#and merlin's words really resonate with him

[bermuda-n-drangle]

Wilds of Eldraine Is More Arthurian Than Throne of Eldraine Was

Wizards of the Coast personnel, most prominently Mark Rosewater, have been transparent that Eldraine began its creative life as an Arthurian/Camelot inspired plane. Which it still is, but it was originally just that. However, they'd run some polls, and general public's recognition of things from Arthurian legend was limited in scope compared to the actual breadth of source material. So, to avoid a second Kamigawa, they supplemented it with the "fairy tale plane" premise, which has also been on the short list for years but didn't have enough thematic legs to stand on its own. They would play off each other: fairy tales needed a kingdom of humans, and Camelot legends needed a magical element outside the kingdom.

It was a pretty great idea. Then, the set came out, and the "Arthurian half" of it was received much more mildly than the fairy tale half. So, in Wilds of Eldraine, the fairy tale half is given much, much more prominence. This is obvious in every aspect of the set, from key art to draft archetypes, to the absence of Knight typal.

So this post's title probably seems like a weird sentiment to have. But I feel like Throne's Arthurian side feel flat because it was barely there to begin with.

Here, walk with me through a creative exercise. Suppose you have been tasked with making a setting inspired by Arthurian legend, the way Theros is inspired by Greek myth. You do not yet know that you will be given a fairy tale parachute later on. What's step one?

You probably said "make an analogue of King Arthur and/or Camelot". Because that's the right answer. And that is, indeed what they did.

Sort of.

Eldraine's Camelot is Ardenvale, and its high king is the Good King Algenus Kenrith. He underwent many trials to claim his crown, and all of the realm looks to him for leadership.

King Kenrith's card is not in booster pack, and his entire role in the story is that he is kidnapped and turned into an ungulate.

That's a pretty odd way to handle the King Arthur of your King Arthur setting, in the set that's introducing the setting. But okay.

You have your Arthur expy, and you have his kingdom. What is Step 2 in making a resonant facsimile of the Matter of Britain?

If you said "make four more Camelots"... Well, I'd say that's an odd pull. Given that there was only one Camelot in the source material. However, I did say that in this scenario you were designing for a Magic set, and if a plane doesn't have five or ten of its main gimmick, Richard Garfield will just die on the spot.

This is how we get the five courts. There is Ardenvale, yes, but that's just the white guys. Each court is a different take on the virtues of knighthood and chivalry. Ardenvale values honor and loyalty, Vantress values wisdom and knowledge, Locthwain values determination and persistence, Embereth values bravery and valor, and Garenbrig values strength and fortitude. Thus, the Knight, which is traditionally very white and sometimes black, can be in any color it wants this set and still make sense.

And that was very cool of them, honestly! However, it doesn't get us any closer to the setting feeling Arthurian. Setting aside that you're making a Magic set, ask: once you have King Arthur himself and Camelot, what do you need next to truly be Arthurian-evocative?

There's a pretty good chance that you said either Merlin or Excalibur. And Eldraine does indeed have those! Sort of.

This is Gadwick the Wizened and Embercleave. The former is from Vantress, and the latter associated with Embereth.

I have just told you all the lore about Gadwick and Embercleave.

They are both part of cycles of cards. Gadwick is the only card in his cycle that has anything to do with King Arthur conceptually, and in-universe he does nothing significant and is unrelated to Kenrith or Ardenvale, so it's really only process of elimination and word of God that places him as this setting's Merlin. Embercleave is part of a cycle of artifacts meant to represent different artifacts from Arthurian legend. Except the blue one, which is another fairy tale thing, and the green one, which is... Stonehenge, for some reason.

In fact, Embercleave almost did not exist. It was originally the Irencrag, this world's Sword in the Stone-- or rather, Stone with the Sword. (Note: Excalibur isn't even the sword in the stone, Excalibur was from the lady of the lady, the stone sword is different, look it up) Knights of Embereth, as a rite of passage, stick their weapon into the rocky edifice, and if they can pull it back out again, they are worthy of knighthood. And that's a very fun, cute way to take a recognizable motif of the source material and expand it into a whole cultural thing, genuinely.

But you're telling me early drafts of your Story of King Arthur Plane didn't have an Excalibur? Like, I'm glad that you caught it before you went to print, but where are your priorities where that almost happened? And it's not like Arthurian myth has some kind of dearth of legendary relics! Rhongomyniad, Failnaught, Carnwennan, the Ring of Dispel, the Green Sash, Prydwen. There, I just made another five color cycle with one to spare, and I wasn't even trying!

But fine, it's fine. You have your King Arthur, your Merlin, and your Excalibur, and even your Holy Grail, even though not a one has anything to do with the other and only one of them will do anything of significance within the story. You also almost had a Morgan le Fay analogue in the form of Sheoldred the Whispering Witch, but you cut her later in design because you wanted Eldraine to be a breather period after WotS and not another immediate ramp-up (good call, btw, but her replacement, Oko, is very much not a Morgan).

Is there... anything else? Something... synonymous with King Arthur, present in virtually every pop culture depiction of the man in some fashion? Something that a layman might naturally finish the sentence "King Arthur and his..." if prompted?

That's right, his Round Table!

King Arthur's iconic Round Table, which he famously sat at all by himself. His Round Table which was definitely intrinsically magical and NOT, by any means, a symbol of a regent placing himself on equal footing with those who swore allegiance to him.

In case my sarcasm is not portraying my frustration adequately: there are no Knights of the Round Table in this set. There plenty of knights, sure. A glut of them. And, as seen above, there is something of a Round Table that some of them are associated with. But there is not elite fellowship of legendary knights with the King counted among their distinguished and exclusive ranks.

The set Throne of Eldraine have five legendary knights at uncommon, plus a sixth if you count the commander precon. None of them have any lore or characterization beyond "hey remember how we said knights of this color are like? this is one of them".

Lancelot, the peerless master of weapons whose base desires doomed the court to infighting. Bedivere, the king's first knight of unfailing loyalty and single arm. Kay, the king's stepbrother turned protector, know for his mix of fire magic and swordplay. Gawain the gentleman, whose arrogance is tempered into humility. Mordred, the child of the king and his worst enemy, traitor to the crown. Tristan of the tragic romance. Galahad, Agravain, Percival.

Not a single one of them has an intentional parallel in Throne. All real estate for legendary knight characters in what is, ostensibly, The Legendary Knight Setting, is dedicated to going "knights are in all five colors in this setting isn't that neat".

And one might think "oh, they were just worried that the average consumer isn't going to have the knowledge of the specific of King Arthur's court". And ordinarily might be inclined to agree with you, but: they printed Questing Beast.

Yes, everybody's favorite 4/4 for four with three keywords and more further upsides than most would care to count. The questing beast is an actual thing from Arthurian lore, and like a surprising number of other mythical creatures, it probably originated from someone poorly describing a giraffe. Still, it's extremely obscure. I count myself the biggest authority in Arthurian stuff in most of my friend circles, and I'd never heard of this thing until its card was spoiled.

So this thing that almost nobody had ever heard of, it gets to be in the set, legendary, at mythic, and strong enough to warp standard, PLUS explicit lore importance. But making room for a single Knight of the Round Table? In the Camelot setting? Couldn't be done.

I'm not asserting this is actually true, but looking at the set, I can't help but feel that whoever pitched "let's do an Arthurian world after War of the Spark" knew nothing about King Arthur stuff besides what cartoons and movies made casual reference to. Like, really. Assume that you aren't allowed to say "there's a king" or "there are knights", because those are both things true of very many planes, and tell me, how would explain what makes Eldraine "Arthurian"?

Oathsword Knight is a Monty Python reference, is that anything?

So, yeah. The set comes out, and according to market research, the Arthurian side of the plane "tested poorly", which is to say, most players didn't realize it was there, which is to say, they realized it wasn't. So, in response to this-- I mean, by sheer coincidence, the Phyrexians destroyed all five courts in the invasion. References to them still exist, but Eldraine is focusing much more on the fairy-tale side of things this time, hence the name Wilds of Eldraine. There's knights, but no knight typal. Humans, but no adamant.

And then something funny happened.

I won't go into every last detail of Wilds of Eldraine's story, but: Will and Rowan are in disagreement of how The Realm should be salvaged. Rowan, frustrated with ideas like "social reform" and "negotiation", wants to do so with her magical prowess, and is willing to swear fealty to her evil witch aunt to make it happen. Will, meanwhile, is more level-headed, and wants to untie the realm by simply being a good leader and trusting the people to believe in him. And at first, they don't. But Syr Imodane, knight turned raider turned knight again, sees his earnestness and decides to place her loyalty in Will, and others follow after her.

One day I was thinking about Imodane, who features prominently in the story, and I had a small realization. The prosthetic arm, the mixture of fire magic and melee combat, being first to join. She's sort of like Bedivere and Kay rolled into one character. Except, you know, meaner, and a woman of color.

Then, like a flash, it clicked for me.

Algenus was never the Arthur. He was the Uther, THAT'S why he barely did anything. Will Kenrith is the King Arthur, the boy who became king because somebody had to. Eriette is the Morgan. And Rowan, her pawn and Will's flesh and blood, is the Mordred.

And just like that, they've done it. They have captured, not just the surface-level aesthetics of the Matter of Britain, which are by themselves nothing extraordinary, but the SPIRIT of it.

Many people thought getting rid of the courts would dilute the setting's Arthurian theme to nonexistence, but honestly? The courts never had anything to do with the Arthurian theme, not really. Apparently, they were just getting in the way.

Ultimately, making a setting "Arthurian" is a foolhardy task, because the setting of King Arthur himself isn't interesting, and it's not what makes the tale of Camelot interesting. But making STORY "Arthurian", making its cast and their relationships and their arcs and their virtues line up with what the tale of Camelot explores? That's something. Strange that it took making a limited archetype about evil candy to accomplish this, but we got there.

[cbk1000]

And here’s a small preview of the next chapter of Book of Merthur:

Beyond the Lake which is waiting for its King to come home to it, there is a sward as fine as a slipper, and flowers sewn on for adornment. Where there is mortal wind to blow and coneys to proliferate, the flora is at risk of dishevelment, or outright beheading: but here there is that fine, flat silence which goes from nothing into nothing, with the moss to cushion its journey. The trees drink of an earth never to be fodder for plough or for cow: and where their ordinary brethren are throttled by vine, they are wearing it like organdie. 

And beyond this, beyond the trees which are furred like fine kings, and the heather which lives sepal to stamen with the dog rose, where the field is on fire with the poppies, and the foxglove is coloured like wine, where the air, if it could, would make the sound of fine silver on crystal, beyond castles and towers built of white stone or gay stone, past orchard, past lawn, past the throne made of oak, and the castle with the penis its master has not been able to remove, by charm or by cursing, there is a tower alone, made purely of loadstone. 

Far up in the tower, there is a window, and in the window, a face which a knight would kill himself rescuing. 

When there is a tower such as this, and a maiden such as this (though she is no longer a maiden), it is customary to hear a voice as pure as the air, singing of lost love or no love: but this one was saying some words unrepeatable. It was saying them in pleasant enough diction, with articulation garnered from tutors: but what it was saying had been garnered from soldiers. 

In the air which had a kind of resonance to it, which could have run down from a mountain when spring doffed the felt caps from its peaks, in the presence of bluebell lovelier than women, there could be heard, from lips not quite second to roses, “Fuck this fucking tit cunt fuck.” And finally, for emphasis: “Fucking fuck this fuck fuck. Bollocks!!”

Here was the denizen of Avalon who was not queen but meant to be queen, honing her sorcery for war.

And in Camelot, where the foxglove is still coloured like wine, though rather a shabbier one, Arthur, Once and Future King of Camelot and of Albion, burst into the apothecary where were ensconced Merlin’s mother, and his mother, and shouted at the former: “Where’s your son?”

Hunith did not look up from her mortar. She was putting her back into the pestle, and did not mean to be distracted by some stupid man. “In back,” she said, absentmindedly.

“Mum!” Merlin called, affronted. He had to come out, now the jig was limply up; feeling himself very poorly treated, by the one person who was bound by blood to harbour him.

“Where’s the horse?” Arthur yelled.

“What horse?” Merlin asked, with a face as innocent as an infant’s. 

“Merlin.”

“Arthur, I swear, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Really. Cross my heart. Hope to die. What horse?” he asked again, for the sake of plausible deniability. Then, with timing as treacherous as his mother, there sounded in the lane outside the apothecary the clamour of hoofbeats: and Arthur, turning his head, watched Gwaine trotting merrily past on it.

“Is that the horse?” Merlin asked innocently. “Well, I guess Gwaine must have taken it.”

Arthur grabbed him by the neck of his tunic, and hauled him outside, which might have been sexy, if it were for snogging; but as it was only for yelling, Merlin had nothing by which to recommend it. 

“Gwaine!” he hollered. “Stop this instant, or I’ll throw your cohort in the stocks. For a month.”

Gwaine kept going, because he knew, and Merlin knew, the threat was nothing but wind; because not only would Merlin be left out in the cold, but Arthur’s red-blooded penis. 

“Go, Gwaine, go!” Merlin screamed.

And Gwaine, trusting Merlin to handle a man for whose penile happiness he was responsible, did. Arthur shook Merlin by the neck of his tunic, to reassert his authority; though Merlin did not seem to notice, and only rolled his neck, to get out the tight bits. “I thought you wanted to foster a society intolerant to intolerance?” he complained, straightening to his full height, which was not any higher than Arthur’s, and adding, “All we were doing was upholding your own ideals. Can’t believe you’re going to get on your little soap box about justice, and fairness, and then go off on Gwaine and me for upholding the very values you supposedly…value.”

“Yes,” Arthur said through his teeth. “But I thought I might do that a bit more diplomatically than stealing all the clothes, and the horse, of a delegate sent from a hostile kingdom.”

“It was only the one delegate. There are several others, and we didn’t take their clothes.”

“Then why couldn’t you practise that restraint on Lord Ralph as well?” Arthur shouted.

“He’s a bit of a twat.”

Arthur was fostering, or trying to foster, a society intolerant to intolerance; though he had hoped to do it with a bit less nudity, and a bit more politicking. So though Lord Ralph was a bit of a twat, he was sat with the rest of his brethren, nearest to the high table as a guest could be sat, and served by servants with nothing in common with Merlin, who now was a diner of the high tale, instead of an attendant, and still ungrateful.

