13:57

A/N: Okay, I really, really shouldn't be writing this right now. Exams start next week, and I haven't finished Building Bridges and. . .I'm so sorry. Unfortunately, this story bit me in the ass and just won't let go. So, I hope you enjoy!

To say that Kurt Hummel was excited that summer was ending would be an understatement.

He was freaking ecstatic.

Sure, he might be the only kid in the entire world who would rather be in school than enjoy the freedom of the summer, but that's just the way things were. Summer stunk. Summer meant long days stuck sweating in his father's mechanic shop, wearing horrid coveralls and smelling like oil and dirt. Not that Kurt minded working on the cars. . .not exactly. It was fine every once and while, but he simply didn't understand how anyone could stand the dirt and the grime all the time.

Summer meant spending every meal eating with his dad, Carole, and Finn, instead of all his friends at long tables, lit by floating candles. It meant that instead of course upon course of delicious (and often healthy) options, he was forced to eat pot roast, and macaroni and cheese, and hot dogs. It was disgusting.

Summer meant doing everything by hand, the Muggle way. It meant tying his own shoes, an walking to the closet to pick out his outfits, and having to spend hours on his hair, instead of just magicking it perfect. It meant learning to drive, since he wasn't allowed to Apparate around, and it meant standing up to all the homophobic brutes in his hometown with just his wits and quick feet.

Summer meant having to spend far more time with Finn than he'd really like. It meant hours of playing Call of Duty when he'd rather be shopping, and trying to make awkward conversation with someone who shared none of his own interests.

Summer meant no time spent with Mercedes, or Artie, or any of his other friends.

Worst of all, summer meant no Blaine Anderson.

When the owls came in August, Kurt snatched his letter immediately, and clutches it to his chest, whispering out a low "hallelujah, thanks be to Dumbledore." Finn just moaned and rolled his eyes. Carole had to eventually grab his list of books for him. The boy just clunked his head on the table.

"You have to go to school," Carole admonished, shoving the thin parchment under her son's fingers. Finn muttered something about football, and Puck, and popsicles Kurt just rolled his eyes, and began scanning his own letter.

He was pleased to see that he'd gotten every class that he'd requested. No Muggle Studies this year, thank Dumbledore. He didn't think he could take any more of Professor Sylvester's racist rants. Besides, his dad was a Muggle, and he'd spent eleven years of his life (and an additional four miserable summers) completely immersed in the Muggle world. He hardly needed to learn a perverted version of history and custom from a pureblood.

He'd also managed to avoid Care of Magical Creatures, thank goodness. He liked Hagrid well enough, but he really hated having to tromp out to the cottage, where there was dirt, and insects, and inevitably some massive monster sneezed on him, completely destroying a prized scarf or brooch. He could do quite well with his canary, thank you very much. Pavarotti might not be as majestic as an owl, and he wasn't very good at carrying large letters, but Kurt was okay with that. It meant he never got a Howler.

He still had Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Charms, and Ancient Runes. Kurt firmly believed in getting a good, well-balanced education, especially since he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do after graduation. Finn seemed pretty set on being a famous Quidditch player (Kurt secretly doubted that the other boy had the talent. The Hufflepuff team hadn't won the House Cup since the years that Cedric Diggory had gone to Hogwarts). Most of Kurt's other friends knew what they wanted to do as well. But Kurt had diverse interests, and he certainly wasn't going to limit his future options.

And lastly, he had Magical Lyricism. His absolute favorite class in the entire world. Well, sometimes his favorite class in the entire world. Last year hadn't been so great, what with stupid Rachel Berry beating everyone out. But Kurt had finally succeeded in shattering class with a High F, so he was pretty sure that he might be top-ranked in the course this year.

Just that one year was bad, though. Other than that, his first three years had been phenomenal. The professor was a little on the wonky side, and it usually got mocked for being a pansy course, but it meant singing and magic, which were the two things that Kurt loved most in the world.

And, in the first three years, he'd had Blaine in his class. Which meant the three things he loved most in the world.

