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rosebloodcat · 1 year

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The Things We Thought We Knew (But We Really Didn’t)

Wrote this on a lark after reading some stories that floated the au idea that (for one reason or another) Blinky and Jim were related. Either from him being James Lake Sr but not knowing it, or from Merlin's magic randomly choosing one of Jim's mentors be the "base" for Jim's half-troll form and Blinky was the one picked.

I know that, for one of those fics, the author had some interesting evidence they put forward on their tumblr for how Jim and Blinky resembled each other from the start and how it was just MORE OBVIOUS when the two were the same species.

I thought it was fun and decided to throw my own hat in the ring, but with my own twist.

In 1995, around the start of spring, Blinkous Galadrigal went missing.

He had gone to the surface to help the current trollhunter, Kanjigar the Courageous, by collecting some more research material that had been dropped by traveling trolls that came to visit Trollmarket. He didn’t return before dawn or in the following days. The only hope that the worst hadn’t come to pass, was that his remains had not been found.

Something that Arrrgh, his closest friend, would point out each time he left to search for him again. He refused to give up hope.

The same morning that the scholarly troll vanished, a man was found unconscious in a back alley wearing nothing but a set of ill-fitting, brown overalls and rushed to the Arcadia Oaks Hospital.

He’s unconscious for several weeks and the doctors can’t find any records for him. They dub their patient “James Doe”, and wait patiently for him to come around and hopefully give them insight into who he is and where he came from.

When James finally awakens, he can’t answer them. He can’t remember where he came from, how he ended up in the alley, or even what his name is.

He’s a man that doesn’t exist and, while the staff can theorize for hours based on speech patterns and accent (a middle-american scholar that may have spent some time in England? Apparently the way one speaks can tell a lot about where they came from), they still have no answers.

All he can do is climb to his feet and move forward.

After James is cleared to leave the hospital (and stumbles on the surname “Lake” to use for his paperwork), he gets new clothing in his size and temporary residency in the Arcadia Homeless Shelter.

He also makes a friendly acquaintance with a kind volunteer by the name of Barbara O’Neil, who helped him find those options in the first place and gave him someone to chat with numerous times during his hospital stay.

Several Months later, and a stronger friendship forged between the two, Barbara learns that a friend-of-a-friend was looking for an assistant for his job and hasn’t had much luck finding one. So she passes along the suggestion to James.

Norman Polk is a friendly, relaxed man despite his intimidating height and many scars. Most shockingly, he can wield magic as easily as he breathes and seems fairly sure James has some too.

Mr. Polk is a detective, who works to help the everyday person with his gifts as much as he can but has trouble keeping track of the many papers, books, and research that come with the work. And, for James, he’s willing to give him a chance even with his mysterious background.

The work comes easily to James, hunting for the truth and searching for answers is familiar in a way he can’t explain. Handling the paperwork and research is laughably easy.

He gets the job.

(When his new boss learns that he’s been living in a homeless shelter, he insists that James move into the spare room in Norman’s office/house.)

Two years pass, and James transitions from being Norman’s assistant to his business partner. The sharp-eyed researcher to Norman’s people-wise instincts. They work well together and have a reputation that can’t be sneezed at. It’s something both of them view with pride.

He’s also realized that he’s fallen for his friend Barbara. Hard.

With the encouragement of their mutual friends, they try dating. It works out better than either of them had expected.

James proposes at the end of 1998, their wedding the following summer of 1999.

In the Spring of 2000, they learn that Barbara’s pregnant and James Lake Jr. is born on October 10th.

The new parents are delighted with their baby boy, despite the anxiety and sleep deprivation throughout. He’s nicknamed “Jim” and he’s a healthy, active little boy with loving parents who work hard to care for him.

Life is good for the small family.

Until Jim’s 5th birthday, when James and Norman are called away for an emergency case. James Lake Sr. never comes home.

That night, the missing Blinkous Galadrigal is miraculously found by Kanjigar wandering the sewers of Arcadia in a daze, clutching a bag of assorted magical items in one hand and a minuscule bit of broken metal in another.

He has no memories of where he’d been for the past 10 years, what he’d been doing, or why he’d vanished.

Once he’s confirmed to be the real thing, he’s brought back to Trollmarket, where those lost 10 years remain a mystery. The strange possessions are tucked away in the back of his library, and teased at the back of his mind from that day forward.

On the surface, the disappearance of James Lake Sr becomes an unsolved mystery and a rampant story in the Arcadia rumor mill.

The rumor sting, weighing heavily on the remaining members of the family. Especially as those rumors spiral beyond control, becoming progressively more vicious as time goes on.

Norman tries to keep the hope alive, showing Barbara magic that shows that her lost husband is still alive even if they don’t know where he is. He keeps searching for clues, hints, anything to lead him to his missing friend. He reiterates, over and over, that James wouldn’t just abandon them. He loved Barbara and Jim far too much to do that to them.

Three years later, his search is cut tragically short because of an accident with a drunk driver that took his life. The accident hurts so much, and Barbara’s hope fades with each following year.

But her friend, Allison (and her husband, Thomas), pitch in where they can to help with the burden. And her neighbor, Nancy, gives her a place to go when her home is too much. With their help, she doesn’t fall apart, even when the rumors and snide remarks become too much.

When Jim turns 12, eight years after James went missing, she decides she can’t keep waiting.

She files for James Lake Sr to be declared legally dead.

(The rumors abruptly die at that. Something small and spiteful in her chest is pleased with that.)

She can feel her heart breaking throughout the process and she finally lets herself grieve at the end. The most she can gather herself together to say to Jim is that she’s not married to James anymore.

Now she’s a widow raising her son on her own, and the only route left is forward.

The year of Jim’s 15th birthday, Jim is chosen by the Amulet of Daylight to become the first-ever human Trollhunter and his life is turned upside down.

The following three years of his life are chaotic. Filled with magic and monsters, joy and fear, history making triumphs and soul crushing losses. There is so much happening he can barely handle it.

It’s surprising how comfortable he is with his new mentor, Blinkous “Blinky” Galadrigal. Something about the troll just- clicks with him and he can never seem to put it into words. Blinky puts those feelings into words for him, the day the troll calls him his son.

(A small, buried part of him wonders if this was what he could have had if his own father had stayed.)

Barbara finally opens her heart again and tries to build something new. Even as her mind whispers how similar Blinky sounds to James, how much his human form resembled her missing husband, how much he and Jim resemble each other no matter the form either of them were in.

There’s no way to test if a human and a troll were related, and she doesn’t think her heart could take being wrong if she let herself hope again. No matter how badly she wishes she could finally have an answer.

(James had built his life from amnesia that had been potentially caused by magic. Norman had warned them when they started dating that, if that magic broke or was reversed, he could lose his memories again. Blinky was a troll, but a troll could be turned human… No, she couldn’t let herself be wrapped up in theories.)

But, eventually, the losses became too great.

Loss of friends, loss of family, loss of home. One Pyrrhic victory after another that weighed them down.

When the true purpose of the Krohnisfere offers Jim the chance to go back and save the precious people they’ve lost, he takes it.

In the hearts of his surviving friends and family, they all hope it will work too.

It’s 1998 and James Lake bolts awake in the middle of the night with a strangled gasp, as if from a terrible nightmare.

Laying in the dark of his room at the house that he shares with Norman, his heart racing a mile-a-minute as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he remembers.

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fandomficsnstuff · 1 year

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Witches and Wizards - 4

(Warnings: Fluff, angst, some more angst, mentions of death and fighting)

Note: I once read parts of a fic where the reader has magic and goes back in time, meeting Merlin. I sadly can’t find it anymore. Also Fred didn’t die in this.

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Merlin had been practically brooding since he joined the others in the cave, finding no blonde woman in sight. Every time he was out looking for water, he looked for her, hoping to find her, a sense of betrayal taking deep root. ‘She said she went scouting. I’m sure she’ll be back any minute now’ Gaius had told him, noting how his apprentice seemed to have taken the witch’s disappearance quite hard. She said she didn’t want to be in another war, and now she’d left. Of course she left, she didn’t want this. His own head poisoning his thoughts with anger, she could at least have said goodbye, instead she slithered off under the cover of darkness without so much as a word. The poisoned thoughts made him lose hope of seeing her again. Until he called for the dragon to bring him to the lake and he was met with quite the surprise. Ophelia was waiting next to the lake, smiling over her shoulder at him, grinning. The moonlight lit up her white-blonde hair, her eyes shining with mischief “the hero of Gryffindor returns” she teased with amusement, Merlin grinning in return. He wanted to hug her. Immediately. But he didn’t, he instead got the sword and returned to look at her, still grinning. “How-”

“I met an old friend of yours” she stated, looking up at the dragon as it raised it’s head a little higher, almost with pride “it’s not every day that a witch meets a dragon that doesn’t try and burn her to the ground-”

“Nor is it every day a dragon meets a woman levitating on a broom in the middle of the night” he chided, the two sharing a look of amusement before she looked back at Merlin “we kind of figured out that we had you in common” she added jokingly, Merlin grinning from ear to ear at the dragon that gave him a subtle and encouraging nod. “So-... you have a broom with you?? One to fly??” he asked in shock, hearing her chuckle as she got out her wand “Accio Firebolt” Merlin nearly had to duck as a broom flew towards them both, halting in between them, the head of it pointed towards the lake as it hovered in the air around hip-length. Merlin’s face nearly split in two as he smiled, his eyes meeting hers again and she smirked “you want to try, don’t you?” she asked with a knowing smirk, Merlin giving a nod and she laughed, taking the small step closer to the broom. It’s shaft was a dark, rich oak, sturdy and reliable, it’s mark branded with gold into the very tip of it, ‘Firebolt’. The end of the broom, what would have been used for sweeping, was instead seemingly carved out of the same wood as the shaft, carved lines moving down the oval shaped wood as though it was strands of hay, the very ends of the oval was coated a rich navy blue that faded off into a faint silver at the very tip. It had two bronze poles sticking out of the sides of the shaft, both bent and when she got onto the broom he realised what it was. For your feet. She nodded behind herself and he nervously got on, clutching the sword tightly as he sat behind her, making her giggle a little “I’m guessing that sword there is actually going to make a difference” she gestured to where the sword and Merlin nodded with that same adorable grin that she could barely glimpse as he sat behind her. “Alright, hold on” she warned before shooting off, Merlin barely able to do as told and hold onto her but once in the air he couldn’t help but whoop a little, the dragon chuckling from the ground as he watched them disappear into the night to return to the cave before the others would wake up.

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“It will have small, green leaves with the tip being a bit darker. It’ll usually-” he was cut off as Merlin hurried towards them “they’ve found us! We have to go” he urged, Ophelia nodding once as she began to pack all of Gaius’ things, giving him the pouch before he could resist “I’ll slow you down-”

“Gaius!”

“It’s Arthur you both need to protect, not me-”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse about HIM! I won’t leave YOU here to die-”

“Go! Go because of Merlin, you’ll need each other” Gaius urged, Ophelia staring at him with wide eyes, slowly beginning to shake her head in protest to leaving him. “I’m touched by your concern, dear, but this is not the end, now hurry” he urged, Ophelia nodding after swallowing thickly, taking the medicine pouch as he gave it to her and without even blinking, she was one of the first to run out of the cave with the others. She was about to continue running when the sound of metal clashing with metal caught her attention, her feet sprinting towards the sound and at the sight of Merlin fighting off one of the undead soldiers, without thinking, she jumped up on the man’s back, locking her arms around his neck and head and pulled as tightly as she could, Merlin piercing the soldier with his sword, Ophelia falling to the ground with a grunt as the soldier practically burst like an jinxed Bludger, something she remembered quite vividly at Harry’s first game. Merlin quickly helped her up, Ophelia hurrying to join the others, Merlin running after her.

As they regrouped, Ophelia stayed in the background, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against a tree, looking around casually, as though unbothered by the fact that they were being hunted and were fleeing for their lives. “Hello” she turned when she heard a soft voice, seeing a beautiful woman with dark, curly hair, Ophelia giving her a brief nod and a smile “my name is Guinevere, you can call me Gwen” she introduced, reaching out her hand and Ophelia hesitated before nodding, shaking her hand gently, guessing that Merlin told her it was ‘her way of greeting someone’, which wasn’t completely wrong, “Ophelia” she stated softly, dropping her hand and looking around casually, Gwen studying her with a slight frown. “You don’t-... seem bothered by all this” she noticed, Ophelia frowning, not even looking at her as she shook her head “it’ll blow over soon, one way or another, wars always do and I’d barely call this a war” she stated with a casual shrug but Gwen saw the way she clenched her jaw. “Well, I’m glad you’re with us, we’ll rely on you then” she stated with a polite smile, though it faded when she noticed how tense Ophelia became. “I’ll scout ahead.”

“What? We don’t even know where we’re going-”

“Camelot is west of here, right? Go east” Ophelia stated confidently before walking over to Merlin and Arthur “I’ll scout ahead, east” she stated briefly before beginning to walk off, Merlin jumping after her “you’re leaving??”

“No, scouting ahead. East. Away from Camelot” Ophelia stated casually, Merlin still walking alongside her “but, we don’t know what’s east!”

“Well, that’s what scouts are for” Ophelia stated, stopping to turn and face him, leaning in as she eyed the others with suspicion “you know, people rarely give wolves enough credit… they are more intelligent than they seem… wolves also have a great sense of direction, often leading those they care about to safety” was all she said before turning around and leaving, Merlin being left in the same spot as before, frowning, looking at her as she vanished into the thick woods.

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Merlin was just about the only one awake, other than Lancelot, the two laying down in silence when they heard a rush of something, like air being let into a sealed room, both of them turning to see a completely blue wolf, it’s white-ish glow unnatural and alluring, it’s form glowing with an aura of magic about it, the wolf simply standing there, looking directly at Merlin, as though it wanted him to do something. “What is that…?” Lancelot asked in a whisper, Merlin narrowing his eyes at it before he remembered.

‘Wolves also have a great sense of direction, often leading those they care about to safety’

Merlin couldn’t help smiling at Lancelot. “It’s Ophelia” he whispered before carefully getting up, slowly and very carefully getting closer to the large spectral form, the wolf itself, with it’s head reaching the top of his chest, right under his collarbones. As Lancelot was about to approach as well, the wolf turned it’s head to look at him, the man halting completely as the spectral wolf slowly bared it’s spectral teeth in a warning, Merlin quickly shaking his head “no no, it’s alright, he knows, like Gaius” he whispered, the wolf turning it’s head to look at him instead of Lancelot, Merlin still unable to not smile as any hostile signs were lost on the wolf when it looked at him instead. “Where are you? Is this some-.... some kind of trick?” he asked quickly, getting nothing but silence from the wolf, making him frown a little, though he was still grinning. “Is it another part of you?” he asked further, the wolf still just staring at him, instead now it was scraping one of it’s blue, spectral and glowing paws at the ground, the claws scraping through the dirt. Merlin frowned as he tilted his head at it, finding the structures to seem like two crude towers and a single structure in between, Merlin looking back up at the wolf, finding it looking north-east, his eyes following it’s gaze and when he nodded and tried to look back at the spectral form, it was gone, Merlin looking over his shoulder at Lancelot who nodded.

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Ophelia was waiting by a fire when they walked into the large room, cobwebs hanging from the dust and the dust was hanging from the cobwebs, the entire place screaming ‘abandoned’. Ophelia lifted her head up from the small fire, watching the others enter and Gaius was one of the first to hurry over and hug her tightly, even though she was as stiff as a board while he hugged her, her eyes slightly wide, arms stuck in place at her sides. “Lady Black?” Arthur’s voice held a sense of hope, the woman turning to look at him with an awkward smile “Ophelia will do… and I told you I’d scout ahead” she stated quietly before looking at Merlin, silently asking if they could talk, Merlin nodding as he nodded her over. Once they were out of earshot, she realised another person had followed them, her brows furrowing as she stared this man down, Merlin staring at her with a grin until he noticed. “Ophelia, this is Lancelot… he knows, like Gaius” he quickly added, Ophelia continuing to frown at him with suspicion but at least seemed to accept this fact, turning back to Merlin as though Lancelot wasn’t even there. “This place is empty, head to toe. I’m thinking we’ll regroup here, have a roof over our heads at the very least. Morgana’s soldiers shouldn’t be looking this far out but just in case, I can cast concealment spells around here? My only problem is that I have no idea what’ll happen to muggles INSIDE once I’ve cast it, I think it’ll only mask the two of us but we won’t know until we try…”

“Is it difficult to cast? The concealment spells?”

“Not really, just about a minute or so, depending on the size of the are I want to conceal, but it’s not something I can do in the blink of an eye so we’ll have to be absolutely certain that it’s necessary” Ophelia admitted quietly, her attention moving to the sounds of fabric moving, her eyes landing on a round table she hadn’t noticed before, a frown forming yet again on her brows as the others gravitated towards it, Ophelia staying in the background, only taking a few steps towards them, leaning against a pillar as she watched. “Here, come and join me” Arthur called, Ophelia glancing at the others who began to approach, Merlin about to join them when he noticed that Ophelia had stayed back. Merlin walked back to her, a smile already on his lips but Ophelia just shook her head before he could even ask “no…” she whispered, Merlin frowning, his smile long gone “but-”

“No… this- this is not for me… I’m not family or friends. I don’t have a seat at that table” was all Ophelia stated before nodding back towards the round table “but you do” she added, Merlin hesitantly walking over, sitting down in the seat with the others, his eyes lingering on Ophelia who watched with a soft smile on her lips, encouraging him to stay put instead of worrying about her. “This table belonged to the ancient kings of Camelot. A round table afforded no one man more importance than any other. They believed in equality of all things… so it seems fitting that we revive this tradition now. Without each of you… we would not be here” Arthur trailed off, his eyes lifting to Ophelia who stood in the back, stretching out his gloved hand “Lady Black-”

“I’m honoured and flattered, but I don’t have a place at your table-”

“As I said; without each of you, we would not be here… you have as much a place at this table than any of us” Arthur argued softly, Ophelia tensing as she looked at the others, all of their eyes locked on her and she hesitantly, as though her legs were shaking, approached, Merlin getting up and instantly offering her his seat. Ophelia hesitantly sat down, jaw clenched as she tried to blink away the tears in her eyes that no one noticed. “My father has languished in prison for too long…. tomorrow, I make my bid to rescue him… are there any around this table who would join me?” Arthur’s question hung with Ophelia, her eyes locked on the table as they all stood up, their words muffled like her head was underwater. Ophelia sat frozen in her seat and when she realised all eyes were on her, she hesitantly stood up, giving a brief and short nod before walking out, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor filled the empty halls as she stormed out.

It was night when anyone even found their way to Ophelia, Merlin hesitantly approaching her as she stood on the edge of the cliff, the tower itself having broken in two, the moonlight bathing her in it’s glow, making her hair shining white as she just stared at the room, cheeks wet with tears that still hadn’t dried, her jaw clenched, arms across her chest with her hands balled into fists, gripping her shirt tightly as though her life depended on it, as though she was battling against something, trying to remain composed and calm. Merlin slowly approached from her side, transfixed with how her green eye shined with the moonlight and he wished she’d turn to look at him, so he could see both of her unique eyes shine through the darkness, both the blue and green eye each, catching the moon light like a firefly in a jar. “Ophelia?” His voice seemed to snap her back to reality, her hands clutching her shirt even tighter, her head glancing in his direction briefly without actually turning enough so she could look at him. Merlin ended up by her side, his entire body turned to face her, staring down at her with a soft gaze as he admired her, despite the obvious sadness she felt. The tears on her cheeks made them glow under the moonlight, her lips pale and almost blue from the cold but otherwise he’d think she was a statue, with how still and silent she was, staring up at the moon with despair, as though it’d somehow be able to help her. “Ophelia?”

This time, she turned her head to fully look at him, a frown forming on his face when he noticed the fresh tears in her eyes. “It’s alright if you’re scared, you can stay back here with Gaius and Gwen and-”

“I’m not scared” she snapped, like she was defending an idea she was desperately clinging to, scared that it’d float away into the unknown, Merlin giving a brief nod and she looked back towards the moon. “You should go inside and get some rest…”

“I’m not leaving you out here-”

“Merlin-”

“I’m not!”

“And I’m not your problem!!” Ophelia snapped, her entire body having turned to face him and now he could clearly see her, her eyes, both the green and blue one, staring up at him with fear, as though she was trying to be brave while facing her worst fear. “I didn’t say you were a pr-”

“I told you I wouldn’t be in another war, and here I am, the day before some battle that I never wanted to be in!”

“You’re just tired-”

“Of course I’m tired! I’ve run out of Sleeping Draught… I can’t sleep! I’m right back where I was, stuck in another war!” Ophelia nearly screamed, fresh tears forming in her eyes and she quickly turned away from him as she wiped them away “go back inside, Merlin…” she muttered, Merlin hesitating before doing as told, hesitantly walking inside, throwing a last glance over his shoulder to look at her, seeing her head lifted to the sky, the moonlight reflecting on her wet cheeks as she stared up at the night sky.

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Ophelia was about to hurry after Lancelot and Merlin, up the stairs, but Arthur caught her first, frowning at her, about to ask her something when Ophelia roughly pulled her arm out of his grip “Lancelot is wearing chainmail which is basically a bunch of small bells, Merlin can’t sneak to save his life and I’m light on my feet” she hissed before joining Lancelot and Merlin without another word. As she creeped along the hallway with them, she winced, it was like a high pitched sound pierced her skull in the blink of an eye, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared, Ophelia looking at Merlin who nodded. “I felt it too… this way” he murmured, the three of them about to continue when a guard saw them, Lancelot drawing his sword but Ophelia all but pushed him behind her “I pull, you cut” she shouted over her shoulder at Merlin, her wand out and pointed at the guard “Carpe Retractum!” The soldier flew forward as a rope of light wrapped around him and tugged, flying towards the three of them, Lancelot and Ophelia moving out of the way just in time and Merlin swung his sword, the soldier practically flying towards it, exploding and bursting into a million pieces, a blue light briefly shining. Merlin was grinning from ear to ear at Ophelia, Lancelot noticing the almost love-sick look on his face when he looked at her, a smirk forming on his lips at his friend’s clear affection for this woman who possessed the same powers as him.

Ophelia was the one stop the two of them from walking around the corner, her eyes locked on the line of guards and she slowly drew back, Merlin and Lancelot glancing at her and she sighed, giving her wand a flick over her head and it was as though small stars cascaded down her body in a ring, leaving her in a very beautiful yet very revealing dress, at least to the two men. It had a split thigh and low dip in her cleavage, spaghetti straps and figure hugging, Ophelia quickly doing up her hair and using her wand to keep it in place like a hair pin, turning to Lancelot and Merlin. “Distraction, how do I look?” she asked in a whisper, the two men staring at her, both with beet red cheeks and she rolled her eyes, gently clearing her throat before walking around the corner, bare feet patting against the stone floor as she casually walked past them, as though she owned the place, turning to look over her shoulder, seeing one guard begin to walk after her, the other soldier’s necks craning to look after her with suspicion and Merlin and Lancelot took the opportunity, sneaking up on them and Merlin cut a long stripe along their backs, leaving only one left and before he had realised what had happened to his fellow soldiers behind him, Ophelia had spun around with her foot high, knocking the soldier back and giving Merlin a chance to cut him, making him explode like the others.

Merlin and Lancelot stared with wide eyes as Ophelia pulled her wand from her hair, letting it fall naturally down her back and she gave her wand another flick over her head, her clothes changing back into the same as before, running a hand through the waves of her hair before gesturing to the door that the guards had been guarding, Merlin and Lancelot both snapping out of their trances, about to open the door when they realised that more soldiers had heard the commotion and were on their way. Merlin, Ophelia and Lancelot hurried their way inside, barely making it as the soldiers banged on the door outside. Once they were inside, Ophelia rolled her eyes at the six other soldiers, leaning against the door before pushing off of it, her wand pointed at them as she watched them with a careful eye. “I’m guessing that’s the cup?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck” Ophelia muttered before sighing, giving her wand a flick over her head and suddenly small blue explotions blew up in the faces of the guards, Merlin and Lancelot taking the opportunity to strike first while they had the advantage, another charging at Ophelia who dodged the first swing, leaning back and in one smooth movement her legs followed her and moved above her head like a wheel, the movement kicking the guard back as she landed on her two feet again, elegantly. When she heard Lancelot groan, she leaped atop the soldier who had wounded him, wrapping her legs tightly around his neck, interlocking her ankles and using her thighs to strangle the man, incapacitating him enough so that Merlin could kill him with his sword, the young sorcerer catching the falling Ophelia before she fell on the ground, quickly putting her down and blocking another attack with his sword, Ophelia moving her wand in the soldier’s face and suddenly blue sparks blinded the soldier, Merlin using his sword to kill the soldier.