“How about not complaining, just for something new to try?” Arthur suggested reasonably, and Merlin, grimacing, pulled at his collar again, and replied, “I hate these clothes. They’re choking me.”

“Next time I’ll put you in a sack.”

“I look ridiculous.”

“You can’t blame the tunic for that,” Arthur said, and sipped from his wine.

[unfocused-always]

Murder is a dangerous business [ravenclaw x slytherin]

Warnings: pretty sure none. Genre: humor. Words: 1k A/N: see end for short note. Enjoy!

„E-Expecto patronum!” A loud shriek rang through the corridor as the wand gave a disappointing shake and harshly spit out a few blue fumes. They looked nowhere near close to the fully formed Patronus, that was supposed to save her, thank you very much.

She swallowed heavily, her hand clenching traitorous wand even tighter as slimy fingers of pure terror slowly seized her throat. Her eyes darted rapidly from her enemy to the door, praying to everything she ever considered holly. Where the hell was a backup when she desperately needed it?!

She attempted another calming breath, gripping her wand with the other hand. Movement – tough adding no real advantage – provided a false sense of empowerment in that miserable situation.

“Expecto patronum!” This time her voice was stronger, resonating along the stone walls with clear sense of purpose. Heart fell heavy in her stomach as the reality forced her to accept yet another failure. Again, the spell didn’t work. Choking down on a scream she backed away hastily, pressing her back against another wall, trying to squeeze her trembling form into the cold, merciless surface, hoping against hope that it would somehow hide her from it.

“Are my eyes giving up, or have you really just tried to scare this tiny spider away with a Patronus spell?” came the mocking voice from her right. Her head snapped to the side so fast that her neck gave a protesting sort of crack.

“Oh Merlin, oh sweet, merciful Merlin” she managed in a trembling voice, chest heaving with each forced breath she took. Yanking her friend by the back of his robes she forced him in front of her, shamelessly using his body as a shield and giving his right arm a purposeful sort of nudge.

“How very noble of you, Orien” he snickered, his lips curling in a signature mocking grin that she would have to wipe off his face sometime later.

“Yes, yes, I know. Just kill it already!” Hands clenched in his robes she peeked uneasily over his shoulder and immediately realized her mistake as a spider gave a taunting little wave, silently letting her know he was, in fact seeing her quite clearly.

“You know, I’m not so sure about this whole accomplice in murder sort of game you’re trying to play.” He tried to shift ever so slightly to give her a full impression of his gravely serious frown, but the iron fists still holding tight to his robes held him still. “What’s in it for me?”

Girthing her morals so hard they almost cracked, she forced another pleasant smile that screamed “violent death” and would terrify anyone, except… him. Being the most frequent recipient of her murderous glares he wasn’t even a little phased.

“Oh don’t give me that look. Murder is a dangerous business and if you want me to put my neck on the line, you need to give me something here.” His delighted voice washed over her and that jerk dared to throw in a little wink at the end. Oh, he was having too much fun for his own good.

“Fine, fine!” She snapped, shrinking even more into herself as the spider moved a few inches up. “Name your price.” She knew that if it wasn’t for that damned spider, she wouldn’t have fallen for this trap. But, whether she liked it or not, cards were on his side.

“How about…” white teeth perked against his lip as he pondered his option for a second. Pale blue eyes bore into hers, mirth bringing slightly darker accents to the surface. “a favour of my choice to call later on?” He declared, at last, his lips breaking into a self-satisfied grin. “AND!” he raised his wand in a shushing way “you can’t refuse, no matter the request.”

“One condition” she snapped back, glaring at him from her “safe spot”. “No illegal business and no spiders” she stated firmly, straightening her back to meet his slightly disappointed pout.

“You always take all the fun out of those things, you know?” Giving a long-suffering sigh, he extended his palm somewhat awkwardly over his shoulder, as she still refused to let him move an inch. “You have yourself a deal.”

“Great, perfect” she babbled, shaking his hand hastily and force-turning him back towards their enemy who was – to her horror – now accompanied by another one of his family. “Just kill it…! Oh, Merlin’s balls it’s already laying eggs!”

Deciding enough was enough she forced her eyes shut and gave in to the little voice that had been telling her to cower in fear from the very beginning of this cursed encounter.

She felt his back move under her palms, muscles shifting as he raised his wand, took aim, and said in a voice far calmer than she felt “Evanesco!”. After what felt like an eternity she heard a faint “pop!” and gave herself another generous 3 seconds to steady herself. Peeking from over his shoulder, her eyes scanned the opposing wall in frenzied movement and at last, she could confirm, that the coast was clear.

“Well, I’m sure you will be pleased to hear they are Merlin knows where and you” he drawled on a sing-song voice, finally turning to face her “are officially in my dept.”

Slumping back against the wall, she took a greedy intake of breath. Sweet witches above, old corridor never smelled this good. Her eyes mindlessly slid over the silver serpent embedded on his robes, up his slightly pointy chin, and higher. His mouth again curved in a smile tainted with the tiniest hint of concern, giving his face a softer look.

“I swear to Maggonagall’s hat, Reggie, if you ask me for a skull again, I’ll…”

“Hey! That was only one time!” He let out an exasperated huff and hurried after her to the dining hall. For someone so short, she sure was moving pretty damn fast.

“And we both know I’ll never let you live it down” she added with a wink over her shoulder, a smile dying on her lips as an ear-shattering crash rang through the corridor. The smell of burning wood hit her almost as fast as the screams of her fellow students. With a last puzzled glance at her friend, they both hurried towards the pandemonium.

A/N: Hello and welcome to the new story I might or might not be writing, featuring Ravenclaw!Oc/reader and her Slytherin companion as they make their way through the Marauders!Hogwarts. Honestly, I wrote this instead of sleeping. If someone feels like beta-reading this thing, I’ll send you that skull mentioned earlier, you’re a real hero. 

May our paths cross again!

[citharaposts]

MERLIN'S IMPORTANCE IN ARTHUR'S LIFE 3x02 || The Tears of Uther Pendragon Part 2 Prev | Next

[hrhbella]

Unhappier

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Word Count: 1k words

Summary: Is it over?

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This song resonates with me in so many ways. I don't know how well it translated through this work. I had also had this as part of another work of mine that never got to see the light of day completed, which seems to be the start of a theme lately. Anyhow, enjoy the 2021-adjusted content. -B

------

Draco didn’t think that either of his two friends standing next to the bookcase on the other side of the common room remembered the others were in the room. They hadn’t stopped staring at each other since convening away from the group.

When Theodore had gotten up twenty two minutes ago, Draco had counted, no one was expecting what was folding out in front of them.

“What are we looking at?” Blaise whispers, leaning on his forearms onto the back ledge of the couch.

Daphne pulls her hands from her face, “The end.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Greengrass.” Pansy snaps, though she glances at the pair with worry hidden behind her emotionless mask.

“It wouldn’t be the end,” Blaise sits on the arm of the couch, “not of them. It has always been her for him.”

Draco’s breath fills the momentary silence, “I think Nott did hims-“

“I wish it wasn’t true!”

The group refocuses on the pair in front of the bookcase as Theodore holds a firm grip on some first edition to his left, not letting his gaze leave her.

“But I’m wasting my breath.”

Theodore starts, “No, darling. You’r-.”

She pushes her palm into his chest, “Then how did we get here?”

He stares ahead. He stares.

Daphne, exasperated: “Not nothing, Nott,”

Draco, with a semblance of hope somewhere deep: “Merlin’s beard.”

Blaise: “It’s starting to seem like the end, Parkinson.”

Pansy, beginning to be concerned: “We can’t be too sure.”

Daphne: “Too sure? He hasn’t said a word!”

Blaise, eyes wide: “What did he even do?”

Pansy: “I wouldn’t know.”

Daphne, interested: “Really?”

A hum of affirmation.

Draco: “I have permission to cause irreparable modifications.”

Blaise: “From who, might I ask?”

Daphne, peeking through her hands: “Does it matter?”

Blaise, grasping at the entire situation: “Not entirely.”

“-cause I would never treat me this shitty.”

Theodore opens his mouth but it closes before any sound comes out.

“You’ve made me hate this.”

“Hate what, love?”

“Everything.”

“Dramatic if I’ve ever heard it.”

From Pansy: “Wrong choice, Nott.”

“Dramatic? I don’t talk shit about you to our friends. Never told any one of them anything bad.”

“I’m not und-“

“No, Nott. You’re not understanding. Why would I tell them what I put up with. That would be embarrassing.”

“You won’t tell me what I’ve done or what I am doing! How am I to know?”

“You were my everything. How could that not be enough for you?”

The group across the room watch as Nott finds the fibers of the carpet beneath his feet as interesting as a Nimbus 2301.

Draco: “Come on, Theo, mate. What did you do?”

Blaise: “She sounds final.”

Daphne: “Irreversibly.”

“And all you did in the end is make me sad.”

“It meant nothing.”

Pansy, holding tightly onto Daphne’s wrist: “He did not.”

Daphne, near tears: “He couldn’t have.”

Draco, understanding reluctantly coming into focus: “Oh, but he did.”

Blaise: “Who?”

Daphne, tears gently streaming: “What does it matter, who?”

Pansy: “Was it-“

“So don’t waste the time I don’t have.”

“Time? We are supposed to be brothed this summer! We have more time than anyone two people at our age could have! It didn’t mean anything to me, darling. Let me show you.”

“Don’t try to make me feel differently than I know I do. I can’t stand the sight of you. Everything. Everything, Nott. What isn’t comprehendible about that to you?”

Theodore takes a breath in, but quickly closes his mouth.

“No! Was your snitch-sized brain too powered up when your cock was buried inside her to be able to think with a semblance of foresight? Not even foresight, presight.”

“Not a word, love.”

She stares at him. Arms crossed. Feet firmly on the ground. Nothing about her seems unsure of herself.

Draco: “This is the end.”

Blaise, with a sad smile: “Of an era, some might say.”

Pansy: “No one would say that, Zabini.”

“Then we’re done.”

Theo chokes, “Done?”

“Over.”

“Merlin’s beard, love.”

“You ruined everything good. There’s no room for this to be misunderstood.”

“I-“

“Don’t make this moment into something that it is not. She didn’t fall into your prick, Nott.”

“Darling, jus-“

“Just fucking leave me alone.”

They all, including Theodore, watch as she walks up the stairs to the room she shares with the other girls, who are currently processing the situation on the couch.

Pansy: “I guess my bespoke reconstruction of a Delfina Crimp gown is a waste.”

Draco: “A fucking dress, Parkinson?”

Daphne: “She was so excited to start their life.”

Blaise: “I wouldn’t agree and say she feels the same anymore.”

Daphne: “Obviously not.”

Draco: “How could he? She is our friend.”

Pansy: “How could he? Men are disgusting, Malfoy.”

Blaise: “I thought women didn’t know that.”

Daphne: “Oh, we know.”

Theodore has been staring at the archway she walked through this whole time, and only just turns back to his friends, “Wizengamot?”

“About as fucked as your mistress seems to have been.”

“Pansy,” Draco breathes, “now is not the time.”

Daphne is being cradled by Blaise, who is shaking his head as he looks at his dark-haired mate.

“Not the time? Just like he said, we have time. I will spend the rest of eternity making him sorry he ever had the nerve to exist in the same reality.” Pansy had never shown such deep rooted emotions in front of her peers.

“For the record, I didn’t ask for that.”

Draco scoffs, “You mean to say that you didn’t ask that witch for a quickie in the club’s powder room?”

“You knew?” Daphne exclaims, turning to face Draco with fervor.

“I had not realized the entirety of the situation until recently.”

Theodore: “You told her?”

Draco: “Not on purpose, if it makes you feel better.”

Blaise: “Feel better? He fucked another witch!”

Pansy: “You will rue the day, Nott.”

Theodore: “You still have not given me the votes. Unambiguous, please.”

Draco: “We w-“

Daphne: “Four nays. I hope that’s not too confusing because I can’t possibly think of another way to explain.”

Blaise: “He-“

Daphne: “Oh wait, she will be happier than ever away from you.”

The group watched closely as Theodore stormed out of the common room. Not one of the four remaining Slytherin enjoyed the deep, gut-wrenching, dark storm that was forming within each of them.

“It won’t be the same, will it?”

Draco sighs, “No, Daphne. I don’t think it ever will.”

------

> If you wish to write a formal letter to Her Royal Highness, please do so here.

> If you wish to see Her Royal Highness’ completed list of works, please do so here.

> If you wish to see some of Her Royal Highness’ most frequently asked questions, please do so here.

[pillage-and-lute]

Hi, this is a Monday Evening Prompt: How about Jaskier coming to Kaer Morhen and bringing little presents for all the wolves? Could be his first visit or not. Have a nice evening!

Hi Petrificustotaluss! I really did some worldbuilding here.

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Geralt could smell the anxiety rolling off of Jaskier in waves all the way up to Kaer Morhen. The bard was practically vibrating out of his travel cloak. On the few stops on their way up the mountain he didn’t sing, choosing instead to pluck repetitive tunes on his lute. 

Their last stop before the keep was in a cave, long used by witchers returning home. This last haven before home always brought out something deep and maybe even proud in Geralt’s chest. 

The cave was not large, but deep enough that the weather didn’t permeate. Geralt lead Roach to the back, where centuries of hooves had worn a groove, and threw her blanket over her. Jaskier rubbed her nose affectionately, looking around in wonder, despite the fading light.

Geralt began setting a fire in the ring of stones left behind by one of his brothers. Two slashes were carved into the side of a larger stone. Lambert then, a sign left for whichever of his brothers cam behind.

Fire flared and Jaskier gasped. Every witcher who had stayed in the cave, since its presence had been discovered, had carved their name into the wall. Jaskier stepped immediately to the back of the cave, tracing names almost worn away with trembling hands. 

Geralt took his hand and guided his fingertips and his feet closer to the mouth of the cave. Jaskier brushed his thumb over the V in Vesemir. 

“Your name...?”

Geralt found it for him.

“I couldn’t read yet,” he whispered, when he found the marks he sought. “You know how the letters switch in my mind. Eskel told me what to carve.” 

The names were right next to one another and Jaskier pressed one hand against them, as if he was trying to reach into the past. 

“Lambert’s is here,” Geralt said, voice almost a whisper. It felt appropriate here. 

Jaskier traced it gently, too. 

They sat down to eat without much talking, unusual for the bard, but this much history could be oppressive for anyone. There were drawings among the names and Jaskier kept glancing at them. 