Oh, yeah, his dad was okay, too.

Kurt leaned over, and pulled Finn's booklist out from under his fingers. As usual, Finn was taking the easiest courses that he could. Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology (because Professor Longbottom was enthusiastic, but hardly demanding), Quidditch, Magical Lyricism and. . .

"History of Magic?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow. "Really, Finn? You only passed last year because I wrote your essay for you."

"Duh," Finn said into the table. "I kind of figured that you could do it again."

Carole rolled her eyes and went to clear the dishes. Kurt sighed, and smoothed his hair back away fro his face.

"Really, Finn?" Kurt asked drolly. "And what do I get out of that?"

"Um. . ." Finn considered for a long minute. "Well, you get into the Hufflepuff common room when you tutor me."

"How is that a benefit?" Not that the Hufflepuff common room was shabby. It was just identical to the Gryffindor's own, except with yellow and black hangings in place of crimson and gold. Admittedly, Kurt was a fan of the décor – he'd never particularly appreciated all the suits of armor that clanked around in Gryffindor – but it hardly made up for the hours of work he had to do writing Finn's essay, and then going back through and adding sufficient spelling and grammar mistakes to trick Professor Binns into thinking Finn had actually written it.

"Not the room," Finn said. "Who's in it."

Kurt was pretty sure that his face instantly turned bright red. It felt that way anyway. He crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said archly.

Was he really that obvious? If Finn knew he had a crush on Blaine (and Finn really had to be the single most oblivious boy in the entire school) then everyone must know. How humiliating.

"The picture of Cedric Diggory that hangs over the mantle," Finn said. "I've seen you staring at it. Don't pretend."

Well. That was okay, then. After all, Kurt had several autobiographies of the hero, and had never been shy about his appreciation for the boys dashing good looks. He had to admit, though, that Finn had a valid point. Not about Cedric, but about the intangible benefits of the Hufflepuff house.

"Okay, fine," Kurt said. "I'll help you pass. But you have to promise to go shopping with me for dress robes before the Yule Ball."

Finn groaned.

Xxx

Burt only gave them three hours in Diagon Alley, which was ridiculously short, in Kurt's opinon. It was only enough time to run to Blourish and Blott's for their supplies, and to get traditional robes done up. Kurt had been hoping for a more leisurely stroll, but Finn was practically giddy with excitement.

"No shopping!" he said, hopping up and down. "no shopping!"

"Shut up," Kurt said. "You're acting like a child."

Still, his spirits couldn't help but be lifted as they stepped out from the FLoo Network and into the bustle of Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards darted all over, dressed in the most amazing array of fashion from around the world. Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, and just allowed the smells and sounds to wash over him.

"I'll get your books if you get the robes," Finn said, grabbing at Kurt's book list.

"Absolutely not," Kurt seethed. "If you arne't properly measured, then your robes won't be adequately tailored. I refuse to be related – even if only by Muggle law – to someone who dresses like a Neanderthal."

"But Kurt. . ." Finn whined, pouting with all his worth and opening up his brown eyes as wide as they would go. Kurt stood firm, however. He did have standards, after all.

Everything worked out all right, since it turned out that Sam Evans was being measured by the time they got to Madame Malkin's. Finn happily clambered over to his friend, and they were soon happily talking about sports, and Quidditch, and how much they really didn't want to go back to school. Kurt sighed. Boys.

Sam followed them out after, still chattering away. Kurt snuck a glance out of the side of his eye. Sam was looking good. . .really good. He'd grown a bit, over the summer, and obviously spent a lot of time outside. His hair was bleached a soft, wheat blond, and his skin absolutely glowed. Kurt had to blink a few times, because he was pretty sure that he'd never seen anything quite that beautiful.

"No way!" Finn exclaimed suddenly, looking at something just over Kurt's shoulder. "Anderson! What's up!"

