#merlin could have pushed him towards favouring magic

[citharaposts]

MERLIN'S IMPORTANTANCE IN ARTHUR'S LIFE 2x08 || The Sins of the Father Prev | Next

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Camlann, except no one is being held back by stupid destinies;

Merlin manages to keep Morgana and Mordred on the side of the light, which has a few rather influential knock-on effects.

Morgause leads her army onto the barren fields of Camlann, her hair and eyes wild, but her sword and focus sharp. Opposite stands her traitor sister’s half brother, the Boy-King of Camelot, surrounded by his precious knights. Today, they would all die, she would make certain of that.

Arthur struggles to keep his hands from trembling, he’s well aware that this battle will likely be his, and subsequently Camelot’s, downfall, but his nerves are settled slightly by Merlin’s comforting presence at his side. Which he feels immensely guilty at. 

He’d done his best to urge Merlin to run, to take Gwen and Gaius and maybe even Morgana, to go to Ealdor to pick up his mother and run even further, just in case. Merlin had refused of course; Gwen and Morgana had squawked at Arthur’s stupid chivalry and planted their feet firmly in the throne room, a symbolic last line of defence, and Gaius rolled his eyes and reaffirmed that he would be in the infirmary tent, as planned. 

He’d given his men his speech and they all seemed content to die for the cause, for one last desperate attempt to keep their home safe, but that didn’t stop the freezing claw of guilt from shredding Arthur’s lungs every time he took a breath. They were just waiting now. For someone to make the first move, for Morgause to get a little closer, for someone to send a messenger. 

Arthur’s broken from his stare when a warm, soft, steady hand takes his gently. His head whips to the side to see Merlin, stood without armour (oh, how The King despaired) staring at him with a slight frown. A frown, Arthur thinks, that should be much deeper, and much more afraid. He’s grateful it isn’t. He’s not sure he could cope with seeing Merlin scared:

“Arthur, if... if I knew a way to win this, once and for all, with not a drop of Camelot blood spilt... would you let me?”

It takes Arthur a few moments to process what Merlin had said, on account of his brain focusing on how grateful he is to hear his voice and feel the warmth of his hand instead of actually listening to him speak, but when he does, he copies his servant’s frown, though his is slightly more confused. He doesn’t let go of Merlin’s hand as he responds, instead tightening his grip:

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

Merlin gulps and looks away briefly, a look of guilt if Arthur ever saw one, but he finds he doesn’t really care. They’re all about to die, he’d forgive Merlin anything:

“If I could win this battle, and the war, right here, right now. Would you let me?-���

At Arthur’s continued perplexed look, Merlin rolls his eyes and huffs, smirking slightly as he adds on:

“-Just humour me.”

Arthur gulps, glancing towards the slowly advancing army before once again squeezing Merlin’s hand and looking back at him:

“It would... depend on the consequences, I suppose. Would you get hurt?”

Merlin shakes his head, then stops, and tilts it sideways as though he’s considering something he’d really rather not think about. He can’t meet Arthur’s gaze as he responds:

“I... might need a few hours to rest, afterwards, but any... long term consequences would depend on your reaction.”

Arthur recoils slightly at that, frown deepening as he shakes his head, completely oblivious to the keen listening ears of his six most loyal knights, and another, hidden towards the back of the group. If he’d turned to see them, Arthur would’ve noticed the blank looks of steely determination on Lancelot and Mordred’s faces:

“Well we would never have to worry about that. I... I could never see you hurt, Merlin.”

The King’s voice cracks as he mentions Merlin getting hurt, and the servant’s gaze softens, knowing that Arthur was thinking of their inevitable demise, creeping closer and closer. He squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile as his other hand lifts up to rest on his shoulder; his question comes out soft and pleading:

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur has to use all of his self control not to yell his answer across Camlann:

“More than anyone.”

Merlin smiles sadly and steps back, dropping both of his still-steady hands to his sides; Arthur feels the gap between them more heavily than he feels the armour on his back. Merlin goes to turn away without another word, but before he can take even one step, a figure is pushing through to the front, gripping his wrist and pulling him back:

“I’m coming too.”