After dinner they huddled together, backs against one of the walls.

“That one,” Geralt said, pointing to the back of the cave, “That’s the first version of the wolf on my medallion.” He had smelled the anxiety rising on Jaskier’s scent again, and hoped talking could keep it at bay. 

“There,” he pointed again. “That’s Gawain of Ymlac’s  name, almost faded. He’s famous, bards wrote about his fight with a knight, Bertilak the Green.”

“I know the story,” Jaskier said, eyes wide. “But the way it’s always told, Gawain is a knight.”

Geralt shook his head. “Gawain was considered one of the best of us, but he was no knight. Bertilak visited here too, but he could not write, few could in those days.”

“So his name isn’t here?” Jaskier sounded disappointed.

“It is, the rough carving of the tree, beneath Gawain’s name, is his. It was the sigil on his shield.”

Jaskier’s eyes were so round he looked like a child at Yuletide.

“There,” Geralt pointed, “is the name of another famous visitor. I wonder if you know him.”

Jaskier stood and walked over. “Here?” he asked. “Taliesin, I’ve never heard the name, was he from another witcher school?”

“No,” Geralt said, walking to Jaskier’s side. “A sorceror and a bard. I think you would know him better by another name.” He couldn’t resist the dramatic pause. Jaskier looked up at him, hanging on his words.

“I believe they call him...” Jaskier leaned in. “Merlin.”

“Never!” Jaskier cried, hopping back. “Geralt you’re pulling my leg!”

“I am not,” Geralt said. “He wrote notes in some of the books in the library.”

Jaskier was no longer nervous, hopping about in excitement. 

“Which ones? Do you know? I have to read them all. Geralt can you think of the stories!”

Geralt chuckled. 

“This one,” he said. “Is Aiden’s signature.” It was hard to read, the rock was soft, but carving was still difficult work.

“Lambert’s friend?”

Geralt nodded. “From the cat school. I think you’ll like him.” The pair of them would probably manage to burn the keep down.

Jaskier looked around him with a stunned grin. Geralt pulled out the heavy work knife he kept at his thigh and offered it to Jaskier, hilt first.

“What?”

“Well you need to carve your name, don’t you?”

Jaskier’s eyes filled. “Really?”

“Of course, someday someone will point out the name of Jaskier, the Continent’s famous bard.”

Jaskier grinned bashfully. He sat at the wall of the cave and scratched out his name. It was slow going for a human, without magic or mutant strength, but he did. Then he began a new carving.

Geralt didn’t ask yet, but restocked the fire and waited. 

At last Jaskier pulled back, there was the carving from Geralt’s medallion, a lark, and a flower. 

Geralt felt his chest tighten, but in a warm way. 

That night, beside eachother in their bedrolls, Jaskier tossed and turned.

“Stop,” Geralt said. “Sleep, it will be alright.”

“The ground is hard,” Jaskier said. 

“They’ll like you,” Geralt said. “You’re my-” friend, he wanted to finish. The word couldn’t seem to break from between his lips. 

“Bard,” he finished lamely. “They know that, they’ll respect it.”

Jaskier gave a little twitch that was maybe a shrug under the layers of fabric.

“They’ll see what I see,” Geralt said.

“A fillingless pie?” Jaskier said jokingly. Some of the anxiety had gone, though. 

Geralt huffed. “Everyone knows the crust is the best part, anyway.”

He rolled over and went to sleep. 

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

They arrived at the gates of Kaer Morhen midmorning the next day. Jaskier was looking around in awe, taking in the crumbling architecture. 

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Geralt was about to respond but was tackled into a snowdrift by his younger brother.

Geralt laughed and tossed Lambert off him, only for Eskel to join the fray, the three of them scrapping and laughing, rolling about the courtyard. 

Vesemir pulled them apart by their collars. Then he nuzzled Geralt before gruffly ruffling his hair. “Welcome back, lad,” he said.

Jaskier was looking on wide-eyed, but Geralt didn’t have time to explain the odd greeting because Eskel was next. 

His brother gave him a rib shaking hug and roughly grated his cheek along Geralt’s, snuffling a little as he took in his brother’s scent. 

Lambert, still a pup, didn’t wait his turn and butted his cheek agains Geralt’s other one, then delivered a bit of a nip to Geralt’s ear. He pulled back looking a little embarrassed, but the brother’s understood, sometimes the wolf instinct was a little strong.

“Um,” Jaskier said. Four pairs of golden eyes turned to look at him.

“I’m Jaskier, Geralt’s bard...should I greet you like a wolf or....?” He stuck out his hand awkwardly.

“A handshake is fine, lad,” Vesemir said, taking the bard’s offered hand. Geralt watched Jaskier almost not wince as his fingers were, accidentally, ground together. “The wolf is just a little stonger in winter for my boys.”

Geralt noticed that Vesemir’s nostrils still flared as he took in Jaskier’s unfamiliar scent, but didn’t say anything.

Eskel and Lambert both somewhat sheepishly shook the bard’s hand. Then the little party unloaded Roach and continued into the great hall.

Jaskier gratefully warmed his hands at the fire before sitting at the table with the rest of the witchers. He began digging in his pack.

“I, uh, I brought gifts,” he said, pulling out packages. “Since I’m your guest and all.”

Vesemir huffed good naturedly “still put you to work, guest or no,” he said.

“Of course,” Jaskier said. He looked around. “I have one for Aiden too? Is he here?”

“Eavesdropping,” Lambert said. A witcher slunk around a doorway and sat next to him, not even bothering to look ashamed. He was of a leaner build than the wolves, more wiry.

Aiden extended a hand to Jaskier, who took it politely. 

“I’ve heard good things,” he purred. 

“Thank you.”

“Heard you’ve tamed Pretty Boy.”

Geralt snarled, mostly playfully.

Jaskier smiled. “I get him to take a bath once in a while, I’m not sure it counts as tame.” It got a chuckle from Aiden, and Geralt felt his sanity slipping away already as he pictured their friendship. 

“Um,” Jaskier said, proffering a package to Vesemir. The old wolf took it with a nod and pulled at the rough twine. 

“Candles,” Vesmir said, looking at the slightly misshapen lumps in front of him. Four of them, in waxed paper, and an odd color, a pale, pale green. Geralt realised it first, but Vesemir said the name before him.

“Strydwen wax,” he said approvingly. “Burns without smoke or heat. Never goes out or melts away. Thank you.” 

The ‘thank you’ was said with a resonance that Geralt had never been able to master. It sort of took up place in your chest and stayed there. Jaskier fairly glowed with it.

“For Eskel,” he said, handing another package over. 

Eskel smiled at him and pulled apart the wrapping to reveal a large, leatherbound book.

“Poetry,” Eskel said delightedly.

“Newly published by a former professor of mine,” Jaskier confirmed. Eskel examined the cover.

“You studied under Rumi?” Eskel looked impressed.

“Six semesters,” Jaskier said ruefully. “He isn’t an easygoing grader.”

The final two gifts were dispensed at the same time, and Lambert and Aiden tore into their packages to find twin daggers, balanced for combat, not throwing. 

Lambert admired the round stone set into the end. Geralt, trained in the same school, figured he was picturing bludgeoning someone with it.

“Twist it,” Jaskier suggested. Lambert gave it a go.

The stone on Aiden’s dagger glowed faintly. 

Aiden twisted his and Lamber’s glowed, both fading after a few seconds.

“To communicate?” Aiden asked.

Jaskier nodded shyly. “I thought...for when you separate on the Path.”

Lambert grinned at him, his smile all teeth. “It’s perfect, I’ll annoy him with it constantly.”

The table descended into cheerful bickering and Jaskier sat back, smiling. He looked at Geralt and a furrow laid itself on his brow.

“I should have given you a gift.”

Geralt looked at his cheerful family, thought of a song that made witchers’ lives easier like a magic spell, a companion. He thought of a cave full of stories, with his and Jaskier’s carved together.

“You have.”

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Some history notes! Because I’m a nerd! Gawain of of Ymlac and Bertilak the Green are of course a reference to the Arthurian legend of Gawain and the Green Knight. 

Taliesin is also a reference to Arthurian legend, being a famous 6th century Welsh bard, one of the first bards we know of who told the tales of Arthur (although many of the stories are based in pagan sun god myth). Over centuries, the name Taliesin sometimes appears in Arthurian legend as another sorcerer, a wise sage, a poet, a demi-godly figure, or another name for Merlin. I picture Jaskier’s story sometime much later becoming something like Taliesin’s on the Continent.

Jaskier’s former professor is  Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, a 13th century Persian poet.

Also, I couldn’t resist having our wolves greet eachother as such. It’s too cute and I’m taking this headcanon as canon. Permanently.

[beforeoursunsets]

Uhm,,👉🏽👈🏽 could I request a lil smth for draco who maybe has a crush(?) on a hufflepuff who's rowdy but acts like a sweetheart once you're close enough to them? Very much someone who play fights but will also hold hands an kiss their friends, if u don't wanna it's okay! sorry if this is a bit much <:0

Owl Me. {Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader} 

(if you wanted this in the reader’s pov i sincerely apologize)

Warnings: fluff, maybe one curse word, jealous!draco

a/n: this is legit my first request ever, and I had so much fun writing it. however, I’m not really sure if I like the final product so please leave some feedback if you can.... anyways,, enjoy!!

She is holding my hand.

She is holding my hand.

SHE is HOLDING MY HAND.

Don’t screw this up, you bloody idiot.

“Malfoy, you need to hurry! We’re going to miss the announcement!” Y/N dragged me along, leading the way down to the Great Hall. 

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, L/N, I’m sure McGonagall is still fixing her hair--” Letting go of my hand, she whacked my shoulder, “--ow!”

“Can it.” She narrowed her eyes. However, her glare softened up quickly as her amused laugh filled the corridor. I stopped dead in my tracks, crossing my arms, nevertheless she began yanking at me once again.

“Okay, I’m sorry!” Y/N surrendered, “But seriously? Move faster.”

Deciding to oblige with the incessant Hufflepuff, we ran down the last of the corridor, making it to the Great Hall just in time. Enveloped by the awkward silence, we parted ways, sitting at our respective tables as Professor McGonagall began her speech.

“Sneaking off with the ‘puff?” Whispered Blaise.

I immediately scoffed, rubbing my shoulder, “I wouldn’t call her that…”

“--The Yule Ball is first and foremost, a dance. I expect nothing less than standard behavior, and I will be most seriously displeased if any Hogwarts student embarrasses the school in any way…” McGonagall continued.

From across the room I could already see Cedric Diggory staring at Y/N, who kept her eyes trained on the professor, completely oblivious. I wanted to get up, say something, be jealous, do the dramatics. But something stopped me.

Diggory was clearly the better match. The rest of the happy-go-lucky Hufflepuffs would surely encourage them to go together, and I’m sure it would be best if I chose a girl of my own house to escort. But the simple truth was: I didn’t want to.

Yes, it would be easier. And yes, it would involve far less courage. After all, I am no Gryffindor, right?

Catching my stare, Y/N sent a dazzling smile in my direction before turning away.

Merlin help me.

---Five Days Until Christmas---

“I don’t understand why we can’t just go together, Draco, it’s not like either of us have dates yet.” Said Pansy as my friends and I walked out into the Courtyard.

“It’s because he’s too busy pining over L/N, can you imagine?”

“Piss off, Nott.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Well good luck with that, because it looks like Diggory is stealing your date”

Our heads snapped over to the columns, where the two had been talking back and forth. Irritation flew over me, my dislike for the supposed ‘Quidditch Star’ intensifying. To make things worse, their conversation ended with Y/N planting a kiss right on his cheek before walking away.

“Ooooh,”

“Yikes.”

“Better luck next time...”

I was no longer in the mood for my friends’ sympathetic jests, so I left, trying my hardest not to hex Diggory on the way back to the common room. He’s probably picking out ties right now, planning out all the ways he can win Y/N over.

The mere thought of them dating filled me with such envy, to the point where it felt embarrassing. I, Draco Malfoy, a bloody Slytherin of all houses, am giving up my crush without even trying? What a painful thought.

Y/N has been on the forefront of my mind since the fifth year, when she suddenly approached me after a Quidditch game. To my utter surprise, she complimented my abilities as seeker, despite her house losing badly just minutes prior.

“Draco?” The slapping footsteps behind me caught my attention, “Are you alright?”

Unclenching my fists, I turned around, only to see Y/N completely out of breath. “You just stormed out of the Courtyard, did something happen?” She asked, stepping closer.

I avoided her question, crossing my arms. “You and Diggory, huh?”

Her face dropped, suddenly confused by the passiveness, “Diggory?”

“Yes, him.”

Y/N’s face flashed with first embarrassment, then realization, “You saw that, didn’t you.” She tried going in for a hug, but I quickly stepped back. “What the hell?” She asked. Sensing the silence, she began to explain, “Draco, I turned him down.” 

“You did what?” I asked, basking in the slight mental relief.

“I said, I turned him down. Cedric and I are just friends. I really don’t understand why you’re so upset by this.” She said genuinely, tugging at the sleeves of her robe.

But she kissed him on the cheek, is that a Hufflepuff thing? I seriously cannot wrap my head around this girl, “It didn’t look like you were turning him down.” I responded, relaxing my stance. “You know, I’m sure this won’t be the first time someone asks you to the dance.”

“Really?” She asked, suddenly sheepish.

Right then and there, I wanted to tell her everything, and just face my fears. It took every last bit of courage within me to blurt out these words. Even if she does reject me, at least I can sleep at night knowing I gave my full honesty.

“You know, Y/N, around you, people feel safe, that's just how you affect us all. I'm sure there are a lot of people who have a crush on you. I'm one of them. I realize this could all have been platonic, like it was with Diggory, so I won’t blame you if this is all unrequited.  But by any chance, if you feel the same way, if any of this resonates with you. Send me an owl.”

By the end of my speech, my hands were stuffed into my pockets out of nervousness. Without another word, I pulled them out, despite their shakiness, and gently placed them beneath her ears. After pressing a singular kiss to her forehead, I walked away, unable to face any immediate rejection.

The next morning, the Slytherin table was harassed by incoming letters. Nearly ten of them, all addressed and written with the same scraggly handwriting, were dropped directly in front of me. And yet again, from across the room, the most breathtaking sent my heart into shock.

