dude. Don't think, just swallow. Cost me twenty galleons for a bottle o' that stuff. Fucking worth it!" – and Blaine was slumped comfortably between Puck and Finn. Rachel Berry was slumped half in Finn's lap, half on the floor and Puck had his shoes off and feet up on the table in front of them.

Blaine was mesmerised by the twirling sparkles that reflected off every surface whenever Brittany spun around on the dance floor.

"The thing is," he announced to nobody in particular, "Kurt is so damn proud! Of everything he does! He would never let anyone get him down about anything! But here he is taking a few judgemental glares personally!"

"Man, I don't get it either. Normally he's just, like, tell them to fuck off, or hex their eyebrows off or something."

"One time Azimo called him a…a…he called him the f word, and Kurt did something so bad that Azimo doesn't even look at him anymore!"

"What did he do?"

"We don't know! Just that Azimo was in the Hospital Wing for like a week, and ever since he doesn't look in Kurt's direction."

"I should go and find him," Blaine announced, pushing himself to his feet and swaying unsteadily for a moment, "I should go tell him that no one matters except me and him and we're gonna be awesome together because no one can stop us!"

"Go, man. Fight for love!" Puck shouted after him, and Blaine weaved his way through the dancing students.

And suddenly, there he was. Standing straight and tall and staring Blaine right in the eye with that look on his face as though he couldn't decide whether he wanted to curse him or kiss him.

"Please don't curse me!" Blaine said, stumbling his way across the floor to catch Kurt's arms and swing him to the beat of the music.

Kurt raised an eyebrow and attempted to detangle himself from Blaine, but he clung on like a limpet.

"I'm not going to…are you drunk?"

Blaine attempted a shrug and tripped, clutching Kurt tighter to stop them both falling.

"Puck gave me –"

"Oh I am going to kill him!"

"Kuuurt," Blaine whined, pulling him closer, pressing his face into the skin of Kurt's neck. He smelt so nice, like violets and vanilla and something yellow.

"Kurt, please don't be mad," he mumbled, grasping his hips and pulling them closer together.

"Blaine…I'm not mad, I just…Blaine, stop. We're in the middle of the…"

"I don't care! Why should I care where we are? Berry and Finn are practically having sex through their robes over there –"

"Oh, Blaine that's…ew."

" – And Puckerman has had his hand up at least three girls skirts tonight before telling me all the graphic details."

"Charming."

"So why should I care where I kiss you, when I want to kiss you right now?"

"I don't know," Kurt whispered, and god Blaine wanted to kiss him and his head was spinning with Firewhisky and the lights were sparkling in his eyes and Kurt was so close and so warm and so…

"Hey ladyboys, do you mind. Some of us are trying to enjoy ourselves here, we don't wanna be seeing your filthy interactions rubbed all up in our faces, okay?"

Kurt froze in Blaine's arms, swallowing hard and turning around.

Dave Karofsky was built like a tank, bigger than Finn, bigger than Puck, even, with a heavy set brow and wide, square shoulders.

And he was not the most tolerant of Slytherins, in fact, he was probably the least.

"Look, Karofsky, just leave us alone, okay?" Kurt said, his voice was strong but Blaine could feel him trembling under his fingers.

Karofsky snorted, "I mean it's enough that you're two dudes. Whatever, I don't want to see it, but I don't really care. But you," he moved closer to Kurt, "If you really wanna shag outside your House, at least do it with someone worthy."

"What?"

"Just saying. You're gonna shit all over Slytherin House by parading your stupid attempt at House Unity in front of us all, at least do it with like…a Gryffindor or something. Make it worthwhile. Otherwise you just look pathetic."

Kurt had stopped trembling, in fact he was standing completely still, silent.

Blaine bit back the hurt that burned behind his eyes and the back of his throat. He'd been called a lot of things in his life, but really.

"Say. That. Again."

Kurt was quiet, he wasn't shouting, and that was dangerous.

Karofsky scoffed as Kurt moved closer to him, stalking silently through the suddenly hushed crowds around them.

"Your boyfriend is pathetic, Hummel."

There were gasps and mutters around them, and Blaine saw through his blurry eyes to where Finn was holding back Puck, where Santana was clutching a furious Brittany's shoulder.

Kurt's wand was out before Blaine could blink, pressed against Karofsky's throat and although Blaine could only see the back of his head, he could see the sudden spark of fear in Karofsky's eyes and knew how terrifying it could be on the other end of Kurt's wand.

But they were at school in the middle of a dance, and if this hadn't already drawn the attention of the professors, then cursing the wits out of Karofsky definitely would, and they wouldn't stand for it, no matter how deserved it was.