When he looked around for Ophelia, she was in the corner where Lancelot was, looking over his injuries with a deep, concerned frown. She looked up and followed Merlin’s figure, until it was thrown back, a brief scream leaving her lips as he hit the wall, her eyes wide and locked onto a barely conscious Merlin, Lancelot gripping her arm before she could move to him, Ophelia’s eyes moving to glare at him, yet he persisted, despite the obvious pain it caused him to strain his body with his recent wounds. “I have a feeling I won’t be seeing you again…”

“No, you won’t” Ophelia’s eyes widened and she turned to look at Gaius, her eyes so big they might have rolled out of her head, her eyes filling with tears, a sense of comfort filling her that she didn’t show, not until she saw the blonde woman fly back into a pillar, falling unconscious and the second she was, she began to look over Lancelot’s wounds, the sound of the cup falling to the floor making her smirk as she pointed her wand at Lancelot, barely managing to utter her spell when he suddenly lowered it when a woman screamed, Lancelot hiding her wand as Morgana fell to her knees by the unconscious woman, weeping.

“It’s over, Morgana-” Merlin cut himself off as he saw Ophelia slowly stand up, her wand gone, her feet daring her closer to Morgana who looked over her shoulder with rage. Ophelia’s hands were held up, tears in her eyes as she slowly edged closer until she reached a reasonable distance. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love… the only person you feel is holding you firmly to the ground, the only reason you can even smile,” Ophelia’s voice wavered a little, she dared to approach a step closer “I know what it’s like to have them dying in your arms, begging for them to just-... just open their eyes, screaming at them… begging them to not leave you…” Ophelia dared another step closer, tears running down Morgana’s face as she held her sister. “You loved your sister, you will always love your sister, so honour her” Ophelia begged, almost near Morgana when the rage returned on her face, Ophelia gulping slightly, rooted to the floor, staying where she was. “You’re not alone, Morgana, and you never will be… I never forgot my mum, I never forgot my dad even though I never had the chance to meet him before he died, or my uncle who took care of me when-” Ophelia cut herself off, as though the memories of those she had lost were far too painful to say out loud. “You can’t burn down the entire world, Morgana-”

“Watch me!” Morgana screamed, turning back to her sister as she screamed in agony and pain, tears running down her face as the entire palace began to shake and break, windows bursting, ceiling crumbling and stone cracking, Ophelia almost getting hit by the debris. Once behind Morgana, out of her view, she grabbed Gaius, Merlin and Lancelot, apparating to the physician’s quarters. Once out of danger, Ophelia let go of the three, each of them gagging and Lancelot actually threw up, Gaius and Merlin fighting the urge with every single cell in their body, Ophelia casually patting Lancelot’s back as he hurled his guts out. “Don’t worry, most people throw up on the first time” she muttered tiredly, dropping down on a bench, hanging her head, her hair filled with dust and debris, yet she laughed, she laughed and shook her head, running a dirty hand over her face. “Fuck” she muttered, her laughter dying down and she got up, walking out of the physician’s quarters to somewhere they only realised later was where all the wounded were, Merlin eventually finding her as she bandaged a wounded soldier’s arm, his lips stretching in a smile as he watched her work.

#Ophelia Black #HP #Merlin #Merlin NBC #Merlin fic #Merlin NBC fanfic #Merlin x OC #Merlin x Ophelia #Witches and Wizards #Harry Potter #HP fanfic #Harry Potter fic

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

The God of Magic just wants humanity to be happy and thriving;

Version 1, Good!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 2, Dark!Merlin)

“You’re late.”

From their place in the bushes, the gang can see a wide grin break out on the woman’s face as she raises an eyebrow:

“You’re always getting distracted by pretty flowers or interesting conversations, how was I supposed to know that you’d be on time for once?”

Her voice somehow sounds like an ocean in a storm, ear-splittingly loud as the sound cuts right through them to the core, but also a gentle stream, soft and clear and soul-cleansing. The gang struggle not to flinch in their confusion.

Merlin chuckles slightly, shaking his head as he softly replies:

“Ah, I see, you were expecting me to be late, so you told me to turn up half a candle-mark before you intended to get here.”

She raises an eyebrow and nods:

“In the hopes I wouldn’t have to stand around and wait too long,-”

She shudders slightly as her face falls, though she manages to look beautifully intimidating even with a slight scowl on her face:

“-you know how much I hate it up here, on dry land.”

Merlin nods. He looks around him passingly, and the gang tense as his eyes rove over their hiding place; their fear is quickly replaced with shock (and even more confusion) as it strikes them that they’ve never seen Merlin look so relaxed, so at ease. He finally looks back to the woman:

“Hmm. I may not agree with you on that, but I understand. I could have met you at Avalon, you know.”

The woman frowns even more, and the gang can see Merlin tilt his head in question, even more so when she replies:

“I... wanted this conversation to be private, away from the prying eyes and ears of Mother and our Siblings.”

Merlin’s shoulders tense, and Arthur can vaguely see the outline of his hands clenching tightly in his pockets as his cloak billows in a sudden wind. The knights, Gwen, and Morgana all look to each other in confusion, Merlin had never spoken of siblings before, in fact, they’re fairly certain he specifically told them that he’s an only child. This woman was so drastically different from Merlin in appearance, they couldn’t possibly be related by blood. Perhaps she means "siblings" in a similar sense to how the knights are brothers?

A tense silence passes between the two, but it’s quickly broken by Merlin letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh, his relaxed demeanour completely dissolved, and looking to the floor, mumbling:

“What’s this about, Ava?”

The woman, Ava, the gang now know, lets out a sigh of her own, tilting her head and waiting for Merlin to look at her again before speaking, her voice sounding more consistently soft the more she spoke, as if she needed practice to regulate her volume:

“I think you know, Em.-”

(”Em?? I guess that could be a shortened version of ‘Merlin’, but... not really.”)

“-Time is running out, existence is threadbare as it is, and only getting worse with each passing day. The world is splitting, cracking down the middle; magic is running thin-”

Everyone feels Arthur tense at the mention of magic, even more so at Merlin’s non-reaction to the word. Though everyone is already understandably on edge by the way the woman speaks as if the world is ending around them, and they hadn’t even noticed:

“-and we are starving. The fates of The Bane-”

Mordred manages to stop himself falling backwards, but his sudden shaky breath earns him a concerned glance from Gwaine, crouched besides him:

“-and The Darkness have been avoided, if you do not move forward now, then when? With every day you stall, you plan, you stand idly by and wait, we choke on the gaping emptiness of a world that is leaking.-”

Merlin holds up a shaking hand to stop her, his other running through his hair in frustration as he murmurs:

“I know, I know-”

The gang watches with tense, morbid curiosity as Ava cuts him off, her expression both annoyed and sympathetic:

“I don’t think you do, Em. You haven’t been home in years. Could you stand it? To be God of Magic with no Magic to be God over? No universe to hold dominion over?”

Merlin scoffs slightly and walks to the side in his frustration, and the gang can see the melancholy annoyance on his face, plain as day. It’s almost enough to make them forget that he visited Ealdor just last month. It’s definitely not enough to distract them from the fact that she had called Merlin a God. The God of Magic, of all things. What the fuck??:

“I don’t hold dominion over anything I just... am.”

Ava rolls her eyes:

“That’s not the point and you know it. Mother sent you to fix the problem, to stop the purge, to encourage the Once and Future King to bring magic back and start the Golden Age. He has been King for years, but you still act as a servant. You are a God, Em, assert yourself. You could fix the world with a click of your fingers, but you wait for the humans to do it for you.-”

Merlin interrupts her slightly impassioned speech with a deep huff and a shake of the head. From where he now stands, the gang have a healthy view of his side profile, and they can see the emotions warring on his face: frustration, grief, desperation:

“That isn’t... that’s not what I’m doing-”

She rolls her eyes again and the gang are vaguely aware of a distant crack of thunder as she gestures sharply with her hands:

“That is what you’re doing. You’ve become too attached to these... mortals.-”

She steps towards him, cradling his cheek in a soft, elegant hand as her face morphs to one of complete and utter sorrow:

“-You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, Brother. Human lifespans, the lifespan of your precious Golden King, are but a blink of an eye compared to ours; they will all wither and die and fade from you, and you will be left with your grief forever.-”

Her other hand lifts to settle comfortingly on his shoulder, and the gang can see a single tear slip from Merlin’s lowered eyes:

“-Do what you came here to do, and come home, to Avalon, we miss you, Em, the family needs you back.”

Merlin stills for a few moments at her desperate plea, but then steps back, shrugging her hands off gently and wiping the tear from his face:

“No. I... I’m doing this properly. Mother understands my fondness for humanity, that’s why she sent me, and I’m going to do it properly.”

Ava huffs out a gentle laugh at his determined expression, shaking her head slightly in fond disbelief:

“How can you love them? These... humans, when they slaughter your creations, when they don’t even know what you are?”

Merlin smiles softly, his eyes gazing into the trees as he quietly responds, his voice full of enough adoration to take the gang's breath away, to temper the twinge of fear and betrayal that had been swelling in Arthur’s lungs:

"I love them because they don't know what I am. It's nice, to be human; to walk among them, being loved and hated and respected and touched as if I were not more than they could ever possibly comprehend. Humanity is... made of juxtapositions. Their existence is contradiction upon contradiction, weaved together and held with emotions so large I can scarcely understand how they're contained in such little bodies. I've been alive and watching them for millennia, lived side-by-side with them for almost three decades, and they still surprise me. To walk among them, to see them come to terms with this universe that We made for them, to see how desperately they crave knowledge, exploration, experience... it's beautiful. The way they love so fully, the way they find meaning and importance in every grain of sand, every ray of sun, every tuft of fur on every creature, it's humbling. It's astounding."

Ava has a soft smile on her face, looking as if she could listen to her Brother ramble about his love for humanity for decades. She shakes her head slightly, letting out a gentle sigh as she asks:

"Then why won't you save them? The Gods will starve without magic, but humanity will starve without the Gods."

Merlin pauses for a moment, his face scrunched in concentration as he tries to think of the right way to verbalize his thoughts.

The gang stare on in unconcealed bafflement; the realisation that Merlin is some kind of God brings less fear or anger than they think it should. Maybe it’s the shock, or maybe it’s the reverent way he speaks about them. Either way, they stay still and silent in their hiding place, and eventually Merlin’s face settles back into a soft smile as he looks to his Sister:

"I wish to see them save themselves, not because We need them to, but because they want to. Because their desperation to explore this universe will one day outweigh their misguided hatred of magic.-"

He nods decisively, repeating in a confident voice:

"-I wish to see them save themselves."

Ava sighs once more, stepping toward Merlin and putting her hand back on his shoulder:

“Your wishes may soon become... irrelevant. We’re dying, Emrys,-”

Arthur struggles to hold in a gasp at that. Emrys. He knows that name. Apparently it’s the name of a God, and not just some secret sorcerer who took a fancy to Camelot and deemed himself it’s protector. Lancelot’s eyes widen, though he manages to hide his shock well; no one else is focused on anyone else’s reactions, all internally freaking out.

Mordred is pale and breathing shallowly, being the only one in the group who had already known the full truth. Percival looks to be in shock, he grew up with the stories of Emrys, but to learn that Emrys was a God? That Merlin was said God? Not what he was expecting out of this little trip. Gwaine, Gwen, Morgana, and Elyan look worried, seeming to have pushed aside their shock in favour of being concerned over Merlin’s safety and sorrow. Leon stares upon the scene with scholarly-looking curiosity, hiding his apprehension and shock well. Arthur’s expression is... unreadable. Ironically, the only person capable of knowing what he was thinking just from looking at him was currently having an incredibly terrifying conversation with someone who is also presumably some kind of God(dess).

“-time is running out. I know that you don’t want to, but... it might be best to tell them the truth. You adore your humans because of their ability to love, do you not think they love you enough to forgive you your deceptions?”

Merlin clenches his jaw, and it’s the anguish on his face, paired with his almost-whispered words, that breaks their hearts:

“I... no. Just because I love them does not mean they love me back. I’m just a servant, Ava, I’ll never be important enough to be forgiven, God or not; I’ve lied to them for over ten years.”

She sighs, letting a tear of her own fall as she quietly responds:

“Emrys, you undervalue your worth, they don’t-”

“No. I don’t. You’re right, I have one life-time with them, with... with Arthur, and then I’ll lose them, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity grieving. I refuse to taint the already short time I have with them by having to watch them grow to hate me. I refuse.”

Merlin frowns as Ava rolls her eyes fondly, a victorious smirk on her face:

“If you would let me finish. They don’t hate you now, despite learning what they have just learnt, and you have yet to tell them of all you’ve done for them. Their love for you will only grow, Brother.”

Merlin tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. The gang take in a collective gasp at the realisation that she knows. And has likely known the whole time.

“What are you talking about?”

Ava’s smirk just grows, and she looks to the bushes the gang is hiding in, seeming to make direct eye-contact with a panicking Arthur as she speaks, he voice echoing unnaturally through the clearing:

“You can come out now.”

At her words, Merlin’s head whips around to stare at where she was looking. He opens his mind, allows his magic to stretch around him, and his skull is immediately full to burst with echoes of Mordred’s earlier, and ongoing, warnings, as well as the overwhelming presence of The (former) Darkness, The Once and Future King, and the others. He takes a stumbled step back, hand covering his mouth and tears spilling from his eyes as he becomes more and more convinced of... well... his time being tainted.

The gang stand and shuffle out of the bushes slowly, eyes trained on the floor and hands clasped in front of them tightly. It’s Merlin’s quiet, cracking “No...” that has them look up, paling at the absolute heartbreak on his face.

Lancelot and Gwaine give him weak, though genuine smiles, holding their hands out placatingly, but they halt their movements forward when Merlin just copies them pace for pace, moving away from them.

No one notices Ava rolling her eyes, not until she steps behind Merlin and puts a halting hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving further away.

Merlin whips his head around, and another loud clap of thunder sounds out, much closer than the other one, quickly followed by a sudden downpour of frigid rain. The gang look to the sky in confusion, and Mordred desperately tries to reach Merlin through the mental link, offering comfort and reassurance; Merlin doesn’t seem to notice, the rain falling harder and harder as he almost fall to his knees, speaking in a desperate voice to his sister:

“Why... why would you... you know what this means. Why... why would you do this?! Ava?”

She rolls her eyes again, seeming to glow effervescently under the rivers of rainwater running down her face and over her clothes. She forces Merlin to turn and look at the gang, holding her hands on his shoulders to stop him from backing away (or collapsing in his grief) :

“Look at them, Em. Do they look angry to you? You should have some faith in the humans you claim to love so much. Look at them.”

Everyone in the gang gives Merlin varying levels of strained smiles; though Merlin, in his panic, is unable to tell that the strain is from concern and guilt, thinking that it was instead from hatred. He falls to his knees, his eyes shut tight enough to give him a headache and his hands clamped over his mouth in an effort to hold the sobs in.

Gwen and Morgana are the first to rush forwards, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Merlin’s... sister or the knights as they collapse to the floor in front of their friend, not sure whether to keep their distance or try to comfort the distraught man... God.

It’s his next choked sob that urges them to move once again, and the girls pull Merlin into a hug, tears of their own gathering at his agony. He freezes at first, then tries to pull away as lightening streaks across the sky, the violent bursts in sync with his choked breaths. When Gwen strokes a soft hand through his knotted hair, and Morgana pulls him further into her lap, muttering “We’re not leaving you, Merls, not ever, we love you.”, he relaxes slightly.

The thunder and lightening cease, but the rain still pours as Arthur stares over the pile of crying bodies to the woman, whose eyes seem to be growing brighter and brighter in the deluge. She stares right back at him, and The King jumps slightly when her voice echoes through her head, despite her still face:

“My brother has lost enough, please do not shatter his heart.”

Arthur nods once, before following Lancelot’s lead to the others, the rest of the knights not far behind them as Ava disappears. Whether she walked away without noticing or simply faded into the rain, no one knows, but no one really cares either. Soon enough, everyone is gathered around Merlin, stroking his back softly and whispering comforting promises over the sound of the rain. When Leon is the only one to notice Mordred’s eyes flash golden as he summons a shield above them, he simply shrugs his shoulders and refocuses his attention on muttering reassurances in Merlin’s head.

His breathing slows after a while, as does the rain, though everyone panics slightly when they see Morgana frown as she strokes the hair away from his face, revealing flushed cheeks and closed eyes. Mordred’s eyes flash golden once more as he presses a hand to his forehead, though no one lets the shock distract them for too long, latching on to his relieved tone:

“He’s just asleep, that would’ve taken a lot out of him. We should get him back to Gaius.”

The knights all stand, stretching and cracking joints to try and rid themselves of the cold stiffness that had settled in their soaked bones. Morgana stays on the floor, clutching at Merlin in her lap desperately, like he could slip away at any moment. When Arthur leans down to pick him up, she shoots him a glare, her own eyes glowing as the wind picks up once more, whipping through the clearing in an obvious warning. Arthur takes in a gasp, but shakes the surprise from his mind as he settles a soft hand on his sister’s shoulder:

“I... look, we’ll talk about this later, and I promise you’re going to be safe,-”

He glances up to an equally defensive looking Mordred:

“-all three of you, but Mordred’s right, we need to get him home and warmed up.”

Morgana hesitates for only a second, but the concern (and love) in her brother’s eyes sway her, and she nods, ever-so-carefully pulling her arms from around Merlin and helping Arthur get the younger (or... much much older) man situated in his arms before standing up.

The trek back to the castle is a fairly short one now they don’t have to worry about being quiet, and the rain has almost completely stopped by the time they make it to the citadel gates. It’s late, so the only people they come across are the occasional guard. But The King resolutely ignoring them as he carries his unconscious manservant through the corridors, his closest friends and advisors around him either openly crying or blinking away tears... well... it’s something that very much screams “DO NOT DISTURB US DO NOT SPEAK OF THIS IMMEDIATELY FORGET EVERYTHING YOU HAVE JUST SEEN”.

Elyan runs ahead to wake Gaius and warn him, so by the time everyone gets to the Physician’s chambers the fire is roaring, a patient pallet has been moved in front of the hearth, and Gaius himself is bustling around, preparing various concoctions and tinctures and blankets.

Merlin’s still shivering form is laid on the pallet, and Morgana shamelessly uses her magic to pull the heat closer and dry out his clothes. Mordred sits protectively close to the servant, one hand subconsciously close to his sword, the other resting on Merlin’s shoulder. Gwen settles between him an Morgana, and the knights figure that with her complete non-reaction to the magic... she probably already knew, she was smart like that. Gaius finally makes his way to Merlin’s side, tipping a gross smelling potion down his throat and running a hand through his hair, frowning worriedly down at his ward.

Not a single word had been said since they entered through the castle gates, and Arthur is the first to break the silence, sitting on Merlin’s other side, opposite Morgana, and settling an almost accusing expression on his sister:

“You knew, didn’t you?”

She looks up at him, somehow appearing powerful and intimidating despite being soaked through and shivering:

“I knew he was... powerful, I didn’t know he was a God.”

Gaius’ head whips around quickly, and Arthur is surprised at the questioning horror on his face:

“A God?? There must be some mistake, Merlin is powerful yes but he’s not-”

Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him, though he doesn’t look away from the unconscious man as his fingers twitch over so slightly closer to the hilt of his sword:

“I knew. Though if I’d known he felt so... if I’d known how he felt, I would have spoken to him about it sooner, I apologise.”

Everyone looks at the group’s youngest member in shock, almost speechless, but Gwaine stutters slightly before clearing his throat and trying again:

“So... that was real, Merlin is a fucking God.”

Mordred nods absent-mindedly, eyes flashing golden as he presses his hand to Merlin’s forehead once again, frowning. Arthur’s brow creases in concern and he leans closer to Merlin:

“What is it? Is he ok??”

Before Mordred can reply, Leon speaks up, his voice tired, but strong:

“If he’s some... powerful God, then why is he hurt in the first place? Shouldn’t he be able to resist any sort of injury or sickness??”

Mordred shakes his head, finally looking away from Merlin to gaze at the group surrounding him. He looks doubtful at first, but when he sees the genuine concern on everyone’s faces, especially from Gaius and Arthur, he sighs and speaks softly:

“It’s difficult to describe. Merlin could access the full range of his power and do anything, if he wanted, but it’s draining and complicated when stuck in a human body. He himself is a God, yes, but this form is still vulnerable and mortal; he can get injured, and sick, he can die, or at least the body can. Merlin tends to repair this body when that happens, instead of moving on. He... likes it here.”

Everyone nods, understanding at least a little, though Gaius and Lancelot look the most shell-shocked. The room goes silent once again, and Percival, sat on the floor against the end of Merlin’s pallet with Elyan and Gwaine, is the first to speak, his voice shaking and sorrowful:

“He really thinks so low of himself. He’s a God... and he was terrified of the thought of us hating him, as if such a thing were even possible.”

Gwaine curses under his breath and Leon restarts his slow pacing around the room before he stops suddenly, turning to face the others with a look of anger on his face:

“Well of course he thinks it’s bloody possible. He’s right, we treat him like a fucking servant even though he’s one of our dearest friends, and half of us talk about the evils of sorcery on a near constant basis. He’s the God of Magic, of course he’d think we would hate him.”

Everyone is taken aback at Leon’s rage, though no one can deny that what he’s said is true. Leon is... quietly protective of everyone in the group, and it’s a time like this that reminds all of them that he had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and definitely held a certain brotherly affection for the younger (uh... yeah, whatever) man.

The older knight sags slightly, seemingly realising how exhausted he is, and pulls a chair up next to Arthur before collapsing in it, head in his hands. Arthur pats him on the back a few times before looking back to Merlin’s now thankfully not-shivering form, taking in a deep breath and nodding his head decisively:

“Well, we’ll just have to show him that it isn’t possible. I... we need to show him that he’s... important to us. Loved.”

Morgana just raises her eyebrow at The King, but doesn’t say anything as Gaius mutters a tearful “My poor boy.” under his breath. Elyan stands from his place on the floor, moving to perch on a bench behind his sister and setting a comforting hand on her shoulder as he softly speaks:

“He needs to know that we want him to stay here, with us.”

Percival shakes his head slightly, looking conflicted:

“Wouldn’t that be... cruel? That woman... Ava, was right. We’ll all grow old and die and he’s a God, he’ll live forever and he’ll grieve. Isn’t asking him to stay selfish?”

No one has an answer, and the room grows silent, everyone stewing in their own tense thoughts, trying to weigh the pros and cons, trying to measure exactly how selfish they were willing to be when it came to Merlin.

The sun rising over the horizon and peaking through the uncovered windows is what wakes everyone (bar Merlin) from their fitful sleeps. All of them had been plagued with odd dreams and nightmares through the night, so despite their exhaustion, they were grateful to be awake.

No one said anything though, waking one by one and pacing briefly around the room in an attempt to cure themselves of the aches gained from falling asleep in such awkward positions.

It’s still incredibly early in the morning, so thankfully none of them are needed for at least two more candle marks, but it’s Lancelot who breaks the silence first, clearing his throat and looking down at his best friend:

“It wouldn’t be selfish.”

Arthur looks up to him, noting the bags under everyone’s eyes and the tear tracks no one had bothered to wipe away:

“What are you talking about?”

The knight runs a hand through his hair, sniffling slightly and taking a deep breath before he stares around the room, making sure everyone was awake and paying attention as he spoke:

“For us to tell him we want him to stay, it wouldn’t be selfish. You heard him, he loves it here, he’s desperate to stay, he loves us. He still has at least thirty years worth of memories to make with us, and yeah, maybe that’s not a lot in the grand scheme of the immortal life of a God, but it’s more than the ten he’s already got. We can’t take that away from him. He... he wants to be here. Telling him to leave just to alleviate our own guilt... that would be selfish.”

Everyone looks a little doubtful, bar Mordred, and it’s him that Arthur turns to:

“Mordred? You knew... what he is, which we are still definitely going to have a conversation about by the way, what do you think?”