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 1 (r.l.)

chapter one: certain uncertainty 

series masterlist

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: remus reflects on when he lost the person he held closest to his heart. 

warnings: swearing 

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: hi! this is a new remus series i’m working on. WARNING it’s going to be slowburn. hope you enjoy <33

REMUS LUPIN was never one to rely on the idea of certainty. In his sixteen years of life, Remus had gathered that the way the world worked didn’t allow for anything to be certain. For example, he could have been certain that the only peculiar thing about him would have been that he was a wizard (and really this was only peculiar to unknowing muggles). However, at the age of four, his life went off track and he was suddenly a werewolf and had no understanding of what that meant. It wasn’t always bad, however. Sometimes life was uncertain in a good way. At one time Remus was certain that a life of isolation was a fate he would have to accept, but within his first day at Hogwarts, he was proven wrong. 

And so, Remus decided that it was okay that virtually nothing was certain. He had even begun enjoying the uncertainty of life at times. He enjoyed not knowing what crazy adventure his mates and him would journey through next and he even liked the uncertainty of what subjects he would have to tackle next in his favorite classes. Which is why he couldn’t understand why he was surprised by the events unfolding now. His relationship with Y/N hadn’t even been official, yet he was stuck pondering over her recent actions instead of the notes laid out in front of him. He knew he hadn’t imagined the feelings that had been growing between the two of them and he had the image of intimate touches ingrained in his mind as proof of that. So, why? Why had she stopped looking at Remus like he held the stars in his hands? Why had she trained her sight on that lousy Ravenclaw instead? Why was she holding his hands in the halls, when the two of them had never even been so publicly affectionate? But most importantly, why was he so surprised by the uncertainty of it all?

A part of Remus - the part that resonated with his younger self most - knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew it was unlikely that any girl, especially a girl as captivating as Y/N, would have been interested in him for long. Not only was he singularly boring in his opinion, but he was a monster. The other part of Remus - the part he had spent years working on - couldn’t understand why she was suddenly acting like she forgot he existed. He knew they worked well together. He knew that he understood her in a way no one else had. He knew that he was perfect for her. Or at least he’d say he was. 

“What did that poor piece of parchment ever do to you, Moony?” A voice behind him pulled him out of his thoughts and Remus’ eyes flickered down to the notes in front of him. He had been holding his inked up quill to the paper for so long it had created a hole that was getting bigger from the severity of his hold. Dropping the quill, Remus looked up to see Peter stood in the doorway. 

“Uh, must’ve zoned out,” Remus muttered, sending Peter a lackadaisical smile. “What are you lot up to?” 

“Headed to Hogsmeade. You sure you don’t wanna join, mate? I’m sure you’re not gonna do much good just tearing through your notes. Literally.” Remus ignored Peter’s poor attempt at a pun and considered his options. He really wasn’t doing much good sitting at his desk and he needed to get his mind off certain things. No better way to do that than with the three most troublesome boys. 

“Alright, yah,” Remus nodded his head at Peter who was frowning. “You’re right, Pete. No point in tearing through my notes.” Content with Remus’ validation, Peter led the two out of their dorm and down to the common room.

“YES! Prongs, we’ve got Moony on board!” 

—

Being at Hogsmeade during the start of the year always felt odd. Remus would argue that it was one of those things that only made sense during the holidays. He had gotten into many heated debates with James about whether Hogsmeade could be considered fun this early in the school year. James would start by explaining September was the holidays and Remus would remind him that Christmas wasn’t for another few months. But he didn’t feel like striking that kind of conversation today. Normally, he’d have Y/N to back him up. 

Remus entered The Three Broomsticks with his spirits a lot higher than they had been a half-hour ago. As much as he renounced being too sure about anything, he was certain he could never be bored when he was with his friends. He prayed nothing would put a damper on his mood, but the world didn’t work the way he wanted. He had heard her before he saw her. The familiar laugh had him looking over his shoulder and following Y/N’s figure from the door.

The Y/H/C haired girl was walking hand in hand with Mason Tomlinson as they looked for a seat in the corner of the establishment. As though she felt eyes on her, she turned to the table the boys sat at and waved kindly. Remus wanted to roll his eyes at her gesture but thought better of it. 

“I don’t understand when that even happened,” Sirius mumbled, his eyes still trained on Y/N.

“Apparently they were paired up for a project,” James shook his head slightly before turning to look back at his friends. “You’d think she’d tell her bloody cousin she was seeing someone, wouldn’t you?” Y/N hadn’t been seen by the group of boys as often as they usually did in the past few weeks and Remus could tell it was rubbing James the wrong way. Actually, all of them seemed annoyed by her absence. 

“Two weeks… I swear that’s how long the two have known each other,” Peter commented. “Remus, did she ever say anything about him - OUCH!”

All three boys were now staring at Remus with guilty expressions on their faces (except Peter, who seemed to also be holding his leg in pain). Remus simply shook his head and gave him a shrug in response. 

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Sirius started and this time Remus didn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “I really did think the two of you were going to get together.” Remus froze, halting the way he was nervously pulling at his napkin under the table. He had expected pitying looks or impetus questions, but he hadn’t expected that. Remus hadn’t expected to be confronted with the exact thought that had been haunting him. When would he learn he really couldn’t expect shit? 

“No idea what you mean, mate,” Remus spoke, trying to appear much more nonchalant than he felt. “Haven’t even spoken to her in weeks. Why would we be together?” The three pairs of eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, before Sirius began to nod. 

“Right… Well, boys, I think it's time for some more butterbeer.” Remus’ friends continued with their night, but all Remus could do was stare at the manifestation of his nightmares. Y/N had her elbow resting on the table in front of her and was running her hand up and down the length of Mason’s arm. From what Remus could see Mason's other arm was placed against her hip and he was leaning closer. Within moments Remus’ stomach was lurching forward as he watched Y/N’s lips meet with Mason’s to kiss him passionately. If it had been any other person he would’ve been gagging at the crude disregard of their surroundings, but at the current moment, it was as though he was stuck. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t vomit the sight away. He was stuck watching Y/N crush his heart into pieces without even lifting a finger. 

“Don’t stare, Remus,” James’ words could’ve been taken as a joke, but Remus knew why he was saying them. He didn’t want Remus hurting. 

“Merlin, I don’t understand what has gotten into her,” Sirius, seemingly not learning from his prior mistake, was looking at Y/N again. “That’s not like her, she doesn’t mouth fuck people in public.”

“Sirius!” James and Remus had yelled at the same time. 

“That’s so vulgar!”

“That’s my cousin!” 

“Oh please, Moony. Like you don’t have the mouth of a sailor. James, I do apologize for talking about your very innocent cousin that way, but there is no other way to explain whatever that is.” James smacked Sirius on the back of his head and the two began to argue amongst themselves, but Remus was too distracted to care about what they were saying.

Sirius was right. It wasn’t like Y/N to get into a relationship so fast and even more unlike her to be so publicly affectionate. But then again, he wondered how much of that was dependent on who was sitting beside her. Maybe she was only affectionate when it wasn’t him crowding the seat next to her. Did they even know Y/N? Did he know her? Remus thought back to the first time he had ever felt a sense of mutual understanding between the two. 

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual as a group of five 3rd years faced the welcoming fireplace. Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, and Y/N had opted to stay at Hogwarts instead of going to Hogsmeade that weekend and were glad they had. Other than his friend group, Remus noted that the common room was empty which meant they could do anything without prying eyes. They seized the opportunity by playing Wizard Chess and munching on some leftover candy Y/N had from a previous Hogsmeade trip. 

“Bloody hell,” Sirius whined, as he pushed the table in front of him. “How? Again?” Remus just shrugged as he motioned for Peter to take Sirius’ spot across from him. They had all agreed they would have a tournament of sorts and whoever won would get to be the one who executed their next prank. This prank was especially exciting because it was going to be affecting anyone who was innocently spending time in the Slytherin common room next Thursday. 

“No way,” Peter tutted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’m not playing just to lose.”

“Peter, the rules were the winner plays the next contestant,” Remus argued. He knew he was undoubtedly the best at Wizarding Chess amongst the five of them and he took pride in any moments he could use that to his advantage. 

“Moons, just let me play Peter,” Sirius started. At Remus’ look of dissent, he continued, “Come on, do you even care about actually being the one that says the incantation?” Remus considered this. He didn’t actually care, but he did want to win. 

“No,” The voice came from the body next to him and Remus looked up to see Y/N shaking her head. “You can’t make the rules and then change them just because Remus is better than you.” 

“Shut up, you Hufflepuff,” James taunted. The Marauders had often told Y/N she would’ve been suitable for Hufflepuff because of how highly she valued fairness. Even if it was something as small as a game, she wanted to see the right thing done. Remus admired that. He figured if more people did that, the world would be a hell of a better place. 

“Eh, let ‘em play. They won’t let me hear the end of it once I win,” Remus uprooted from his spot on the floor and took a seat next to Y/N. The pair sat back as they watched their friends banter and laugh amongst themselves. Remus had only known the lot of them for three years, but he knew that moments like these would be life-altering for him. He had come a long way from the glum eleven-year-old who thought he deserved to be alone. He still battled with whether he deserved the love he received, but he was slowly learning he did. And the only reason he was ever able to get this far in that journey was because of the four smiling idiots around him. 

When James began to chase Peter around the common room, Remus turned his face to the side just as Y/N did and the two of them just smiled at each other. It was like they were both thinking the same things, but Remus had no way of knowing. Y/N and he had always been friends, but they rarely spent time alone the way he did with Sirius and the way she did with James. It wasn’t weird, it was just the dynamic of their group. But at that moment, as they laughed with each other, he felt like he had known her for years. He felt like she was agreeing with him on how much these people meant to both of them. He was probably projecting, but it made him feel warm with comfort. At the time he didn’t know that she would soon grow to be one of the closest friends he’d ever have, but he found solace in that random second of certain uncertainty.  

tiny little taglist: @kitkatkl​ 

[drabblingdraco]

Hey there, I saw your post and here I am with a request!!

Can I request a Draco drabble about doing mundane chores, like cooking or shopping etc. Doesn't matter really, just some cute fluffy goodness 🤭

I hope you'll feel better xx

Thank you dear <3 I tried to spin your request a little, hope you like how it turned out!

I have a taglist now! Sign up here to be on it :)

Cinderella- D.M.

Summary: You are a housemaid for the Malfoy’s. Draco rarely ever speaks to you.

Warnings: none

Fluffy!

“Y/n! Where are you?!” Lucius yelled from the library.

You rushed to his side with his morning cup of tea, the steam still resonating off the top of the mug. The alarm you had set everyday for 8AM never went off, so you were running a bit late on your housley duties.

“Thank Merlin, I needed this.”

“Apologies sir. Will not happen again.” You smiled, he shrugged it off and looked away.  

The house was still quiet, Narcissa usually rose around 8:30. Draco on the other hand, his sleep schedule was sporadic. Yesterday he didn’t wake up till 11AM. Of course that caused a mouthful from Lucius. Before you began making Narcissa’s tea, you put away the clean dishes you washed the night prior. After that you cleaned up the bar and dining table and placed a new bag in the trash bin.

The kettle started whistling and you took it off the flaming stove. You grabbed another mug, pouring a cup of tea and setting it on the bar with Narcissa’s book she’d been reading. Like clockwork, you checked the analog clock, it read 8:30 and she was already making her way down the stairs.

“Thank you dear,” she reached for the cup, taking a small sip before grabbing the book and tucking it under her arm.

“Would you please wake up Draco? He can’t sleep all day..and I don’t want Lucius to scold him again. That makes things worse for all of us.” Her red pigmented lips form a soft smile.

“Yes ma’am.”

You made your way up the staircase, turning left down the hall that lead to Draco’s bedroom. It was hard to remember the last time you were asked to awaken him. Normally he would seldom utter a few words towards you. Since you were the same age, you would like to get to know him better, but alas he enjoys being alone.

You knocked on the door. You weren’t sure if you were expecting him to say anything or just ignore you, so you waited. About two minutes later you were going to tap again, but you were exposed to the harsh light of his windows when the door opened.

“Hello,” he released a soft smile. “Do you need something?”

“Your mother asked me to wake you..that’s all.”

“Oh, right. They should both be up by now.” He fixed his hair to make it appear less messy.

You nodded, too afraid to say something that would make him dislike you. You began to walk away, but he called after you.

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

He scratched his arm with nerves. “Why don’t you..come in?”

You stood silent for a moment, but made your way back to his door. You never entered his room. He always left his weekly laundry outside the door, you assumed it was to avoid interaction. The windows in his room were blaring with bright, white and pale yellow light. You stood awkwardly a few feet from the doorway, admiring the green colored wallpaper as well as his large, grand bed arrangement.

“So..how are you?”

“Me?”

He sat on the edge of his bed, letting out a slight giggle. “Yes, you (y/n).”

This was already more interaction than you’ve had since you started working for the family the past two years. 

“I’m good, I guess.”

“Anything I can help with?” He looked up at you, his eyes shimmering.

“Um, no no I couldn’t ask you to do that. That’s why I’m here.”

He scoffed, “you really are adorable.”

Your face naturally formed a puzzled, yet surprised expression. Surely he must not mean that, right?

“What?” He questioned.

“N-nothing I just- don’t get compliments often,” you shrugged.

He stood from his place and walked closer towards you. “(Y/n), the reason I don’t talk to you much..is that I can’t stand not having you be mine. Father saw the way I looked at you when you first arrived. I’ve been following his demands for two years, but I can’t take it anymore!” He shouted the last sentence of his spiel. You couldn’t help the rouge flashing across your cheeks. “I want to hold you in my arms, show you off to the world, walk through Hogsmeade with you hand-in-hand. You make me soft- which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. You make me want to be a man, get my life together and show you how good I can be to you..” 

He was out of breath after his speech. Shocked was an understatement you were feeling. Your heart was jumping up and down, unable to beat at a steady pace. The boy gazed into your eyes, waiting for anything, a sign, motion. 

“I understand you must be scared or confused but, I am wholeheartedly telling you the truth.”

He placed both hands on your cheeks. His fingers tracing your flesh softly, a touch of love with every movement. You smiled up at him, finally making eye contact. 

“You are unbelievably beautiful, smart, courageous. I know your favorite food is anything from the Three Broomsticks. You try and get something new every time. You prefer coffee over tea. You’re a talented witch who doesn’t get enough credit for her magic.”

You finally spoke after not knowing what to say after all that time. “So what I’m hearing is...you’re my stalker?” You said jokingly as you both laughed.

