“Catch, Part 2″ - Kurt/Blaine
The second half of Kurt and Blaine’s Christmas at Hogwarts! (Read that first!)
~3400 words | AO3
“The grounds are so beautiful in winter,” Blaine remarks, gazing up at the snow-capped roofs of Hogwarts Castle.
The sky is a pale gray today, so it isn’t uncomfortably bright outside, and the snowfall from the day before lays undisturbed with the lack of students. There’s a fluffy pile under the spiky boughs of the Whomping Willow where the tree has shaken the excess snow from itself, but other than that, the grounds are pristine. Kurt swings his and Blaine’s clasped hands between them with a happy little sigh. It certainly is picturesque.
They’re on their way to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of flying. It’s on the other side of the school, so they’re making their way around the scenic campus hand-in-hand. In the corner of his eye, Kurt can see Blaine glancing at him now and then, but Kurt just smiles and keeps looking forward, humming to himself.
The wide berth they gave the Whomping Willow brings them near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Kurt’s about to comment on what a shame it is that they’re leaving all these footprints in the neat snow when he hears a long, high-pitched wail coming from the trees. He looks up and sees a skeleton-thin black horse with large, bat-like wings swooping in a circle above the forest. The noise it’s making is strangely melodic. It swoops in a tighter and tighter circle until it disappears under the canopy.
Kurt lights up, tugging Blaine along behind him as he changes course and leads them toward the forest.
“Kurt? Where are we going?”
He glances back at Blaine, grinning brightly as he says, “Didn’t you see the—oh, right. Of course you didn’t.” His smile shrinks into something slightly sadder and and he slows his pace. “I only ever visit them alone, so I forget.”
Blaine looks around, behind them and above them and through the trees, where Kurt’s pulling them. “What is it?”
Kurt turns and watches the dark, winged creature that’s just landed in the forest reuniting with its mate and their baby. “The thestrals are close today,” he says.
Blaine gasps behind him. Kurt really doesn’t want to turn around and see the look on his face, but when he tries to keep them moving deeper into the forest, Blaine resists, planting his feet. He pulls on Kurt’s hand, forcing him to turn and look at him. His eyes are soft, sad, and a little afraid, but thankfully, free of pity. “Kurt… you can see thestrals?”
Kurt nods and waits for the inevitable question.
“Why? I mean—sorry, I know why, but… who was it? I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it, I’m being impolite.”
“It’s okay,” Kurt answers, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “My mom died when I was eight. She’d been sick for a long time, so my dad and I were there when she… yeah.”
The thestrals are watching the boys curiously now. They recognize Kurt.
Blaine opens his mouth to say something, but Kurt cuts him off. “Don’t say you’re sorry again, please. Honestly, Blaine, I’m fine.”
He smiles and gives Blaine a little shrug as if to say, It is what it is, and to his relief, Blaine returns the smile and says, “Okay.”
“Would you like to meet them?”
Blaine’s sweet, understanding expression quickly twists into alarm. He glances back into the forest, his gaze pointing nowhere near where Kurt can see the thestrals staring at them. “Are you sure? Would they be okay with that?”
The baby thestral squeaks out a scratchy little wail and flaps its wings.
Blaine doesn’t react, still looking to Kurt for guidance. He can’t hear the noises they make, either.
“Come on.” Kurt leads him closer to the thestrals. They move slowly and carefully across the cold, twig-covered forest floor, the canopy having prevented some of the snowfall from accumulating. Blaine’s eyes sweep the general area in front of them; he opens his eyes wider as though that might help him see the creatures, maybe a ripple in the air or something when their bodies move, but of course, this does nothing.
Watching Blaine’s absolute inability to see the thestrals reminds Kurt more fully than ever before: they are truly invisible and inaudible to those who have not witnessed death. Kurt wishes Blaine could see them, but at the same time, he can’t really wish that on anyone. He has never had the pleasure—and if not a “pleasure,” than at least the “experience”—of introducing his misunderstood friends to anyone else.
“Okay, they’re right in front of us.” Kurt stops them walking, then moves forward a few steps, reaching up to gently stroke one of the adult thestrals’ noses. It casts its lid-less silver eyes on him and lowers its head with a soft snort. “Hey, sweetie,” he whispers, watching the thestral contentedly accept his petting. “I brought someone special to meet you, but he can’t see you, so no sudden moves, okay? We don’t want to startle him.” He glances back at Blaine with a cheeky little grin and reaches for his hand.
