It was a lovely divorce. The flowers were beautiful, the weather was perfect, and the divorcees were absolutely radiant.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Kurt says, Harry's hands in his own. "It's been lovely."

"But thank Merlin, it's over," Harry says before Kurt can, endearing himself to Kurt just a little more, and making the entire thing feel more strange.

He grips Harry's hands. "But one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Kurt lowers his voice, conscious of Blaine's presence in the building. "Obliviate me, and I will haunt you for the rest of your days."

Harry hesitates.

"Don't you dare."

Harry deflates. "It'd be easier on you if I did, y'know. Blaine, too."

Kurt glances at the door, wishing Blaine was here already so they could get on with this. "I want to remember this." And here comes the part he doesn't want Harry to take the wrong way: "And how much it sucked."

"Oh, thanks for that!"

Kurt narrows his eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. It wasn't so bad at first, and wasn't always bad, I mean, there were a few particularly spectacular moments." He can feel himself blushing, because the spectacular moments were spectacular, but, "But they weren't with Blaine."

"And you want them to have been."

Kurt shrugs. He can't read Harry, but he's gotten used to that over the past year. "You've been a wonderful friend," he says instead.

"But you can't wait to get into Blaine's trousers."

"Harry!"

"What? I can't wait to get into Draco's. Admittedly, it'll take a bit more work. Flowers, chocolates. Maybe a hex or three," Harry continues, and Kurt's not even sure if he's serious. He very well might be.

"Is this part of the spell?" he asks, feeling a little giddy.

"Is what part?"

"This - " Kurt makes an expansive gesture in an attempt to indicate how free-flowing his thoughts about Blaine are now. "It's like as soon as I woke up this morning, I couldn't stop thinking about Blaine."

"Sounds like love."

"I already knew he's my one true love," Kurt says breathlessly and then stops, because it's utterly true. "But I distinctly recall there was a time, possibly as recently as last night, when I could think of things that aren't Blaine."

Harry nods as if he's oblivious to Kurt's earth-shaking epiphany. "Probably the spell wearing off then."

Something in his casual tone brings Kurt back to himself. "You don't know?"

"Not really. I mean, it's an old spell. Er, apparently."

"I repeat: you don't know?"

"Hermione researched it...a bit." Harry rubs the back of his head. "She didn't find much."

Kurt drops his face into his hands. "I reiterate: thank god it's almost over."

The closer it gets to sunset, the more aware Kurt is of the fact that he wants Blaine so badly his skin itches.

It terrifies him a little.

It terrifies him a lot when he can swear he feels Blaine enter the room. "Excuse me," he says vaguely to Harry. "I have something I need to be..." He's not sure he finished that sentence within Harry's range of hearing because the sun is at that golden angle that makes Blaine glow.

"Hi," Blaine says, breathless, when Kurt gets there.

"Well, hello, yourself, handsome," Kurt says from that bottomless reservoir of words that is his brain.

"Better be careful with that." Blaine licks his lips, staying an arm's length away from Kurt. "It's not sunset yet."

Kurt would be embarrassed at the groan that bubbles up from his throat, but there's only Blaine to hear, so he's not. "It's almost sunset."

Blaine holds up his phone. "I have my alarm set."

"So the second it's officially sunset...?"

"I am so kissing you."

Kurt closes his eyes, because he's had time to imagine that kiss in every permutation under the sun.

He's absolutely certain the reality will blow every imaginary kiss away.

Draco wants Harry so badly his skin itches with it, and Harry couldn't seem to care less. "I know what you're doing, Potter," he says under his breath, coming to stand side by side with Harry, watching the sun sink toward the horizon.

"Oh? What's that?" Harry doesn't look at him.

"Playing hard to get, that's what." Draco does not, in any way, shape, or form, wish with all his might that Harry would look at him. "I'm here to tell you it isn't working."

"Is that right?"

"That's right." Draco takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Not even a little."

"All right, then." Harry tucks his hands in his pockets.