"Kurt," Blaine took a step forwards, then one more, placing his hand on Kurt's forearm to draw it downwards, "Kurt stop. He's not worth it."

Because even through Blaine's Firewhisky infused haze, did he know that this was a bad idea.

Kurt looked at Blaine as though he didn't quite know who or where he was.

Then his eyes refocused. He looked from Blaine's face, to Karofsky's, to the crowds watching them, and finally to his own wand, considering.

"You're right," his arm dropped, "He's not worth it."

And then Kurt's arm swung back round, his fist connecting with a sickening crunch to Karofsky's nose, sending him tripping backwards into the people behind him. His hands flew up to grasp his face, trickles of scarlet seeping through his fingers and he let out a howl like a wounded animal.

There was a pause, a baited breath and then those around them burst into tumultuous applause, and people were dancing and screaming and laughing and the music was wilder and faster than before.

"God, Hummel I've been wanting to do that since first year!"

"Kurt where they hell did you learn to punch like that?"

"Merlin, Hummel. You pack one hell of a right hook mate!"

And Kurt was standing three feet from Blaine, his eyes wide and confused as people clapping him on the shoulder and grinned and Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs alike were congratulating him on punching someone.

And then he smiled, and he looked so damn happy and accepted and then someone was pushing Blaine forwards until they were touching again.

Blaine grasped his hand, "Come with me. Now."

He pushed Kurt through the door of the closest bathroom and charmed the door locked, anywhere that was devoid of people because right now he really didn't want to be disturbed.

Blaine backed Kurt against the sinks, pressed together from their hips to their shoulders and legs tangled until Kurt fell backwards slightly, propped against stone taps and the cool mirror.

"You didn't have to defend my honour, you know."

"I know I didn't have to. But I wanted to."

And Blaine kissed him hard, so hard that Kurt's head fell back and hit the mirror behind him with a thud, but Blaine just moved his mouth down the expanse of throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the pale flesh.

Blaine's hands fumbled at Kurt's collar, pulling his tie undone and tugging the buttons apart until he could drag his teeth down Kurt's neck, over his collarbone, his mouth brushing gently over one nipple.

Kurt grunted, his back arching under Blaine touch as he leaned back even further, hoisting one leg to curl around the underside of Blaine's hips. Blaine didn't know of he was still drunk, or just losing air, but every kiss, every touch, every brush of skin on skin and his mind was reeling and twirling in rambunctious circles.

"Blaine, Blaine please…" Kurt gasped, his hands fisting into Blaine's curls as he sucked a purple bruise into the pale skin over his heart.

"What do you want, Kurt?"

"I want…god I want…you…fuck, Blaine. I always want you."

Blaine brushed a kiss over the mark, dragging his tongue in a wet strip over Kurt's breastbone, "And where exactly, sweetheart, do you want me?"

"I…I…"

"Here?" He pressed his lips to the other nipple, grazing his teeth across it, first softly, and then harder until Kurt rocked his hips upwards with a moan.

"Yes…no…"

"What about," Blaine dropped lower, falling to his knees with his mouth moving against the skin of Kurt's abdomen, past his navel and down to where his hipbones shaped a perfect V into his pants, "just here?"

He brushed the very tip of his tongue from one hip to the other, feeling the skin quivering under his mouth, and let a long breath blow over the damp trail.

A broken moan sounded above him, and Blaine looked up to take in Kurt's appearance. One hand was fisted in his own hair, his shirt falling open against his gloriously pale chest, one leg hooked over Blaine's shoulder and his face open and gasping as though in pain.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered.

"Blaine."

Blaine nearly ripped the pants from him at that one, broken syllable and maybe there would be time another day to draw this out, maybe one day there would be a time and a place to endure hours of sweet torture, but right now Blaine just wanted to hear Kurt come apart and scream his name.

He pushed Kurt's bare thighs apart with his hands, shifting on his knees to get more comfortable between them and stuck out his tongue to lick the glistening head of his cock. Kurt jerked slightly above him, and Blaine needed no more invitation, taking him as far and deep into his throat as he could, one hand closing around the inches at the base that wouldn't quite fit.

It was messy and sloppy, but Kurt was moaning wantonly above him, hips thrusting to match every bob of Blaine's head. Blaine pressed his tongue to the vein on the underside, twisting his hand around the base jerkily and dug the fingers of his free hand into the underneath of Kurt's thigh, lifting his leg higher over his shoulder.

Blaine pulled off, sucking at the head and letting his hand work the length while he kissed the inside of Kurt's thigh. He felt him tremble as he bit gently where the thigh met hip.