Blaine just stares and steps forward, letting Kurt place his hand on the thestral’s neck. He takes a sharp breath when he touches it, his eyes darting all over the area of contact. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it, this is so strange… And it’s so docile, wow, just letting us touch it like this.”
Kurt watches the cute, awed look on Blaine’s face with a little flutter in his stomach. “They’re very gentle. Harmless, really, but everyone thinks they’re omens of death, so the idea of them scares people. Which is idiotic, since death has already come and gone if you can see thestrals in the first place.”
“What do they look like? I’ve seen illustrations in books, but up close, in real life… can you tell me?”
Kurt looks over at the other two thestrals. They’ve wandered a bit, the adult and baby nuzzling at each other about twenty feet away from them. He rubs a hand down the closest thestral’s nose again. “They’re beautiful. Their skin is dark, like charcoal, but a little shiny, like leather. They’re all skin, bone, and muscle.”
“Yeah, I can feel that.” Blaine pats around until he can run a hand over the thestral’s bony spine. “So they’re like horses, but… no mane?”
“No, no hair or fur. And their tails are just like the rest of them, like a hairless cat’s. They don’t have eyelids, either, so their eyes never close. I saw one sleeping once, and I was so terrified that it had died. The eyes are gorgeous, though, like smoky gray marbles.”
“Oh, that’s… eerie.”
“A bit. Their wings are the best part. They’re big like a dragon’s, but so thin that they’re translucent.” Kurt steps a little closer, closing his eyes and letting the thestral sniff at his hair. “They sound like whales, but higher and clearer. It’s pretty, but haunting. They sound like they’ve lost something.”
Blaine’s got both hands on the thestral now, stroking its flank. “Wow. I can really picture them now. I—I don’t want to be able to see them, but I do, you know? Is that insensitive to say?”
“No, I get it.”
Blaine is trying so hard, and treading so carefully so as not to offend him, but he’s not avoiding the subject either, which Kurt appreciates. He appears to have settled into the surreal sensation of feeling something under his hands that he can’t see, and his timid petting has eased into intentional scratches. “Hey, you’re not so scary, are you?” he coos at the thestral.
The thestral turns and nudges its bony nose against Blaine’s face, frightening him with its invisible touch for a second before he adjusts. “Not so scary,” he repeats, chuckling nervously.
“I’ve never brought anyone to sort-of see them before. I’m glad it was you, Blaine.”
Blaine reaches up to stroke the nose he feels pressing at the top of his head. “Thank you for trusting me with it. I know this is a personal thing.”
“Yeah… kind of an intense first date, huh?” Kurt shrugs, laughing just as nervously as Blaine had a moment ago.
Blaine just grins.
Giving the thestral one last pat on its side, Kurt takes Blaine’s hand again and says, “Come on, let’s let them be. I want to make the most of having the Quidditch pitch to ourselves.”
At Blaine’s surprised—yet obviously flirtatious—expression, Kurt hastens to add,” Not like that! Lots of room to fly, I mean.”
“Uh huh.”
“Ugh… let’s go.”
*****
The wind whips Kurt’s hair up and away from his forehead as he barrel-rolls across the Quidditch pitch on his Firebolt. He takes a deep breath as he rights himself, looping around the nearest goal posts before he comes to a stop in the center of the field. He loves flying, and he so rarely gets to do it like this, without the entirety of the Slytherin Quidditch team accompanying him. This amount of space is freeing. The sky has even begun to clear, big patches of blue letting in the sun as if it knows that Kurt, down below, has an open field to enjoy.
Blaine’s finishing his warm-up above him, climbing higher and then dropping into steep dives over and over again. He never flies too low, pulling the nose of his broom back up whenever he’s about 10 feet from the ground.
“You’ll never pull off a Wronski Feint if you keep flinching at the bottom of your dives!” Kurt calls, a teasing lilt to his smile.
“Hey, I’ve crashed before, okay!” Blaine calls back, grinning at Kurt and flying over to hover in front of him. He narrows his eyes, the challenge clear on his face as he adds, “Besides, what does a Chaser know about the Wronski Feint? The quaffle isn’t something you can just pretend to see.”
“I know it takes precision and daring. So I’m good at dives, period,” Kurt replies lightly. “Your butterfingered Chasers and overly-enthused Beaters made sure of that.”
Blaine splutters, playfully offended. “Butterfingered! That was one time—”
“—That was several times, Blaine—”
“—when you happened to be in the right position. And you’re one to talk about aggressive Beaters! Kitty Wilde has nearly knocked my head off on more than one occasion, thank you very much.”
