Author: Lilith Duvare
Fandom: Glee/Harry Potter
Word Count: 2,700+
Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, OC/Harry, Harry/Kurt, Warbler/Kurt
Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, General
Warnings: AU!, Non-magical, Slash, some cursing, awkwardness, and unhealthy jealousy
Summary: Dalton Academy was his prison, the golden cage he had been confined to, because his mother wanted nothing to do with him while his godfather couldn't even look into his eyes anymore. He had no one, but it was okay because he had ballet and the chance to get away from everything... until one late afternoon he met with a dark silhouette in the deserted Senior Commons thanks to his ridiculous curiosity.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except for the whole Ballet Club and its members, aside from Harry of course. I still don't earn money for writing and especially not for writing this.
I. Meeting of Shadows
Harry hurried down the sacred halls of Dalton Academy, more than ready to get away from the sheer madness of the Warblers and their petty little fights with the Ballet Club. He groaned at the remembrance of Bradley's puce coloured face as he screamed at Wesley Johnson, one of the head Songbirds, for something or another. If Harry remembered correctly it was about the Warblers performing on the Annual Dalton Charity Weekend, just before the Ballet Club. Harry couldn't have cared less if the screaming match hadn't interrupted his practice time.
To Harry, the Dapper Douchebags – as Arnold, Harry's super geek roommate called them – were insignificant. Of course he knew who the leaders were; it was hard not to when all freshmen and sophomore panted and prattled about them constantly in the hallways, but their choreography and dance skills were so pitiful that the only time Harry was actually persuaded to attend one of the Impromptu Warblers Gigs, he lost interest in their performance and left the Senior Commons before they could have even started singing. It didn't mean he couldn't see Brad's point and hate, because he could. After all, the Warblers were the kings of the school even though they couldn't even win Sectionals last year, while Brad and the Ballet Club had won Nationals for three years in a row now and frankly no one gave a shit.
He let out a sigh and chased away the useless thoughts; they were well known and respected in circles that counted, and that was the only thing that mattered to Harry. In a year he would get out of this freaking golden cage and forget he ever attended here. The blind and snooty prats with a pole so high up their ass that it almost came out on their mouth would be left behind, nothing more than blurry pictures amongst the pages of his memory, their lack of support as meaningless as it always had been.
Harry smiled a derisive smile; those words sounded so good in his head, but they couldn't lessen the bitterness that spread and eaten away his heart more and more with each passing they. He knew he was going to be famous. Both the Royal Ballet School in Britain and the Bolshoi Ballet Academy in Moscow sent their agents to him after Nationals last year, but not even his accomplishment took away the fact he was alone. The fact no one wanted him. The fact no one cared what would happen to him, if he lived or died...
He sped up his steps, wanting to get back to his room to hide away from the world or just watch Arnold as he lived his virtual life, playing time consuming and addicting games, never getting out or mingling with people except if they belonged to the Computer Club, but even then they tended to communicate through their avatars, doing a much better job in hiding from reality than Harry did. If he wanted to be honest, he found their devotion and insanity fascinating; they were experts and geniuses of another kind, brilliant but always invisible even to their friends.
Yes, that sounded like a good idea. Watching as Arnold held his weekly Halo or World of Warcraft marathon with his virtual friends, listening to the inane and scathing curses Arnie would shout off in the weirdest moments and forgetting how pathetic he actually was for not having a social life or skills for that matter.
The door of the Senior Commons were ajar, something unusual in the World of Primness, as Harry walked by the room, and his steps already faltered to a stop before he knew what he was doing, the oddity of the phenomenon raising his curiosity without his intention. And he thought he grew out his knack for sticking his nose where it didn't belong! Still he crept closer, catching a choked noise that very much could have been a trick of his imagination too, but really, anything imperfect at this place was worth his nosiness.
There it was again, that choked sound, was it a sob? Harry's brows furrowed in confusion, he had never seen or heard anyone crying at Dalton. Not even the ickle firsties, because such a plebeian act as crying was simply beneath any respectable gentleman. Or at least that was what Ericson Marlow told him and his classmates during his lengthy welcome speech on Harry's very first day. So, it couldn't be one of the boys crying, right? But he heard it again this time accompanied with an even softer sound... a sniffle?
Harry bit into his lower lip in contemplation. Should he check on whoever was in the room? There was no light coming from he Commons despite the darkness outside, which indicated that the boy inside wanted to be alone. But no one cried at Dalton. He thought, knowing very well he shouldn't do this, nonetheless his hand was already pushing the door open, his head sticking through the gap seeing nothing and no one at first.
Harry blinked a few times, his eyes getting used to the lack of light and soon enough he caught the sight of a crouched figure on the couch next to the Warbler Council's desk. Harry didn't recognise the slumped form, his green eyes narrowing as if it could help, but even after staring for minutes he wasn't closer figuring out who was the boy with the hunched back and subtly shaking shoulders.