“I wouldn’t put it that way. When you say it like that, it’s weird.”

[bloodypapercut]

despise (f.w. x reader)

this is my first fic! yayy! i hope all you angels enjoy. have a wonderful day or night and take care of your beautiful selves! :)

word count: 4.5k 

I despised Fred Weasley. Upon this discovery, I always questioned the veracity of my feelings towards him. It was never in my nature to be hateful, if anything I was known for being kind, caring, and helpful. Perhaps at times, I could be a little aloof, but that was simply due to the fact that my mind was always elsewhere. Never in my life had I felt so strongly about someone, better yet hate someone so fervently. Oftentimes I would feel guilty for scoffing at every remark he made, or rolling my eyes when he would flash his infamous coquettish smile. I abhorred him, it’s not like I made the decision to by my own volition, I couldn’t help it. I’m aware of how this sounds, a typical loathsome teenager who hated the boy who has attention, the boy who has people falling at his feet, the boy with a lot of friends and a close family. It wasn’t that, no not at all. I had my reasons.

--------

   I had never been more excited. I could barely keep the grin off my face as my legs swung back and forth, my heels hitting the seat. It was my first time being away from home, my desire to practice my independence as an 11-year-old was being fulfilled by the second. Looking out the window as the trees grew thicker and predictions of what the year could hold running through my mind a repulsive scent filled my cabin, thick smoke cloaked my vision and settled on my skin and robes. My violent coughs and labored breathing created a cacophony as the sound of hushed giggling and footsteps sounded from outside the door. My shaking hands made haste to dust off the soot, horrified of what others would think of me when I arrived at Hogwarts. A dirty and poor mudblood. I had expected the worst after hearing the stories my mother told me from working at the ministry, how could anyone disrespect someone I loved so dearly? The fear of being called out in such a hostile way and being looked down upon by potential friends caused my chest to tighten and sobs to violently rack my body. Not to mention the guilt I felt for getting my brand new robes dirty, especially knowing my mother worked extra shifts to get them.

   Stepping out of the Hogwarts express I was met with a tall man, guiding me along with other students to the boats. The soot hadn’t disappeared completely but I had gotten as much as I could off. The boat ride was pleasant. I had acquainted with a girl named Luna along the way, she was an idiosyncratic girl but I appreciated her kindness and her curious comments about sea creatures. I felt relieved that someone was talking to me without judging me based on my appearance, but the sadness I felt about my dirty robes still lingered over me.

   Looking up at the enchanted sky of the great hall I’ve never felt so enthralled by something. It was just as wonderful as my mom had described, I couldn’t wait to write to her all about it. But as I approached the front of the hall I felt dread put a weight around my ankles, I would have to stand up in front of everyone with my soiled robes. My uneasiness produced a scowl on my face and I could have sworn the familiar giggling was right behind me, but as I whipped my head around there was no one that seemed to be responsible for it.

“Now, when I call your names I will ask you to come forward, be seated on the stool, be sorted by the sorting hat, and after you will continue to your house table.”

I felt guilty that I wasn’t paying attention to my peers being sorted but my unease wracked at me, the ends of my sweater tangling between my fingers and the heel of my shoe being ground against the tiled floor.

“Y/N L/N”

Sighing I stepped forward, the giggles resonating once again making me stumble slightly. The lady at the front, whose name I had failed to remember, gave me a tight smile and waited for me to be seated. As the weight of the sorting hat pressed against my head I saw it. A trio of boys, 2 identical and one with dreads giggling, their soot covered hands coming up to their faces as they analyzed my robes. They must’ve felt my gaze because one of the twins and the boy with dreads stopped, but one continued, only laughing harder and looking right back at me. There, that was the moment I knew I would end up hating this ginger boy.

I had been so preoccupied with burning holes into his eyes that I had failed to recognize the incessant tapping on my shoulder and the dying cheers of the students sitting on a table at the far right of the room. Snapping my head towards the stern lady behind me. I hopped off the seat and rushed to the table that I assumed belonged to my house, which I didn’t know since I wasn’t listening. My face grew warm and my hands became sweaty with how tight my fists were clenched. I sat down quietly, never taking my eyes off that git.

That’s how he ruined my first highlight at Hogwarts.

--------

My second year was going just as I had planned. I had been practicing for Quidditch during the summer with my best mates Cho, Graham, and Julian (as Luna tried to befriend the gnomes, which didn’t end so pleasantly). I was convinced that I had improved greatly since my first chaotic flying lesson at Hogwarts. I was so sure of my skills, that I was unperturbed about trying out for my house team. That was a big mistake.

Going into compromising situations with nonchalance, knowing that the Weasley twins are in the same vicinity as you is a foolish, doltish mistake that anyone can be a victim to. I had been a victim to many of the playful endeavours during my first year and I thought that it was all over. Maybe they were mature now and knew when to stop. Thinking about it now makes me laugh, what a pretty lie I told myself.

It was the final cut for the team and I smiled as I gripped my broom, ignoring the splinter that found a place to reside in my thumb. The captain walked around smiling softly at all of us as she explained what the final tryout would entail. I clung to every word and as soon as she asked for a volunteer, my hand soared.

Tendrils of hair whipped around my face as I bolted to get the quaffle and shoot it into a hoop. I could hear words of praise from my friends on the ground and it only made me go a little faster, smiling as the quaffle passed by me. In an instant I spun my broom around, sending the ball flying to a hoop as the end struck it. I continued playing, doing tricks to show the captain I belonged on the team, I was so captured and focused that I didn’t notice the ball of fire that was in front of me, I also didn’t notice the screaming and shouts of warning from the ground but even when I did it was too late. Being faced with the fire ball it took me by surprise causing me to slip off my broom and fall a rough 20 feet from the sky.

The sound of a crack should have been the main sound that plagued my ears but it wasn’t, the pain radiating in my arm should have been enough for me to realize my arm could have been broken but it also wasn’t. At that moment I was verklempt because all I could hear was that notorious giggle and all I felt was a ferocious vindictive ball of anger swelling inside of me. In that moment I was certain that I deplored that Weasley boy.  

“L/N are you okay??”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine let me just get back on my broom and finish my try out. Please, I really wanna make the team.”

“No! Are you mental? You can't! You have to go to Madam Pomfrey now.”

“No please let me finish, I have to make the team.”

“You’re on the team kid, you’re talented but for the love of Merlin please go your arm looks horrible.”

--------

The stems of the flowers felt smooth in my hand and the soft petals grazed my nose as I inhaled its scent. I had never been given this much attention by someone and I had to admit it felt good. Getting mysterious notes everyday, serendipitous boxes of sweets on my bed and something to giggle about with my friends. The only thing that was covert was who it was coming from. I knew how they felt about me, I knew they were in all my classes and I knew that he was a Hufflepuff. I felt excited coming to my dorm, anticipating a note on my bedside table or a flower on my pillow. It all seemed a little too good to be true, and a part of me nagged, telling me it was just another Weasley prank.

After reading copious articles about wolfsbane, due to Snape’s unreasonable wrath, my head felt numb. I dragged my feet to reach my common room and after answering the riddle I stepped through the entrance ready to fling myself onto the couch.

“Hey.” It was James Abernathy, my seat partner in potions and herbology, and he was in all my other classes. His presence confused me, he wasn’t permitted into this common room, he was a Hufflepuff. Upon this realization, a ball of excitement spun in my body. Could it possibly be him? He was the epitome of my dream guy, but with my history in Hogwarts my gut told me that this was too good to be true.

“...hi? What would you need?”

“Actually can I speak to you outside?”

“Uh..yeah? Sure I guess.” He nodded curtly and walked towards to exit, letting me trail behind him. Thoughts flooded quickly, leaving me in anticipation for what he would possibly have to say to me. The idea of it being him excited me, but he had a bit of a reputation. Not that I thought he was incapable of holding interest in someone for longer than a week, it just seemed unlikely that it would be me of all people.

“It’s me.”He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair, the veins being accentuated as he tugged at the ends lightly.

I remained silent, awfully confused and in disbelief.

“You?” He nods quickly. My head was spinning and I couldn’t pinpoint how I felt or how to react. How could it be collected, witty, dallying and charming James Abertnathy, has taken an interest in me? It was hard to believe, it was so unlikely that I just knew it was too good to be true. Someone like me never goes with someone like James, that’s just how it is. Despite that my judgement was clouded by excitement, never had anything so romantic occurred in my life, the thought of having someone like James as a partner was a dream I thought I deserved to live out.

“Wow, that’s lovely um..”

“So what do you say to a day at Hogsmeade?” The echo of his footsteps sounded as he drew nearer to hold my limp hands in his, running his thumb over my knuckles.

“She says no, more into redheads you see.” My neck could have snapped with the velocity at which my head turned. Of course, of course he had to be just around the corner. Of course he had to be hiding behind a pillar, probably running away from Filch after terrorizing an innocent student or professor. How could I be so blind, so naive? I couldn’t have anything good, because he existed. Looking up I was met with the smile that seemed to frequent his face, he waved comically as James huffed and walked away. I couldn’t help the quiver of my lip as I watched him revel in the joy he got from terrorizing me.

“W-why would you do that?” I couldn’t meet his eyes, but I could feel them on me. I couldn’t stand to look at him because I knew if I did I'd slap him so hard that even the lines on my hands would be imprinted on his face for weeks.  

“Because he wanted 15 galleons and you wanted him, it would have never worked darling.” Fred was lying, I knew it. James was popular but not an absolute prick. He lost interest in people, he didn’t place bets on them. 

“What are you on about? He..he wouldn’t.”

“Oh but he would, 15 galleons is one hell of a price.” He chortled, patting my head. I had gotten used to his belittling comments and I usually remained stoic, but it hurt hearing I was worth nothing more than 15 galleons, and hearing him confirm that just hurt even more.

“What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much? Ever since I got here you’ve been nothing but hellish to me. I’ve done nothing to you, I’ve never even had a full conversation with you! Merlin, this is the most we’ve ever spoken so please, Fred,  just tell me what it is I’ve done so I can apologize and you can bloody stay away from me.” My breath hitched, my hands shook and I felt disappointed in myself for losing my composure.

“Nothing! You’ve done nothing at all it’s just-” His continuous patting on my head had stopped and his hand rested on my shoulder, which I shrugged off immediately upon realizing its presence.

“What? Just what, what could I have possibly done for me to deserve this. Do you know that I have never written to my mother about a single good thing that has happened to me here, and you know why? It’s because of you! You selfish git!”

“Listen the only reason I did those things was because I wanted your attention.”

“And why on earth would you want that?”

“Isn’t it obvious I fancy you, like a lot?” He threw his head back lightly as he crossed his arms. His nonchalance was palpable, and I just knew that he thought he had won, he thought that I would suddenly change my demeanor and drop to my knees thanking Merlin he liked me. Unfortunately for him, he was dead wrong, sure he was attractive, very in fact but his personality made him the most repulsive and hideous human I could ever be faced with.

“Oh? Really? You’re going to pull that card? So you’re telling me the reason you were an insufferable twat for 3 years, was because you were too much of a coward to divulge your feelings? I find that very hard to believe, you’re practically known to be brazen without fail so why?”

“Because you’re you! You’re known to be indifferent, how would I ever get you to feel strongly about me in any way when you disregard everyone who tries to get close to you?”

“Well uh I don't know?! Maybe have a conversation with me? Ask me about my day? You could have done literally anything other than cause affliction on me for years. You ruined some of the best possible moments of my life, and I’m not going to let some sodding excuse of you liking me disregard that!”

“Love, please just lis-”

“I am not your love and I will not listen! What on earth did I expect from you? How could I be so stupid?! You’re right, you’re you and I’m me. And I know that I would never do anything to merit the havoc I’ve had to endure and I know that you’re only treating me like rubbish because you’re a bored little boy, who doesn’t ever get enough attention so you have to terrorize innocent people to fulfill some fantasy of achievement and success. A fantasy I know you will never achieve because you care about nothing but ruining the lives of others.”

He looked back at me vacantly, and for the first time, I knew that I had gotten the upper hand. In a way it felt good, it was like the revenge I’d been craving for years. Yet the other half of me knew it was wrong, to berate someone so zealously without listening to their side. I knew I had gone overboard and I knew the guilt would consume me later, but the memories of reading the first letter my mom had owled me fled in. The overwhelming guilt I had felt for asking her for new robes after the soot wouldn’t get out, the embarrassment of nearly missing the team from falling off my broom due to a fireball, and the insecurity I currently felt, after hearing that I’m worth only 15 galleons prevented me from holding back. I felt too much and had too little time to process it.

“Please just-”

“Fred, do you not understand what I’m saying? You’ve never failed to humiliate me and you’ve regarded me with nothing but disdain and contempt, I never said anything because I wanted to be polite but you know what? You don't deserve my patience or manners. You’ve never listened to anyone but your thick obdurate skull, but you know what you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen well. I HATE YOU! Now leave me alone.” I stormed off muttering the answer to the riddle once more and rushed to my dorm shutting the door and curling under my blanket. I could hear the footsteps of my roommate apprehensively approaching me. Her hand resting on my arm.

“Fred?”

“Fred.”

“Git.”

I felt nothing but guilt as I fell asleep that night. Fred was still human and though he was horrible to me, I could understand why he did those things, though they weren’t justified and I would personally never do it. Ron had told me before about how his brother was, how he really was a good person. Someone driven, thoughtful, kind, and creative. How he was a great older brother, especially to Ginny. I realized how hurtful my words were, and I regretted them immensely. 

--------

Hermione and Ron never failed to put on a spectacle for everyone around them. Whether it be arguing about the definition of a word or how barbaric wizards chess is, they always disagreed. So it wasn’t a real surprise when I walked in the great hall for breakfast when I heard their strident bickering from halfway across the room. Walking closer to them, the words they threw at each other became distinguishable.

“‘Mione- no! Listen, you’re not listening I’m telling you he does he really does!!”

“You never fail to prove your fatuous way of thinking Ronald. I mean I would understand literally anyone else, I mean she’s all angel but not him. He’s absolutely horrible to her. Why would you think such a thing?” Deciding to be nosy and sit here instead of my house table I sat next to Harry, nudging his shoulder as he snickered.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He nodded, handed me a roll and pushed his cup of pumpkin juice towards me.

“Any idea what they’re on about?”

“An inkling.” He smirked.

“Not talking huh?”