Mordred sighs, biting his lip for a moment before finally ripping his gaze from Merlin’s still unconscious, but now healthier looking body:

“He is more than any of us will ever be able to comprehend. You still see him as just Merlin, he is, but he’s also much more; he is Emrys, the saviour, the God, the Guiding Light. He is magic itself, woven into the fabric of the universe. He inhabits every space, and no space at the same time, he exists in every grain of sand, every drop of ocean, every speck of sky. To... to assume that he is not capable of deciding what he wants is an act of unforgivable hubris. If he stays, who are you to demand he leave and name yourselves selfish, when he has not deemed it so?”

Arthur pales slightly at Mordred’s words, as does everyone else. Gwaine seems to be taking it in his stride, and Lancelot seems less surprised than Arthur thinks he should (definitely something to question, but not right now), but before anyone can say anything, Merlin twitches, a low groan escaping his throat as his brows crease.

Everyone moves quickly, gathering around his bedside in a huddle. Morgana, Mordred, and Gwen are grateful to still be sat in their seats, and if they weren’t so busy worriedly leaning over Merlin they would be rolling their eyes at the way the others were pushing and shoving to be at the front. Gaius elbows his way to be stood by Merlin’s head, a cold compress in one hand and a grey looking potion in the other.

Morgana strokes a hand through Merlin’s hair and the frown on his face eases; he blinks his eyes open, swallowing before grimacing at the taste in his mouth and groaning again. Gwen leans over his head, smiling as she settles a hand on his warm cheek:

“Morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Merlin just groans again, rubbing his shaking hands harshly into his eyes as he says, his voice dry and painful-sounding:

“Ugh. Like Arthur’s aim got miraculously better.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and flushes slightly, but before he can defend himself Merlin bolts upright, taking in a deep, ragged breath, eyes wide. Mordred focuses a concentrated expression on the side of Merlin’s head, but Arthur ignores it as he reaches forward, settling a hand on the dark-haired man’s shoulder and muttering his name:

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s breathing only gets deeper as he whips his head around to stare at Arthur. The blonde tries to smile comfortingly at him, but Merlin barely seems to notice as he scrambles back on the bed, only stopping when he comes into contact with Leon behind him.

Mordred’s face morphs into a concerned frown at Merlin’s terror, and now his tears, so instead of waiting for the man to calm down enough to let them explain, he rushes forward, grabbing the back of Merlin’s head and forcing their foreheads together before he can pull away. He shuts his eyes tightly, muttering some sort of incantation under his breath. Merlin gasps loudly and Mordred groans, holding their heads together for a few moments before collapsing back into his seat, clamping his hands over his eyes as if trying to press a headache away. Merlin slumps back against the warm body behind him, and Leon just about manages to catch him in strong arms before he falls to the floor.

This had all happened in the space of a few moments, and when the two of them still, the others unfreeze. Arthur turns on Mordred:

“What did you do?? What was that?!”

Mordred groans again, looking up blearily, first at Merlin, who seems to be in a similar state to him, leant against Leon, and then to Arthur:

“He wasn’t calming down, so I shared my memories. From when we met at the edge of the forest yesterday, to just before he woke up. It’ll take him a little longer than me to sort through them.”

Arthur nods and Morgana looks impressed, and everyone looks to Merlin again, waiting for him to pull the hands from his eyes and talk to them, look at them, anything.

He finally seems to relax his muscles and Leon rubs his hands up and down his arms softly; despite the fact that he’d been warmed by the fire, the knight was still oddly worried about Merlin being too cold. He lets out a deep breath, lowering his shaking hands as he slowly raises his teary gaze, staring at Arthur:

“You... you want me to stay?”

Arthur ignores the tears dripping down his cheeks as nods desperately, forcing a soft smile on his face as he sniffles:

“Yes. Please. We don’t want you to go, we don’t hate you.”

Merlin launches himself at Arthur and the only thing stopping The King from falling back from Merlin’s surprising weight is Percival’s hand on his back. Arthur wraps his arms tightly around Merlin’s middles, turning his head to press a kiss to the other man’s temple as he tries to get his tears under control; he completely ignores the others in favour of muttering into Merlin’s hair:

“It’s alright, Merlin. You stay here, with us, as long as you want. We... I, love you. Stay, please.”

Merlin just sobs harder, gripping the back of Arthur’s tunic as he kneels on the bed, his response stuttering and barely understandable:

“But- but I’m-”

Arthur just hushes him, stroking a hand through his hair and giving everyone else in the room pointed looks. They all crowd around Merlin again, placing comforting hands on his back and shoulders and arms and hands. Mordred whispers his adoration in Merlin’s head, and Morgana presses a kiss to the nape of his neck, all in the hopes of convincing him that the memories he had were true.

His breathing finally calms, and Arthur shuffles to the side so he can sit down next to him, not daring to remove the arms from around his neck or push him away. Merlin pulls away himself when Arthur settles, but doesn’t move far, and there’s no space between them as he hastily wipes the tears from his face, staring at him lap, cheeks flushed. Arthur takes his hand slowly in his, but Merlin still doesn’t look up, so Morgana kneels in front of him, placing her hand on his knee softly and saying with a teasing smirk on her face:

“You know, if I’d known that my teacher was The God of Magic, I might’ve complained less at the studying you make me do.”

Merlin finally looks up at her, a weak smile on his face, and Morgana winks at him. It’s Gwaine who tries next, settling on Merlin’s other side and sighing loudly:

“Forget the God thing do you know how many pranks we could’ve pulled if you’d told me you had magic?? Can’t believe you’d take that opportunity from me, all of you.”

He gives Mordred and Morgana jokingly offended glares and they roll their eyes, though their attention is quickly drawn back to Merlin, whose hands are clenching tightly in his lap. The room goes dark all of a sudden, and a glance to the window would tell them that the clear morning was suddenly overcast, thunder rumbling in the distance as rain slammed against the glass. Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand and quickly, though gently, shoves Morgana out of the way, kneeling in front of Merlin and lifting his chin with his free hand:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We’ve all got a ton of questions but everything’s going to be alright, I swear. In fact, I’m glad we found out, it was cruel of us to make you live in a kingdom where you aren’t accepted, but that changes now, I promise.”

Merlin stands suddenly and walks between them, taking a deep breath before turning suddenly a scowl on his face:

“It wasn’t her choice to make, it was mine, and she took it from me.-”

With every harsh the thunder grew closer and the glass in the window frame shook more violently:

“-I was going to tell you after you changed your mind about magic because it had to come from the heart. You can’t change the Kingdom just for my sake! I wanted to do it properly and she took that from me because she was bored!”

Everyone rushes to say something in an effort to calm him down, both for the safety of the windows and his happiness, but Arthur’s blunt-

“Why?”

-stops them in their tracks. Merlin looks to him sharply, though Arthur is grateful for the thunder quietening down as he replies:

“What do you mean why? Why what?”

Arthur huffs out a gentle laugh, shaking his head in disbelief:

“Why can’t I change the Kingdom for you? You’re important, you’ve touched so many lives in so many wonderous ways; that in itself tells me that magic isn’t evil, so why can’t I change the Kingdom for you?”

The thunder stops and the rain slows to a gentle patter as Merlin tilts his head, his scowl of anger morphing into a sad, confused frown as he responds in a small voice:

“But... I’m just a servant. You’re not doing it out of fear, so I’m still just... nobody important.”

Arthur just laughs again, walking towards Merlin and settling soft hands on his shoulders, grateful to feel the others close to his back:

“You have never once been just a servant, Merlin. Something tells me you’ve been saving my life, and this Kingdom, since the day we met, so even if it had no effect on anyone else whatsoever, I would still change the law. Because you are a good man, and you are important, and you deserve it. Compared to you, it is us, who are just human.-”

Merlin frowns again and Arthur rolls his eyes to stop him arguing:

“-Just... give me another hug, and accept it. You idiot.”

He can feel someone (probably Morgana) thump him on the back, but he doesn’t turn around, eagerly returning Merlin’s hug when the brunette wraps his arms around Arthur’s middle tightly. The King presses closer, uncaring of what his audience thinks of him for the first time in his life (probably because he has a feeling that they’ve known of his... affections, longer than even he has) and mutters his question into Merlin’s ear:

“We... I love you, Merlin, more than anything. Will you stay with me?”

The King is vaguely aware of his First Knight whispering “I told you so, idiot.” behind him, but all he cares about is the sensation of the God, more ancient and powerful than anything he could ever comprehend, nodding into is neck.

THE END!!

I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope y’all like it!!

Link to the Dark!Merlin version (I warn you, it’s hella angsty) is at the top!! :)

347 notes · View notes

slytherinspired · 3 years

Text

Firsts - A Sirius Black Imagine

Pairings : Young Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings : smut, obviously, unprotected sex, swearing, smoking, alcohol and mild drug use.

Hi love! I did it! Beware, it is quite long, I sort of took the liberty to provide some context, but I hope you'll like it! :)

Masterlist

Sirius is looking back at himself in the mirror, wincing at his reflection. He recognizes his traits sparingly; his dark curls falling to his shoulders, his mocking smirk, his overall nonchalant expression. He knows who he is, but the clothes on his back are completely robbing him of his own identity. He glances bitterly at his beloved leather coat sitting on the back of his desk chair and sighs. The ridiculous black suit he’s wearing barely fits him. He knows it probably used to belong to one of his distant cousins and that it has been quickly and grossly recut to fit him by the house-elf. His parents are downstairs in the drawing room, waiting for him to join them so they can leave for this stupid reception.

He doesn’t even know what it is about, except that he’s going to this apparent important new Ministry guy’s house who threw a sort of lame introduction party, since he just arrived in London with his family. And what he knows is that he’s going to spend the whole night with the type of people he doesn’t want to be assimilated with. From what he heard, the host of the reception just arrived at the Ministry of Magic to help with the passing of some bill for Muggleborn regulations, as awful as it sounds. He’d like to avoid to go, but Walburga has the upper hand on him, and nothing in the world would convince his dear mother to leave her eldest son behind, knowing full well that if she does so, Sirius is going to get the fuck out of there and join these Muggles mingling Potters fools.

‘You look dapper,’ says a soft voice behind him.

Standing in the doorway, Sirius’ youngest brother observes him, grinning.

‘Shut up,’ he replies, annoyed by the stupid smile on Regulus’ face.

His brother crosses his arms and steps into his bedroom. He looks around like he just stepped into some kind of freak show. His gaze rests a little longer on a certain poster. Sirius glances at the Muggle woman dressed in a revealing red swimsuit standing straight in the middle of the picture. He smirks, and caught-red handed, Regulus turns away quickly. She always was his brother's favourite, after all. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

‘Are you going to behave this time?’ he asks, stepping in front of his eldest brother.

Sirius shrugs, trying to adjust the bowtie strangling him. For Merlin’s sake, he thinks, it feels like he’s suffocating already.

‘I always behave, brother dear,’ he replies, trying to undo the knot around his neck. ‘I just don’t behave the way they’d like me to,' referring to their parents.

Regulus shakes his head and starts fiddling with his brother’s bowtie and adjust it perfectly in one fell swoop, as if it were child’s play. Once the knot is properly buckled, he taps Sirius’ chest in an encouraging gesture, and frowns when he feels something hard hidden in the inside pocket of his brother’s vest.

‘Really?’ he asks.

Sirius snorts.

‘Just a bit of courage,’ he admits.

‘And how much courage did you drink already?’

‘Not enough, apparently,’ Sirius replies, thinking about the full flask of warm whiskey tucked inside his suit.

He’d honestly rather be stuck in detention with Snivellus for the rest of his existence then go to this lame-ass party. That alone justifies the whiskey amply.

After a few detours in the city, he finds himself in front of an imposing white manor situated in one of London’s richest Square. Oh, this is going to be a long night, he thinks. Not only it seems like the host is wizard-rich, but he’s also everything rich, period. He rolls his eyes, there’s no issue. Walburga is pressing her long and emaciated fingers into his son’s arm as they step into the great hall of the house. The interior is as posh as the exterior, with its grand marble staircase curving up to the upper floor and its giant diamond-like chandelier hanging over their heads. For God’s sake, is it a live classical assemble he hears playing in the back? As his mother pushes him further inside, the sound of light chatter reaches his ears. He sees his father, dressed in his horrible robes, already on his way to speak with some old acquaintances, quickly followed by Regulus. He scans the principal room for a quiet corner, but it’s filled with this bunch of pricks, and he’s fighting with all his might the panic that is taking over his mind. He finally spots a free corner next to a big window and he walks straight ahead in that direction, hoping no one will recognize him on the way.

‘I heard his son has found some work as a doctor,’ he hears a shrill voice say.

‘A Muggle doctor? How peculiar!’ says another voice.

This is exactly the kind of chatter Sirius doesn’t want to hear. In no way he thinks he’s superior because he was graced with magic powers at birth. It is so suffocating, and he feels so incredibly small and inadequate, drowning in this sea of close-minded guests.

He studies them, recognizes some familiar faces from Hogwarts, but most of them are Slytherins and are not close at all to use them as an escape. A waiter walks in front of him, holding a tray where champagne flutes fill themselves up. He grabs one and drink it in one sip. He’s already quite tipsy, but he doesn’t care. He’d rather be intoxicated right now to bury this hatred deep within. God, he needs air.

He sees Walburga looking for him in the room, and she’s walking next to a tall and handsome man. For Godric’s sake, why is she walking straight in his direction? The man next to her doesn’t look as old as his mother, but the grey strands in his black hair betrays his age. He looks posh, and haughty.

‘This is my eldest son, Sirius,’ says his mother in a toneless voice. ‘Sirius, this his our host, Mr Santorini.’

‘Pleased to meet your, Mr Black,’ says the man while he extends his hand.

Sirius gets up on his feet, subtly struggling to find his balance, under the duo’s concerned stare. He rapidly and weakly shakes the man’s hand and nods. Ashamed, Walburga shoots darts at her son and quickly turns away from him.

‘My youngest, Regulus, is doing quite well at Hogwarts, see, he’s - ...’ her voice fades away.

Sirius closes his eyes; he needs to find some distraction. And what could be better than the little thing he has brought to the party that is currently hidden in his pocket behind the whiskey flask? He needs to feel something else than the dreadful thoughts he has right now. He struts to the giant marble staircase and finds his way on the upper level without attracting attention to him. That is one advantage when no one cares about you; not being seen. The voices downstairs are slowly fading away and he feels already so much better.

He runs a nervous hand in his dark locks, feeling quite hot, with this bowtie strangling him. There must be a door leading outside. He tries to open the first one on his right, but the handle doesn’t bulge; it’s locked. And Walburga has confiscated his wand at the beginning of the summer upon his return from Hogwarts, so there’s no use. He sighs and adventures further away in the hall.

He has more luck with the second door, and finds himself into a deserted bedroom. His eyes make out the giant bed over the central wall of the room, and spots some sealed boxes on the floor. The translucent curtains discreetly veil the large windows in front of him, and he opens one widely and lights himself a cigarette without a care, pacing into the room nervously. He sees some pictures resting on a vintage dresser on the opposite wall. There are rows of books in the built-in bookcases, and even some disperse vinyls taking up some of the space. He’s clearly trespassing someone’s intimacy, but whose? Sirius walks to the dresser and opens up the first drawer. A tickling feeling in his stomach at the sight of the several underwear – even in the darkness – makes him wonder how long has it been since he’s been intimate with someone. The last time was before school ended, with Mallory, and it was just snogging. He never went all the way... He chuckles discreetly at the thought and taps the ashes of his cigarette on the floor. Fuck this house, fuck this bedroom, and fuck this posh Pureblood family.

‘Mm, mm.’

Someone has cleared their throat behind him. He jumps, and tries to hide the cigarette away.

‘Please, don’t stop for me,’ says a girl in the doorway.

He can’t make up her traits in the darkness, but she sounds young. She steps right in front of him.

‘I don’t think you should be up here,’ she says.

He feels like a child, caught red-handed. He feels suddenly very trapped.

‘I heard the owner of this house is quite severe,’ she adds, taking the cigarette away from him, inhaling the smoke into her lungs, and exhaling. ‘If he found us in his daughter’s room, I think he’d torture us without any remorse.’

‘His daughter’s room?’ he replies nervously.

She nods, giving him back his cigarette.

‘A real pest.’

There is an awkward silence.

‘What were you doing here?’ she adds.

‘Looking for a way out,’ he replies in all honesty. ‘What about you?’

‘Just about the same.’ She glances at the cigarette. ‘You might want to put it out now.’

‘I really don’t,’ he replies, taking one last whiff, ‘but when do I get what I want anyway?’

He throws it on the hard-wood floor indifferently and follows the stranger in the hallway. She turns around to take a good look at him.

‘I’m Y/N, by the way – ‘

He feels like his legs are going to flinch. He doesn’t know if it’s the sudden nicotine rush, or the champagne mixed with the whiskey, or the lights in the hallway shinning over Y/N’s green doe eyes staring at him, or her long black hair waving on her back, or her delicious pink lips, or the gentle freckles on her nose, but he’s suddenly feeling quite light-headed.

‘You okay there?’ she laughs. ‘What’s your name?’

He shakes his head, trying to regain his thoughts.

‘I’m, er. I’m Si – ‘should he really tell her his real name? ‘I’m Sid.’

‘Sid,’ she repeats. ‘Well, Sid, you don’t look too good.’

‘I don’t feel too good,’ he admits.

Her expression changes. She’s not amused anymore. She’s pitying him.

‘Follow me,’ she says, grabbing his hand like she has known him forever, dragging him to the end of the wall where they cross a door and end up on a small balcony overlooking the deserted garden.

‘How to you know this place?’ he asks, resting his arms on the guardrail, humming the fresh crisp air.

‘Hung out with the pest earlier,’ she replies.

‘Not anymore?’

‘Told you, she’s a pest. I can’t leave, though. I’m sort of stuck here.’

‘So am I.’

She laughs lightly. The moonlight shines on her beautiful face, and her traits are so soft, and if he was much more like himself, he’d try to charm her the way he knows how.

‘So, Sid. What are we avoiding?’ she asks away.

‘My parents, I guess,’ he replies, taking out the flask of whiskey of his pocket.

He takes a big sip and hands it to her. She considers it for a moment and grabs it. The wind flies through her hair, and her perfume reaches his nostrils, a perfectly well-balanced mix of vanilla and gentle notes of citrus. The fragrance shoots up his nose and wafts around his brain. Fuck, she’s so beautiful.

‘What about them?’ she asks away, wincing when she swallows the liquor.

He snorts. He doesn’t want to talk about his parents right now. Not when the prettiest girl he’s ever seen is standing right in front of him. He has something else on his mind now.

‘Your accent,’ he says, switching subjects. ‘It’s not from here.’

Y/N nods.

‘I grew up all over the place, but mostly America.’

‘You don’t sound American.’

She smiles, revealing a straight row of perfectly pearly white teeth.

‘My family, we’re from Sicily.’

He nods.

‘It’s in Italy – ‘

‘I know where Sicily is, I’m not stupid,’ he replies harshly, a bit offended.

But Y/N chuckles lightly, and her soft laugh brings his attitude down. He can’t help but stare at her. She’s a bit overdressed to his taste, but hey, so is he. He wonders what is hiding underneath that navy dress of hers, and if her skin is as soft as he imagines it is. He needs to calm down.

‘First time in London, then?’

She nods.

‘What do you think?’ he asks, locking eyes with her.

She licks her lower lip without realizing it.

‘Well, I don’t hate the accent,’ she teases.

Praised be Godric.

‘Tell me, Sid, you seem to be about my age, yet you’re drunk like an old man with a drinking problem, and you probably smoke like a city boy. I keep wondering if I really should be alone with you right now.’

‘Are you afraid?’ he asks.

She shakes her head.

‘Rarely.’

‘To be honest, Y/N,’ he says, pronouncing every syllable of her name like he could actually taste it, ‘I was alone up there to find a quiet spot for this.’

He shows up the joint between his fingers. She squints for a short moment and smiles.

‘I see.’

Y/N’s eyes bored into him. He wonders if he has crossed a line. He barely knows her, after all.

‘Let’s go somewhere more private, then,’ she suggests, grabbing his hand. He doesn’t even have the time to appreciate the softness of her skin when he feels himself disapparating, his body swirling in every direction, and a sudden urge of panic takes hold off him. When he reapparates in a loud pop, he shouts:

‘What the hell are you doing? Are you bloody insane?’

‘What, did you never apparate before?’

‘Yes, I did but -,’ he is freaking out, Walburga must think he’s left and is probably fulminating. ‘My mother, she’s going to hex me! Bring us back!’

‘Why?’ Eliana asks, intrigued. ‘How would she know?’

Sirius shakes his head nervously.

‘She placed some sort of charm on me, I’m not allowed to leave her sight. If she knows I left the premises, she’ll find me and – ‘

He stops himself from saying too much. Perhaps it would be a bit intense to share with the girl what would Walburga do to him. At least, he wouldn’t have to explain the healing bruises on his ribcage.

‘Relax, Sid. We’re still on the premises.’

He looks around and spots the house in the distance through a small window. Are they in some sort of guest house? A garden shed? There is nothing around him, he’s just standing on a mat. Relieved, he sits down, running a hand in his hair. Y/N joins him and creates a small fire by flicking her wand, enough to dimly light the room they are in.

‘You’re actually scared of your parents. Why?’

Sirius chuckles. He’s not scared, he’s terrified of them. She points out the little stick he forgot he was holding between his fingers.

‘Shall we?’ she suggests.

‘Who says I want to share?’

She pouts adorably. He lights it up and he takes a good breath of the substance and exhales slowly, indulging the heavy smoke, his lungs burning, and a light sensation rushes to his head. Them Muggles can also do magic, he thinks to himself. Under her curious eyes, he passes the stick in her delicate hands, and observes her. Her delicious lips reach it, and she slowly breathes it in. She starts coughing, tears running to her eyes.

‘Wait,’ he laughs, ‘is this your first time?’

She presses her hand to her rounded chest, laughing uncontrollably. Sirius shakes his head, following her laugh, and explains to her how to actually get the smoke to her lungs.

‘There, yes – keep it still a second, let it -, yes, good,’ it’s like teaching children how to mount a broom, ‘and exhale. Brilliant.’

He waits a second before taking another whiff. Y/N’s mouth curves into a smile and she closes her eyes slowly.

‘Oh,’ she exhales, ‘this is – ‘

‘I know,’ replies Sirius, smiling. ‘I know.’

‘Oh,’ she repeats.

He stares at her, admiring her delicate features. Her eyes are still closed and he sees her falling on her back, completely relaxed. If his mother saw him right now, smoking pot with a random girl he met at this rich guy’s party, she’d have a good reason to use the Cruciatus curse on him for once. Or she’d cut his head before he could say he’s sorry. He decides to join Y/N and rests his back on the floor. He lays his head just beside hers and fixes the ceiling. He feels better now, and it’s not just the drugs.

‘I feel so heavy,’ she says, sliding her hands on her naked arms.

She turns her head and looks at him.

‘Do you feel heavy?’

‘Kind of,’ he laughs.

He doesn’t particularly feel heavy. In fact, he feels relieved, and mostly, he feels horny. Good god.

‘What is there to do in London at night?’ she asks.

‘Mm,’ he hesitates. ‘Pubs, clubs, walking around Southbank, I guess.’

‘Never went to a pub,’ she admits.

He wants to run his finger on her cheek. He wants to grab her face and press his lips on hers.

‘You’re kidding,’ he replies, still fixing that beautiful mouth of hers.

She shakes her head lightly, and a stroke of her long hair falls in her eyes. Her little red stained eyes. He smiles at the view, and slowly leans closer, replacing the stroke of black hair behind her ear.

‘I’ll bring you to a pub, one day,’ he mutters, daydreaming out loud.

‘Wouldn’t you mother kill you if you did?’ she jokes.

‘She would. It would be worth the risk, though.’

She turns on her stomach and rests her head on her hands. He keeps staring at her, detailing everything.

‘What are you looking at?’ she chuckles.

‘Just admiring the view,’ he replies frankly.