He thought about what he should do, vetoing the getting the hell out of the place after the sounds of chattering and footsteps reached his ears; it wouldn't do anyone any good if he got caught spying on a fellow student who was most certainly crying. However, the steps grew closer and the voices louder, making Harry tense up and without a second thought slip into the room and close the door behind him.
"Who is there?" It seemed his lack of tact managed to rouse the crying guy out of his depressed little world.
"Eh... Sorry, man... I saw the door was open and heard... erm..." Harry's voice faltered, not knowing what to say. "I just wanted to check out what's going on... I guess."
"I don't know you." Big surprise there, he wanted to retort, but caught himself in time and only gave a noncommittal shrug, he was pretty sure the other didn't see.
"Neither do I. You, I mean. I don't know you either." Was he really this terrible when it came to talking to other people? But the guy only huffed, a strange soft between a chuckle and another sniffle. "You're okay though?"
"I'm fine, of course," came the cool reply, and Harry noticed that the boy's voice was oddly high, almost like a girl's.
Hadn't a guy with a girl's voice come just recently to the school? The black haired boy frowned, trying to remember if there was such a case, and after a few seconds his mind supplied him with snippets of rumours about some new guy in the Warblers, that was attached to that hobbit Anderson... oh and the new guy was in some of Harry's classes too. Harry remembered of him being introduced on the first day as Cory? Carl? Or something like that.
"Sure," he said finally, tone carefully impersonal. "Then I guess you just like to sit in the darkness? You're not a vampire are you? I mean a real one not those sparkling freaks everybody is gushing about these days." This earned him a disbelieving snort and it strangely made him feel proud.
"I'm not a vampire, I can assure you. My name is Kurt. Kurt Hummel." Ah, Kurt then, well he was always bad with names.
"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," Harry offered, his hand itching to turn the lights on. "You're that new Songbird, huh?"
"Songbird?" Hummel sounded taken aback.
"Well I could call you a Dapper Douchebag too, but I'm not so keen on insulting people I don't know," Harry shrugged awkwardly, his back still pressed against the door. "And the Warblers own a real, living songbird so... it's a lame name, I know..."
"Oh yeah, Pavarotti was mine until a few weeks ago when Flint joined the Warblers."
"Uhum... So why are you sitting in the dark if you're not a vampire? Don't you have homework? Or something better to do at least?" Harry asked, changing the topic. He really didn't want to talk about the Warblers.
"You're really hung up on vampires..." the other boy commented, giving him the impression Kurt was rolling his eyes at him.
"They're cool. I even met one last year. Name was Sanguini and he was a vampire, I'm 99% sure of it." The sparks in the green eyes remained unseen, concealed by the darkness of the room, but Harry felt himself almost relax into the weird conversation he was having with Kurt Hummel, a total stranger. "Of course he wasn't sparkly, what self-respective vampire sparkles in the sun?"
It felt invigorating and gave him some false hope that he wasn't a lost case even if he had the feeling he was making a fool of himself. But the guy wasn't crying anymore, so it meant Harry did something right, right? And Harry liked vampires. They were great, aloof, darkly seductive... magical.
Hummel's shadowed head cocked to the side, as if he was considering something. "You don't like the Twilight saga." It wasn't a question, and there was no apparent emotion behind it, still that single sentence filled Harry with unease.
"God no!" Harry let out a long relieved sigh. "I might find supernatural romance endearing, but a clumsy and tragically plain girl's obsession with a... thing that wants to drain her of her blood holds no appeal to me."
"Exactly. Not to mention that Edward character is the absolute disgrace of everything vampire," he added. "Bram Stroker is probably rolling in his grave now. And Angelus is laughing his ass off."
"You like Buffy too?"
"Who doesn't? She was so kick-ass!"
"And David Boreanaz is smoking hot– Shit." Kurt swore, before stammering out some barely comprehensible words, "I... er no... didn't..."
"I liked James Masters more. Despite the bleached hair," Harry interrupted, causing the other boy to shut up. "Spike was sexy. Hey, you're okay?"
Kurt didn't answer, making Harry nervous. What happened? Did he say something? Or was Kurt offended by his exclamation? But no, the other boy just said he found David Boreanaz hot–
The raven haired boy blinked. Hadn't he just said he thought Spike was sexy? "Erm... Yes?"
"Oh... I see," Kurt whispered, his head lowering and hands balling into fists. Was he angry?
"If you have a problem–"
"What?" Hummel's head shot up in shock. "Of course not! I was only surprised... You're the third gay guy I've ever met."
Ah. Harry didn't know how to respond to that. He wasn't really comfortable when it came to talking about serious topics. He had no friends at the school, the guys in Ballet Club either watched him with envy or worshipped him, depending on if they belonged to Bradley's harem or not, and the other students never seemed to notice him. Maybe it was the glasses and his messy hair that frightened them off. Or Harry was just too socially inapt, not to mention useless when it came to climbing the social ladder.
