floit63
It was offensive, that's what it was. To think that anyone would question his parentage. He was the heir of the greatest wizard of the age, it didn't *matter* what his background was. If his pureblood father could marry a halfblood then clearly they could adopt a son of unknown status. It was offensive. Patently offensive.
Kit hated autumn. Hated it and loved it at the same time. Autumn meant school which meant bullies and taunts and never knowing whether he'd make it through the day without needing to change his shirt.
It also meant Cheerios. It meant soccer and practices and tiring himself out so much that he never needed to worry about being unable to sleep. It meant freedom and it meant prison.
It was early autumn as he boarded the bus that would take him to Kelpius. First September, same day as it had been for centuries. Same day he would have started at Hogwarts. Same day he would be clambering onto a train for a journey across the UK.
He wouldn't be riding a train today. Father and Pater had met him and Papa Paton at [estate name] with Orion and Gemini in tow. They apparated to the assigned point and said their goodbyes as they waited for the [creature] bus to arrive. It seemed...less magical, somehow.
Kit hates tires. Hates them. Hates that they exist. Hates that Kurt knows how to change one and he doesn't. Hates that tires are how Kurt and their father started being able to talk to each other. Hates everything about tires and cars and everything else at Hummel Tire and Lube.
He knows it's irrational. Kurt talks to their father because he was around. When Kit had soccer practice and sleep overs with the other boys on his team Kurt was at the shop. It just doesn't seem fair. He got friends, but Kurt got a dad.
He tires quickly these days. He's not sure why, only that it happens. It's become a bigger problem than it should be, what with OWLs coming up and [name] constantly reminding him to study. He knows that he should tell someone, Madam [name], if no one else. He can't seem to bring himself to say anything though. Not now. This is the only thing he has that's his. The only thing Skeeter and The Prophet and everyone else doesn't know. He needs to keep that. At least a little longer.
Kit had been a Cub Scout for all of one week. Kurt had asked if they could sign up (he thought the beads made nice accessories) and Burt was only too happy to have something he might be able to share with his sons. Then they went to the first meeting.
Davey Karofsky was there, all smug looks and fake helpfulness in his new uniform. With him were six other boys, each wearing the same look of disgust Kit would forever associate with "boy groups". Burt had tried to help them settle in, but after the first muttered "sissy" from another father he decided dance classes might not be the worst thing in the world.
The next pack meeting saw Kurt and Kit patiently trying to explain how to bake cookies in the shape of classic cars.
It took all of thirty seconds for Delphinus to scout out the way to the kitchens. Hufflepuffs. As if any Hufflepuff could manage to out-sneak a Slytherin. It wasn't as if they'd challenged him to a crying contest or something. He wasn't sure why they even bothered.
The robes were made of the finest silk. The edging was spun magic, the golden colour of light contrasting neatly with the deep green exterior. They were an extravagant gift, but it was not every day a wizard came of age.
"Potter goes for the snitch and he misses! Hufflepuff wins!" Harry just heard ___'s voice over the pounding in his head. He'd missed the snitch. He'd never missed the snitch. Ever. He wasn't sure it was even possible.
Well, no. He knew it was *possible*. He simply hadn't realised how very real of a possibility it was.
Kit rarely missed his mother. Mostly he'd forgotten about her. He knew Kurt missed her and still thought about her, but for Kit she was almost like Audrey Hepburn. A pretty woman he liked to see in movies, but not really a person the way his dad or Kurt was. It had been too long and he had been too young. He missed the idea of her more than he did the actual person she had been.
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