She would blush if she wasn’t all flustered already. There’s an odd adrenaline spluttering inside of him as he feels her close, and his pulse quickens and he’s feeling so hot right now, he’s melting into the rug. There’s a comfortable silence between them, and they both enjoy it for a couple of minutes. There is something about this girl, this nonchalant attitude, and her mesmerizing eyes, and her accent, and the way her body moves when she finally sits down again, pulling her dress over her thighs to sit comfortably, making him lose his fucking mind. If he weren’t so distracted by her presence, he’d be sweet talking to her, like he’s so used to do with other girls. But he’s simply incapable of doing so, like she’s robbed him of his means.

‘We should go back, they’re going to be looking for us,’ she whispers, showing him her hand to help him sit back.

But he doesn’t want to go back and mingle with the people he hates. He wants to be alone with her, if it is just to stay motionless on this rug in her company. He takes her hand and sits back up, and their eyes lock again, and they stare at each other, and he’s wondering if he’s hallucinating someone so perfect to help him cope with this emptiness he feels all the time. She absentmindedly licks her lips, taunting him, and he has to remind himself how to breathe, as his lips quirk hesitantly, sighing out loud to stop himself from pining her underneath him.

‘Yeah,’ he stutters, like a fucking coward, and then he clears his throat and steadies his pulse and sternly instructs himself to get it together, dude. James would be laughing at him if he saw him right now.

But they both stay there, motionless. He can feel the drugs running away from his bloodstream, he’s on another high now, another rush, and it has nothing to do with it. He can’t stop staring at her lips. Her expression washes over him in waves, and he pins a hesitant smile on his face, hoping it will distract her from the bulge growing down there.

‘Or we could just, you know, stay here for a while,’ she suggests.

For fuck’s sake.

He’s only able to gulp and nod, his cock painfully growing thick through the fabric. He tries to hide the bump by placing his arm over his legs, but instead it catches her attention down there, and her eyes quickly spots it, but she innocently acts like she’s unaware of the effect she has on him. If he could only smack his lips on hers.

Her emerald eyes are wide open, she leans in and presses her soft lips on his, and he’s never felt so relieved in his entire life, her mouth is warm and soft, and he can actually run his hands in her soft hair, and he can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and she actually lets out a discreet moan in his mouth, and fuck, there he is, gone, he knows there is no way back from there.

He feels her hands slowly unbuckling his belt and removing those atrocious trousers, and he follows through, pulling up her dress to reveal her skin. He removes his shirt, he has dreamt all night to rip it off his body from the second he put it on, and now she’s pushing him on his back on the hard rug and places kisses in the crook of his neck, sliding her tongue all the way down, and he knows where she’s heading, but he can’t let her do that, or he’s going to cum already. He grabs her head softly, and while he’s busy sticking his tongue into her mouth, he’s unclasps her top, tosses it on the floor, and starts licking her round breasts, circling her hard nipples with his tongue. He realizes it is actually the first time he’s allowed to touch naked breasts, and Merlin, this is so much better when there’s no fabric covering them.

He pins her small body under him, and he slowly moves down on her. He admires her ribcage moving up and down, and he can hears her heavy breathing, and he feels like he can’t hold it anymore. He runs his lips on her skin, down her stomach, to the birth of her underwear, pulling them down very gently. Sirius can’t believe he just met her a couple of hours ago; he feels like he has been desiring her for an eternity. There was a before her, and there’s now – and all the shit he’s been dealing with since school ended is now tucked away in the back of his mind. He caresses with his lips the soft bump between her legs, indulging the new sensation, and then just takes a mouthful of her sex. Her breathing stops, her ribcage is suspended for a second, and then she breathes out and grabs the back of his head while he tastes her. It’s sweet, and warm, and wet, and salty at the same time, and it’s so fucking good.

She’s squirming and writhing beneath him, her subtle moans amplifying. The gasps she makes sends sparks of unbearable pleasure through him, and he feels dizzy, like his heart is about to explode, ready to jump out of his chest at any moment. He slides one finger into her, and then another, and she spams around his fingers. He observes her perfect body tensing at his touch, cupping one breast with one hand while she orgasms into his mouth, her fluids mixing with his saliva. Her face is flushed and her pupils are dilated, and he could very well be on this high for the rest of his existence. But she places kisses on his lips, tasting herself on him, and his cock is so hard, he can’t help but groan when he feels her hand grabs his sex through the fabric of his underwear, slowly stroking him. It is pure torture.

He feels the small piece of clothing covering him sliding down his legs, and he kicks it on the floor. She stares at him in the eyes and licks her fingers, then moves her hand down there again, gently applying pressure on his hard-on. Sirius’ head tilt to the back, blood rushes through him. That is a different story when it’s someone’s else hand, isn’t?

She lays down in front of him, and he follows her as she guides is cock at the entrance of her sex, and it’s so wet, how is he going to pull through? He’s shaking with apprehension but pure pleasure. She suddenly frowns.

‘Wait,’ she hesitates, ‘is this your first time?’

He nods. There’s so point in lying.

‘Do you want to stop?’

Of course, he doesn’t want to stop. He shakes his head, and her face lits up.

They kiss and he presses the tip of his cock into her, slowly, to get every sensation right, and he closes his eyes and, oh this feels so fucking good, and he can’t help but exhales of relief when he feels the warmth, and he hears her gasping underneath him. He’s sinking into her, and she pushes his length even farther by raising her hips. Why does it feel so good? He starts to pace inside her, like he has known what to do forever, increasing the tempo, and she moans under him. He moves swiftly now, trying with all his might to not just release himself off the pressure. She throws her head back into the rug, he feels sweat pearling at the birth of his forehead, his locks fall into his eyes, and he accelerates his pace and presses her legs on her stomach, and oh my god, this is even better.

She presses her right hand on his chest, running her fingers over his hard stomach, avoiding the bruises, detailing each parcel of his body. She looks back up and pushes her lips on his, and their tongues meet, and he’s completely melting into her. She finally bucks her hips tightly and Sirius hisses, he can’t hold up anymore. Oh, he wants to hear her say his name – if only he had given his real one – but she lets a loud ‘fuck’ escape her mouth, and she’s damp with sweat, and he never seen something so beautiful, he slams into her harder and faster, he groans while his grip tightens around her delicate waist. He feels almost he’s in pain and something stronger than life itself is burning him; yes, he’s burning up down there, he can’t hold it anymore, his whole body is on fire, he glances at her one last time, and he lets out a guttural growl, while feeling his insides pushing his soul out, and for a short moment, he thinks he’s dying, spilling his warm seed into her, filling her up while’s he petrified, hanging between dream and reality, thinking his heart stopped beating.

It is only half an hour later that he comes back to the manor, flustered and feeling out of his body, followed by Y/N. She’s even prettier under the warm lights, blushed cheeks, and he relives in his mind what just happened over and over again. That wasn’t bad for a first time, he thinks.

‘Y/N! Papà has been looking for you forever, where were you?’, a young girl is staring at her.

She shares similar traits with Y/N, but she looks younger, about Regulus’ age. Her arms are crossed, and she observes Sirius oddly, in a manner that makes him believe she can easily guess what Y/N was doing all the time they’ve been away.

‘Where is he?’ asks Y/N.

The young girl points at the host, the man he shook hands with earlier, speaking with Sirius’ father and a couple of older men in the corner of the room.

‘Clara,’ mumbles Y/N with a threatening expression. ‘non dire niente a Papà.’

The young girl rolls her eyes and leaves them. Sirius frowns. Wait a minute, is this girl...

‘Didn’t you tell me the host’s daughter was -’ he mumbles, feeling his hands becoming moist.

‘A pest,’ she smiles. ‘My sister.’

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ilikedumbknightsinlove · 3 years

Text

I started thinking about headcanons for what if Aithusa gets to come back to Camelot after she hatched and here’s what I got so far (also Lancelot is still alive in these because I said also what magic ban)

Because Lancelot is with Merlin the most, Aithusa gets used to him the quickest. If Aithusa was put in the middle of the room, with the knights spaced out, and had to go to one, she would most likely head to Lancelot. And he’d only have to do a small little whistle to encourage her.

Gwaine feeds her scraps at the table (“Gwaine! Don’t feed it like that!” “Her.”)

I mean yeah she has wings but getting picked up by Percival while she’s still small enough is much more fun.

Business absolutely booms at Elyan’s forge. Hello, forged with DRAGON FIRE!!

One time Merlin caught Arthur petting Aithusa and making those little baby noises that you just do with animals (“whose a good girl” all that). Merlin has yet to let him live it down.

While she was small enough, Aithusa would nap curled up on the throne. Arthur would just take court stood up and otherwise carry on as though it were completely normal.

She gets really excited when the knights start saddling up. Often she has to stay with Gwen until they come back. She loves Gwen, but still tries to pull the big eyes when they leave.

She’s been in trouble for chewing up shields and pieces of armour. Several times.

She’ll curl up and sleep pretty much anywhere the knights will be, but prefers Leon’s room because it’s quietest. He’ll sit and talk over a problem with the latest sonnet he’s composing while she snores away (because sometimes it’s just nice to have someone to talk at to help figure out these things, even if it is a sleeping baby dragon).

With her wings a cape probably wouldn’t work, but Gwen does fashion Aithusa her own little bits of armour so she can feel like she’s joining in with the others.

Lancelot has to leave the room when Merlin starts to baby talk Aithusa with his Dragonlord voice, it makes him laugh too hard.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise when they realised Gwaine was training Aithusa to distract the head of the kitchens so he could continue stealing from there. She gets a good share of the spoils.

Elyan makes a slingshot device which will shoot a ball way across the field so they can play fetch.

Percival is the most likely to get landed on. Got to be a bit of a problem once she started growing.

Aithusa noticed how Gwen would give flowers to everyone and started to copy her, giving little gifts to her friends. Flowers, any other piece of plant she pulls up, vegetables she manages to steal at the market, dead birds… Leon didn’t appreciate the dead bird as it turns out.

#the ones specifically about Gwaine relate to food lmao sorry #I seem to have also equates Aithusa to a puppy never mind #winged fire puppy #bbc merlin #headcanons #merlin #arthur pendragon #lancelot #gwen #Gwaine #sir Leon #Percival #Elyan #long post #sorry

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

The Boy Who Lived

Reader X Draco

Summary: A few months after the war, Draco gets attacked and left barely alive in St. Mungo’s. They refuse to treat him or take his money. You have a few things to say about that.

A/n: Look at me writing! And I’ve really been meaning to write something like this for quite some time because it is so soft and fluffy with only mild angst if you squint. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think! I miss talking with y’all.

“He... he’s gonna be okay, right?”

My heart feel when I heard the news. No matter how much I loathed the youngest Malfoy, hearing that he was in St. Mungo’s because some ne’er do well thought that the boy deserved to be tortured to almost death for what his family had done. My eyebrows furrowed as I parted from the small group of Alumni Gryffindors and watched the city behind the windowpane. I could hear the soft murmurs of Harry Hermione and Ron discussing it.

“Oh, come on Ron really!?” Hermione shouted.

“Well it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it!” Ron argued back.

“Deserves it?” I snapped turning. “Yes, I’m sure he deserved to be killed. An eighteen-year-old who fought on the wrong side of the war but walked away for his family! What would you give for your family Ron!?”

The golden trio stared at me, Hermione grinning and the other two looking dumbfounded. Not that it ever took much.

“So, your defending him?” Harry asked, his voice barely restrained.

“I don’t know, Harry,” I rubbed my face. “But I won’t stand here listening to how he deserved to be tortured for being loyal to his family,” my voice dropped ice as Ron’s gaze was focused on the floor. “I’m heading out,” I huffed, grabbing a coat.

“Where?” Harry stood. “You’re going to go see him aren’t you!?”

“Yes,” my voice was calm and soft as I paused at the door. “Maybe you’d like to join? Make sure he isn’t up to something?”

Flustered, Harry didn’t respond as I stepped outside and apparated to St. Mungo’s. The receptionist at the desk was genuinely baffled when I asked for Malfoy.

“Well, Miss, no one has gone and seen him. We were barely able to ID him. Do you think you could answer a few questions for us?”

“Uh, I can do my best? I don’t know him that well to be honest,”

She nodded and started to prattle off questions.

“Middle name?”

“Lucius,”

“Mother’s maiden name?”

“Black? I think?”

“Allergies?”

“For Merlin’s sake I don’t know,” I huffed. “I’m just here to visit him,”

“I apologize miss, but we’re not sure what to give him to medicate him. We’d hate to give him something he might react poorly too,”

“I understand,” My temper diminished. “He likes apples,” a smile touched my face. “And I think he’s allergic to feathers?”

“Feathers?”

I shrugged as she scribbled something down on her notepad. “Alright Miss, thank you for the help. He’s on the fourth floor,”

I nodded and swallowed thickly, heading up to the permanent spell damage ward. I had only been here one other time, with Neville one Christmas to see his parents. It was different being here alone and being here for Malfoy of all people.

“Malfoy,” I gave the nurse. He led me to an estranged cot near the window.

It would be a lie if I said I hadn’t gawked at the sight before me. I had seen my fair share of injured and mangled bodies with the war, but this... this seemed unnatural.

His chest was thickly wrapped, red seeping through. His arms and shoulders not faring much better. I was thankful that he was half covered by a sheet. But despite the wounds that no doubt lingered beneath the white cotton, nothing could compare to the deep gash that drove down the left side of his face, distorting his features and pulling his lips down into a permanent grimace. His cheeks were hollowed out with malnourishment and his once creamy pale skin was deathly and translucent.

Tears stung my eyes as I wrapped my arms around myself. No matter how much Malfoy irked me, he didn’t deserve this.

“Are you his girlfriend then?” The nurse asked.

“Stars, no.” I gasped. “Just... an old friend.”

“You’re both a little young to have old friends,” the nurse muttered. “Poor kid. Barely dragged himself here before collapsing in a puddle of his own blood.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I took a step closer to the hospital cot, nearing his upper half and the chair that was my destination. I winced in taking off my coat, the buttons tangled in my hair.

“Is he gonna make it?” My voice was hoarse as the question slipped out.

“If they can figure out who to bill. The Healers don’t want to heal a Death Eater much less a Malfoy.”

“Are you bloody joking?” I demanded standing promptly. “He’s just a kid! And...” I growled menacingly. “He’s going to die if he doesn’t get the medical attention he needs, now.”

“Well, ma’am, I... I can get a Healer in here but—” the nurse stammered. “It won’t be much use without a patron,”

With one final glance to Draco I hissed:

“You’re looking at his patron. Now get him a damn healer.”

Collapsing on the chair again, I sighed, mourning my savings account. I had spent a long time waiting tables and doing odd jobs, determined to move far away after school and the war finished. But it looked like that would have to wait. Besides. He was a Malfoy. If I really wanted to, I could finagle the money back from him when this was all said and done.

A Healer rushed in and ushered me out, despite my protests. I ended up back down at the receptionist desk.

“I thought you didn’t know him that well?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as I gave her my bank info.

“I don’t,” I huffed. “But I couldn’t let him die. Not because the Healers refuse to—”

She just smiled at me.

.................................

“You what!?” Ron and Harry demanded.

“Have you gone mental!?” Ron shouted.

“They were going to let him die!” I roared. “You didn’t see him! It was worse than what Harry did to him!”

That shut both boys up.

Hermione wrapped an arm around me and led me to the sofa. Ron huffed and left the room. Harry however sat on the adjacent armchair.

“He’s really that bad?” The question was barely heard.

“It’s awful, Harry. He’s got a gash down the left side of his face... it’s going to scar no matter what they do,” I confessed to my hands.

“Dark Magic tends to scar,” Harry murmured. “And they... they didn’t treat him because he was a Death Eater?”

I nodded and rubbed my face.

“What else was I supposed to do?” It was the question that had been running through my head. “I couldn’t let him die,”

“And rightfully so,” Hermione encouraged.

....................................

Every day that followed, I visited Draco. Sitting at his bedside. Each day he looked a little healthier. A little more color returned under his skin. A little more weight filled out his sunken cheeks. A little less blood was seeping through his bandages. One day I came in and the left side of his face was bandaged properly. I felt a pang of fury knowing that if it had been done sooner, there was less of a possibility of scarring but whoever decided he was worth killing among the Healers, also decided he was worth scarring. The anger faded and it left unshed tears in my eyes.

“Oh, what did you get yourself into, Draco?” I murmured.

Hesitantly I reached out for his hand. It was cold under my warm fingers. Experimentally, I felt more of his skin that was still like ice no matter where my fingers met the softness of it.

The next day I brought in a quilt and draped it over the bedsheet.

“That should keep you warm,” I murmured though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “You’ll get better soon,” it was a weak promise.

Somehow it became a part of my routine. I’d spend hours with Draco as he laid there unconscious and healing. Sometimes I’d read to him or just lament about my day—anything from Ron’s ridiculousness to what I had for breakfast, or even the flowers I noticed growing on the roadside. I did it because I knew he couldn’t hear me. I did it because he was almost easier to talk to than anyone else.

“You’re not so bad when you’re not talking,” The thought of him glaring at me for daring to say such a thing, made me smile to myself.

.................................

“He’s awake,” the receptionist informed me one day.

I didn’t reply as I ran up the stairs and burst into the long room where Draco remained. A fit of nervousness washed over me. Even though I had spent the last few weeks talking to Draco, he was still the same person he was when he went under.

Yet, I couldn’t deny how elated I was to see a grey eye meet mine, the other still trapped beneath gauze.

“Stars, Draco,” I smiled in spite of myself. The tears the stung my eyes were involuntary as well. “I know you probably don’t want to see me, but you have no idea how good it is to see that you’re awake,” I whispered, then turned and left.

Agony tore through me that night, knowing I had dug myself a grave to lie in. I kept myself away from the hospital for two days before in the middle of the night I arrived, not bothering with reception. There was no point in my lying awake staring at my ceiling when I could be at the place that kept me awake in the first place.

I knew that Draco would be asleep when I pushed the door open. The bandages from around his face had been removed, a faded pink line distorting and carving a path down his face. And I had been correct. He was asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as breaths were drawn through parted lips. My quilt was still draped over him.

“I hate to make this all about me,” I sat beside him and spoke softly. “But who am I supposed to talk to... what am I supposed to do, if there’s no you? You’re the only one who listened...” I scrubbed my face.

“How daft is that? Craving someone to talk to while they’re in a coma? I should be happy that you’re getting better, but... that just means I lose you faster in another sense,” I studied his peaceful face. “Not that you’d ever know... or care.” I sighed and looked out the window at the stars about the sleeping city.

“I’m sorry, I never meant...” I huffed, rubbing my face. “Sleep well Draco, you’ll... you’ll get better soon.” I paused. “But I’m not too sure about me,”

Grey eyes watched me as I left.

It was another day that I avoided the hospital, before succumbing again. The receptionist eyed me warily.

“Did Mr. Malfoy forget something?” She asked.

“Uh...” I drew a blank. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh stars,” The papers in her hands began to reorder themselves. “He checked out this morning, under the pretense that he would be allowed home if he had a caretaker. He listed you,” She handed me a random document and sure enough in Draco’s elegant script was my name.

“That lying Slytherin bastard!” I shouted, then sheepishly handed her the paper back. “Anything I need to know to take care of him?”

“He has potions with him, he needs to take them every morning and evening with or without food. He needs his bandages changed daily. He shouldn’t be walking and shouldn’t stress himself out too much in fear of a relapse,” She handed me another pamphlet of rules. “And absolutely no magic. It’s going to affect his healing process,”

“The little twat,” I muttered. “Thank you,” I smiled kindly before stepping outside and apperating to the Manor, a place I had been only a handful of times.

“Draco!” I shouted, bursting through the grand front doors. “You know it’s one thing to lie the receptionist, but I paid for your sorry ass! You can at least tell me that you left the hospital! Or return my blanket!”

“M-m-miss,” A house elf stammered, appearing at my side. “Please, Master Draco is asleep,”

“Take me to him,” I growled.

“Y-yes ma’am,”

Again, all of my anger seemed to fade at the sight of Draco. He appeared absolutely ghastly. His grey eyes were trained on me, only barely open, as if it were too much effort for him. My blanket was draped over the large bed, looking out of place amongst the expensive silks and linens. I took a sharp breath in and let out an annoyed sigh.

“Hey there, drama queen,” It was barely a whisper as I sat on the edge of his bed. “What were you thinking? Checking yourself out like that? You’re not well enough to take care of yourself,”

There was a sort of fire that returned to his eyes at my words, though he made no attempt to speak.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I rolled my eyes. “You know I’m right,” His gaze dropped, almost as if he were pouting.

“I don’t like this anymore than you do,” I muttered. “But you need to get better, and you can’t do that alone. Not this.”

His eyes closed as if he were ignoring me, but his breathing evened out and I knew he had fallen asleep. A soft smile touched my face. Without the scar that distorted his features, it was almost as if nothing had changed. Almost as if there was no war. There was peace on his face. An innocence. All disrupted by an angry flushed gash.

The house elf informed me that he has taken the vial as he was instructed to earlier, and though night had barely settled in the sky, I was wary to leave him alone in the Manor. My eyes drifted to the chaise lounge that was in the corner of the lush room. Sighing, I stood, wandering to the room next door—thankful that it was another bedroom—and located pillows and a blanket. As comfortable as I could be, I settled onto the chaise and kept an eye on Draco until my eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

I was nudged awake. By the same house elf that attended to me the night before. I panicked when I saw Draco’s bed was empty and made.

“Master Draco wishes me to inform you that he is in the den downstairs, and wondered if you’d like to join him for breakfast,”

I gaped at the house elf.

“Uh, sure?” I scrubbed my face. “I’ll be down in a moment, thank you,”

“Yes, Miss,”

Sure enough, Draco was downstairs, in a silk emerald housecoat, scanning the Daily Prophet like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Is there anything that you own that isn’t green or black?” I drawled softly, taking a seat in the adjacent armchair.

“Good morning,” His voice was as tires on grovel or perhaps the groaning of a whomping willow.

“So, he does talk,” I offered a small smile.

He took a careful sip of what I assumed was tea. The house elf set out another mug for me, pouring the hot water over the small bag of dried leaves.

“You said you preferred when I didn’t,” His voice was less strained after the tea.

“Suppose I did,” I hummed, fixing the rest of my tea to my liking. “Doesn’t mean it’s not good to hear your voice though,”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes trained forward, through the window panes overlooking how autumn had conquered the rest of the Manor.

“So, how are we going to do this?” He finally said. “You’re too stubborn to leave me on my own,”

I wanted to argue, but he was right. I was too stubborn.

“I... I can come in the mornings and evenings. I’ll change your wrappings and make sure you take your potions... do you need me here more than that?”

He shook a seldom ‘no.’

“I... should be off then,” I stood. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll be over around seven tonight?”

He didn’t comment as I made my way out. I hated myself but I counted down the hours until seven arrived. At work, at home, at lunch, all of my thoughts meandered back to how long it would be until I could see Draco again.

____________________________

Draco hated being reliant on anyone. He hated that he was weak. He hated that he couldn’t make it up the stairs without help. He hated the scar that pierced the left side of his face. He hated the face in the mirror regardless. He hated that you kept coming back. He hated that he wanted you to keep coming back. He hated that he had heard every word that you spoke to him while he was healing. He hated that you had said them. He hated that even when he was asleep, he could still hear your voice.

He hated that when he heard your voice pipe up in the house again promptly at seven, his heart fluttered.

He hated that you helped him up the stairs and into his room. He hated that you lead him to his lavish bathroom and sat him on the counter and began to undo his wrappings with such concentration that you seemed to tune his stammering heart out.

“Stars, Draco,” You murmured after unwrapping his left arm bandage.

He winced involuntarily. To be fair it looked a lot better than when they had first gouged the Dark Mark off his skin. And perhaps some part of him was grateful. All that was left was a skin graft and a scar in the shape of the Dark Mark, raised and angry like the line on his face.

“Dark magic always leaves a scar,” The words tumbled from your lips as your warm fingers brushed over the raised skin. He hated how he shuddered at the touch.

With all of his bandages gone—despite that his bottom half was still clothed—Draco felt bare, if not completely nude before you. He hated that too. Your eyes trialed over his chest and the marred skin that now belonged to him. Your gaze dragged up his shoulders, his neck, up the slice on his cheek, until your warm eyes settled on his.

There wasn’t pity in your eyes. Nor sadness. But rather understanding, and comfort. He hated that he noticed.

Wordlessly, you turned and began to draw a bath, filling it with what looked like a chance bath salt to you, but was the one his mother had once used for him, when he was young, and she was home. The scent quickly began to overpower the smell of sweat and soiled gauze and the hospital smell that lingered on his skin.