"Well... I'm pretty sure there are more than a few even in the Warblers," he responded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thad for sure–"
"Thad?" Kurt nearly shrieked. "Council Member Thad?"
"Yeah, Thad Walberg." Actually Thad was one of the only guys, aside from Arnie, who talked to Harry occasionally. They weren't friends per se, but Thad loved ballet and he admitted he liked watching Harry dance. "And the hobbit Anderson, but you knew that, I guess? You're friends or something, aren't you?"
Kurt didn't say anything, his fingers once again clenched into fists on his knees, and Harry swore he heard the other's breath catch in his throat. The urge to switch on the lights became almost unbearable, Harry wanted to confirm his suspicion that Kurt was fighting back his tears, but out of respect for Kurt's privacy, he didn't move.
He didn't speak either.
"Yeah, we're friends," the Warbler finally admitted, before adding with burning resentment. "But it seems, Blaine is not as gay as he let everyone believe."
"Huh?" Harry blinked stupidly. Anderson not gay? Yeah, the kid had a horrible sense of fashion, no question there, but he was gayer than those Rainbow Ponies in that traumatizing cartoon.
"I'm pretty sure you heard about the New Directions party last Friday? Wes screamed for almost an hour with Blaine for not coming back to school in time, this morning. Or so that was what Blaine told me," Kurt supplied, but before the green eyed boy could say anything he was continuing. "In short, everyone got drunk, bar Finn my brother and I, and we played Spin the Bottle. And it happened that Blaine had to kiss Rachel and now he decided to go out with her, because he liked the kiss!"
Harry didn't ask what New Direction or who this Rachel person was. It was irrelevant. Because what mattered was that Anderson was a gay guy, who decided he liked his drunken kiss with a girl and, from what Harry gathered now was having some kind of identity crisis. And if the lost and broken sound of Kurt's voice was anything to go by, the boy felt more than friendship toward– Wait. Harry heard about this story. Not the hobbit's crisis, but Kurt confessing his feelings to said hobbit.
Harry felt sorry for Kurt, he really did. Not because he could understand what he felt, Harry never liked anyone before, at least not long enough or in a way that would matter. Hell he only knew he was gay, because of Spike from Buffy. But he felt for Kurt, because the boy seemed so depressed and uncertain, and that was something Harry could relate to.
Which was why he asked, "You have friends, right?" Okay, that didn't come out as he intended to.
"Yes, of course." The boy sounded slightly offended making the ballet dancer cringe inwardly.
"Stupid question. What do they usually do to cheer you up, when you're unhappy?" Harry corrected himself, shifting his feet in anticipation.
"What do you mean?" This was really not turning out as he thought it would, because Kurt sounded more than a little angry now. And a tad bit defensive. "Who said I was unhappy?" he questioned sharply.
"Face the facts," came the reply, and Harry was surprised by his own calmness. In any other case he would have left by now, like ages ago. "You are sitting in a dark and cold room, all hunched and practically oozing dejection. Not to mention your gay friend who you're in love with decided to have a sexual identity crisis and started to date a girl, you know–"
"Who told you I'm in love with Blaine?" Kurt screamed and leapt to his feet.
"Everyone was talking about it, even I heard it, but only made the connection now..."
"Oh my Gaga." The Warbler slumped back down the couch, hiding his face in his hands. "Could a lightning bolt strike me down now? I would really appreciate it."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Kurt." How to proceed from here? Probably going with the truth would be the best. "I'm crap at comforting people. But from what I gathered from the chick flick craps my roommate loves to watch to gather information about girls, when you're heartbroken, you need a friend, one of those chick flick craps, a great amount of chocolate and tons of tissues. So call one of your friends and have a sleepover or something like that, curse the King of the Dwarves and list his bad qualities."
"If these people are your friends, they will be more than willing to comfort you. And you probably can get over Anderson too... or not. But it's worth a try, no?"
"You're right. Thank you." The concealed head bobbed in agreement and Hummel stood up once again. "I'll call Mercedes... no, not Mercedes, she would tear Berry a new one..."
Harry nibbled on his lip, trying to decide if he should stay, but it wasn't any of his business. Usually he didn't even meddle with other people's problems. "I'll leave you to it," he said, hand on the door handle and ready to go, when Kurt's voice stopped him.
"Thank you... really." The Warbler sounded tentative but grateful, causing him to smile.
"It's cool. Have a good night," the black haired boy answered, opening the door and effectively blinding himself with the sudden boost of light.
"See you around?"
"Sure." Harry knew they wouldn't.
A/N: This was intended to be a one-shot. A long one, mind you, but a one-shot none the less. However, I'm currently writing Part 5 and nowhere finished with the story, so I decided to post it to see if anyone is interested. This is not going to be updated every day like The Show Must Go On, however I plan to update every week, until it's finished. In the mean time, you can check out my tumblr (link is on my profile) where I constantly ramble about the story and even post deleted scenes. Hope you liked it...