Kurt's heart stopped. It literally stopped in his chest, and he suddenly found that he couldn't turn around. I looked suspiciously at Finn's hand, expecting to see the other boy holding a wand, having just completed a full body-bind. Which, admittedly, was ridiculous, because Finn sucked at Charms, and was absolutely incapable of doing wordless magic. Still.

Sam was grinning, too, and the two boys circled around Kurt. He sighed, and turned around.

Sam was beautiful, but Blaine Anderson was, quite simply, a god. Kurt knew that his mouth was hanging open a little, and he knew that his eyes were probably a bit glassy, and he knew that his cheeks must be burning pink, but really. . .

Because the summer had been very, very good to Blaine, too. He hadn't grown at all –he was still a few inches shorter than Kurt – but his hair had light brown streaks running through it, and there were little crinkle lines around his eyes, where the sun hadn't tanned him as deeply, and there were freckles splayed across his nose, and his lashes were longer and darker than ever, and his hazel eyes were more green than brown in the bright afternoon sunlight and

"Kurt?" Finn was snapping his fingers worriedly. "Kurt? You okay?"

"What?" Kurt shook his head, horribly embarrassed. All three boys were staring at him like he was some kind of bizarre specimen in the zoo. "Yes, I'm fine."

"What were you staring at?" Sam asked. "You just kind of zoned out."

Um. . .Kurt tried to find something to explain his bizarre focus. There! Perfect! He reached out and grabbed the pink sunglasses perched on top of Blaine's immaculately styled hair. "These!" he said, shaking them with pretend ire. "I can't believe you left the house with these on your face, Blaine. These are an affront to fashion everywhere!"

Sam laughed a little at that, and clapped a friendly hand on Finn's shoulder. "Dude," He said. "Your little brother's hilarious."

"He's not my little brother," Finn said. "I mean. . .he kind of is. But. . ."

Blaine just grinned, and snatched the sunglasses back, perching them proudly on his nose. "Say what you will about fashion, Kurt," he said. "But I look pretty fine in these glasses."

Well. . .Kurt couldn't really argue with that.

"Wanna head to over to Weasley's?" Finn asked. "We've still got fifteen minutes before Burt expects us back."

"Sure," Blaine shrugged his shoulders. "I got my books and robes all ready, I'm set." Sam likewise agreed, and the boys turned to head off. Finn glanced back over his shoulder.

"Kurt? You want to come with?"

Oh, the many, many ways that Kurt could have answered that. But for once, his mind won out, and he shook his head. "No thanks. I said I'd meet up with Mercedes before the day's through. She's picking out a new owl."

"Fantastic!" Blaine said, overly enthuasiastic. "Say hi for me."

"Of course," Kurt said.

It wasn't until the boys had rounded the corner that Kurt realized he hadn't even asked if Blaine was taking Magical Lyricism.

Xxx

"Hey, white boy!"

The minute he walked in the owlery, arms were thrown around him, and he was abruptly enclosed in all the warmth and joy that was Mercedes Jones. He laughed a little, and pulled back.

"Wow, I know I'm fabulous, but what was that for?"

"Just happy to see you, boo!" Mercedes giggled, drawing away. "Have a good summer?"

"Do I ever?" Kurt asked wryly. "Seriously, now, what's got you so excited?"

Mercedes glanced around, as though making sure that nobody was listening to her, before leaning in. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Mercedes, I'm a gay wizard who lives with Muggles. What do you think?"

She laughed again. "Okay then. My dad was talking on the fellytone the other night with his Muggle contact from the Ministry. And he was talking about accommodations for flying Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students to Hogwarts."

Kurt considered. That was a pretty exciting prospect. He tried to remember whether it had been ten years since the last Triwizard Tournament, and decided that it must have been. Well, that would be exciting. It still didn't explain why Mercedes looked like she was going to pee her zebra-striped pants, though.

"Boys, Kurt!" she finally said, rolling her eyes. "It means fresh meat. And you know who goes to Durmstrang, right?"