“I... Call if you need me,” You stammered and rushed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. Maybe he hated that you left.

The warm bath water and the familiar scent calmed him greatly. It soothed the ache in his muscles and bones. As he draped the water over his skin, washing away the past few weeks. He so desperately wanted to wash you away too, but you lingered on him like the scars he couldn’t ever heal.

An excruciating pain shocked his system as he reached up to wash his hair.

“No, no, no, no,” He groaned, trying again and reaping the same results. “Oh, this is so not fair!”

“Draco?” There was a soft knock on the door. “Everything alright?”

He glared at the door; the words trapped behind pursed lips. He loathed this.

“I need help,” He growled.

Your head peered in, a gentle look on your face. You weren’t laughing at him or teasing him. You looked genuinely concerned.

“What do you need?”

“I... I can’t wash my hair,” He muttered.

“Do... do you want me...?” The question was timid. He didn’t remember the last time he had seen you timid.

He nodded.

With a few well-placed bubbles and some shifting, you entered the bathroom and rounded the tub. He directed you to the correct soaps and lathers. Before you began, your eyes darted around the room, trying to locate something. You rose and took one of the empty ornate cups on his sink. It had once held flowers or something, but it had been emptied for months. Flowers didn’t grow in the presence of Dark Magic. You rinsed it in the sink and took your position behind him again. He didn’t have the energy to question you.

Draco never thought how calming having someone else wash his hair would be. The glass you had taken from the sink was filled carefully with bath water and cascaded over his head and shoulders as your free hand kept the water from his face. Your fingers massaged his favorite lather into his hair, and he had to be careful not to let out an involuntary groan. You hummed softly as you worked, to fill the silence. Again, water flowed down his head, clearing the lather from his hair and into the water around him. Draco closed his eyes and relaxed as you reached for the oils, not afraid in your company. This time your fingers carded the oil through his hair.

He hated that he enjoyed it so much. He hated that it was over too soon. He hated that you simply got up and left when you were finished without a word and left him, half asleep, feeling incomplete without your soft lullaby or your hands in his hair.

He hated that you combed his hair for him. He hated that you were silent as you reapplied his bandages. Your eyes focused on the task at hand and not his racing heart.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” He loathed that the most.

In the morning, you undid his bindings and applied the healing balm that the doctor had sent him home with before wrapping him up again. You gently brushed his hair and ran gel through it, coiffing it like he used to. Somehow it looked different when you did it.

You rarely spoke a word as the days passed. Your morning and nightly routine with him becoming a ritual that he craved. To feel safe with you near. To relax even for just a moment for nightmares and terrors plagued his sleep. To feel more like himself, even if things would never be the same. You treated him the same. Despite the foul scars that plagued his skin.

He hated that you kept leaving.

“You’re dressed,” A smile rose on your face as you walked in one crisp winter morning. “I thought I’d never see you rid the house coat,” It was the most you had said to him since he had been unconscious.

“I thought I’d try,” Draco ran his fingers over the soft cotton of the dress shirt. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble I had with the buttons,”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Is this where it ends then?”

The words shattered him more than torture ever could. He hated the thought. He hated the somber look on your face.

“Y/n, I...” Draco loathed fumbled his words.

“No, I guess this was... this was always going to end.” Your eyes didn’t meet his. “I should have just paid and left.” There was regret in your voice. Regret that he misread.

“So, you’re here for the money then?” His voice raised against his better judgement. “Is that why you kept coming back?” He couldn’t deny how deeply that wound pierced.

“What? No! It was never about the money!” Your voice raised as well. “If it was about the money don’t you think the first thing I would have done was gone to Paris to demand it from your parents!?”

“Then what was it about!? Some vendetta!? Something to goad over me!? As if you don’t have enough already!” He was gripping onto the stair railing tightly, his body threatening to collapse any moment.

“Merlin’s sake, I couldn’t let you die!” The tears he never say you shed, finally fell in front of him. “They were going to let you die!” Your head shook in denial as you pressed your arms around yourself, as it if would stop the tremors that shook your frame.

“You should have let them kill me!” He roared and you gawked at him—finally a reaction response to how he appeared. “It would make your life so much easier!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” You paced up the first few steps of the staircase, closer to him.

_________________________

I watched the light fade from his eyes.

“Draco!?” My anger turned to fear as his arm gave out and he fell to the step he was on. My close proximity allowed me to prevent him from tumbling down the stairs further.

“Stars, Draco,” I wept pulling him into my arms. He was out cold. “Don’t, don’t die on me, please,” I couldn’t stop my tears now.

I gathered him into my arms and with great difficulty, trudged upstairs, collapsing beside him on his bed. Righting myself, I gently brushed the hair away from his eyes.

“I don’t want this to end,” I confessed. “I don’t want to leave you, Draco,” I wiped away my tears. “Merlin, you have no idea how much I love you. That’s why I kept coming back,” I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

I must have fallen asleep beside him because I was woken by a whimper and cry. A desperate plea for someone to stop. A guttural cry of mercy.

“Draco!?” I was wide awake and alert. “Draco! Wake up!” I shook his shoulder as gently as possible.

Petrified grey eyes met mine, filled with tears and terror. Not a beat passed before he pulled me close and clung to me, sobbing into my shoulder. After the moment of initial shock, I wrapped my arms around him, cradling him against me. His cries tore deep wounds in my soul. The desperation and agony that they possessed.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me,” He hiccupped through tears. “Please, I don’t want this to end,”

I ran my fingers softly through his hair, leaving soft promises of new beginnings in their wake. It was enough to lull us both back to sleep.

When sunlight crept through the windows, my eyes fluttered open, to see grey ones studying me.

“Hello,” His voice was soft, his arm draped around me.

“Good morning,” A soft smile touched my lips as I sat up. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Draco sat up—without wincing. “Did you mean it? What you said?”

“Mostly likely yes, but which part are you referring to?” I teased softly, working on the buttons of his shirt to free him of the tight article of clothing.

“You’re gonna stay?”

“Well, not here probably, but as in I’m going to keep coming back, yes,” My fingers traced old and new scars.

“And this isn’t the end?”

“Not particularly,” I watched him shudder as I ran my fingers over his collarbone—something I had noticed months before and used against him now.

“And you love me,”

My fingers left his skin promptly as my eyes flashed to his.

“Yes,”

Part Two

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thenerdyindividual · 3 years

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Okay so yesterday @sterlingdylan made this awesome analysis post about BBC Merlin, stating that it was neither Arthur’s nor Merlin’s fault that Merlin didn’t reveal his magic, something I 100% agree with.

Unfortunately, this post also got derailed by a discussion comparing Arthur’s attitudes to homophobia. Now, to be clear, I do think there are some parallels there. Writers will look to real world bigotry in order to write their fantasy bigotry better. For BBC Merlin, the bigotry does feel a lot like homophobia because magic is: a part of the characters and not something they chose, something the characters must hide or be put in danger, something characters worry makes them evil/monsters, etc. However, parallels are not the same thing as an allegory. If we try to take BBC Merlin as a direct allegory for homophobia it falls apart because there are genuine reasons for people to be afraid of magic in the canon because it can and has killed people, controlled people, and hurt people. Queer people can’t do any of that with their queerness. Our queerness is fundamentally harmless, whereas magic is not. Also, as sterlingdylan discussed last night, if we take it as an allegory it sets up a concerning narrative about “closeted” Merlin being good, and “out” other characters being bad. Which is injecting a really extreme and problematic moral into the show, and not something we as an audience should be placing on the shoulders of the writers.

I don’t think we need to take BBC Merlin as an allegory for anything, It is enough to discuss parallels to our lives, and examine how the bigotry functions in the context of the show itself. But If we are going to be comparing it as directly as possible to something in our daily lives, then it would probably be more accurate as a narrative about extremism and essentialism. It is still an imperfect comparison because usually extremism and essentialism are not founded on genuine concern, but stick with me. It gets long so the essay is going under the cut.

Uther experienced the death of his wife at the hands of magic. Now, we know that he and Ygraine asked Nimueh for help conceiving. Whether they fully knew the cost or if Nimueh downplayed it is neither here nor there. What is relevant is that Uther was given proof of magic’s ability to harm him and the people he loved. Now, someone who did not hold the black and white “The King is always right” attitude might have taken this instance and pushed for regulation of magic rather than a ban. However, as we witness in later episodes in which he locks up his own children for defying him, Uther can never admit he was wrong so rather than say it was a bad idea to use magic in the way he did, he convinced himself that it wasn’t him who made the mistake, but that magic itself was an inherently evil corrupting force, and started the purge. He took an extreme oppositional view towards magic.

On the flip side, much of the narrative of the magic half of this battle is also about extremism. They are, rightfully, infuriated by and afraid of Uther, but they also let their anger at Uther shade their perception of Arthur. Morgana, starting in season one, was already set against Uther, but was not yet set against Arthur. However, when she met Morgause her train of thought went from justice, to revenge against Uther, to a desire for power, and finally a deep desire to see Arthur dead. Perhaps in some way Morgause really does care about creating a just world for magic users, but she clearly also has a desire for power (as seem when she encourages Morgana to stage a coup and take the throne for herself instead of try to teach Arthur, when he’s demonstrated before a willingness not to lock step with Uther) which are two things that aren’t compatible.

Morgause encourages Morgana to see the worst in the people around her, and encourages her to give into acts of extreme violence against people who don’t necessarily deserve it (ie all the peasants she was prepared to starve when they disagreed with her when she took the throne at the end of season three. A move remarkably similar to something Uther would have done). Morgana no longer stops to consider the times that Arthur stood against Uther, and comes to view Arthur not as someone who can be shown the bigger picture, but as someone inherently against magic rather than the violence it can do. This cycle does not stop with Morgana either, it also reaches Kara who refuses to see the good in Arthur even though he has shown his willingness to make peace with members of the Old Religion (druids), and was prepared to let her get away with attempted murder simply because Mordred and Merlin asked him to show her mercy.

Kara and Morgana both have come to view Arthur as inherently violent and set against magic the same way Uther came to see magic as inherently violent and set against Camelot. Neither of which are accurate views on the situation.

Arthur is the one who was prophesied to break this cycle of extremism and essentialism, and we can see him attempt to try. There are multiple occasions in which he considers that magic may not be evil. Off the top of my head there is the scene after Morgause reveals the true circumstance of his birth, the scene in which he allows Dragoon to attempt to heal Uther, and the scene where he asks Merlin if he should legalize magic in order to save Mordred. In all of these cases someone (usually Merlin) prevents him from exploring that thought deeper. Even so, he does make great strides towards taking up the proper nuanced view needed for this situation. He takes Camelot from a kingdom that relentlessly hunts down and persecutes magic, to a kingdom of fair trials and peace with druids.

Sadly, no one can meet him in the middle. Morgause and Morgana’s insistence on trying to take him down and harm the people closest to him prevents Arthur from learning the good aspects of magic just as much as Uther’s propaganda did. Merlin is the only sorcerer in the entire show not to be set against Arthur, and therefore the only one who could show Arthur how to break this cycle, but doing so presents no small risk to his own and Arthur’s safety. If Arthur took it badly and either banished or executed him, it would effectively prevent Merlin from protecting him. This leaves Arthur trying to draw his own conclusions, and he never gets the additional information that magic can, and is, used for beauty and healing. He can only operate on what he has seen, and what he has seen is magic being used against himself and Camelot repeatedly.

Arthur can’t be held responsible for not incorporating information he isn’t given into his view on magic, and Merlin can’t be held responsible for not risking himself to teach Arthur. We can, however, hold the people around them responsible for creating an environment that prevents Arthur from learning on his own, and prevents Merlin from teaching him. The fault lies primarily with Uther for kicking this whole chain of events off in the first place, and in Morgause who co-opted a genuine struggle in order to gain power. Morgana is also responsible for letting her view of Arthur (someone she has seen stand for justice) be corrupted. In the end the fault lies neither with Arthur, nor with Merlin. The fault lies in the very human tendency to view the world in black and white, and react with violence against those deemed dangerous (despite how much that title is or is not earned).

#bbc merlin #christ this turned into an essay #merlin bbc #merlin

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troublesometrollhunters · 3 years

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~ Douxie is a lowly street urchin. He's the lowest class you can get and he's barely considered a person none the less a commoner. He has no place being near the castle or being offered by the Merlin to learn magic at the side of Morgana. He doesn't fit into the world of Nobility surrounding Camelot or the Royal Court. And yet as Merlin puts his hand on the young boys shoulder leading him to the castle as he holds a sleeping Archie close, Douxies never felt more at home.

~ When Douxie meets you it's love at first sight. You just looked so healthy and clean and kind. Almost angelic. With rosy cheeks and a bright smile he couldn't help but stare at you as your mom talked to Merlin about something. You were in the most beautiful clothes he'd ever seen and your hair was recently brushed and done. He swallows trying to find his words but you don't seem to mind as you fill the silence with your sweet voice. Archie stirs in his arms and as you leave with your mom waving a goodbye Archie gives him a knowing look as Merlin smacks his head.

~ "Absolutely not Hisirdoux." Merlin is firm on that point. Douxie is allowed many freedoms now that he lives in the castle but there are also many new rules. One of them is that he apprentally is not to talk with the Nobel he met his first day as Merlins apprentice. Or any Nobles he meets unless he is with Merlin and they address him first. His rank may be higher now that he is Merlins apprentice but it will never be high enough to truly intrest someone of your stature or decorum. At least that's what Merlin tells him.

~ So of course he may not be able to "talk" to you but Archie can. So the ten year old Douxie comes up with a plan! While he's working besides Merlin he sends Archie off too learn more about you. The familiar seeing Douxies interest in you is quit keen on gaining knowledge for his young master. So the cat sneaks off to ask you some questions.

~ Your alone in your room studying when he finds you. You're reading and when he appears your eager to pet him. I mean he is a small fluffy cat. However when he speaks you seem hesitant to talk back at first, afraid that a fae is tricking you or you might get cursed. But a talking cat is so exciting and he seems very well mannered so you end up answering all his questions in exhange for some of your own. When Archie comes back that night Douxie learns everything about you Archie had learned. Apprentally you're the child of a Dutchess or perhaps a distant cousin of King Arthur but whoever you are Archie confirms you're way out of Douxies league. That in no way stops them however.

~ Merlin said Douxie is not to court you. But he isn't intrested in marriage (yet) he only wants your hand in friendship. After all your his age and you live in the castle and you seem super nice. He may be a middle class mage but he does live in the castle which means little Douxie often has free riegn of it. He's worried about guards spotting him near your room so he sends Archie too you with questions he has. Sometimes he's brave and he'll catch glimpses of you throughout the castle. He always gets a dopey smile on his face after he's seen you.

~ One day as he sits at his desk looking at the window waiting for Archie to come and tell him more about you he gets a surprise. His face lights up seeing his familiar and he notices something in the cats mouth. Archie smiles as he hands over a letter.

'Hisirdoux I've heard a lot about you from your familiar. Archie says you should give him more treats for his troubles and I agree he's a good cat who often visits me when I am lonely.

My name is (Y/N) and although we haven't formally met and talked alone I remember you. Merlins apprentice learning magic! That must be so exciting! Much better than my dull tasks in the court! I am always with escort or guard or parent otherwise I assure you we would've met and talked again. I often catch you in the corner of my eye and it always bring a smile to my face. You seem very kind and many of my friends sadly are not. So I have come up with a plan. For now I can not meet you in person but someday soon I will find a way.

Until then lets write letters. It'll be an adventure.

- Love (Y/N)

~ Archie doesn't mind being a messanger. He finds your friendship with Doxuie endearing and soon comes to care for you as much as the boy. Douxie immediately gets excited at the idea of writing you a letter and responds as soon as he finsihes reading yours.

~ Dear (Y/N),

Merlin said I'm not supposed to talk to you but he never said I couldn't write too you! You're brilliant for thinking of this and I don't listen to everything he says anyways. Merlin is a great teacher and I am grateful to him but he is also a hard enforcer. Learning magic under him is difficult and I do a lot more cleaning than actual magic.

But that's okay! I enjoy working under him. What must your life be like I wonder? A Royal in the Court? What do you do? What are you Royal duties? I mostly mop, sweep, and write endless hours of boring homework nothing exciting like this!

P.S I gave Archie lots of pets and treats just like you asked!

- Your friend Hisirdoux Casperan

~ Soon starts a game of back and forth. Every night or every other night you write letters to him and he writes back. You exchange smiles in the hall and nod at each other in passing. It's the biggest secret either of you have ever had and sometimes it takes everything not to giggle at the sight of each other. You may not be able to hang out properly but as you begin to get to know each other more intimately Hisirdoux takes more risks too see you and you in turn do the same.

~ A year goes by and Douxie starts adding in small things to your letters. He loves giving you little gifts and trying to catch a reaction in the hallway, as dangerous as it might be, he loves seeing your smile whenever you receive something. Pressed flowers, poetry he read in old books, and knick nacks he found in town being some of his favorites to give you. In turn you give him sweets, books you like to read, small sketches, interesting facts from your studies, pretty crystals, and anything else you think he'll enjoy.

~ As teenager's Archie had been your letterman for years. Acting as a middle ground since it was almost impossible to meet alone. You and Hisirdoux had become closer despite not being able to meet in person much and as you both were given more freedom as you got older you found ways to meet and talk, Archie acting as a look out as you snuck moments alone.

~ You both find out the castle has secret passages throughout the walls when your about 13. Douxie and you are now able to meet in secret and have free reign of the castle at night when everyone is asleep. Some nights you both sneak into the kitchens stealing tarts and other sweets, other nights you spend in the library reading together into the early hours of the morning, and other nights are spent wandering the castle learning all it's secrets. Sometimes you even sneak to the roof or observatory and stare out at the stars talking about your dreams and what you wish to be and do.

~ As he becomes better at music he finds himself sitting beneath your rooms balcony or practicing outside your room so you can hear his music. You only encourage his craft and your encouragement makes his heart soar. He loves singing silly ballads to you and has even snuck in some romantic lyrics.

~ He loves showing off his magic. He's so proud of his craft and he's proud of how your eyes light up when you watch him do a spell. He enjoys watching your reactions as he casts his latest mark and often does spells he probably shouldn't to try and impress you. His favorite trick is summoning a flower and tucking it behind your ear. Your blush is always so pretty as he places it for you.

~ He sneaks into your library or places you go throughout the day to leave you things to find. Pressed flowers became a common occurrence in your books, or bits of a song he'd wrote slip into your school notes. Sometimes drawings and other small assorted things will appear through out the day as you do your duties as well. Unknown to Casperan you keep everything he gives you in a box under your bed in your room. All the letters he's written to you are safely tucked away in a large hollow book you made.

~ It becomes easier for him to sneak into your room or you to sneak into his as you get older. There are secret tunnels in the castle walls you use to meet up.

~ As you grow older you know your hand will soon be given to some other Nobel family but you dream of a life with Douxie. One where you could be yourself and you could live a life of love, magic, and adventure. He made you happy and although it wasn't practical you often daydreamed of running away together or becoming a mage yourself just so you could marry him.

~ One night when Archie goes to check up on you and say goodnight he runs back to Hisirdoux worried. Apprentally the ball of furr had heard you crying and ran back to tell young Casperan. He of course ran to your room doing his best not to be seen. You were waiting for Archie to come say goodnight but you'd fallen asleep and then woken from a terrible nightmare. Your door opens and looking up you sniffle and stare at Casperan with scared eyes. He lays next to you and you lean against him closing your eyes and taking in his comfort. Holding you close he uses his magic to play you a song staying with you until you drift asleep.

~ You're both more than friends. You both know it but neither of you have admitted it. The Royal Court would never allow you to love each other. You could never be married officially and eventually you'd be forced into a loveless life with someone else. However tension is rising in Camelot and things are changing. Magic may soon be banned and with it Douxies passion. You're idea to run away becomes more and more appealing as the world around you slowly dissolves into choas.

~ One night while everyone was asleep you sneak into his room. Shaking him awake you put a finger to your mouth and drag the sleepy boy to the stables. Under the moonlight you both ride out of Camelot to spend one night together. One night where you can just be who you both are. You explain your plan. What you should do and although Douxie does not want to leave he agrees it's unsafe.

~ You pack. You know you can't take much but you've arranged for a carriage with two horses so you and Douxie can at least start with something. All your jewellery and valuables along with pouches full of gold, silver, and copper from the Royal Treasury are put into a large satchel you hide under your bed. You pack a few of your least fancy dresses and steal pants from the stable boy. All of your favorite books, drawing supplies, and poems are shoved into a different satchel. You hide the hollow book of letters and all the gifts Hisirdoux wrote you in the stable and you prepare to leave.

~ Packing the carriage late at night under the stars Douxie and Archie meet you. Douxie has a satchel full of potions, a purse full of magic scrolls and books no one will miss, the letters you wrote him, and his lute. He also grabbed dried meat from the kitchen, biscuits, and canteens of water.

"Love are you sure?" He's so tender so soft and so full of love. You know this is meant to be.

"Without you Douxie life is not worth living. You love me not for my riches. Not for looks. Not for my status but for me. No matter what happens I love you."

~ That's all Douxie needs to hear before he takes the reigns and you both leave. Fleeing your life from Camelot and going on a new adventure. One of adventure, magic, and love. You know things will never be the same but that's alright. You have him, he has you, and you both had Archie. As you flee under the stars avoiding trolls and traveling several towns over you know this is meant to be.

(Comments and feedback appreciated :D)

#hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #douxie x reader #wizards x reader #noble reader #morgana #merlin #archie #hello!#i read way too much douxie fanfiction #so heres the boy #i love him #fair warning still havent seen wizards 😬😬😬#hope this is good!#cannon divergent #in which douxie finds someone he loves and leaves Camelot before everything goes to hell #douxie #long post

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morganas-destiny · 3 years

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(This turned out longer than intended lmao, I was just gonna write a little and then it turned into this long ass rant but anyway)

I had this idea,,, what if the balance of the world had taken a different life in exchange for Arthur's birth? Someone who was also of great importance to Uther so he still develops his intense hatred of magic but,,, Ygraine survives. And she can't understand him because magic gave them a son, their beautiful little son and she tries to make him see sense but Uther doesn't want to hear any of it. The Great Purge still happens and she hates every moment of it. But she can't move against Uther so all she can do is teach Arthur better values, to help him see the goodness in it. Arthur grows up, still rather arrogant because he's Arthur, but he's more in touch with his emotions and a lot more gentle since he actually had a loving parental figure growing up. As for Morgana, Ygraine knows. She knows she's Uther's illegitimate daughter. Her husband never told her but she knows. She sees the longing in Uther's eyes when he gazes at her while she's sitting in Gorlois' lap. She sees the affection he shows her and the way his eyes light up when Morgana smiles at him, a look he usually only spares his son in rare moments. She can't help but resent the girl for it. For hogging his attention and affection when Uther already has a child, a legitimate child who wishes for his father's love. But when Gorlois dies and Morgana is brought to the castlegrounds as Uther's ward, Ygraine feels empathy for the little girl, who looks so broken and lost. She accepts that she is part of their life now. A few years pass. Ygraine watches Arthur and Morgana grow up. She appreciates their bond. Enjoys seeing them play together, dance together at feasts, seeing Arthur (if reluctantly) train sword fighting with Morgana (against Uther's explicit wishes) and actually losing against her a few times. She swiftly averts drama when both nervously ask her on seperate occasions if they would be forced to marry in the future. They seem relieved upon hearing that no, you two are going to be more like siblings. Because she definitely doesn't intend for them to try and fall in love, only to discover their blood relation later. She never really got too close to Morgana, because although she accepts her as part of the family, she's still reminded of the betrayal whenever she looks at her. But then one day, she notices the dark circles under the girl's eyes and her sickenly pale face and starts to worry. She questions Morgana's maid Gwen about her state - hearing about the increasingly worse nightmares and the sleeping draughts from Gaius which don't have much effect. She's concerned but doesn't understand the full severity until one night, she takes a stroll through the castle and hears Morgana's screams and finds her crying terribly, alone because Gwen's out of duty. Ygraine's motherly instincts kick in and she just sits down next to her, to hold her. Their relationship gets a lot better and closer after that. More than once, Ygraine would get woken up in the middle of the night by a sobbing Morgana and without hesitation, she'd jump out of bed. She'd take her hand and guide her wherever - sometimes back to her chambers, to stay with her until she calmed down and sometimes out into the castle gardens, enjoying the cool night air. Sometimes she'd hold her because of a particularly bad nightmare and sometimes she'd hold her because Morgana was terrified about the strange feelings she had for her maid and friend Gwen - Ygraine would then explain to her that it was okay, that it wasn't unnatural or wrong to like another girl that way. They'd also bond over other things - they'd giggle about Arthur, roll their eyes at Uther, walk around the market with Gwen. Slowly becoming more and more like mother and daughter.