“Mhmm. Just listen I’m sure you’ll find out.”

“He’s my brother, I know how he is around people he likes- loves. He’s an arse to us, yeah, it’s in his nature, but behind our backs he would do anything for us. He just doesn’t want us knowing.”

“Oh wow Ronald, you’re gonna compare his love for you to his ‘love’ for her? How ridiculous.”

“No-bloody hell no! Don’t twist my words, what I’m saying is I know what he’s trying to do. The amount of times he’s stood up for her behind her back, you’d think he’s her puppy. Do you know how many people he’s hexed and pranked for her. Remember he gave Flint boils for a month after he called her a mudblood after a match? Or when he beat up Mullard...and Nilesmith and- Merlin I could go on and on. C’mon, he’d never do that for someone he hated.”

“Okay fine maybe...since when did you care so much about the relationships of others?”

“She’s our best friend! And he’s a git that needs to be calmed down, but you know he never does so if we end this now it’ll be better for all of us.”

“Wow Ron, you’ve unlocked the capacity to sympathize with other humans.”

I knew it was about Fred, and I knew it was about me.

Swallowing the unchewed bite of bread in my mouth and gulping down the rest of Harry’s juice I rushed out of the great hall, not in the mood to be reminded of Fred. Not in the mood to process what I had just heard. 

--------

The Triwizard Tournament. A time for friendship, unity and excitement. Ever since the Beauxbaton girls and Durmstrang boys came to Hogwarts the energy had been different. Something promising lingered in the air. Things truly felt different this year, and I’m sure they would be. There was so much to look forward to. New friends, the tournament itself and the Yule Ball. My excitement and joy for the new school year couldn’t be smothered, even by the fact that I had detention every evening for 2 weeks. I suppose reading in the restricted section after hours wasn’t the wisest thing, especially considering it wasn’t my first time getting caught. So here I was, using a brush no bigger than my pinky to polish cauldrons, the bristles getting thick and grimy from the remaining ingredients left in the dents of the cast iron. Humming to myself I let my thoughts wander to how exhilarating the ball will be, how fun it will be to dance with all of my friends, how pleasant it will be dressed up. Nothing could possibly spoil that not even Fred Weasley, I wouldn’t allow it.

   It had been at least an hour, my hands were cramped and I was anticipating the completion of my 30 minutes left until I could rush to my dorm. I had finished cleaning and now I was left sitting here, vacantly twirling the brush with my fingers. The minutes couldn’t possibly go slower but as I heard the offbeat footsteps that I had grown accustomed to looking out for I knew that my night was going to be much longer than anticipated. Once I heard them I knew to evacuate, but being stuck in the trophy room I had no choice but to stay, Snape’s unreasonable derision wasn’t worth the fuss. The tiny brush I was forced to clean threatened to snap as my grip tightened. When the footsteps came to a halt, the unease in the room multiplied by 5. Without a word, there was the sound of shuffling, a drawer being opened and a brush being grabbed. It took 10 dreadful minutes for him to finally speak. As soon as the first syllable dripped from his mouth I couldn’t hold back a sigh, of relief or apprehension, I’m not sure.

“So what color are you wearing to the ball?”

“Sod off Weasley.” I grumbled, straightening my back. Another 10 minutes of silence followed.

“I’m sorry...I know I’ve been a foul, detestable and painfully foolish ass. I know that whatever I do it will never be enough to prove that I never had any bad intent behind my actions. I know you think I’m a no-good inconsiderate twat who doesn’t care about anyone, that I’m bound to fail and I deserve that. The things I’ve done to you are absolutely horrible. But Y/N please, please believe me, I never did any of that to harm you. Just please give me one chance, just one and I swear if I mess it up I will leave you alone forever.” I barely understood a word he said, it was so rapid but I clung onto everyone as best as I could.

“Why should I?”

“It’s selfish, to ask for so much after all I’ve done but I know that you’re the most intelligent, kind, resilient and beautiful person I’ve ever encountered. And my feelings towards you aren’t enough to ever justify what I’ve done. I know that I have ruined every year of your time here, but please please please give me one chance to make the rest of your years remarkable. To let you live out the highlights you deserve, so you can write to your mother about how much fun you had going to hogsmeade, or how amazing the Yule Ball was, or-”

“You’re asking me to the ball?”

“If you’ll have me.” My breath hitched and I let my brush drop, and for the first time since that night I had divulged my hatred for him, I looked him in the eye as I stepped closer. I remained silent and did nothing but look at him, every twitch of his eye, every rise and fall of his chest, I had to see it, I had to make sure this wasn’t some elaborate game that he wanted me to lose at. It must’ve been at least 5 minutes because  his face dropped and his chest deflated,  he turned to leave but before he could I ran in front of him. Nodding my head yes, I held his face, running my thumb over his freckled cheek.

“This is for Flint.” I whispered as I slowly neared his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead after brushing his hair to the side. His arm wrapped around my waist.

“Mullard.” Another to each of his temples.

“Nilesmith.” The tip of his nose.

“And every other person you stood up against for me, even after everything I said to you and even though I never knew about any of it.” The corner of his mouth. His eyelashes flutter against my cheek.

“And this is for taking me to the ball.” I looked into his eyes, searching for confirmation that it was alright to continue, he squeezed my wrist in confirmation. It was warm and sweet, safe and pure. It was filled with passion, all the things we have yet to admit to the other was translated into this moment. I wanted him to feel the admiration I had for his confidence to stand up for the ones he loved to whoever defied them, every freckle on his face, every laugh that would emerge from the back of his throat, the calluses on his hands, the determination in his heart, the respect and love he had for everyone, hidden behind all of his playful antics. We pulled apart, laughing softly and refusing to let go of each other. Our foreheads pressed together and we hugged tightly, our arms refusing to release the other. I had never felt so warm, so elated, so appreciated. It was odd, especially coming from him, but I accepted it. I had never accepted any feelings towards Fred that were positive, but now I let them in freely without shame or denial.

“I can’t believe I used to despise you.”

[sir-gwaine-my-man]

for the hug prompt thingy, can u please do a leaping hug one between gwaine and merlin? probably after they've just successfully pranked arthur or smth, of just them being cuddly boyfriends? thank you x

I’ve started shipping Merwaine far too much so thank you for this! Hope you like it:

Merlin stood behind the curtain in Arthur’s chambers as silently as he could, he had to see Arthur’s face when it happened even if he was more likely to get caught that way. Gwaine was waiting in the hallway outside, supposedly on patrol, and was just about visible through the slightly ajar door. 

It was a struggle to stop the laughter from escaping him, and Merlin had to settle for a strained grin to keep quiet. His heart hammered in anticipation as his mind buzzed in anticipation. He was infinitely glad that Gwaine had roped him into a ridiculous scheme.

Through the gap in the door, Merlin saw Gwaine give a subtle nod before walking off with a smirk. Arthur wouldn’t be far behind.

And that was true. Merlin could hear muffled words being spoken between Arthur and an advisor before the king entered the room, closely studying a scroll of parchment. He came to a quick halt when he felt something slide across his face. Jumping back with a start, he looked up from the parchment to find hundreds of colourful ribbons messily strewn about his chambers, weaving themselves together in a bright, complicated maze of colour, looping through chairs and tables, drawers and wardrobes, looking like a mismatched quilt folded up into a tent.

Gwaine had set up most of them once Arthur had left for a meeting that morning whilst Merlin hadn’t been able to sneak away from said meeting until near the end. But the chaos that had ensued for those few precious minutes that they were together as they tried to not tangle themselves up had been some of the most fun that both of them had experienced in a while, not to mention the stolen kisses as they stumbled around the room in their rush to finish before Arthur’s arrival. 

Arthur looked around the room in a daze of shock and confusion, slowly taking it all in. Something in Merlin’s resilience broke and he couldn’t hold back the laughter anymore. Quiet chuckles escaped him before he had the chance to cover his mouth and hope that Arthur hadn’t heard him. 

Arthur had, in fact, heard him. Sharp footsteps resonated throughout the room as Arthur paced towards the curtains, pulling them back as his features slowly morphed into a look of frustration.

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, beaming at him with laughter still twinkling in his eyes.

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed, reaching for his shoulder. Merlin expertly ducked under his arm thanks to his years of experience, darting behind him. “Would you like to explain what happened?”

“Y’know, I’m not quite sure. Someone must’ve broken in whilst I was cleaning. I can’t quite remember,” he replied, backing up to the door.

“Merlin!” 

“Sorry, got to go.” And with that he dashed out of the room, Arthur only metres behind him.

Merlin sprinted down several corridors, running towards the intersection that he knew Gwaine would be. He could hear Arthur’s footsteps pounding a couple of hallways away, but he didn’t dare to look back. 

“Good to see you’re still in one piece, love,” Gwaine joked with a smile as Merlin rushed up to him, breathless. “Quick, in here.” He hastily pushed Merlin behind a tapestry, the shadows of the alcove it hung in just about concealing his feet.

“Gwaine, have you seen Merlin?” Arthur asked, panting slightly, scowling.

“He rushed by a moment ago, headed down that corridor,” Gwaine lied smoothly, pointing in the direction that Merlin certainly wasn’t. “Looked awfully cheeky, I might add.”

Arthur took off again, seeming less and less like the respectable king he was supposed to be with each passing second. Once he was sure the coast was clear, Merlin ducked out from behind the tapestry and back into the corridor.

“I’m guessing it went well,” Gwaine chuckled as he turned to Merlin.

Merlin lept at Gwaine, flinging his arms around his neck as Gwaine swung him around. The laughter that flowed out of them was incredible, and they wanted nothing more than to be in each other's arms for all eternity. 

“You should’ve seen his face,” Merlin laughed as Gwaine put him down, “he was so confused. But you described me as cheeky? Really, Gwaine, cheeky?”

“Would you prefer scandalous, love?” 

Merlin could feel a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Perhaps I would.”

“Now, we just have to hide you from Arthur for the rest of the day,” Gwaine said, his arms still wrapped around Merlin, a flirtatious smirk growing on his face. Merlin could feel his face turning an even deeper shade of red. Surely Arthur wouldn’t miss him for one day, would he?

[vibraniumwing]

better with you.

a neville longbottom x reader wherein you’ve never really felt like yourself until you met this shy, dorky boy who was fond of herbology

WARNING: none, just pure fluff. a bit of a slow burn too uwu

A/N: used she/her pronouns for this one. this is the first story i’m writing for the hp fandom, please be nice o n o

---

You were currently situated in the library, finishing a book you’ve recently found an interest in. Your fingers playing with the edge of the page as your temple was situated by your palm, the ambiance of the library bringing you solace; hushed conversations, page turning and the sound of someone’s quills on the surface of the parchment. It was all so calming.

“Oh look, it’s snowing!” you heard someone call out, causing you to look to your side to see that it was indeed, snowing. Now resting your chin on your palm, your attention shifted to the small snowflakes accumulating by the window, watching it form a small pile. 

The coldness of the weather reminded you of yourself. You were infamous for being the Ice Princess of Hufflepuff, the ethereal beauty blessed by the gods yet a heart of stone. You were cold, distant and by all means, someone who wasn’t very sociable. So you being sorted in Hufflepuff was a true mystery to everyone.

Some say you should’ve been sorted into Slytherin.

A deep sigh resonated from your chest as you stood up, throwing on the dark coat that was resting on the seat next to you and grabbing your book, hugging it close to your chest. 

Eyes were glued on you as you walked by, the hushed whispers now seemingly louder as you grew conscious due to the unsolicited attention you’re currently receiving. 

You never wanted to be like this; raised in a strict pure-blooded family, molding you to become who you are as of the current. As the exact words of your mother, “You are a L/N. Take pride in that, see no one and talk to no one. You are to show no emotion at all.” It was a rough childhood. You were never allowed to go outside—not even to where your parents are going— and you were never exposed to affection from your mother and father, the closest thing you’ll get to that term was a simple head pat. That alone was another rare thing.

You were well-aware that you were never like this. Not even in the closest; the fear of disappointing them however, stood greater than anything else that mattered to you. So you had to accept that lifestyle, there was no other way.

The rest of the day flew by as normal, soon enough it was already dark out. You found yourself roaming around the halls, the patter of your shoes resounding in the halls. This was your daily ritual after dinner, to calm yourself before retreating to your house’s common room. 

Just about to return, you heard a few laughs coming from the other end of the corner, your mind immediately protesting that you pay no attention and best be on your way— your gut on the other hand, pushed you to look at the commotion. Your legs started moving to their direction. 

As you approached, you discovered that is was  Malfoy and his two lapdogs meddling with what seems to be a Gryffindor student.

“What was his name again?” You mumbled to yourself, hiding against the corner just a few steps away from them. Mind raking to remember where you have heard his name, recalling the sudden memory of him fainting during your second year. Your eyes widen at the recollection and approached them with a feeling that you were not used to.

“Leave him alone, Malfoy.” You spoke up, your heartbeat’s pace starting to pick up as he turns around to look at you. Cocking an eyebrow at your direction, a scoff soon followed. “L/N? The infamous ice princess? Standing up for this little weasel?” his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The usage of the nickname caused you to roll your eyes, shaking your head once as you approached the poor boy, shoving them lightly as you stood in front of him protectively. You look back at them, crossing your arm as you looked up at them, now realizing that they tower over you. “Leave Longbottom alone, Draco.” You warned him once more, your eyes locking with his. 

“Or what? Your little boyfriend’s a coward as it is!” He taunted even more, his signature smirk dawning his lips, eyeing the male behind you up and down. “Pathetic little thing can’t man up.” 

“Oh please Malfoy, You’ll never be half the man that he is. Meddling in and messing up with people to make yourself feel accomplished in the eyes of your father. And you two—” pausing and looking at Crabbe and Goyle, with a disgusted look on your face. “can’t be anymore stupid by following this little leader of yours, I reckon. You three are a bunch of low-lives anyways.” You spat out, venom dripping from your voice; turning around, you offered your hand to the boy and pulled him off the ground.

Looking at them again, you retorted one last time. “If I ever catch you or even just hear about you messing with Longbottom again, I won’t hold myself back.” and pulled the Gryffindor along with you, leaving the three stunned at your words.

The both of you walked in silence, catching the eye of a few students who seemed to notice that your hand was still linked with his. 

You stopped by the hallway near the Great Hall and looked back at your companion. “Are you all good...” You questioned, now realizing that you didn’t even know his first name. “...I-it’s Neville. And y-yes, i’m all good.” he spoke in a hushed tone, eyes looking downwards. 