Kurt tried to remember if he'd met someone. The Bulgarian school was mostly known for turning out incredibly talented Quidditch players, but that really wasn't Kurt's thing. Mercedes, obviously impatient, just grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Before Kurt even had time to get out a strangled "my hair!" Mercedes shouted,

"Jesse st. James!"

Kurt's heart stopped for the second time that day. Jesse st. James? The Jesse st. James? "The rock star?" he finally managed to squeak out.

The smile on Mercedes face was all that he needed to confirm that thought.

Xxx

Kurt hated Platform 9¾. Really, seriously hated it. It was crowded, and noisy, and there were always too many people. It smelled like smoke and curry, and he always felt a little grimy walking through it. On the other hand, he absolutely loved the Hogwarts Express.

Yeah, it was a problem.

Finn, on the other hand, never seemed to notice the crowds, or the smells, or the noises. He just barreled through like a puppy, calling out to other students that he saw, whether they went to Hogwarts or were just innocent Muggles. And he always barreled through the brick wall without saying a word to Carole. Which inevitably meant that Kurt had to go fetch him back, so that he could give his mom a proper kiss on the cheek and good-bye.

Yeah, it was a problem.

The first day of his fifth year was no different. Kurt just tried to huddle into himself and make it through with as little problem as possible. Finn barreled. For once, Burt managed to grab his stepson's arm before Finn could dash away, however. Carole gave them both a hug, and a kiss, and then they were finally, finally allowed to walk through the wall.

Everything was, if possible, even more chaotic on the other side. There were frogs hopping away, and first years crying about their what House they would be sorted into, and inevitably Percy Weasley was wandering around yelling about something. Kurt thought he saw a patch of red hair walking toward him, and he kind of panicked.

"See you on the train!" he yelled at Finn, before dashing aboard the express. Because he liked the Weasley clan well enough – in addition to being war heroes, they were kind of a Hogwarts staple – but they were always loud and obnoxious, and one of them always ruffled his hair. It wasn't a big deal when they were in Hogwarts – he could just magic it back to perfection – but when they were still in regular England that wasn't an option.

The train was quiet, at least. Most of the students were still outside saying good-bye. Kurt figured that it was the perfect opportunity to find himself an empty compartment. He chose the one he and his friends always sat in, third from the last, on the left hand side. He slid in, and settled onto a seat with a sigh. He was almost on the way back to school, and he felt better for the first time in months. Thank Dumbledore that summer was over.

"I see how it is," a shrill voice interrupted his thoughts, and Kurt froze. Oh no. He hadn't. Oh no. "Three months apart and I don't even warrant the courtesy of a proper greeting? Really, Kurt, I recognize that I may be your greatest competition, but I thought that you had some understanding of etiquette and proper breeding."

"Hello, Rachel," Kurt said, turning around and plastering a smile on his face. "I didn't notice you there."

"Is you making fun of my height?" she asked, looking suspicious. Kurt just rolled his eyes.

"How was your summer?"

"Superlative, thank you for asking," Rachel said. It must have been the right comment, because then she was off, talking incessantly about whatever ridiculous shenanigans she'd been up to over their months off. Kurt had no doubt that most of them were made up.

The other students were slowly trickling in, bit by bit, and soon their compartment was full. Mercedes joined them, of course, And Tina, Artie, and Mike from Ravenclaw. Tina and Mike were holding hands, which was. . .new. Kurt certain that Tina had been dating Artie at the end of the year. None of them seemed awkward about it, and they all shared stories about the summer.

It seemed like Kurt was the only one who'd had a miserable time, but that was all right, because they were back to school, and the worst was behind them.

Plus, Jesse st. James might be coming to their school.

Yes, Kurt thought, with no small amount of satisfaction, it was going to be a totally awesome year.

A/N: So, the Golden Trio in this story is basically Rachel/Mercedes/Kurt. Interesting. . .but don't worry, there will still be plenty of all our favorite characters! Except Puck. Because Puck is a Muggle. Sorry, Puck, there's just nowhere you fit in, and you are too much made of awesome for me to throw you in without anything to do. Maybe I'll fit him in eventually.