Of course, Arthur wouldn't be forgotten though. She's still incredibly close to him, he's still her beautiful, golden boy and she never fails to make him feel loved or spare time for him. She never fails to notice when something's wrong. So she knows there's more to it when he bursts into the room one day, complaining about a commoner who had insulted him, even had the nerve to try and fight him. She's barely ever seen him this agitated and she can't help but smile because somehow she just knows her son actually likes this commoner wherever he wants to admit or not (wherever he himself even knows it yet or not). She meets said boy some time later at the feast. Merlin seems like a kind and good young man - and he saved her son, which is reason enough to like him already.

That same evening she has to listen to Arthur's enraged rant because how dare his father make this stupid fool his manservant? However already in the next days she's able to get him to say the words maybe he's not so bad after all. And latest after the events of the Poisoned Chalice, it's obvious that these two would go through hell and back for each other. And she's incredibly happy to see Arthur have that kind of bond to someone. That's why she doesn't say anything to Uther when she sees Merlin use magic. (Because let's be honest, that boy is terrible at hiding his magic, it's a surprise that not half of Camelot knows already). She feels obligated to let Merlin know she knows but also ensures him, she would keep it a secret for him. The good mood doesn't last all too long. Shortly after, Morgana admits fearfully that her nightmares have been coming true and Ygraine suspects the worst. She asks Gaius for help, and, both knowing each other's standpoint, gets the confirmation that they are caused by magic. She's hellbent on making sure Morgana doesn't feel alone, and has someone to talk to. Despite Gaius' protests, Ygraine tells Morgana about her gifts and reassures her that it doesn't have to be a bad thing. Morgana, while relieved about the support, isn't convinced - she doesn't feel safe, knowing Uther's view of magic. What follows are many, many fights between Uther and Ygraine. Whenever he as much as squints his eyes at the word magic, she explodes. She attempts to change his mind but really all it does is raise suspicion. Uther voices this suspicion, asking why she's suddenly so passionate about the topic. He knows she never agreed with the elimination of all magical beings but she's never been this vocal about it. He suspects that she's covering for someone and she'd like nothing more than to scream at him that yes, yes she is but it's not her place to say anything. What's sure is there are two people close to her family have magic and are in constant danger. And she decides she's finally putting an end to it. She changes her tactics. And after many discussions and countless attempts and most importantly, the admittance that she knew about his affair, she convinces Uther to tell Morgana the truth about her heritage and then to pubicly declare her as his own. To give Morgana a sense of security. Ygraine knows, no matter how many fights and arguments they've had in the past, Uther loves Morgana and if anyone could change his heart, it's her. So after some more comforting and encouraging, Morgana comes clean about her magic to Uther. He's obviously shocked and his first instinct is to push her away but Ygraine, at last, after over 20 years of persecution of magic, makes him see that it's about the person, not the power. That sorcery doesn't equal evil. And so, after more than 20 years, magic is legalised again. Arthur and Morgana are able to rejoice in being blood related and neither of them are infested with their father's hate. Merlin is able to come out about his magic and get accepted without being manipulated into making dumb choices by that giant lizard. Morgause wouldn't have a reason to act against the Pendragons anymore so she might just come to Camelot, simply to meet her half sister. All of them would lead happy lives. There'd still be obstacles because Uther is Uther and that won't change so aspects like the Round Table and "anyone can become a knight" would still have to wait until Arthur's king. But the time until that happens would be so much more peaceful. All because of a mother's love.

#merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #uther pendragon #ygraine pendragon #gwen pendragon

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jabbers-wild-world · 3 years

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Jabber’s Headcanons

Douxie Edition:

Douxie is ambidextrous, and always has been, and this is something Merlin did actually make sure to encourage. He is primarily left-handed, but can use both with near-equal proficiency.

Douxie has near perfect pitch. He doesn’t get it right all the time, but majority of the time, he can match any note he hears.

Douxie speaks, or at least understands, a wide variety of languages. Ancient Draconic is unfortunately not on his list, but Trollish is, among quite a number of others, including Latin, Romanian, and Nymphic.

He likes spicy food, and is the only one aside from Toby and Aja, who can actually handle the Diablo Maximus without trouble.

Before he became Merlin’s apprentice, Douxie spent a number of years living completely on his own in the forests around Camelot, and as a result, he did develop a few more animalistic behaviors and habits, that Merlin did mostly train out of him, but he does still occasionally revert back if he’s not thinking about it.

He does still actively utilize some of the older, more pagan practices, and closely tracks the lunar cycles and planetary alignments. This does mean as well that around certain lunar events, and at certain times of the year, Douxie does spend time ‘bathing’ in moonlight and using certain practices to amplify his magic.

Aside from Archie and himself, Douxie does have a few other.. more magical residents in his apartment, and he does his best to accommodate everyone, even if some of the.. smaller inhabitants seem to like waging a war upon their wizard roommate, complete with small ballistas and catapults. Generally speaking, if visiting Douxie’s apartment, make sure to have offerings to appease the brownies, and beware of small projectiles.

Douxie’s pronouns are he/they, but he also generally doesn’t care much how he’s referred to as long as it’s not insulting. If someone gets his pronouns wrong, he generally isn’t bothered by it.

He has tattooed himself with actually functional sigils in case he may ever need them, but so far he hasn’t had to use them. They are an extreme emergency failsafe. To most people though, they just look like cool tattoos and nothing more.

Douxie is biromantic asexual. While yes, he will occasionally seek out emotional connections, he really isn’t into the physical side of things too much. It took him a long time to come to this conclusion, through a lot of trial and error, although he is still a virgin (believe it or not), and it actually has been about 300 years since he was last in a real relationship. So, any future partners should be patient with him, he’s just more than a bit out of practice.

When overly stressed, and especially when suppressing it, Douxie has occasionally used magic in his sleep. This can either be benign levitation spells, or volatile defensive magic if he’s really not handling things well. It’s a mixed bag of results, depending on how stressed he is, and what he’s stressed about.

He has a massive appetite, and it’s mostly due to how powerful his magic is, and how much energy it takes to produce said magic. Because of this, he also has an extremely quick metabolism, and so needs to eat regularly, or he could do serious harm to himself if he’s not careful. Also, high carb and high calorie foods are extremely beneficial for this.

Douxie is terrified of hospitals and avoids them at all costs. Even if he really needs a doctor, he’s terrible about going to see one, and honestly it takes a lot of convincing to get him to even consider the idea. And by extension, he’s also wary of doctors in general, even Barbara Lake.

Douxie sees all life as important and something to be protected. He’s that guy that if a bug gets inside the apartment, he’s more likely to catch it and let it outside than to kill it. In general, he has a lot of issues with death and so he prefers to avoid killing if at all possible.

However, that’s not to say he hasn’t taken his fair share of lives over the years, usually for survival and self-defense only though, and he does always make sure to give his respect to the life lost.

Douxie is actually very, very self-conscious about his body. More than a few bad relationships with harshly critical partners, among other experiences, and he very rarely lets himself be seen unclothed by anyone. He worries that he’s got any number of problems that make him unworthy of anyone to look upon him, and so.. it takes a lot of time, patience, and trust for him to even take his shirt off around other people.

Douxie actually has a number of scars that are mostly hidden beneath his clothes, and each one has a story to it. Again, however, only those he truly trusts get to find out what those stories are.

He is capable of falling asleep standing up, and he has done it in the past during late shifts. His coworkers find this hilarious and like to take bets on how long it’ll be before he either wakes up or falls over.

He is 6′2″, and 164.3 lbs.

His middle name is Elijah.

His favorite color is blue, and his second favorite color is purple.

His favorite flowers are forget-me-nots.

His favorite tea is chamomile.

His favorite dessert is chocolate lava cake.

He has never encountered a unicorn, and hopes that someday he still might. He just knows they are very shy and elusive animals.

His ideal vacation would be to go somewhere tropical and swim with dolphins.

He hopes to one day own a cabin somewhere in the woods, and live out his life quietly and peacefully. He’s not sure how long that’ll take to get there, but someday..

#;; regarding the wizard (about douxie)

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educatingmerlin · 3 years

Text

A response. Original response (to what xe were responding to) is the last two photos.

Image description below:

First image, Arete20 on Twitter says:

This response is well-intentioned, but I feel a bit uncomfortable calling the magic oppression in BBC Merlin racism. I do think it can be read as an allegory to queer, religious, and maybe even ethnic/cultural oppressions, the majority of the white users in the show are white.

Second image:

In fact I can only think of one Black magic user in the whole show (though there may have been other BIPOC I'm forgetting). Yet there are BIPOC in Merlin that faced racism from the white show runners, writers, and fandom - Gwen, Elyan and Lancleot. There were also racist and-

antisemitic designs for the supernatural beings on the show, such as the goblin and the troll. While it is fascinating to talk about the magic oppression on the show and how it can be allegorical or reminiscent of real world oppression, and how we as marginalized views can relate-

Third image:

to magic users, I think our discussions of racism should be focused on BIPOC in the show, not on a deception of a fictional oppression faced mostly by white people (the way that fictional oppression storylines centre white people as being oppressed is super problematic

Fourth image, hellneedsaruler on Tumbler says:

Heey anon , I don't know if you're talking about the racism against magic or other kind , because if it's, that's the whole idea of the show ! How racism is bad and destructive and unfair and affects so many innocent people negatively where they have to hide their true identities and live in fear . I don't remember for once in the show that they portrayed the discrimination against people with magic in a positive way , the whole show is about accepting our differences and learning to live together and that not everything you don't understand is bad and dangerous .

Fifth image:

The sexism is another story , please understand that i don't encourage sexism in any way and as a woman i don't like when men get called a " girl " for expressing feelings or whatever , But you have to keep in mind these are the middle ages where men have to be big and strong to hunt and bring food on the table and the wives stayed at home and took care of the house work so when Arthur likens Merlin to a girl because he's thin or whatever that's because that was what's expected from women at the time while men had to be fight and hunt and protect . I'm not saying it's right but you can't judge the middle ages by the standards we have now days and what's acceptable and what's not in today's society because these are completely different times . Plus the show made Morgana and Gwen fight multiple times so they were trying .

#angel coulby #arthur pendragon #bbc emrys #bbc merlin #bbc merthur #bradley james #gwen pendragon #katie mcgrath #merlin #merthur

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cibeewastaken · 4 years

Note

May you write some trans draco and supportive boyfriend harry fluff??😄💙💙

thank you for the prompt! I’ve never written trans characters before, and although I did research beforehand, if there is anything I got wrong or if I have written anything disrespectful, let me know and I will change it. Thank you to Shahar and Solana from the Drarry Discord that did a sensitivity read over this, and @pineau-noir for the beta!! thank you all!

2680 words. Professor drarry, coming out, getting together & established relationship, smitten Harry

Also: brief misgendering (not maliciously, toward the beginning), off-screen transphobic comment (toward the end, it is not explicitly written out), discussion of pregnancy.

Read on Ao3

****

Draco decided to come out because he dreamt of his mother.

It was on his thirty-fifth birthday, when he had gone out to Hogsmeade with Harry, Pansy, Greg and Granger the night before and drank themself silly. Weasley had moaned and cried about wanting to come but it was his turn to babysit. Draco had gotten so pissed that Harry had to carry him all the way back to Hogwarts and shushed him constantly when they got to the professor’s quarters because Draco had really wanted sing All About That Bass. Harry had to help him to bed and Draco had begged Harry to make him a cup of hot chocolate

That night he dreamt, as he was wont to do after drinking bottle after bottle of whiskey and falling asleep in that too warm state of being under layers of blankets and a belly full of hot drinks. He dreamt of the memory of sitting beside her bed moments before she died, trying to work up the courage to tell her; almost ran out the door to where Harry was waiting, and asked him for tips on how to be a brave person. But before he could come to any decision, his mother sighed, “I love you, my sweet, brave girl.” And the next moment, Draco had lost his chance.

He woke up, ten years later, wishing desperately again he could have told his mother.

Draco told Harry his decision the same day of the dream. Harry sat in the plush armchair in Draco’s room, watched Draco pace about with a cup of piping hot tea cradled in his hands. He listened intently to Draco going on and on, “I just woke up this morning, and I knew I was ready. I mean—okay, even if I am, how will I go about it? Write a public letter? An announcement during breakfast in the Great Hall? No, no, that’s the showman in me talking. Ah—should I ask for the Headmistress’s permission? I—”

Harry only cut him off then. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said. “You can just inform her, if you want.”

Draco softened. Blushed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you’re right.” He went and sat down on the other armchair, Harry’s eyes followed him with a fond smile.

“How about in class?” Draco asked.

“That certainly is when you are the most confident.” Harry smiled at him. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You’re not going to talk me out of it?”

“I would never do that,” Harry said. “But can I ask why now?”

“‘May I ask’,” Draco corrected.

Harry gave him a look. Draco laughed before talking. “I’m ready. I want to stop hiding. I want to talk about my experience. I want to come out on my own terms, and I don’t want to leave any regret. Merlin, do you remember after the war, the amount of therapy we all did? It wasn’t until years later did I feel like I was healed enough from the war to talk about my gender identity with a professional. We had talked about coming out, or transitioning, and I had said I would like to come out when I’m happy again.”

Harry listened with a happy smile on his face. “You’re happy now,” he said.

Draco reached over and tucked a stray hair behind Harry’s ear. “I was scared of coming out when I told her that, that’s why I said I would only do it when I’m happy again. I had thought I would never be happy again.” He left his hand on Harry’s face. “I’ve been happy for a while now. I’ve been so comfortable with happy, that I needed my mother’s death to remind me at one point, I wasn’t.”

“It sucks that it took so long.”

“It took longer for you,” Draco murmured. Harry just smiled and pressed a kiss to Draco’s palm.

They allowed the comfortable silence to go on for a bit, but soon Draco started to fidget. “I know I’m hiding it incredibly well, but I am a bit frightened.”

Harry didn’t say, “You don’t have to do it right now if you’re not ready.” Because of course that went without saying. Though he did say, “I’ll be with you through it all.”

Ah, but that was stupid too, because that also went without saying in Draco’s opinion. Harry had always been there for him, throughout the years of teaching apprenticeship in Hogwarts and through studying for their Magical Academic Skills for Educators and through their first classes as professors. Harry was the first person he came out to after his friends in Eighth Year. So, Harry needn’t say he would be with Draco through everything! It was a given—Draco wanted to accuse Harry of saying it just to see Draco blush.

In the end, Draco just muttered a lame, “Thank you.”

Then all too soon, Harry had to leave for his first class, and he lingered by Draco’s door. “Do you want to take dinner with me in my room? Or your room? Or just, somewhere without a whole school worth of children?”

Draco knew he was wearing a dopey and besotted grin on his face, but this relationship was new, and he had daydreamed about it for years. As suave and gentlemanly as he had imagined himself in his head, sweeping Harry off his feet with charm, he really couldn’t bring himself to pretend he wasn’t stupidly happy.

“That sounds lovely,” he said. And a grin broke out on Harry’s flushed face too. Draco couldn’t help but press a kiss to Harry’s cheek before sending him on his way.

Draco loved how shy and eager Harry was about this. With sixteen years of friendship under their belt, when Harry asked Draco out a month ago. Harry had been tripping over every word, and it had taken Draco nearly five minutes to figure out Harry was asking him out.

“Oh,” Draco had said. He had been standing by his door, seeing Harry off like they do almost every night. “Oh!”

Harry had flushed down to his neck.

“Yes,” Draco had replied in a hurry. “Oh my god—yes.”

“Yeah?”

Draco had nodded, willing his face to stay calm.

“Cool,” Harry had said. Another word choice he picked up from the students. “I’ll—er, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven, then?”

“Okay.”

Draco had decided he would stay and watch Harry go, and it was rewarded with Harry stopping every two steps to turn around and look at Draco until he reached the staircase. Draco had listened to Harry’s footsteps fading down the stairs and grinned at nothing. And he had laughed when he heard Harry’s jubilant shout from afar.

Draco also remembered how later that night, as he finally stumbled back to bed, how he lay there for hours, indulging himself on playing out being Harry’s boyfriend—and berated himself for acting like a teenager. Not that it stopped Draco from doing it.

When Draco’s daydream entered the “Marriage” chapter, he remembered how Harry always wanted children, and that was like falling into a pit of icy water. Draco tried to shake himself off the tightness, tried to stop himself from imagining his body becoming a reminder of a gender he long left in the past. Draco tried to stifle the nausea.

He could very well just forget about it. They hadn’t even been on their first date yet. Children seemed so far into the future. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave Draco alone. What if it was a deal-breaker for Harry? Draco had loved Harry for so long, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go through a heartbreak Draco knew could be potentially ruining.

At half-past one, Draco climbed out of his cocoon of blankets and trekked to Harry’s room a few floors below. Harry opened the door in his pajamas and messy hair. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Draco said, and wanted to jump off the castle right after the words left his mouth.

The incredulous look on Harry’s face was deserving, Draco supposed. “Is something wrong?” Harry asked, pulling Draco into his warm room.

Draco swallowed. “Do you expect me to carry your child, if this goes somewhere?”

A few seconds went by and Harry remained gaping at Draco.

“I know some people do it,” Draco continued on. “I know they’re okay with it. But not—not me. I don’t know if I’ll ever go through a transition. Oh, you know that, yes, I forgot I told you that before. I’m happy with myself, but if that means you’ll expect me to carry our children—I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“What is going on?” Harry seemed to be talking to himself. “You do not need to apologize for that! And I—Jesus, are we talking about children? I mean, I’ve thought about it, because I’ve been in lo—ngk, I mean, I always wanted kids—Yes, I know you know! But I never thought about that, Draco. I know you don’t want to. I would never ask that of you!” He sounded distressed.

They were both panting. “Good,” Draco said. “I just want us to be on the same page.”

“I always wanted to adopt,” Harry said.

“Oh.” Draco looked to the floor. “You never said.”

“I would’ve told you someday.”

“Is today someday?”

“It can be.” Harry smiled softly at Draco, who was now feeling very flustered from being reckless and Gryffindor-like and barging in to demand answers in the middle of the night.

“I guess it makes sense,” Draco said. “That you would want to love a child that needs it. Ah, is that insensitive of me to say?”

Harry dragged him into a crushing hug.

***

It took Draco a few days to gather up enough courage. In the end he chose the second-year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class as his first step. While everyone had finished setting up their cauldrons and tools, Draco cleared his throat.

“I need to tell you all something.”

***

The second-years took the news with wide-eyed exhilaration, shouting encouragement and cheers to the point Draco couldn’t hear his own voice anymore. “That’s why I picked them to go first,” Draco told Harry after class, when he came over to ask how it went. “They’re a bunch of sweethearts and I need the ego-boost.” Harry laughed and kissed him.

The seventh-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class was rougher. Some students recoiled, and some of those students looked shamefaced at their own reactions, which made Draco feel better (however slight.) He was more solemn during his speech. When some Gryffindor boys started murmuring, a few Slytherin students glared at them hard enough to shut them up. Draco had to smile a bit at that.

“May we ask some questions, sir?” A Slytherin student asked.

“Go ahead, Miss Jeffers.”

“Do you see yourself as gay, then?”

“I’ve always been attracted to men,” Draco answered calmly. “And as a man, I identify myself as gay.”

Another student raised their hand. “Was your name always Draco?”

“Yes. My mother picked it, and she had always intended to use it on a boy or a girl.”

“Did you dress differently when you were young, before—er, you know.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the student and he blushed sheepishly.

“A good thing about wizarding fashion is that robes all generally looked the same for both male and female. I was lucky enough to not experience the hardship Muggle transgender community might face growing up.”

When no more hands were left up in the air, Draco could see it wasn’t the end of confusion for some students. But there was no use to push. Draco smiled at his class, “I’m not any more different than I was before today. You just know more about who I am now. You’ll find that, despite this new knowledge, I am still exactly the same. For example,” Draco tapped his wand and papers appeared in front of each student. “I still like to surprise you with a pop quiz.”

The groans were music to Draco’s ears.

***

The news spread to the whole school by the next day, and breakfast was an anxious ordeal. Draco had made the decision to eat in the Great Hall. Harry’s continuous presence was warm and steady next to him. Harry knew how to deal with being in the spotlight of gossip, and he pulled out all stops to distract Draco from it (i.e., some very heavy making out in the hallway outside of Draco’s room, certainly far too inappropriate at seven o’clock in the morning on a school day). Draco had been preparing for it to happen, but he was still caught off guard when it came.

When it came, Draco had been walking by himself to his next class. He turned around slowly to see who had made the remark. The student didn’t try to hide. He was standing right behind Draco. Everyone around stopped in their tracks, from what the boy had said or to see what would happen, Draco didn’t know.

The boy sneered at Draco. His friend looked very surprised and appalled. “10 points from Gryffindor,” Draco said. He focused on the disappointment he felt, and not all the other awful feelings that were churning at the base of his throat.

“100 points from Gryffindor,” someone said from behind. McGonagall strode past Draco and glared down at him. “Plus one-week detention with me, for your ignorance and malice, Mr. Anderson. You should know better. There are transgender students here, and I will not allow this kind of behavior in my school.”

Out of nowhere, Harry appeared next to Draco. “And Mr. Anderson will see me after class today,” he said. “As head of house, I apologize for my student’s behavior, Professor Malfoy.”

Draco nodded, throat thick. Students were gathering around them, but they were looking at Anderson, whose face took on a sickly tinge at the prospect of detention with both the Headmistress and the Boy Who Lived.

“Go to your class, now,” McGonagall said tersely. Anderson scampered off, his friend following. McGonagall turned her gaze onto the students mulling around, who all jumped and started to move.

“I am sorry, Draco,” McGonagall said when all students cleared out.

“I’m alright, Headmistress.”

“I’ll walk with him,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand. And McGonagall’s smile showed that she would let this PDA slide just this once.

“I don’t nee—” Draco started.

“I’m not walking you to your classroom because I think you need a bodyguard,” Harry said. “I’m walking with you to your classroom because I missed you.”

Draco hated how easily his mood was improved by that.

Just before parting, Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “Harry,” Draco said, throat thick and heavy. Harry turned to him inquiringly.

“Educate him,” Draco said. He looked at Harry’s eyes. So honest and good. “Don’t punish him and let him walk away as ignorant before, Harry. Don’t do what our teachers did to us. Teach him.”

Harry cupped Draco’s face. “That was always the plan.”

Draco nodded. He blinked slowly, finally letting the tears fall. Letting them out. It didn’t take more than a few. Harry kissed away each drop, and Draco smiled through it.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Harry looked delighted, as though they didn’t see each other every other night already.

Draco gave an amused chuckle. Harry’s gaze lingered on him until the classroom door closed.

***

Draco was just grading his last pile of homework when someone knocked on his office door. “Sir?”

Draco looked up from his grading. It was a third-year Gryffindor. Michael Genson, standing nervously by the door, eyes very wide. An expression so familiar, so mixed with trepidation and hope that for a second Draco thought he was looking at his 13-year-old self. “May I ask you some questions?” Michael said.

Draco put down his quill and moved his grading aside. “Of course,” he smiled. “Tea?”

Michael nodded, sitting down gingerly. Draco gave him a comforting smile and Summoned his best tea leaves.

Hopefully by the end of the chat, Draco could be fortunate enough to find out who Michael truly was.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #trans draco #hp #drarry squad #darry #my fic #Anonymous

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin has been gone for two years, Arthur has a meeting with the Lord Emrys to help with the changing laws:

And he has never bitterly regretted sending Merlin away more

Part 2(final part)

Angst,

I'm gonna say... about 6 months before Uther dies, Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur.

He really does NOT react well.

Arthur doesn't let Merlin get a word of explanation in, before he hits him on the head so hard he's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

When Merlin wakes up, what he can only assume is MUCH later, he's wearing cold iron shackles, he's been blindfolded, and gagged.

He just listens at first, still dazed and certainly concussed.