Harry's eyes are not an intriguing fiery green in the near-sunset light. Or, if they are, Draco is (determinedly) not noticing.

"Suppose," Harry says after a moment, "hypothetically, mind you, that I had plans for the moment the sun set."

"Please, Potter. You couldn't plan your way out of a shoe box," Draco says, firmly ignoring the whole 'saved the world' bit. It doesn't do to inflate a hero's ego.

"Suppose," Harry says, as if Draco hadn't spoken, thus annoying Draco less than Draco feels he should, "suppose that plan involved a bit of ravishment."

"And who would ravish a prat like you?" Draco sniffs.

"Oh. I thought I'd change it up a bit," Harry admits. "Do some ravishing myself."

It takes every ounce of will Draco has not to glance Harry's way to see if Harry is looking at him. He's not proud when his voice comes out higher than usual, "Is that right?"

"Yeah." Harry nods, and since Draco is not looking at his face, he sees Harry's fingers flexing restlessly in the pockets of his (hideous) baggy blue jeans. "That's right. Hope you won't mind."

"Why should I mind?" Draco demands, perhaps too quickly.

"Well," Harry says, turning to face him and waiting until Draco drags his eyes upwards, "I know how particular you are about not mussing your hair. And a bit of mussing is a must when it comes to ravishment."

Draco swallows. Hard. "Bugger my hair."

"Was that a yes?" Harry asks with far too much innocence.

Draco narrows his eyes. "That was a threat to your manhood if you don't follow through. That's what it was."

Blaine has to stay an arm's length away from Kurt until the sun goes down, because he's positive that if Kurt's within reach, Blaine will be doing the reaching. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he says instead.

Kurt swallows hard enough that Blaine can see every movement of his throat. "I do. Now." Kurt lifts a shaky hand toward him, changes its direction, and runs it through his hair.

Actually runs it through his hair.

Blaine has never seen Kurt do that, and it's kind of scary. So, what's better than a little more scary? He takes a fortifying breath and says, "Spell's wearing off, then, is it?"

He can feel Kurt staring at him. "Blaine..."

Blaine shrugs. "Harry told me. It was the geese." He's still not completely sure what geese have to do with it all, but he trusts Harry. He doesn't actually know why he trusts Harry, but he's going with his gut on this one.

Kurt makes a frustrated noise. "I can't even say it until the sun goes down!"

Blaine licks his lips. "Five minutes."

"That's five minutes too long," Kurt snaps, and begins to pace. "I can't believe I wasted an entire year I could have spent with you."

While the sentiment warms Blaine's heart, he suspects one of them has to be practical here. "As I understand it, you didn't have much choice," he points out. And then, not at all passive-aggressively (or so he tells himself), he adds: "You didn't want to be with me before that, either."

A shudder runs through Kurt, and Blaine regrets saying it as soon as he sees its effects on Kurt's face. "I was so stupid, Blaine. Stupid, and scared, and selfish, and - "

"Living your dream in London under Vivienne Fucking Westwood, Kurt." It pains Blaine to admit it, but, "I don't know if I can say I wouldn't have done the same thing."

"I should have," Kurt says.

"Vivienne Westwood," Blaine says.

Kurt drops his face into his hands and takes a harsh breath. "Okay. You're right. Oh my god, why is it not sunset, yet?"

The truth is, he's scaring Blaine a little, and Blaine wonders privately if all the emotion Kurt's suppressed all year is coming back to him at once. He only feels a little guilty for wondering if that means they're going to have really, really, awesome sex once they're someplace private. (He hopes so.) "I didn't take astronomy, but I think it has something to do with mass. And gravity. And..." Blaine really is at a loss. He majored in communications. "Stuff," he finishes lamely.

Kurt whirls around, stops himself, and brings his hands together to wring. "I feel like I'm having a heart attack. If I have a heart attack before I can kiss you again, Blaine Anderson, I swear, I'm killing Harry."

"Er," Blaine says, because, as much as he really really wants to be kissing Kurt right now, he thinks that's a little over the top.