"Blaine…fuck, Blaine I'm so…close…"

Blaine took him as deep as he could, until he felt the head of Kurt's cock press hard into the back of his throat, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and Kurt was trying to hold back but his hips were thrusting erratically and Blaine could feel his own hips mirroring Kurt's desperate for some sort of friction to ease the tension.

Blaine moved one hand down to palm himself hard through his dress robes, and used his other to pull Kurt even closer, until he almost couldn't breathe and Kurt was crying out and his nose was pressed against Kurt's pubic bone and his mind was dizzy with lack of oxygen, but he needed this, they both did and…

Kurt's back arched higher, his neck thrown backwards and he froze with a broken cry of curse words and garbled French and Blaine!

And Blaine kept bobbing his head through it all, swallowing as much as he could even though his neck was aching and his lips were sore, and he grasped himself roughly through his pants until he was coming with a cry and a muffled moan around Kurt, and he couldn't breathe or see and he almost forgot how to swallow and lights were dancing in front of his eyes and the world hand no meaning until Kurt pulled him gently to his feet.

There were tear tracks on both their faces, but Kurt just kissed Blaine's cheeks and lips until every trace of come and sweat was gone from his face, and pushed his curls back from his sweaty forehead to press his lips there. And Blaine did the same for Kurt, smoothing back his disarrayed hair, and rubbing his nose softly along Kurt's cheekbone.

They were silent for a long time, just holding each other, awkwardly balanced against the sinks, Kurt turning his face into Blaine's neck and they just sat and breathed each other.

"I think we've learnt something valuable tonight," Kurt said finally, pulling away enough for Blaine to see the familiar glint returned to his eyes.

"Oh yeah?"

"Don't take drinks from Noah Puckerman."

"And then Professor Sylvester was all: You expect me to believe that Porcelain, who must weigh about eighty pounds, broke your nose? And even if he did, you should be ashamed of yourself! And then everyone in the hall cheered and carried on dancing!"

Brittany had arrived in the boys dorms a few hours after midnight, clutching two mugs of hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream, tucked herself into Blaine's bed and proceeded to regale him with a full blown account of what exactly had happened after Blaine and Kurt left the dance.

"So Karofsky's got three weeks' worth of detentions for either lying about how he happened to break his nose, or allowing someone as tiny as Kurt to break his nose?" Blaine snorted into his drink, "I never thought I would be please that Sylvester is so illogical when handing out punishments. Plus she's always had a soft spot for Kurt, so…"

Brittany nodded, the light from their wands casting a silvery glow on her pale hair.

"How did you enjoy the night, Britt?"

She glanced up at him, a shy smile on her face, "I really like Santana, Blaine. She's…nice to me. But not in a way like she thinks she's better than me, like lots of people are. She's…she's like you."

Blaine felt a rush of protectiveness wash over him as he watch her, sat Indian style on his covers in her pink pyjamas, looking so childlike and so innocent that he wanted to bundle her up and hug her. The sort of feelings that only grow from watching someone grow from a young girl into a young woman and have her heart broken way too many times to count.

"You know that if she hurts you, she'll have to answer to me, right Boo?"

Brittany looked at him as though he were exceptionally stupid, "I don't think that's a threat to anyone Blainey Bear."

"Hey!" he said, mock offended and sticking his tongue out, "I will have you know that I can be very threatening when I try. Come on Britt, let's sleep. I don't feel like having Finn throw his shoes at us for making too much noise again. Plus Kurt wants to go to Hogsmead tomorrow, and I need a good night's rest if I want to survive a shopping trip with him."

He fell back against the covers, and Brittan snuggled under his arm like they would when they were growing up.

"Just promise me you won't love Santana more than me," he said into her hair.

"Just so long as you don't love Kurt more than me," she laughed back, and he turned until they were lying face to face, and hooked their pinkies together on the pillow between them.

"How 'bout we make a deal? You'll always be my favourite girl, if I'm always your favourite boy. That sound alright, Britt?"

"Definitely, Blainey."

And when Blaine slept he dreamed of Slytherin ties twining around punch bowls, and crowds laughing and cheering as a badger took to stage, and maybe, just maybe everything was going to be okay.

So Karofsky is not the bad guy in my head, I don't hate his character I promise. I just needed a bad guy to be a dick, but one that still fit in with characterisation, and he was the easiest candidate. I hope I didn't offend anyone!

I love to hear your responses; the review button is your friend! Embrace it!

Also, come hit me up on tumblr and talk to me www(.)cagedbirds(.)tumblr(.)com

Any ideas/plot lines/stories you want to hear? Any crazy scenes or scenarios you want the boys to get up to? Come tell me!