Only then did you realize you were still holding on to his hand. You immediately let go and a light shade of pink dusted your cheeks, coughing lightly to cover up your flustered state. “That’s good to hear. I’ll see you around.” You courtly say, turning around to walk away, heading over to the Grand Staircase to head off to your Common Room.

Leaving a rather surprised Neville all by himself.

---

“Are you sure that’s L/N you’re talking about, Nev?” Seamus asked from his bed, looking at his friend with a rather surprised expression. “Like the Ice Princess of Hufflepuff L/N?” Dean jumped into the conversation, the topic interesting him as well.

Neville was sure of what he saw, Merlin if he wasn’t so shocked he would’ve ran after her the moment she let him go. “Of course I am! I saw it with my own eyes, she even held my hand!” He answered, looking at the two, exasperated. Never in his life was he so sure of anything else.

“I have to agree with the two on this one. It just doesn’t sound like her, Neville.” Ron soon spoke up, looking at him as he munched on his candies. 

Feeling defeated, he flopped back down on his bed and sighed. “I-I’ll prove it to you guys. I swear it was Y/N.” He retorted, opting not to argue with his dorm-mates anymore.

‘I swear I’ll show them that Y/N is more than what she shows.’

---

All of the students were down Hogsmeade, students frolicking around the village to drink some Butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks or just be out and about from the castle.

You rarely go with them, not wanting to socialize as it drains you more than anything else. This day was an exception though, as you were there to refill on parchment and ink since you’ve been running low on supply.

Your day flowed as normal as any other— with the exception that you had felt more people stare at you; not that you weren’t used to it or anything, something just felt off with the way they stare. As if the gossip had something else in it rather than the usual thing of “why is she in Hufflepuff.”

Walking along the snowy pavement of the place was rather peaceful for you, eyes wandering about on your schoolmates who were blabbering about their day and sharing their excitement to be away from the school. You’ve always longed for an interaction like that with your peers, but you tend to shy away and rather maintain the reputation they’ve crowned upon you.

Almost at the shop, a hand was placed on your shoulder making you jump slightly, causing you to slip against the icy, slippery surface. You shut your eyes as you prepared for the impact until you felt a warm breath fan out against your skin, a subtle scent of mint tickling your nose.

You open your eyes to meet a pair of beautiful brown eyes, your breath hitching at the sight. Your eye contact remained with the person until a sudden cough made it’s way out of you, only realizing that you’ve been holding your breath.

The both of you straightened up, now taking a better look at the person who saved your bottom from the rather cold pathway; cheeks suddenly flushed once recognizing who it was. “Neville?”

He was quiet, his whole face as the same color of his house, eyes still locked with yours. 

Bringing up a hand, you waved it against his face gently to pull him out of his trance, to which he did. “O-oh. H-hello again, Y/N.” the boy greeted, showing you a rather shy smile. 

You nodded at him once, unsure of how to react now that he was back to speaking. “I s-saw you walk alone around here... I was wondering if-” His voice suddenly getting really soft by the end of his sentence causing you to raise an eyebrow at him. “You have to speak louder, Longbottom. I’m not blessed with super hearing.” You told him, feeling the corner of your lips twinge up at the sight of him. 

Neville cursed under his breath at his shyness, mentally cursing at how pathetic it was that he couldn’t speak in front of you. 

Something stirred inside you again though, the same protective feeling washing over at the sight of him contemplating. “You can tell me. If it’s Malfoy bothering you again, tell me where he is. I’ve got a few hexes ready for him and his ugly warts of sidekicks.” You started off, crossing your arms.

The latter immediately shook his head (as much as he would love to see Draco get a piece of his own medicine, he doesn’t want you in harms way.) 

“I-I w-was wondering if y-you’d like some company while you’re here.” He finally spat out, causing you to look at him in surprise. No one ever asked to go with you, so this was a definite first for you. Neville’s lips curved to a slight frown at the prolonged silence, thinking that your silence was rejection.

“A-alright, I’ll t-take that as a no. I-I’ll see you around, Y/N...” he mumbled, tone dripping of dejection. That’s when you snapped out of your trance, holding onto his wrist. “H-hey, I’d actually love to be in your company.” You told him, squeezing it gently.

He turned to look at you with a surprised look, eyes wide with his jaw slacked a bit that you actually accepted his offer. To which you answered with a very soft laugh, lips curved into a smile at how adorable he was. “You better close your mouth, love. You’ll be eating the snow like that.” You remarked, bringing your other hand up to close his jaw.

His eyes were trained on you, just now noticing the tinge of pink that dawned on your cheeks and how red your nose was from the cold, to which he found adorable. Flashing you a toothy grin, he straightened himself up and wiggled free from your grasp, his larger hands now engulfing your own. 

Your quietly watched him, unable to find any remarks now he has seemingly stepped out of his shell. Stunned at how he took the initiative to hold your hand in the process. “Do you fancy some butterbeer perhaps? After you pick up what you need?” He asked, looking at you with a smile, his cheeks flushed immensely.

“S-sounds good to me, Nev.”

---

After that moment in Hogsmeade, you’ve been hanging out more with Neville, You’ve shown more emotion in the short span you’ve met him than your stay in Hogwarts, making everyone re-think of that title of yours.

You felt like yourself, you felt free with him around. It was the best feeling you’ve ever had.

It was a pleasant surprise for everyone when you suddenly appeared in the Great Hall with your hair free and not in the usual bun they’ve grown accustomed to.

While walking to your house’s table, you made eye contact with Neville, flashing him a bright smile, leaving the boy shy and his friends hitting him and calling him out on what he actually did with you.

“Blimey Neville, she seems better with you than how she ever did before.” Seamus called out, giving his friend a noogie in the process. 

You rolled our eyes at the remark, a smile remaining on your lips as you reach your table.

Everything was going well when one of the people in your house asked, “Hey Y/N isn’t that your owl?” causing you to look up that your owl, indeed was flying towards you with a certain black envelope you know too well. The bird landed in front of you, letting go of the parchment and stares up at you.

You forced a smile, despite your heart dropping at the knowledge of what’s inside the letter; to which a certain boy noticed from afar. “Hello there, Peanut. Got a letter for me?” the barred owl blinked at you, as if he knew what was to come. 

With a shaky hand, you opened the envelope and pulled the letter out. Your mother’s familiar handwriting greeting your vision as you read the letter. 

Tears brimmed your eyes as you scrunched the letter up in your hands. You raced out of the hall, causing a few people to look your way as you bumped into people, vision blurred. 

Neville saw all of it happen, how your expression went from happy to the most heartbreaking one he’s seen on anyone. He didn’t waste anymore time and chased after you, knowing exactly where to find you.

You were slumped by the furthest nook of the library as you were silently sobbing, thanking whatever higher power there is that there isn’t anyone around to see you at such a miserable state. However, you did hear the chair beside you move, causing you to look at the cause of the noise to see Neville.

“Now isn’t a good time to suggest Herbology books, Nev.” You humored, wiping your tears as you sent a tight-lipped smile his way. His heart was torn into pieces at the sight of you so shattered, he knew about your situation with your family and how you were forced to be someone you weren’t. 

He shook his head, his hand reaching for your own and ran his thumb across your knuckles; the boy knew how much you love when he does that. Visibly, you relaxed and leaned into him. You rested your head on his shoulder and sobbed quietly, tears staining his shirt. 

His arm protectively curled around your frame, cradling you as you just sobbed, quietly listening to the whispers of how you hated the fact that you were still so fearful of your parents— how you were still controlled by them. 

You pulled away from his embrace, your eyes puffy from the crying. “N-Nev, I’m so-” 

“Before you even finish that sentence, don’t. You don’t have to apologize for anything, love.” He crooned, bringing his hand to wipe your tears away. Loving the way how you leaned into his touch.

“It’s alright to be afraid, you know? You’re still a human, darling. Sometimes, people get tired of keeping up with something they know they’re not and it’s okay to be like that.” Neville whispered, tone laced with tenderness as he spoke. Your eyes were locked with his brown ones and all you saw was sincerity in every word he spoke.

“You can still be yourself, love. Be someone that you love, not someone to please other people. There’s a reason why you’re in Hufflepuff and not in any other house. You know that deep down inside of you and I’ve seen that first hand.” He continued, smiling fondly at the memories you;ve managed to create with him. How you slowly stepped out of your cold figure and show who you really are.

“You tend to put people before yourself like how you stood up for me that night with Malfoy, like how you are with your parents. That’s what I love about you.” He confessed, making you look at him with surprised eyes. 

It was the first time you’ve ever heard someone say that— it felt good. Warmth spread through your body as you stared at him and you saw it. The adoration he has for you and right there, you know that wasn’t lying.

“I-I’m sorry, that d-didn’t mean to sl-” “I love you too.” You cut him off, now finding the words you’ve wanted to tell him for the longest time. “I hope you don’t change the way how you lo- wait what?” He was continuing to ramble on until what you said had processed in him. “Y-You do?”

“Yes, I do.” You nodded once, now resting your forehead with his as you laughed softly. “Thank you, Neville. For staying with me and believing that I’m more than what others see.” You spoke gently, feeling his warm breath against your lips, the familiar scent of mint wafting through your nose.

“You’ve done the same for me, love.” He responsed, now holding your face with his hands gently, afraid to hurt you even the slightest.

You saw how his eyes flicker for just a split second to your lips, to which you took the change to pull his tie to press a gentle kiss on his lips. His eyes were wide, feeling your plush ones against his; until he too melted, and gave in.

The both of you pulled away, breathless. You broke out into a quiet laugh, hugging him in the process, to which he gladly reciprocated.

“Everything’s better with you, Nev.” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as you smiled. He mirrored your smile, pulling away to hold your hand and presses a peck to your forehead.

“I intend to keep it that way forever.”

And that’s when you knew that everything would be okay, as long as he’s there with you.

[panharmonium]

beyond the white mountains

Since I’m on an Ealdor kick right now (not that I’m ever not, I mean, but working on that edit the other day and thinking about Merlin running away with Freya just started me feeling things with renewed intensity), here is some talk about my favorite location, for my own satisfaction.

(My deep and abiding interest in Merlin’s home is a pretty niche passion and probably not something that is particularly interesting to others, which means I haven’t ever really typed up any serious musings about it before, but at this point, I think anybody who hangs around my blog knows that my brain is at least 50% unfettered love for Merlin’s pre-Camelot life, so I’m just gonna go ahead and indulge myself here.)

Something that has always been a pet peeve of mine is the fact the map we’re all familiar with as supplemental material is wrong.

I know it comes from the BBC.  It is STILL WRONG.

I’m sure most everyone is already aware of this fact, just by virtue of looking at some of the other locations and thinking, “uhhh that really doesn’t make sense” (for instance, in the show, the Isle of the Blessed is canonically stated to be in Odin’s kingdom, whereas on this map it’s in Camelot) - but my particular area of interest, due to past writing escapades, is Ealdor and Cenred’s kingdom, so just to set the record straight on those locations specifically - this is what our supplemental map tries to tell us:

And this just isn’t right.  Canonically, Ealdor is NOT to the east of Camelot.  Cenred’s kingdom is NOT on Camelot’s eastern border.  And the White Mountains are NOT all the way over there!!!

Here are the Real Facts™, courtesy of the show:

1. Ealdor is NORTH of Camelot.

“So where are you headed?” (Tristan, asking where Merlin and Arthur are going, as they’re on their way to Ealdor.) “North, over the border.”

“We're heading north to a safe haven.  To Ealdor.”

2. The White Mountains lie BETWEEN Ealdor and Camelot, not way out in West Nowheresville.

“I know a place.  Ealdor.  It's beyond the White Mountains.”

“Ealdor lies at the far side of that valley....Agravaine couldn’t have tracked us through the mountains.” 

You can even see the mountain range in the show.  Ealdor is visibly situated in the valleys created by the foothills of The White Mountains.  Merlin has to hike THROUGH the White Mountains to get from Ealdor to Camelot:

And then this is the view on the way from Camelot to Ealdor:

And this is literally what Merlin sees every time he looks out his back door.  (This shot is from Hunith’s POV, when she’s standing on the village green watching the fab four head back to Camelot.)  

The map can say what it wants, but the White Mountains are NOT all the way over in the western reaches of Camelot, and Ealdor is not out to the east.  The mountains are NORTH of Camelot, forming a border between Uther and Cenred’s kingdoms, and Merlin’s home is nestled in their foothills.  When Merlin is out haymaking every June in the meadow pictured above, he’s doing it in the shadow of those very mountains. 

[This fits, too, with Hunith’s comment to Uther that “winters are harsh in Ealdor.”  The climate in various mountainous regions can differ tremendously, obviously, but if Ealdor is on the windward side of the range, it would receive a lot more precipitation (more snow!) than Camelot on the leeward side.  And then there’s mountain/gap winds to consider, altitude, etc - all things that could contribute to Ealdor experiencing slightly different winters than Camelot.]

It matters, too, when we think about the scene Merlin has with Freya in 2.09, when they’re talking about their respective homes - when Freya tells him her home was "surrounded by the tallest mountains” - when she talks about the winter storms, and the wind, and the summer wildflowers; when she says it was like heaven - that resonates with Merlin.  Freya doesn’t necessarily realize it, because Merlin has been more reticent than her about describing his home, but a lot of what she’s describing is familiar to him.  It speaks to him.  It paints a picture of something he misses, in a complicated way; it’s something he sees as beautiful.  “It sounds perfect,” he says to her.  And he means it.

There are a number of reasons why Merlin decides to run off with Freya in 2.09, and this is hardly the most important one.  But it does matter, and I personally think taking Merlin’s tangled, frequently-suppressed homesickness into account when we try to understand who he is and why he does the things that he does is relevant, always, even if that particular side of him usually goes undiscussed.

We know some other things about the geography surrounding Ealdor, too, though those features aren’t so egregiously mislabeled on the map.  

We know that there is a forest somewhere along the border that extends into Cenred’s kingdom (it’s labeled on the map, it’s just not big enough):

“We're going to Cenred's Kingdom, aren't we?” “What makes you say that?” “Er, because we're in the Forest of Ascetir and we're not stopping?”