"How long?"

"Two minutes."

"Fuck," Kurt says, and Kurt never swears. "Fuck," he says again.

Okay, almost never.

Kurt's agitation is starting to make Blaine nervous, and he never expected to have performance anxiety at a time like this, but his palms are sweating, and his breathing is shallow, and he actually feels dizzy, and blurts, "Marry me!"

"Yes," Kurt says with an intensity Blaine can feel, the instant the sun sinks below the horizon. And he's not sure who moved before their lips slam together in a way that actually kind of hurts a little (if he cared about that kind of thing, which he absolutely does not). "Yes. Yes," Kurt mumbles against his lips, all wetness, and teeth, and a tongue that sweeps its way past Blaine's lips to curl possessively against his palate. Kurt draws back with a shiver, eyes dark and wide, and his fingers clutching Blaine close to him.

Blaine can't help but say, "Right now. Marry me right now."

Kurt's Adam's apple works in silence, and his eyes well up, and then Blaine has an armful of crying, nodding, Kurt. "I thought you'd never ask!"

"I've only had fifteen seconds since I could ask," Blaine points out, not unreasonably, he thinks.

"Shut up," Kurt says, and hits him in the shoulder before curling up to him again. "Stop being logical, and marry me already."

"No," Severus is saying, in a tone meant to strike terror into the hearts of generations of students.

Harry thinks he can be allowed a certain amount of private amusement that it doesn't have any discernible effect on Blaine whatsoever.

"Come on. Five minutes, and we're out of your hair forever."

"You're Muggles." Severus makes a shooing gesture. "Go get Muggle married."

"That's racist," Blaine says, and then frowns and turns to Kurt. "Unless it's classist."

"I think it's abilityist," Kurt says, clutching Blaine's arm in a way Harry knows is probably cutting off his circulation. Blaine doesn't even flinch.

"For Merlin's sake," Severus is muttering, looking around. Harry's pretty sure he's looking for an escape, so, naturally, Harry doesn't give him one.

"Oh, come on, Severus." Harry invites himself over and aims his best winsome (annoying) hero smile at Severus. "What's the harm?"

"It won't even be legal for them. I'm fairly certain Muggles need papers for this kind of thing," Severus says with a sneer that says exactly what he thinks about the Muggle fascination with bits of paper.

"But it'll be binding," Blaine says, and Harry tries very hard not to look guilty when Severus aims a narrow-eyed stare at him. He watches Kurt stare at Blaine in wonder instead. "I'm not letting you go again," Blaine says. "So, um, if you're going to run, this would be the time."

"Do you imbeciles have even the most vague notion of the kind of trouble I could be in if I placed a binding marriage contract on a pair of Muggles?" Severus intones, even though Harry knows for a fact that the chances of Severus being caught are ridiculously low.

"No," Blaine admits. "I'm kind of skating by on the hope that you've got an inner romantic."

Harry winces.

And Severus....laughs? "Very well," he says, and it's Harry's turn to stare at him. He only gets a raised eyebrow for his troubles, and that's not exactly very fair coming from a man who just upended half of Harry's understanding of the world in two words. "Potter, I assume you'll witness? When you're done with your imitation of a particularly dim fish, that is."

Harry snaps his jaw closed. "Um, yes. I'd be delighted. Congratulations to both of you," he says quickly.

"Allow me fifteen minutes to brew the potion," Severus says, looking the two of them up and down. "But first."

"Ow!"

"Hey!"

"Don't be infants," Severus says, sweeping around, but not before Harry catches a glimpse of a smile on his face. "It's only hair."

"Are we sure about this?" Blaine asks Kurt, rubbing his head.

"Blaine. Honey. Sweetie. He could pull hair from far more painful places, and I would still be one hundred percent behind this plan."

Harry puts a hand on each of their shoulders, because, honestly, he's not sure they'd realize he's there otherwise. "You don't really have anything to worry about. He'll take the piss, but you can trust him. Absolutely."