Kurt laughs. Kitty’s ability to disrupt the flight patterns of—and only mildly injure—whoever she wants from a distance has made her an asset for Slytherin ever since she joined the team at the start of the year. She’s gotten much better about not aiming directly for the other players’ most sensitive body parts, but she’s still a force to be reckoned with. “I’m lucky to fly with her and not against her, you’re right about that.”
Blaine lifts his chin and purses his lips in contemplation. “I wonder what it would be like to fly against you. Like, really fly against you, Seeker to Seeker.” He starts to circle Kurt, slowly.
Little do you know, Kurt thinks. He and Rachel had both tried out for Seeker when they joined the team, but the captain at the time, Jesse, had given the spot to Rachel. Kurt’s talent on a broomstick was obvious, though, so he was asked to show his skills as a Chaser instead. “I would be the enemy,” says Kurt, turning his broom in the opposite direction so that they’re circling each other.
“No, you could never be my enemy. A rival on an opposing team, sure, but not an enemy. Enemy is such a harsh word.”
Kurt snorts. “You’re such a Hufflepuff. I’m seriously doubting you can keep up with me.”
“Typical Slytherin attitude.” Blaine suddenly speeds up so that he circles Kurt twice before Kurt realizes what’s happened. “Try me.”
Kurt’s stomach does a little flip. Blaine is smoldering at him, the honey in his eyes gone dark and fiery and his playful smile shifted into an infuriatingly smug smirk. He’s good on a broom; Blaine, humility be damned, definitely knows it. And Kurt knows it. And Blaine knows Kurt knows it, because Kurt complimented him on his flying skills just a few days ago.
Damn it, Kurt is already head-over-heels for this boy, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let him win.
Without allowing himself to think too much about it, Kurt swoops up to Blaine’s side, kisses him on the cheek with the briefest brush of his lips, and speeds off towards the far end of the pitch.
It works; Blaine takes a few seconds to recover before he manages to turn and follow, and by that time, Kurt is well ahead of him. “That’s playing dirty, Kurt!” Blaine yells, pink-cheeked and laughing as he tries to catch up.
“That’s being clever, Blaine!” Kurt zig-zags around the lofted spectator stands, adrenaline rushing through him.
I kissed him I kissed him I kissed him just on the cheek but still I kissed him—
Blaine, because he really is a good flier, does manage to catch up, and soon he’s right on Kurt’s tail, meeting him for every loop, roll, and sudden dive. They spiral through the goal hoops, where leggy Kurt has to tuck himself smaller while Blaine just ducks a little and shoots right through. They fly across the grass, so closely their toes lightly graze it, which is where Blaine hesitates and loses a little ground as Kurt dives and levels off just in time not to crash. Then they rise, and rise, and rise, until they’re well above the pitch and Hogwarts forms a pretty panorama in front of them.
“How can we be so lucky, to get a view like this?” Kurt sighs, hovering in the air to watch the way the sun has begun to set behind the castle. It’s throwing rays of pink and orange across the clouds’ undersides with a reflection on the lake to match, and the horizon is turning red-violet against the castle’s silhouette.
He feels Blaine take his hand and pull them closer together, each broom hovering right next to the other as they lean shoulder-to-shoulder and watch the sunset.
“I don’t think we can wrap up an outdoor date any better than this,” Blaine says quietly.
“Me neither, but I’m not ready to wrap it up yet.”
“Want to hang out in one of our common rooms?”
“Yeah. Just… let’s just sit here for a minute. As soon as the sun goes, we’ll go.”
*****
“This is cozier than I expected.”
“The Hufflepuff common room is also underground, Blaine.”
“Yeah, but Slytherin’s common room is in the dungeon. Hufflepuff’s in the basement and we have sunny windows that look out at the grass. There’s no sunlight down here. But this is… kind of lush. Or maybe decadent might be a better word.”
They’re both curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with their legs underneath them, eating cheesecake and drinking tea made from water Kurt conjured and heated in oversized green mugs. Kurt looks around fondly at the cushy armchairs, leather and metal accents, and ornate molding that decorates the space, all in chic green, silver, and black. His common room is fabulous.
“Decadent is more accurate, I think… So, what did you get for Christmas?”
“My parents got me a book of blank sheet music that writes itself when you play or sing! It’s so awesome, it’ll be perfect for all those times when I can’t get a melody out of my head. And, for some reason, my brother sent me a framed portrait of himself. Unfortunately, it can talk, like the portraits here, so I’m not sure where to put it. He was yelling at me from the bottom of my trunk when I left this afternoon.”
Kurt bursts out laughing, quickly swallowing the bite of cheesecake in his mouth before he chokes on it. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s Cooper. How about you?”