After about twenty minutes he's more aware, and realises... he's outside, in a forest, and he's on his own.

It’s been two years since Arthur abandoned Merlin in the woods beyond Camelot’s border.

He’s been King now for about a year and a half.

He went back three days later and tracked Merlin for a few hours, before coming to the conclusion that he'd gotten away safely, and heading back to Camelot.

He always tried to justify it to himself as protecting Merlin from Uther, ignoring the fact that Merlin had managed just fine on his own for years.

But really that was just an excuse. All he saw in the moment was a liar and a traitor. Really he should've had Merlin executed so... he's still a good person. He did the right thing.

He hadn't told anyone else the truth (perhaps because he knows they would hate him for it). Instead he told them that he and Merlin had argued, and before Arthur could get to the bottom of why his manservant was so irate, he stormed off in the middle of the night, and told him he wasn't coming back.

He stuck to that story the whole two years, though he's fairly certain they at least suspect he's lying. Gaius definitely does.

I imagine Gaius, only a few days after Merlin's disappearance, taking Arthur aside one night, and demanding to know if Merlin was dead. If Arthur had killed him:

"No! No of course not. He... we had a fight. It's like I said. He left in the night and told me not to follow him, that he wasn't coming back. I plan to respect his wishes."

Gaius releases the bruising grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and takes a step back, his expression unreadable as he stares at the Prince.

"I...why would think I killed him?"

"Despite the fact that he most certainly could've defended himself against you, I always found it troubling how willing he was to let you execute him, should that be what you wanted."

Arthur has no reply to that, what would he even say? Would Merlin really have willingly walked to a pyre? If Arthur had only asked?

Gaius goes to walk away at that, but just before he shuts the door behind him, he pauses, and without looking back, says:

"If I find out you have killed my son, Sire, for who he is, there will... there is a large group of people who would see that justice is served. Myself included."

Everyone notices the change in the relationship between Gaius and Arthur since Merlin had left.

Arthur, with the knowledge that Gaius knows. Knows the truth and had guessed what he'd done. He couldn't face that.

They barely spoke to each other, Arthur avoided the physician wherever possible and words of encouragement and kindness were no longer aimed his way from the gentle old man.

His relationships with the others deteriorated as well.

They either thought he was telling the truth, and resented him for both being cruel to Merlin, and letting him go so easily.

(After years of Arthur treating Merlin terribly, no one is really surprised that Merlin had decided he'd had enough and left.)

OR they thought he was lying, hiding something, and resented him for not telling them the truth, and potentially doing something unforgivable to Merlin.

All but Gwaine are still polite to him, showing him the due respect of a Prince, and then a King, but not of a friend.

After a series of hijinks, Arthur comes to the terrifying realisation that magic isn't all bad.

Really I think, he's known all along. But admitting that magic wasn't pure evil made what he did to Merlin even more unforgivable.

He begins making moves to legalise it. It's slow and difficult, and he meets resistance at every turn.

BUT he also has the surprising support of Gaius, and his knights, and Gwen, and Morgana.

Still, none of them treat him like a friend, not the way they used to, but they're helping him along the way. He hadn't realised how many people close to him opposed the ban, until he started dismantling it.

Hope rises in him, over the months, as he realises that once he's legalised magic, he can find Merlin, and bring him back. The first place he'll check is Ealdor.

He's... scared of that. Scared that he won't be able to find him, but more scared that he will. That Merlin will hate him. That Merlin won't care that he's repealing the ban and won't want to come back.

Arthur doesn't think he could bare that.

Mostly because he knows that it would be entirely his own fault.

After the ban is finally lifted, there are huge celebrations. If the King is seen to be searching the crowds, as if for a familiar face, no one mentions it.

A few days later, a group of Druids come for an audience with the King, and are met by Arthur in the courtyard.

After quick introductions, and pleasantries, the leader begins to speak:

"Once and Future King, I first want to extend my gratitude for this warm welcome, and promise that you have the Druid's full support in lifting the ban. We hope for a peaceful future, full of cooperation and compassion."

Arthur nods and smiles slightly at that, but before he can reply in anyway, the Druid speaks again:

"Our leader, the leader of all Druids and all magic of the world, would like to convene with you, and discuss the specifics of any future agreements between our two worlds."

Arthur is surprised at that, but hides it well. Leader of... all magic? Sounds... powerful:

"Of course, I readily accept. They may bring themselves forth, I will make time for a meeting whenever they so choose."

"Your majesty, My Lord Emrys already awaits you in the throne room-"

(The Druid smiles at Arthur's barely concealed shock at his words, both at the idea that someone had snuck into his castle undetected, and at the mention of Emrys. One of the the few conversations he'd had with Gaius had been an in-depth explanation of who Emrys was, and his and Arthur's destiny (the physician had failed, of course, to mention Emrys' true identity.))

The Druid continues gently:

"-He's not one for public appearances."

"I.... of course. Will you and your group be attending? Or would you like to be shown to your rooms immediately?"

"This is a matter to be discussed privately, between the two of you, My Lord. Myself and my group have a camp just beyond the city walls that we will return to. Thank you for the offer of hospitality, we appreciate the kindness greatly."

With that, the Druid gives another short bow before turning and leaving through the castle gates, his group following closely behind him.

Arthur takes a deep breath, briefly glancing at Sir Leon, who stands at his side, and instructing him to inform the council that any remaining meetings for the day had been cancelled.

Leon gives a stiff nod and stalks off. He had been the best at hiding his disdain for his former best friend, but it still shone through occasionally, and Arthur's heart clenches as he thinks that he really can blame no one but himself for the deterioration of everything in his personal life.

With another deep breath, he re-enters the castle, and heads towards the throne room, trying to psyche himself up for meeting the supposed Leader of All Magic, who had managed to sneak his way into the heart of the castle, without anyone noticing or raising the alarm.

He pauses briefly outside the doors, and instructs the guards to not let Anyone in, without the King's express permission.

They nod, and with that, Arthur opens the doors and enters, shutting them quietly, before turning around to be faced with a near empty throne room.

He furrows his brow as his eyes settle on a single man, his back to Arthur where he stands gazing out a window, onto the courtyard below.

Arthur can't see his face, he can't see much of him to be honest, he's shrouded in a floor length blue cloak, hood up and covering his head.

The King stares only for a moment before raising himself to his full height, clearing his throat, and speaking:

"Lord Emrys? It's my honour to welcome you to Camelot. Thank you for coming."

The man turns his head slightly at that, though not enough for Arthur to see any more of his face.

"Your honour?-"

He huffs a small laugh at that, though it sounds dry and sarcastic, as opposed to genuinely humoured.

"- we shall see about that."

His voice comes out strangely, obviously magically altered, and Arthur has to stop himself from gulping at the many voices echoing around the otherwise empty room.

They sound sort of... familiar? But he pushes that feeling down and takes yet another deep breath:

"Of course. I've been told a great deal about you. That you have always been an ally to Camelot, and have protected both me personally, and the Kingdom, from the shadows, never asking for credit or requesting recognition. I thank you for that, my gratitude knows no bounds. You had no reason to protect a kingdom that previously would have seen you burn, though I swear to you, that is not how things work now."

Emrys let's out a chuckle at that, this one somehow even less humoured than the last

He gives a small nod, before saying, almost to himself, though Arthur hears anyway:

"Yes, we shall see."

His voice is no longer disguised, and Arthur once again pushes down the feeling of recognition blooming in his chest. He's sure he knows that voice.

("It sounds like.... no. It isn't. Stop hearing things that aren't there. You're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." runs through his head.)

Arthur is unsure how to continue the conversation from there, but before he has to force some sort of response out, Emrys finally turns, and lowers his hood.

Arthur takes a step back and gasps, his eyes wide.

Merlin's hard eyes stare back at him, his expression completely blank. He looks very different, but is still recognisable as Arthur's former manservant.

"...Merlin?" Escapes Arthur's mouth, so quietly he can barely hear it himself

At this, Emrys let's out a deep sigh, sounding almost resigned, as he cocks an eyebrow and replies:

"No one's called me that in two and a half years. You know, I used to hate the idea of people calling me Emrys instead of Merlin. Now, I find that I feel the exact opposite.-"

He tilts his head slightly, looking briefly puzzled as he maintains eye contact and mumbles:

“-Or perhaps it’s just you.”

At this Arthur gulps, and really looks at Merlin... or Emrys.

He's bulked out a little, no longer skinny and sickly looking, he fills his clothes (good quality, blues and silvers and blacks, intricate patterns and fitting well) in a way he never had before. His hair has grown out long and curls around his ears. His beard has grown in a little.

(Think, the living and the dead) :

His hands, which now have druid markings tattooed all over (they're also just about visible above his collar, though they don't go very far up his neck) , are clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers adorned with a couple of rings.

Nothing he wears looks especially expensive, Merlin had never been one to dress up, but they are good quality, and screamed "Druid" and "powerful".

"You're Emrys? Why did you never say??"

Merli-... Emrys tenses his jaw at that, his face showing slight anger as opposed to the boredom it displayed before, but before he can answer, the gang bursts in all at once.

Arthur can hear the guards yelling over the top of the door banging against the wall, and the footsteps of eight people rushing into the room.

"I tried to stop them sire but they wouldn't- Merlin??" From Leon has Arthur letting out a frustrated growl.

The King sweeps his eyes over the rest of the group as they all stare in surprise at Merlin.

Gaius is the only one who doesn't look surprised, he is instead smiling, and steps forward to offer Merlin a hug, which he accepts with no resistance as a small smile graces his face.

Merlin speaks quietly, but everyone can hear him:

"It's good to see you Gaius. I've missed you. When this is all sorted I've got so many things to tell you, to show you."

Gaius pulls back and grins even wider,

"All in time, dear boy. You're looking very well. I'm glad you've finally revealed yourself as the Lord Emrys."

Merlin blushes slightly at that and looks down:

"I haven't gone by the name Merlin in almost three years Gaius, Camelot has been the only place to not know me."

Merlin steps back, and glances quickly at the others, before settling his gaze on Arthur, who is looking a little like an animal caught in a trap. Merlin's eyes harden once again, and he schools his face back into disinterest and boredom:

"As I was about to say before, My King, I didn't get a chance to explain myself to you before I awoke, shackled and blinded and cold, with a rather nasty head wound, in the middle of a forest. And quite frankly, after that, I wasn't prepared to stumble my way back to Camelot and try for a second time. Though perhaps I should be grateful you simply knocked me out and dumped me, as opposed to burning me?"

Arthur looks to be in physical pain, but doesn't look away from Merlin, not even as the others gasp and mutter and stare and glare at him.

"Shackled? You.... I knew you were lying you monster. How could you?!" From Morgana is the first thing loud enough to be heard.

It's Gwaine who speaks next, but Arthur still doesn't look away from Merlin:

"You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He goes to draw his sword and step towards the King, but Elyan holds him back:

"No, Gwaine. It isn't our place. This is Merlin's fight, and he knows we all stand with him."

At that, Merlin finally looks away, an ever so slight smile escapes as Elyan nods to him, and becomes the first of the group to move to stand behind Merlin, facing the king. The others follow shortly after.

They stand in a group just behind him, the fury rolling off them in waves.

Morgana steps forward and takes one of Merlin's hands in her own. Staring Arthur down, she speaks, her eyes flash gold as a sharp wind whips through the throne room. No windows or doors have been left open:

"Would you have done the same to me, brother-mine? Would you have beaten me and shackled me and left me in a forest to rot?"

Arthur steps back in complete shock, the group behind her and Merlin are also shocked, but take it in their stride.

Merlin squeezes her hand in a silent "I'm sorry, I'm with you, I'll teach you, you're safe."

Arthur doesn't really have the words at this point. He's speechless and in shock and almost crying.

He had always known that his first meeting with Merlin would be difficult, but he wasn't expecting everyone who had ever been important to him to be there as well, stood opposite him, hating him.

The wind dies down as Gwen places a hand on the other woman's shoulder from behind. Merlin looks towards Morgana first, and offers a comforting smile to her teary face, before looking behind him to the others.

"As much as I appreciate the support, and as much as I love, and have missed you all, I think me and the King need to have a private meeting on the matter. Personal problems aside, I need to see to the continued safety of my people."

It’s quiet, reserved Percival, who speaks up:

"Like hell are we leaving you with him now we know what he did." The others nod at this, but Merlin replies gently:

"I'll be fine, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Go, I'll find you later."

At this, he turns once more to Morgana:

"There is a group of Druids camped just beyond the city walls, go to them, take Gaius. They will help you until this is all resolved, and then I can teach you myself." he says with a smile, and at her nod, he glances at Gaius, who steps forward and leads Morgana out the room, closely followed by a hesitating gaggle of knights.

Gwen is the only one who remains, as she takes Merlin’s hand briefly in Morgana’s place, and snarls at Arthur:

"Monster."

-before following the others out of the room, and shutting the door behind her, leaving the throne room once again empty of people, bar the Forever King and the Immortal One.

Merlin speaks first, looking back to Arthur, unwavering and determined:

"How do I know this is all real? The change in laws?"

"I... what? What do you mean real? Of course it's real. Merlin please, can we just-"

Merlin turns away as he interrupts him, and walks back towards the window, to look upon the courtyard, where countless innocents had been slaughtered:

"Pretending to change the laws so you can lure my people to your city, before starting another purge, sounds like exactly something Uther's son would do. I will not put my people in danger by encouraging them to come here, before I can be sure they are truly safe from the Pendragon line."

Arthur's heart breaks even more. He really had damaged the relationship between himself and Merlin more than he ever could've imagined. Merlin had seemed to make it his life goal to assure Arthur that he wasn't his father, that he could follow his own path and create his own legacy. Before Arthur had ruined everything.

"I would never. The law is changed. Sorcer- your people, are safe. Merlin will you please-"

Merlin turns and interrupts again, looking Arthur directly in the eyes, obviously not prepared to let the conversation turn personal.

"Promises made to beings of magic are... powerful. There is magic in words, swear to me that my people are safe from persecution, and I will believe it."

"I...yes. I swear it. People with magic will no longer be unfairly persecuted in this kingdom as long as I am king, I swear it, in the name of Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and Arthur feels as though the words he's just spoken have been branded onto his soul. In a way, they have.

Merlin looks once more out of the window, and replies quietly, but darkly:

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

THE END!

This two-parter has been finished!!

As per usual, I only write drafts, so if someone wants to write this up all proper, then go for it, credit and tag me✌

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slytherinnbitch · 3 years

Text

Prompt #10

Prompt #10- Secret Relationship

Pairing- Pansmione

Background- Hogwarts Sixth Year. They’ve been dating for the past four months now. Drarry are also dating (not relevant but there is no way, Harry and Ginny are dating so deal with it. This may not follow much cannon because I read the books eons ago and mostly depend on ff nowadays.

Thank you for submission <3

..............................................................................

“Parkinson, what are you doing?” Hermione asks as soon as she is cornered in the middle of an empty corridor by Pansy Parkinson.

“Oh you know? Just kissing my beautiful girlfriend.” she says haughtily as she presses her own lips to Hermione’s in a whisper of a kiss.

“Girlfriend? And yours? Never!” she laughs and presses her lips more fiercely to hers, “But seriously, what are you doing? We talked about this babe.”

She attacks her jaw and throat next, leaving small kisses all over making Hermione almost forget what she was saying. “I just....I was just--ugh why is this so hard!” Pansy closes her eyes before rushing out the words, “I was bloody jealous of our best friends, alright?”

“Jealous? Darling, I’m sorry but I don’t think I get you.” She pulls away and looks down at her girlfriend.

“It’s just they are out and we are not and it’s my fucking fault because I'm such a coward that I can't even--" She is cut-off by Hermione who firmly places her hand over her mouth to stop her from speaking and it absurdly works.

"Now, love. You listen to me okay? And listen properly. It is not your fault anyhow that we aren't out. It's my decision as much as it is your decision so just don't. And so what Harry is out about his relationship and we are not? How does it effect us if the public whom we don't even care about knows or not? We know and that's enough. Don't you agree?" She says it such a way that Pansy is left absolutely stunned, so she just stares at her lovely, caring and such understanding girlfriend in complete silence; searching her face for any kind of emotion that would betray her words but she finds none. Hermione Granger is as genuine as the words she just said.

It makes Pansy want to kiss her silly until she forgets everything but her, unfortunately for them she hears footsteps coming from the end of the hall and they hastily scurry away to one of the secret passages Hermione told Pansy about. She had gotten to know about it from Harry's map and she was very grateful for the map nowadays if she was being completely honest.

"That was close." Pansy says but she is grinning so Hermione can't help but join her.

"It was your fault!" She says and is immediately silenced by a deliberate kiss.

"Was not." Pansy says, knowing full well that it was.

"Distraction by kisses is cheating!" Hermione says.

"You love it though."

"That I do" She says and they forget about everything around them for the next hour or so, except each other.

.............................

"I want to come out." Pansy says, three days after their corridor incident. They are sitting in the library studying together. It's perfectly fine because now that their friends are dating, they are being 'civil' to one another and studying in the library is just that. Also they aren't particularly alone, it's just that Draco had disappeared almost an hour ago with Harry following him just a second afterwards.

"Are you....are you sure, babe? You know you don't need to." Hermione asks tentatively, she wants to come out, wants to show their relationship to the world and how much she loves, yes loves Pansy Parkinson but to her Pansy's comfort comes way before that so she supports her without even a second thought. They'll get there one day, she knows that so she doesn't give much thought to it if she can help it.

"Completely. I've given it quite a lot of thought and I think I'm ready to do it. Atleast to our friends, I'm not sure about the whole school though."

"That's completely fine. Why don't we do this, we tell our friends and don't actively show or hide our relationship from the rest of the school?" Hermione asks, hoping that she doesn't sound much eager.

"That's a amazing idea, Mione! This is why I love you so much." Hermione blushes at that but focuses back on her homework. She knows they haven't discussed a how or when but that can wait until later. She is just happy that they are going to do it soon!

Harry and Draco arrive a few minutes later, with flushed cheeks and red lips, "So did you guys have a nice time studying alone?" Pansy asks as they sit down.

"Shut up, Parks" Harry says, he has taken up making a nickname out of Pansy's last name because calling her first was too weird to him. To be honest, Hermione likes it suits a lot.

"Did you not have a great time studying, Pans?" Draco counters back and Hermione doesn't even date look at him. She is sure she will reveal much more than she wants.

Pansy just looks shell shocked at Draco before responding, "It's not like I have a boyfriend to do studying with, do I?"

"Why Pans, you've Hermione right here. Topper of our class and probable future Ministress of Magic with you. You won't need anyone else would you?" Hermione is sure that Draco knows. How? She doesn't know but he does. It is quite clear or maybe he just suspects.

She looks up at Harry who is looking back and forth between Draco and Pansy, trying to decipher in between the lines, his gaze moves to Hermione, questioning her silently. She just shrugs and Harry buys it and shrugs himself before grudgingly getting back to his own homework.

............

"I like to say something." Pansy says after all their friends have come. They are sitting in the Room of Requirement, called there upon Pansy and Hermione's request.

Hermione looks around the room, Blaise looks bored , Draco appears weirdly smug as if he knows what's coming, after the library thing she suspects he does. Harry is looking intently at Pansy while Ron looks uncomfortable being here and being addressed by Pansy like this. Nott has a neutral expression as he stares at Pansy, Neville keeps fidgeting in his seat while Luna looks calm and Ginny is basically grinning like a cat at Hermione and Pansy at turns. Quite a group they have.

"Please continue." Draco tells her and smirks slightly at her.

"Yeah so I'm gay." She states bluntly.

"No you're not." It's Luna who speaks up and every one collectively looks at her. What is she saying?

"You're a lesbian, not gay." She explains and she breathes out in relief. She doesn't know what she would have done if Luna had just refused to recognise her as ..... herself?

"Yeah okay, that." Pansy agrees.

"Yeah we already know that, Pans. What is the news though?" Nott asks.

"What do you mean that you already know?"

"Everyone does, but this just can't be you coming out?" Blaise says matter-of-factly.

"Oh it's not. Just wait." Draco quips in, clearly enjoying this way too much.

The Gryffindors are weirdly silent through all of it, as she supposes she would have been as well if any other Slytherin would have just called them all to just come out to them, might even be a bit awkward.

Pansy just looks at her, silently asking her to take the lead from there. Which she does, "So....the thing is...."

She has no idea where her Gryffindor courage has suddenly vanished but she can't speak, not infront of all her friends. The what ifs suddenly come to her mind and she tries her best to keep them at bay. She looks at all them, looking expectantly at her. She has addressed so many people before but somehow this just feels so different. She glances at Pansy who gives her a sma bit encouraging smile.

She takes a deep breath and continues, going the straightforward way just like Pansy, "We are dating."

There is long deafening silence as everyone soakes in the news. She looks at their faces and finds identical yet different expressions. They all looked either shocked or surprised all on different levels, while Draco and surprisingly, Luna just smile at them. Although Draco's is a lot more smug.

"We are so happy for you guys," Luna breaks the silence as she gets up to hug them both, "Thank you for trusting us enough and being brave enough to come out."

After that, it's all smiles and jokes and teasing, except Harry who looks strange.

She mentally notes to ask him later, but for now she just enjoys sitting next to Pansy and being able to kiss her without any hindrance.

........

"Haz...." Harry looks up from his broom which he is polishing for the last half an hour.

"Yes, Mione?"

"Are you alright, you know with me and Pansy?"

"Yes of course. I'm really happy that you found someone who makes you happy, she makes you happy, right?"

"Immensely."

"Why do you ask then?"

"You looked strange when I told all of you this morning."

"Oh that! It's nothing to do with you, Mione. Draco has been leaving me clues about you both which I wasn't able to get and they all just suddenly clicked in place and I realized how oblivious of me to not notice. The all the time studying in the library, coming to class late and even skipping class-"

"That was one time!" She injects.

"One time of Hermione Topper Granger not attending class is enough for me."

She smiles fondly at him, relieved that he is okay about it. He is one of her best friends after all and his opinions matters greatly to her.

"So we good?"

"Absolutely!" He answers and hugs her tightly, "No matter what, you'll obviously be my best friend. Nothing would be changing that, Mione."

His words are whispered into her hair, but she knows Harry means them and she feels the same so she just hugs him back and thanks Merlin for giving her someone as Harry as her best friend.

#hermione granger #harry potter #hogwarts #ron wealsey #draco malfoy #pansy x hermione #pansmione #pansmione au #blaise zabini #theodore nott #luna lovegood #ginny weasley #hogwarts sixth year #love #lesbians #coming out #secret relationship

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE HEARING

Remus had to swallow hard to force himself into getting started. All of them were still wanting to go out and start smothering someone for what they'd tried to do to Harry, but this nasty hearing had been hanging over their head long enough, and Remus wanted an answer done with already, was Harry really going to pay a price for saving someone's life?

Harry was not encouraged when he stepped inside and recognized the exact room he'd once seen people sentenced to Azkaban in.

"That's an encouraging start!" Sirius squeaked while Lily continued shaking her head in disgust of Harry having to do this down there.

Dark stone benches rose high, the room only lit by torches and casting eerie shadows on the rows of occupants.

Lily had her head cocked to the side as her eyes continued narrowing in on this. She couldn't imagine why there would be an audience at a thing like this, but that would still make far more sense than...

The door closed with an ominous bang behind him, as a cold voice announced he was late.

"And who's fault is that?" James huffed.

Harry apologized, saying he hadn't realized the time had been changed, while the same voice responded that was not the Wizengamot's fault.

Lily felt her mouth open with a little pop that went unnoticed as the other boys shifted uncomfortably. They didn't need her to tell them this just couldn't be normal, had Harry stepped into the wrong room?

An owl had been sent to him this morning.

Remus opened his mouth furiously to comment on that, but Lily quickly waved him silent and begged him to just keep going no matter how much she already hated where this was.

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the center of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains.

Sirius felt his teeth locking into place already, swearing he'd rip up something if those actually lashed Harry into place.

He sat gingerly on the edge and only felt slightly better they didn't bind him down, so instead he looked up at the watchers all of which were wearing plum coloured robes with a W embroidered on. Most had expressions mirroring Fudges, while others just looked confused.

Harry wished he felt more curious than nauseous like he did now thinking of this place. He'd never liked being watched, now he had a crowds sole attention with the distinct feeling he still wasn't going to walk out of there very happy.