"I know," Kurt says. "You do."

"Yeah, well, I've got good reason to."

"The whole saving the world thing?" Blaine asks, earning him a startled look from Kurt.

"Right," Harry agrees quickly, before Kurt can open any possible line of questioning about what he let Blaine in on, how, or why. "I'll just - I need to speak with Draco," he says, and excuses himself as quickly as possible.

It's not even a lie.

"Well, Potter," Draco says with artful casualness. "It's after sunset." As if he hasn't been stealing glances at Harry since the sun got within a finger's width of the horizon."

"So it is," Harry agrees, leaning next to him.

"I believe I was promised ravishment," Draco says, glancing at him sidelong.

"Well, 'promised' might be too strong a word," Harry says, just to wind Draco up. He may be in love, but some things weren't meant to be changed.

"Ravish me, or I'll hex your balls," Draco says with utmost politeness.

"When you put it like that, how could I refuse?"

"At great personal risk?" Draco asks, arching an eyebrow.

Harry snorts. "You know, there's something disturbed about this relationship."

"From the start," Draco agrees contentedly, edging closer until they're pressed together from thigh to shoulder.

It's not premeditated when Harry drops his head to Draco's shoulder.

And it's probably not premeditated when Draco wraps an arm around Harry (though it's nice).

"So," Draco says, "ravishment?"

"On the agenda," Harry promises him. He nods toward Kurt and Blaine. "Got a marriage to witness first."

"Sodding romantics," Draco mutters.

"That's right," Harry agrees contentedly.

Draco mutters something vague and monosyllabic.

"Lots of ravishment," Harry promises. "Later."

"I expect a thorough job," Draco informs him.

"The thoroughest," Harry says solemnly.

"Fuck," Draco sighs.

"That, too."

"That was weird," Blaine says, head in Kurt's lap, eyes closed, face the picture of peace. Kurt knows exactly how he feels. "It was weird, right?"

"It was weird," Kurt agrees. "It was certainly an unexpected detour to our lives."

"What are we going to tell everyone when we get home?"

It's a fair question. "That Harry and I were young, stupid, and in love, but true love won out?" It sounds terribly cheesy when he puts it like that out loud.

"That's pretty cheesy," Blaine says, making Kurt love him a little more. (And hate him a bit, too). "Can we embellish the part where I won you back?"

"There's not much to embellish." How does a person embellish someone blurting out 'Marry me!' in the heat of sexual repression? And it was in the heat of sexual repression, and, oh god. "You still mean it, don't you?"

"What?" Blaine looks genuinely, adorably confused, before recognition dawns on him. "Of course I meant it. I mean, I'd better have meant it. I don't think Severus fools around."

"I don't know," Kurt says, fighting back a gag at the memory. "I'm not completely convinced that potion wasn't a practical joke."

"He did seem to enjoy your nausea too much," Blaine admits.

"Ugh," Kurt says, with feeling. "Don't even say nausea. If I think too hard, I can still taste it."

"Mine tasted like overcooked broccoli," Blaine says with a shrug. "It wasn't great, but I've eaten worse."

"Why did you get overcooked broccoli? I don't even have a word for what mine tasted like." Kurt closes his eyes, but it doesn't help; it just seals him in with his nausea. He gives up, opens them, and sighs at Blaine.

"Would you have taken the potion if you'd known?" Blaine asks, offhand. Except it's the kind of offhand with a lot of vulnerability underneath.

Kurt snorts. (He's never been his best with vulnerability, honestly; it's a flaw.) "Yes. And then I would have bitterly regretted it." Blaine looks hurt, so Kurt reaches up to touch his face. "And then I'd have forgotten all about it, I'm sure, and gone on to lead a long and happy life with you at my side." He closes his eyes again. "In New York."

When they wake up in New York in a fashionable apartment in the Village, with morning sun and a well-mannered Saluki ensconced on the couch, neither of them thinks to question it.

And they kinda live happily ever after, even though Blaine never willingly eats broccoli again.