“I got this amazing fashion history book from my stepmother. I know I’ll spend ages scrutinizing all the details. My dad got me a maintenance kit for my broomstick, and my brother got me the cheesecake we’re eating. Mmmm...”
“Oh, wow. Go Finn. Go everyone, all of that is amazing.”
“Yeah. And… someone got me this gorgeous sweater,” Kurt says, looking down at himself. He sets the little plate of cheesecake aside and runs his hands up and down his arms, the cashmere butter-soft under his fingers. “I love it, and I love that it’s personalized, but I don’t know who it’s from. I thought it might be from my stepmother at first, since she got me that fashion book, like maybe she’d forgotten to label it, but—”
“I don’t think it was from your stepmother, Kurt.”
Kurt tilts his head, tracing the embroidered silver KH over his heart.
No.
Surely not.
“A mysterious, unlabeled present among non-mysterious and clearly labeled presents seems more like a secret admirer to me. Or… well, not-so-secret now.” Blaine clasps his hands around his mug and looks up at Kurt through his eyelashes. “Merry Christmas, Kurt.”
In one single, breathless syllable, Kurt sighs, “Blaine,” and reaches over to set Blaine’s cheesecake on the floor. He gets up on his knees and moves across the couch, setting Blaine’s mug out of the way as well, then puts a hand on Blaine’s cheek and kisses him on the lips. “I’ve been wooed, okay? I’m wooed. I’m wooed. Wherever you wanted me to be, I’m there.”
“Right here is good,” Blaine says, gently pulling Kurt in with both hands behind his jaw so he can keep kissing him.
Blaine is strong and warm and his lips are soft and he tastes like vanilla earl grey and vanilla-chocolate cheesecake. Kurt could not have conjured a better date if he’d tried.
“I don’t know who told you that you aren’t good at romance, but they didn’t know their own wand from a Bowtruckle,” Kurt gasps, pulling away for a breath before he dives in again, pressing Blaine back against the arm of the couch.
They’re in the same position when Rachel returns and finds them in the common room together a week later.
“Ku-uuurt, I’m ba-aaack—oh my god. SPY!”
Kurt releases Blaine’s mouth with a very loud smack and sits back on Blaine’s thighs. The boys are in athletic clothes, having just come back from another spirited round of flying. Rather than catching their breath, they’d chosen to steal it from each other instead.
“Kurt? ANDERSON?!”
He gets a giddy rush thinking of how wonderful Kurt Anderson—Anderson-Hummel? Hummel-Anderson?—would sound, but manages to dismount from Blaine’s lap and sit next to him.
Blaine sits up, panting, and presses his swollen pink lips together. He combs his fingers along his hairline, trying to neaten the curls that have sprung free all over his head. “Hello, Berry. I mean, Rachel. How was your holiday?”
“How was my—?” Rachel blinks. “Well. It was great. Blaine. Thank you for asking.”
Blaine rubs his shoulder against Kurt’s and winks at him. “I can’t keep being antagonistic with one of my boyfriend’s best friends, can I?”
Kurt hides his smile against Blaine’s shoulder and murmurs, “Thank you.”
She stomps forward and comes to a halt between them and the fireplace. Whispering, as though Blaine can’t hear her, she hisses, “Kurt, as your friend, I’m happy for you. But as your captain... What about House solidarity? What if he’s a spy for their Quidditch team?! This is all rather sudden, don’t you think?”
“Not really.”
“But—”
Kurt closes his eyes to gather his patience. “Rachel, you seem to have forgotten that your boyfriend is the Gryffindor Keeper. Please stop talking.”
“Finn is not my direct enemy!”
“Blaine isn’t the enemy, either! He’s your rival, maybe, but not the enemy.” He squeezes Blaine’s hand. “And, if you aren’t nice to him, I will cast a Laughing Jinx on you in the middle of our next choir performance. You’ll sound just like the singing frogs, only they’ll still be in sync.”
Rachel gasps and takes a step back from him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Kurt shrugs and scrunches his nose. “Would you bet your reputation on it?”
She wouldn’t.
“Blaine,” Rachel says, her tone suddenly much sweeter than normal. “I look forward to seeing you around. Be good to him. Merry Christmas.”
“I will, Rachel. Happy Hanukkah.”
Rachel gives them one last begrudgingly friendly look and goes to her dormitory.
“Hm. That went better than expected,” Kurt says, wasting no time resuming his position over Blaine’s lap as Blaine laughs and leans back to let him get comfortable. “Now, where were we?”