In the middle sat Fudge, on his right a woman Harry didn't know wearing a monocle, and on the left someone sitting so far back the face was in shadows.

James' temper of this not withstanding, he still couldn't just sit there watching Harry sweat so he worked hard to pitch his voice in a silly whisper saying, "dramatic."

It worked for a whole four seconds while Harry grinned at him before turning back, his face somehow even darker upon hearing of this shadowed person.

Fudge testily got started by saying now that the accused was finally present they could begin, looking down the row a bit. An eager yes sir was his answer, and Harry felt a jolt as he recognized Percy Weasley.

"I'm not sure if I'd refer to him as a Weasley much anymore," Sirius grumbled.

Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came.

"I think I'd be more offended if he did acknowledge you," Remus snipped, thinking that Percy meeting Harry's eyes and then Harry seeing any sort of smug expression there would only hurt him worse right now.

He instead was looking only at his notes, quill poised.

Fudge began by stating the time and date, Percy's quill at once moving along at high speed to keep up.

'He really has to write all that down?' the thought wildly flickered through Harry's mind as he found himself grasping such odd details, but still deciding he found this slightly more comforting than if he'd seen another Quick-Quotes Quill there.

Fudge was speaking of the reason they were all here, to discuss the break in the Decree, then Harry and his place of residence. Interrogators were himself, Amelia Susan Bones, and Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister,

'Well she got a promotion,' Lily randomly noted, only knowing her now as a woman who'd just been promoted into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She hadn't heard a lot of good things from the work she'd been trying to pass along so far, and now finding she'd been stepped to an even higher position was not at all encouraging for how this was going.

as well as Court Scribe Percy Ignatius Weasley-

as well as witness for the Defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the man himself cut in.

"Oh thank Merlin," Remus actually sat back in relief.

"I was starting to think you were going to have to handle the lot of them by yourself," James agreed.

Lily honestly did feel just as relieved as them, she couldn't have asked for a better defense than Dumbledore showing up and reminding them they couldn't be the ones to get Harry kicked out of school for the mess he was in, but that still didn't cover the pure outrage still simmering in her that her son was having to sit through a full blown trial for one act of underage magic! Just what had happened to her society!

Harry turned so fast he put a crick in his neck as his headmaster came sweeping into the room. The members of the Wizengamot were not as pleased, most looking annoyed, some even frightened, though a few in the back row waved.

"Brave of them, considering I half expect Fudge to turn and fire them on the spot after all I've heard," James huffed.

A powerful emotion had risen in Harry's chest at the sight of Dumbledore, a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which phoenix song gave him.

The four of them could remember this feeling all to well, it's how they used to feel in the middle of this war whenever they were at meetings and things were starting to look bleak. One glance at their leader though and somehow they felt just that little more assured of their task at hand. Even now, in the face of what all they feared and thought he'd done to their life in this future, that feeling still didn't leave them now as he came swooping in to Harry's rescue.

Harry tried to catch Dumbledore's eye, but he only held Fudge's attention as the man blustered that the Headmaster had gotten their message of the time and place changing then.

Lily now had the nasty suspicion that this whole thing may well have been done to in fact make it so Dumbledore wouldn't be in attendance any more than Harry. It did make his arrival all the more satisfactory at least.

Dumbledore corrected he had not received any such message, but as he'd happened to be here hours early, it was a lucky happenstance.

Still shuffling his papers in annoyance, Fudge barked at Weasley to go fetch the man a chair then, but before he could move Dumbledore drew one himself that fell beside Harry and sat himself down.

Fudge, clearly derailed, had to think a moment before going on track with the charges.

Sirius chuckled meanly to himself that the mere presence of Dumbledore had completely diminished Fudge into a dithering idiot again.

It took him a moment to go back and read out the full charges against Harry James Potter in breaking the Statue of Secrecy in the presence of a Muggle, reading out the whole section of where that could be located, before confirming Harry was this same person.

James had an odd look on his face, longing to mock the logic of this question being asked after the charges and not while the people's names had been read out, but still angry enough at this situation he didn't really want to be laughing at much of anything.

Harry agreed at once, and was reminded he had also received warnings against doing this same thing three years ago.

Harry agreed yes, but-

Lily caught his eye worriedly, wishing she were there to warn him that he would get his time to explain himself, and for now it would have just been best to answer simply and possibly more politely. Yet Harry was also being tried by the whole Wizengamot for this, so clearly societal rules had been torn to shreds for this meeting!

The back and forth continued with Fudge pressing in on all of his wrong doings, all while Harry agreed it was true, but-

When it got to the part of his full Patronus having been produced, he was this time cut off by the witch with the monocle booming it was fully-fledged?

"That's what she caught on!" Harry finally burst out angrily in here. "Not why I'd done the spell!"

"Well to be fair, that really is a feat of magic you seem to underplay a lot," Remus said conversationally enough while Harry rolled his eyes for Remus actually agreeing with this woman.

A corporeal Patronus?

Harry opened his mouth to ask about that now, but Remus shook his head slightly to show he'd be asking at that time.

Harry was distracted by asking what that even meant, and she elaborated that was the name for the animal your Patronus would produce. Harry impatiently agreed it had been a stag, it always was, and she cut off again to ask how many times he'd done this. Harry began that Professor Lupin had taught him back in third year- and was again cut off by her saying he'd been doing this since he was thirteen? That was impressive.

James honestly would have laughed at this under any other circumstances, but Harry continually being cut off from saying that very important reason just wasn't any kind of funny.

Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.

"Well I'm so sorry it couldn't impress the crowd," Sirius sneered.

Fudge snapped back the more impressive the magic all the worse in front of that Muggle!

"A muggle who knows full well about magic with me living with him, doesn't that give me any leeway?" Harry demanded.

"Not really, no," Lily wished she could think of more to comfort him with, but so far this whole entire thing had only cemented their fears of Harry being railroaded in this place.

Those who had been frowning now murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded Harry into speech.

"I'd like to do more than talk with him around," Sirius got out through gritted teeth.

He shouted for all to hear he'd done it because of the Dementors!

That brought a heavy silence down on them all as Madam Bones prompted what he meant by that?

"Do they really not know when they're around!" Harry burst out in exasperation.

"Sadly not," Lily shook her head. "The Ministry likes to pretend they've got tabs on the species, but in reality there are more than just at Azkaban and they go rogue running into Muggle neighborhoods from time to time. It doesn't excuse the absolute odds of them running into you," she finished with an eye roll.

Harry really wished he could get more clarification on what magic could and couldn't do, as apparently you could track when a specific spell was being used but not a specific creature?

He finally explained there had been two that night after him and his cousin.

Fudge gained an odd smile as he began looking around for someone to join in his joke and saying how he'd thought it would be something like this.

"If you actually thought Dementors were involved, things never would have gotten this far," Remus said, clearly joining in the laugh with his mocking tone.

Madam Bones began to say she did not understand, so Fudge explained for her how nice a story Dementors made as Muggles couldn't see them.

"I didn't know that at that time," Harry muttered, real fear starting to creep up in him. If they thought he was lying, than this premonition could be all too real, and he wasn't going back to school...

Which was entirely convenient. Harry burst back that there had been two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley way when his cousin took off-

but was cut off by Fudge saying he was not going to listen to this rehearsed story.

"He still gets to tell his side of the story whether you believe it or not," Lily had to force everything in her not to shout that. "The rest of the Wizengamot get to decide if he's telling the truth!" She wasn't succeeding very well by the end.

Dumbledore cleared his throat causing the man to fall silent as Dumbledore pointed out there had in fact been a witness to this other than Dudley Dursley.

Harry scratched his mind in confusion on who this could be, and realized the only other possibility was Figg. Could Squibs see dementors? He supposed he was about to find out, and didn't bother asking as no one seemed remotely confused on this.

Fudges plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it.

"I'd like to deflate several things on him," Sirius quipped.

He stared hard at Dumbledore before insisting no one had time to listen to dribbles from any old person, he wanted this dealt with quickly!

"Well it's not for him to decide how quickly something gets brushed to the side, thank Merlin," James said in clipped tones.

Dumbledore cut in that by their own laws, the defense could call for a witness, which Madam Bones agreed was true.

"She couldn't have said that before Dumbledore had to interrupt?" Lily seethed, finding Arthur's advice before about how fair this Bones woman was didn't seem to accurate if she was willing to let Fudge pummel her son until Dumbledore stepped in to say otherwise. James still had his arm tight around her waist and gave her a comforting squeeze, knowing her harsh words shouldn't really be taken full force now as she just wanted to be the one to protect Harry at this trial she should have had a hand in.

Fudge gave in and sent Weasley to go let whoever this person was in, and Mrs. Figg came shuffling inside looking more batty and scared than ever. Harry wished she'd at least changed out of her slippers.

"I suppose Dumbledore told her to come comfortably," Sirius amazingly had a twitching smile trying to creep up on him in the face of all this, but he couldn't seem to stay that mad with her back. He was to busy picturing her calling Fudge much worse than a useless lump.

Dumbledore offered her his chair and duplicated another for himself while Fudge barked at her for her full name.

"Least she didn't have to sit on the chained one," Harry huffed, half wishing he'd thought to ask Dumbledore for one of those as well, as the menacing clinking noise hadn't really stopped behind him this whole time.

She proclaimed herself as Arabella Doreen Figg of Little Whinging.

Madam Bones corrected that no wizard lived in the area, that had always been a closely monitored situation.

"That, is a really terrible oversight," Lily suddenly blinked as she realized this for the first time. "Is she living there now? I have no idea honestly, but the fact that we don't keep a record of where Squibs are living- I mean even if they aren't a magical threat I don't see why we wouldn't as they could be in just as much, honestly more danger from-" James cut her off with another squeeze, while she continued shaking her head for this glaring problem no one had ever seemed to realize, or care about.

Mrs. Figg said back she was a Squib, so she wouldn't be on any of those lists.

Fudge watched her curiously for a moment before turning and asking those around him if Squibs could even see Dementors?

"Why would he look at them, when she'd be the one to answer?" Harry demanded. Even not having a particular like for Mrs. Figg, he still found that beyond rude, quite a feat considering everything else the Minister had done of late.

"Confirming from a source he doesn't believe is a liar," Remus sighed after he guessed that.

She said back quite indignantly that yes she could.

Fudge gave in and told her to begin her story, and she prattled off as if from memorization the date and time of when this took place.

Lily winced for that, fearing Fudge could still throw this testimony out if he did claim this was rehearsed and given to her by Dumbledore.

She'd spotted the Dementors running- but was cut off by Bones pointing out no Dementor could run, they glided.

She quickly corrected herself that's what she meant,

"She's allowed to be a bit confused," James said sympathetically. "She did see Dudley running, and she's about to account for two things going on at once."

and then Bones cut in again to asked what they looked like?

She began that one was very large and the other rather skinny-

Remus had to fight hard not to release a snort of mirth, but failed and began giggling anyways along with both his friends to his rising pleasure. It was the first time he'd seen Sirius actually crack a smile while the mention of dementors had been brought up in here, so he knew he'd give Figg a thanks just for that.

No, no, Bones corrected, not the boys, the Dementors, she wanted them described.

Mrs. Figg began unsteadily that they were big and wearing cloaks.

"Well she's not wrong," Sirius said fairly even if he could feel that nasty twitching just below the surface of his panic again at the thought of feeling around those things for the next twelve years loomed over him again.

Harry could feel himself begin panicking at this, as she was doing a terrible job of putting into words that hopeless feeling that engulfed the very air around Dementors.

Sirius gave Harry a mock pat on the head, ignoring the fact his hand was shaking to hard for the gesture to come through right.

The audience wasn't any more convinced as Harry spotted two smirking and rolling their eyes.

"Well I'm so glad at least someone's enjoying the show," Lily said icily, wishing for more descriptions so she'd know who next to curse at work.

She continued on, adopting the proper shaky manner when speaking of those things and how they'd made her feel and remembered the most dreadful things, then her voice did shake and die.

"At least she got that part right," Remus said in relief as he tried to keep going with more confidence now the woman had established some credibility in this.

Bones' expression was unreadable as she asked what happened next, and she began to say the Dementors had gone for the boys. One of them had fallen to the ground while the other was trying to repel one with only smoke so far, that was Harry.

Lily pinched James to stop him making some dumb comment about how she could have gotten the boys swapped.

He tried twice more, and finally on the third time his stag came to his defense and chased them off, and that was what happened she finished a bit lamely.

Sirius was thankful he didn't have anyone in his immediate vicinity to stop him giving a polite little clap for that thrilling tale, so Lily compensated by chucking a pillow at him, not even trying to deny that she always did feel slightly better watching these two idiots make light of this as clearly it was giving Harry a distraction and he didn't look quite so pale while watching them.

Fudge began aggressively that's what she'd seen?

Mrs. Figg repeated in earnest that was what happened.

"Really do just love her for this," Remus agreed.

Fudge dismissed her then and she only left after a quick look at Dumbledore. Once she was gone Fudge began how unconvincing that was, while Bones corrected she'd gotten the properties of a Dementor down well enough and the woman had no reason to make anything up.

Fudge snorted it meant nothing as the odds of this happening to a wizard were astronomical.

"No one was trying to deny the possibilities," Lily agreed grimly.

Dumbledore lightly reminded no one found it a coincidence.

The two who'd been smirking before now stopped doing any such thing, and the person in the shadows gave an uneasy twitch as all attention was back on Dumbledore.

"What was that?" Harry asked sharply, not exactly wanting to turn his full attention back to Fudge doing this to him, but that had done it.

"Someone twitched," Sirius tried to pacify Harry's sudden intensity by giving a very obvious leg spasm that 'accidentally' hit Remus, and Harry lost track of his thread as Remus gave him an absent nudge back while still going.

Fudge barked what Dumbledore could mean, while he reminded that someone must have sent those Dementors there.

The Minister snapped back there was no record of any such thing happening!

While Dumbledore agreed, that meant that all Dementors were not under Ministry control as he'd always claimed.

Fudge gave a nasty retaliation that Dumbledore had made his views of that quite plain, but the Azkaban guards had still been doing their job!

"Including everything you don't ask them to," James said stiffly, he still hadn't forgotten the ones that had nearly gone after Harry, and to a lesser but more effective degree had done to Barty Crouch Jr., and no consequences had ever seemed to come from that.

Dumbledore went on more quietly but still calmly that everyone must ask themselves then what those Dementors had been doing there if not on Ministry orders.

Harry could feel himself starting to shake slightly, the now familiar pain of a memory ready to pounce leaving him sure this was no fallback excuse. Dumbledore had been wrong before, but was right now, but who on earth-

He was distracted by the flash of red hair from his mother shaking her head in disbelief, along with the boys rolling their eyes at Dumbledore's time for a joke. Clearly they at least had faith the Ministry would never fall that far, so he was probably misinterpreting something in him.

Only silence followed this for a beat before the person in shadows finally sat forward, and Harry got a look at her appearance for the first time. A wide, flabby, pale face that had bulging features along the eyes and mouth leaving the impression of a toad. Even the little black bow she wore on her head impressed a fly about to be snapped up by a sticky tongue.

"You truly have the loveliest descriptions of people," Lily rolled her eyes, wanting to scold him absolutely none of that had been polite, but as it was his private thoughts she resisted since she knew her son had better manners than saying that to a woman's face.

Fudge recognized her position to speak as that of before as Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. When she did begin, her voice came out in a girlish high-pitched way, causing Harry some surprise as he'd been expecting a croak.

Sirius couldn't resist anymore and snorted with laughter, all of the boys giggling childishly at Harry's thoughts now.

She began politely to inform Professor Dumbledore that she was being silly as it sounded like he was implying the Ministry of Magic had set an order to attack this boy.

Harry was swaying just slightly as memory of this woman tried to crowd him in on all sides at once. Her appearance, her words, her very attitude screaming at him right now to get a spit ready to roast her alive, but a hard shake from his head managed to clear the worst of it while Sirius gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, all of them worried Harry was fixing to pass out from stress for this still hanging over his head.

"This woman isn't leaving a very good first impression," James felt some of his amusement at Harry's description of her dying as clearly his son was getting a bad vibe from this woman, and that automatically put her in his bad books. The last person who had received that kind of intense look had been Marge.

Dumbledore explained their own logic, that if the Ministry had control of all Dementors, and the Dementors were there, then someone had to have done something for this chain of events to occur, otherwise there really were Dementors-

Fudge's face was turning burning red as he shouted back there were no Dementors outside Ministry cotrol!

"He is literally contradicting himself," Remus sighed as he never thought he'd meet someone so stupid to not take even the smallest out Dumbledore was trying to offer. He was going small, trying to give the man just a pinch of room in saying there could have been just a few rogues, but no, the man couldn't do anything that wasn't idiotic it seemed.

Dumbledore acknowledged this with a bow of his head before pointing out that this matter would then be looked into.

Fudge snapped back that was no longer Dumbledore's decision for the Ministry to be looking into anything!

"I feel like at some point it should be," Sirius snarled, as Dumbledore being Minister would solve at least a few problems at this point, Sirius' status included.

Dumbledore agreed mildly, and then pointed out his confidence that this matter would then be investigated.

Fudge said back none of this was relevant to the current charges! They were not here to discuss Dementors that were more than likely a figment of that boy's imagination, but his offence against the Decree!

Dumbledore said simply the matters were one in the same as Clause Seven clearly stated magic could be used in the presence of Muggles to save lives which was the exact occurrence-

but Fudge cut off to say they were all well familiar with Clause Seven!

"Clearly not, as the existence of this trial proves you need a look back!" Lily hissed.

Dumbledore pointed out that so long as that was true, this matter was settled as all agreed Dementors fell under this law.

Fudge still tried to say he didn't even think this had happened, and Dumbledore said to call the witness back then, she'd be more than happy to repeat herself.

Fudge was blustering now in frustration as he shouted he didn't have time for that, he wanted this over with!

"No one gives a damn about what you want!" Sirius barked.

"He's not even being subtle about showing how badly he created this just to do the worst he can to Harry," Remus agreed viciously.

Dumbledore's response was to point out the time shouldn't matter if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice.

Sirius let a bark of laughter escape him, and to his absolute pleasure saw the others get a bleak smile as well for Dumbledore's choice of words whether intentionally or not.

Fudge roared at the top of his lungs serious miscarriage his hat!

"I don't think I can have a miscarriage of anything," Sirius said as he glanced down in confusion at his stomach.

"You just ruined whatever amount of funny that once was Padfoot," Remus told him conversationally without looking up.

Had anyone been keeping track of the amount of stories this boy cooked up!

Sirius couldn't resist and began ticking on his fingers, "Dobby, then Marge, now this. Not counting what Arthur did while there, that's actually only three. I know of at least one Muggle-born who got at least as many," he finished with fluttering eyes at Lily who only grinned indulgently in response as she didn't bother to deny it.

Harry was still intrigued enough to hear about this, far more than his life in his opinion, but Remus was still to invested in finding out if Dumbledore could really win this thing as it was looking like he was doing and so didn't give Lily the chance to say anything, for now.

That Hover Charm three years ago had just been the start-

but Harry cut in to say it had been a house-elf who'd done that.

Fudge gaped at Harry before shouting that was his point! A house-elf in a Muggle house he says!

"It's not my fault these things happen to me!" Harry threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Apparently you're going to be hard pressed to get others to believe that," James sighed with true pity. In all honesty, if he hadn't sat here and heard the accounts himself, he'd think Harry was pulling his leg with some of these stories.

Dumbledore calmly said that the house-elf in question was employed at Hogwarts and could be here in this second to give his own evidence for that night.

Fudge had to stutter for a moment before saying he didn't have time to listen to a house-elf!

"He keeps going on about how he's too busy to be dealing with this," Lily sneered. "I can't wait for someone to point out how he created this problem by setting up this whole courtroom to be there for this, wasting everyone's time!"

He'd blown up his aunt for crying out loud!

"You do have to love the irony of it all though." Sirius sighed. "He overlooked that instance, and now he's trying to get Harry expelled for something of honestly lesser reason."

Harry gave a bleak, obligatory laugh no one felt.

Dumbledore reminded no one had pressed charges then as all had agreed at the time even the best wizards could lose their temper and emotions.

Fudge completely ignored this and tried to go on into what he got up to in school-

"Which in no regards is held in the Ministry's decision," Lily cut in with blistering tones, making Remus shrink back into his seat slightly and her anger wasn't even directed at him. He'd never had a problem chatting with Lily about politics, but he was starting to be very afraid for this book if it kept pushing her buttons on this topic.

Dumbledore sternly reminded now that the Ministry had no say over Harry's behaviour inside school.

Fudge gave a mean little laugh as he asked Dumbledore if he really thought so?

Harry felt a nasty tingling at the base of his spine at that.

Dumbledore kept his cool tone that Fudge had been given his evidence that nothing had happened on that night that did not fall perfectly legally under their own laws.

"I really think at some point the politeness is just another level of smugness," James shook his head.

"Least Dumbledore did what he did no matter what attitude he used," Lily sighed.

Fudge said savagely that laws could be changed!

Dumbledore gave this a slight head incline as well of acknowledgement before pointing out that for now they were what they were, such as those being used to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a single matter of underage magic.

Lily made an agitated noise that still managed to sound triumphant, finally someone other than her had said it.

He concluded that no laws had been broken, therefore no punishment should be placed, and it was not this court's decision to decide on every bit of magic Harry ever performed.

"Oh please stop giving him ideas," Harry muttered.

This specific offense had been presented and defended, now all that was left was a verdict.

Harry felt a thrill of fear as he realized Dumbledore was telling them to get a move on with a decision, when he'd hardly had a chance to say anything. This was too fast!

"I disagree," Remus frowned, "this is honestly a good thing him being quick about this. Let Fudge keep going much longer and he'll start trying to bring up things you don't have anything to do with but he'll still try to blame you for."

Harry gave an uneasy nod as he tried to believe Remus was right and it was high time he got his answer for this no matter how much he felt like vomiting in the meantime.

Harry tried to look at Dumbledore with a million questions, but again Dumbledore seemed oblivious to Harry's attempt to catch his eye.

They all got a little frown on their face for that. Was Dumbledore really so busy watching Fudge he couldn't spare a moment to glance at the boy he was defending?

He instead looked to his feet, his heart pounding away. He'd expected this to last longer, but in his opinion he hadn't made a very good impression so far.

"You really couldn't have even if you came in wearing a Support Fudge badge," Sirius sighed.

He hadn't said very much.

"True Dumbledore and Figg got your side out for you, but that's probably a good thing," James said fairly. "It's been made obvious nothing you say will get through to them, at least Dumbledore still holds some weight with his reputation you just don't have son."

Harry wasn't entirely sure he agreed, but as he'd always preferred action rather than letting others do this sort of thing for him, he doubted he'd ever fully agree.

He ought to have explained more fully, how both he and Dudley had nearly been kissed . . .

They all flinched as hard as Sirius at remembering that nearly happening to their Harry, again!

He fought with himself to add this on, but every time he got close he could feel the fear cutting off his words and instead kept a firm eye on the pattern of his laces,

"I found that a good idea when faced with McGonagall," Remus winced, "I imagine this is significantly worse."

until Bones declared the question all in favor of clearing all charges?

Harry's head snapped up just in time to do a quick count, of more than half!

Finally they all felt a breath of relief pass through them again. This had been dragged on far to long, they couldn't believe this had been a real threat on Harry and he'd barely escaped by the skin of his teeth!

Bones asked the opposite question of conviction, and while Fudge, and a dozen others voted so, including the smirking pair of before,

"I need names," Sirius said flatly, and Harry now had the absolute certainty Sirius was not joking, and was almost thankful he couldn't be of help with that.

it was not enough, and Fudge had no choice but to declare Potter was cleared of all charges.

Dumbledore stood abruptly, vanished the two chairs he'd created, and said how excellent this was while bidding them all good day. He then swept out of the dungeon without a backward glance.

"Hey!" They all yelped in protest.

"What's Dumbledore playing at?" Sirius demanded as he snatched the book from Remus.

"I know this wasn't a time to be sitting around congratulating each other," Lily agreed, "but would it really kill the man to at least escort Harry outside and say, anything!"

Harry sunk back into his seat heavily, his temporary moment of thrill and excitement he was free to go back to school at once dimmed by what he considered a very bad omen for the rest of this to come.

#Harry Potter #HP #reading the books #fanfiction #Ootp #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Lily Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #The Life that Never Lived

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