(honestly, lol @ Arthur asking Merlin “what makes you say that”.....Merlin’s like “uhhhh i was born here???  i know where tf we are”)

We also know that there’s a “Ridge of Ascetir,” per Uther (I assume it’s associated with the White Mountains, but we can’t know that for sure):

“Ealdor lies beyond the Ridge of Ascetir.  For an army of Camelot to enter it would be an act of war.” 

^ The above two elements bring up a point that I haven’t actually ever seen discussed anywhere else, and I assume it’s just because I wasn’t involved in fandom back when the show was actually airing - but, for clarity’s sake: there is NO canon indication of what Cenred’s kingdom is actually called.  I’ve seen the term “Essetir” used in some places on AO3, but that’s not something that actually comes from the canon, and I assume it’s just a fanon misspelling that emerged out of people mishearing the word “Ascetir” (or “Aesctir,” as 1.10′s subtitles put it) when characters were talking about the forest or the ridge.  The only places that canonically bear that name are the Forest of Ascetir and the Ridge of Ascetir, both of which are partially located in Camelot - there is no indication that Merlin’s home country is actually called Ascetir, and in fact the kingdom is only ever referred to as “Cenred’s kingdom” (or Lot’s kingdom, after Cenred is dead).

In terms of the rest of the area’s geographical features: we already know about the mountains (discussed above), and some sort of cave system (”I thought you said you grew up in these tunnels”) which exits (in one place, at least) out onto the side of a mountain, beyond which are plains (in Arthur’s words, when he suggests moving further into Lot’s kingdom) and then in the other direction there’s the Forest of Ascetir.  We know that there is a river associated with Ealdor (Morgana says “they’ve crossed the river” re: the bandits in 1.10), and we also know that Ealdor itself is bounded on one side by a steep stone ridge (the same one that Agravaine’s men line up on to surround the place):

And this ridge actually fits very well with what we see of the village itself.  Ealdor has to be located in an area where stone is easily accessible, otherwise its buildings would not look the way they do.  (BBC Merlin is, of course, a fantasy show, not taking place in a particular historical period, but just drawing from real history, most peasant homes in medieval England were not of stone construction, unless the village itself was located in an area where stone was plentiful and easy to access.  Moving stone for construction purposes was incredibly labor-intensive and, generally, prohibitively expensive.  But Ealdor is obviously located in an area where stone is readily available, and you can see indications of that in the image above.

Ultimately, is any of the above information relevant to anyone who isn’t me?  

No, not really.  And are there a lot of ways in which this show is often super inconsistent when it comes to geography?  Yes, absolutely.  (The Lake of Avalon, for instance, is ALL OVER THE PLACE.)  But, surprisingly, geographical info on Ealdor/Cenred’s kingdom is actually pretty consistent throughout the canon, and the map is the odd man out - so since canon tops supplementary material for me, and since the map is so clearly wrong about other things, this is how I conceive of Ealdor whenever I think/write about it.

[namelessayakashi]

So fic title... “I Was a King Under Your Control”

Sorry, song lyrics seem to be really resonating with me lately... do with this what you will lol 🤷🏻‍♀️🙈

wait okay i am going to... need you to tell me what song this is from in the notes djkfhasdkjflhks ahahah so keep in mind as i write this--i have NO IDEA what the context is bc idk what song this is ahahhaha

i just like... immediately thought dragonlordvoice--

ahahha so here you go

I Was a King Under Your Control

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice commanding and authoritative. "I want to see you bow before me."

The words sent a shiver down Arthur's spine, as he lowered himself to the floor. His heart pounded in his chest. Kneeling, he looked up to the dragonlord, his eyes wide and pleading.

"That doesn't look like bowing," Merlin smirked down at him.

Or

Arthur had a secret.

He knew Merlin was a dragonlord. He knew Balinor was his father. And he knew he was weak for that voice. That special voice he used. It sent chills through Arthur. It made him feel compelled to obey. Do whatever he says. And not just because of that minuscule amount of dragon blood running through him from his lineage.

Unfortunately, Arthur's not always the best at keeping secrets.

hope you like what i did with it ahah sorry if it doesn't fit the song like at all akjshfkjsdhak it probably doesnt--

send titles get summaries

[dracosaurusrex]

Palace

Summary: In which you discover a new love in the midst of your heartbreak.

Prompt:  “with you, I thought I knew love. but maybe I still don’t” A/N: Hi y’all! So this is my take on the @minty-malfoy ‘s 300 writing challenge :) (Congratulations my friend! You’re amazing!) I have to admit, writing angst is not my strong suit, and I had to do some research to grasp what it was. Within my findings, something that caught my attention in particular was the fact that angst is defined as going through the character’s emotional workings, topped with a newfound sense of strength. There might be some holes present, but overall this piece is molded on that understanding, and I hope it reaches out to you in whatever way that resonates the most.

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Throughout her years at Hogwarts, Y/N had been able to pick up a number of skills. She may not have been as good at studying as Hermione Granger, or as athletic as Ginny Weasely, or even as creative as Luna Lovegood--no. You were an average girl who didn’t have much to show for except your ability to hide behind a thick mask.

You were typically known for your kindness, which was complimented by a pair of sparkling e/c eyes, a warm smile, and a nurturing personality. Additionally, you were graced with a good sense of humor and an infectious laugh. To all of your friends, you were the embodiment of the sun; a girl whose being was commonly associated with terms such as, “beautiful”, “genuine”, and “loving”. A girl who never seemed to show any indication of internal conflict, who had everything under control.

These perceptions always came in handy, for they molded into the shape of a mask when times became rough for you. Because of this, you were capable of fooling everyone into thinking that you were okay.

You felt your consciousness resurfacing from sleep as the morning lulled your body awake. Your eyes fluttered open to the ceiling with your fingers interlaced over your chest. Meanwhile, rays of early light infiltrated random crevices of the dorm, and birds were singing rather loudly outside of your window. Allowing yourself to lay in the stillness, you treasured the moment, took deep breaths, and basked in what felt like peace.

Your surroundings were blissful--and you were grateful--but waking up now equated to reuniting with the recurring tightness that gripped your heart. Memories of a love that had once initiated butterflies had transformed into needles that prickled your chest. A love that once caressed you now felt like a ghostly presence. 

‘Where did it all go wrong?’ You found asking yourself as of late. As you laid in bed, you allowed old scenes of your time with Draco Malfoy to play in your head, recalling the feelings attached to each.

You remembered the rush of adrenaline that you felt the first time you had confessed. You remembered the relief combined with excitement when the feelings were confirmed to be mutual.

You remembered the feeling of your heart skipping when his fingers first slipped into yours, hands intertwined like a glove.

You remembered the temporary sense of confidence that overcame when you initiated the first kiss and the shock that appeared on both your faces after realizing what you did. 

The first “I love you”.

You remembered your first time with him--the sweet whispers, the moans, the laughing, the feeling of pleasure as you came onto one another. You remembered the way his fingers stroked your hair as you laid on top of him with his free arm wrapped around your waist.

You recalled memories of exchanges of comforting words during moments where either one of you felt doubt or unease. 

You remembered the inside jokes you made, the goofy side of him that he only showed to you.

You remembered the plans you both have made, the exhilarating thought of sharing a future with him. The way he gripped your hands and looked into your eyes as he made promises that ended up being broken. 

You remembered the thrill of it all--the palace you had built with him, and how you’ve done so fearlessly until it came crashing down. 

You recalled all the love you had ever given him, all of yourself you had devoted to him, all the dreams, the hopes, the what-could’ve-beens in the moment the words fell out of his lips:

“With you, I thought I knew love. But maybe I still don’t.” Draco uttered in a bare whisper. 

He kept his hands clasped on his lap as he avoided looking at you. You had found yourselves sitting on the edge of his bed with the moonlight illuminating his dorm.

Just a couple weeks ago you were in his arms, sharing kisses without any thought that this would happen--you were on top of the world--but when it did, you felt knots forming over your chest and your stomach. A sob had dared to come up, but you gulped it back down into your throat. Your mind was racing and your eyes were tearing, but you wouldn’t allow your tears to fall. You couldn’t. 

Instead, you grabbed both sides of his face and smiled weakly. 

“Draco, I’ll always love you. I’ll always care for you…” Your lips started to tremble as you looked straight into Draco’s eyes. They were filled with so much guilt.

Breathing in and out slowly, you continued, “I just hope the next girl will be able to make you even happier and take care of you much better than I did.” 

Your lips were pursed into a tight line as you tried to give a convincing smile of reassurance. Your throat started to sting because of the resistance you made towards crying. In doing so, a tear had found a way to roll down your cheek. He grabbed your wrists as you continued to hold his face, his eyes glazed over with regret. His lips trembled as he witnessed your efforts to be strong. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt you at all! I-” You hushed his frantic whispers.

“Don’t worry about me, my love. I promise you everything will be okay.” It was at this point that Draco let out the gasp of despair he held in. He proceeded to reach out to wipe your tears. You closed your eyes and allowed them to fall at this point, leaning into his touch for the very last time. Once you opened them, you did the same and wiped the tears that had stained his porcelain skin. Draco sat there stunned at how much you were holding in.

You whispered, “We’ll be okay. Okay?” He could only nod. You remembered the last time you leaned forward to kiss his lips. To your dismay, he didn’t respond. As you drew yourself away from him, you stood up straight and attempted in giving one of your signature smiles.

“I guess I’ll see you around Malfoy.” 

You recall feeling dead upon arriving at your dorm. Your eyes were puffy, and you thought you finished crying, but as you tucked yourself to bed, the tears you had kept began to fall.

You broke away from the memory as you silently wiped the tears that had formed in your eyes. It has been about a month since your break up. You hadn’t talked to the boy since then. Instead, you made it a priority to reconstruct your life. Your friends would constantly try to comfort you by saying things like, “Go show him what he lost” or “He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N!” You appreciated their efforts, but Merlin knows that it’ll take a while for you to heal. You couldn’t bring it upon yourself to be angry at him. While the moment left a bitter taste in your mouth, you knew deep inside that the love you shared for one another was never a waste of time. 

With a huff, you jolted from your bed, grabbed your uniform, and dragged your legs to the bathroom to get ready for the new school day. The way you handled yourself now was done more carefully than how you used to. Every motion--buttoning your shirt, tucking it into your skirt, tying your tie, and throwing your jumper over your body--was done with more caution. You brushed your hair straight, running your fingers through any tangles, and clamped it into a simple half-do. As you stared into the mirror, you took notice of your appearance. The red tint that lined the edges of your eyes as a result of the tears you shed earlier. You notice the bags that have formed, the slight peeling of your lips. You began to fix your face by applying a light amount of foundation and mascara, followed by a thin layer of tinted chapstick. Slowly, the indications of your sadness dissipated as you put on your makeup. You weren’t really the type to praise yourself, but as you stared at yourself in the mirror once more, you had to admit that you felt a bit pretty. ‘It’s a step forward. Here’s to another day’ You smiled slightly at your reflection, and made your way to the Great Hall.

So far, you managed to show what you considered to be your normal self to your friends whenever they were in your presence. Not wanting them to worry, you did your best to seem energized every time you were joined in their conversations, inserting laughs, and adding on to the fun when needed. You felt obligated to show everyone, including Draco, that you were okay. It’s been like that ever since things ended. The entire student body was aware of the fall. Both you and the boy looked very off the day after it happened. However, slowly but surely, you had reverted back to your sunny self, surprising many of those around you. Only you knew that it was a facade though, and that deep down inside, you still pined for the ghost of your relationship. 

Your thoughts often drifted to him. He was sat in the Slytherin table with his usual group of friends. As you took small glances at him, you wondered what went on in his mind, how he felt about you, and whether or not he misses what you had shared with him. You wondered if he took notice of the energy you conveyed, if he noticed the smile that was plastered on your face now that you weren’t together. Was he convinced with your little charade? 

You broke your gaze from him the moment he turned his focus to your direction. Not wanting to get caught, you chimed into their conversation once more, a convincing smile of enjoyment on your lips.  Once you felt that enough time had passed, you discretely glance at him again, only to have your eyes meet ever so slightly. The time for your classes to start was drawing near. Wanting to be alone in your own thoughts, you left them to walk around.

The hallways you roamed in taunted you as you began to recall, once again, figures of your memories. A warm feeling rose in your chest as you relished the small moments of laughter, playful kisses, and the heart-racing sensation of the back hugs he gave. It was ironic, but reminiscing helped you cope. Perhaps it was the thought of another chance. At the same time, however, you couldn’t deny that it might’ve been the result of the fear of moving on. You sighed, allowing your mind to push away the harshness of the latter. ‘Today will be a good day. I’ll make sure of it.’ With the feeling of encouragement overcoming you once again, you set off to your first class with a new sense of optimism. You weren’t sure about how long the feeling would last, but now that you had it, there was no point in taking it for granted. After all, as long as you were alive, the Earth would still continue to turn, and your commitment to reconstructing your life blazed on. 

The fluctuation between sadness and inspiration was a common occurrence in this point of your life. There were nights that felt completely agonizing, but there were also moments where you felt as though you were slowly falling in love with your life and the potential that it holds. It was then that you felt such enlightenment had brought you raw joy and peace. No masks or facades. No fake smiles. These were found in very minuscule fragments throughout the day. It took the form of the sense of concentration that you had when you studied, the feeling of achievement when you understood a difficult concept. It also embodied the scent of rain when it pours, the cold air that accompanies the sunrise, the sight of bookshelves in the library, the blissful feeling of getting lost in muggle literature. Joy was found in the sounds of the crackling fire, a satisfied belly after a good dinner, as well as the company of friends who have seen you at your worst. You were enchanted by the thought of filling your life with these wholesome moments--to take control and be the artist as you paint such details into your canvas. Sometimes such joy became so overwhelming that the heartache you felt seemed nonexistent.

‘How nice would it be to share it with you, though.’ You thought of him.

And perhaps you would be able to one day; but for now, within the sadness you were beginning to embrace this new love. A love that surpassed the borders of romantic affections.

Draco’s words would ring in your mind whenever you thought of this. You would create scenarios in your head, formulating what you would’ve said to him that night with all the newfound wisdom you had now.

“I thought I knew what love was when I was with you also. However, I can now see the pieces of my true love. How it surrounds me whether you’re by my side or not.” You said to yourself, wrapping yourself in hope as you amount to build your own palace once again.

A/N: I might make a second part to this to show Draco’s view on Y/N’s growth, but we’ll see hehe! I hope that moments of peace and bits of joy make their way to you no matter how hard life may become. You’re all deserving of love <3 Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day!