Arthur’s eyes go comically large as he hears Morgana’s voice come from under the hood. He steps forward to rip it down, and she only spares him an annoyed glance before she’s back to staring purposefully at Merlin. A gasp goes up around the group from all bar two, and Mordred dismounts his horse, walking forward to be in line with Morgana. The three of them entirely ignore Arthur’s outraged words:

“Morgana, what the hell are you doing here? You need to be safe at the castle, you’re meant to take the crown what the hell are you doing here?!”

Merlin meets Morgana’s determined glare with a resigned one of his own:

“No, this is my-”

Mordred interrupts him, his voice strong in a way that Arthur had never heard from the youngest knight before:

“No. No, it’s not. You’re not just fighting for Camelot, Merlin, you’re fighting or us, for our people.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Morgana crosses her arms and holds her head high as she speaks:

“You’re making a stand and you have no right to stop us from doing the same. This is bigger than you, bigger than all three of us, this is our fight just as much as it is yours.”

Merlin can only hold their stare for so long before he sighs and looks to the floor, entirely oblivious to the knights panicking (bar Lancelot, of course). He looks up with a small, relaxed smile on his face, and if Arthur weren’t so preoccupied with the fact that Morgana was definitely not supposed to be here, he would’ve found Merlin’s almost-nonchalance calming. The servant holds both his hands out:

“Together?”

Mordred grins widely, taking one of Merlin’s wrists as he responds confidently:

“For Camelot.”

Morgana does the same, a sudden wind whipping her hair behind her wildly:

“For our people.”

Without another moment’s of hesitation, Merlin turns and marches towards Morgause and her army. His steps are purposeful and strong, and Arthur can’t bring himself to stop him, no matter how desperately his brain is screaming at him. Morgana turns to him with a not-quite-cruel smirk:

“This has been a long time coming, brother. Enjoy the show.”

Arthur can only blink in surprise as she turns and walks towards Merlin. Mordred looks to him next, though the young knight’s smile is a lot softer, a lot more pitying:

“You should consider yourself lucky, Arthur,-”

Arthur barely registers the use of his first name:

“-my Lord gave up his throne in favour of serving you, buried his crown in favour of polishing yours.”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, his voice quiet and confused and strained as he asks:

“Your Lord?”

Mordred looks to Merlin, still marching across the seemingly never-ending field, with an awed smile; his voice is quiet and holds notes of what almost sound like worship:

“He’s more than you know.”

Before Arthur can respond, Merlin and Morgana stop, turning to look at Mordred expectantly. Merlin stares blankly, his brows slightly furrowed, but Morgana sports a wild grin as she yells back:

“I though you wanted to join in on the fun, Mordred?”

The young knight grins in response, turning to Arthur and giving him one last short bow as he cheerfully says, not a trace of worry in his voice:

“Lady Morgana is right My Lord, enjoy the show.”

He turns away quickly, jogging to catch up with the other two before anyone can say anything. Gwaine is the first to react, jumping off his horse and starting forward, to catch up with them, to pull them back, to ask them what the fuck was going on, but Lance quickly lands behind him, grabbing his shoulder:

“Wait, don’t. You trust them right?-”

He casts his gaze around the others, all looking slightly confused but mostly panicked as they dismount their horses. Mordred, Merlin, and Morgana make their journey to the centre of the field, but Lancelot’s eyes focuses on Arthur:

“-You said you trusted him, so just... this is what he does, Arthur. Please, just trust him, everything’s going to be ok.”

Arthur is desperate to question his knight, to demand that he explain what’s going on and give up anything, everything he knows, but before he can say anything, Elyan gasps and points somewhere beyond their friends. The whole army seems to resume their earlier jitters as Morgause differentiates herself from her soldiers.

~

The three magic users spread out slightly as they come to a stop, Mordred on the left, Morgana on the right, and Merlin, of course, in the middle.

A storm seems to be fast approaching and the loud wind makes hearing each other difficult, but they don’t need words to speak, and Mordred’s question echoes in Merlin’s head as all of their gazes focus on Morgause stepping forward:

“Are the other two coming?”

The Warlock nods, tapping his finger to his temple briefly as he replies:

“I called for them hours ago, they’re almost-”

~

Arthur is distracted from all that’s in front of him when a desperate and terrified voice screeches out from the back of his army:

“DRAGONS!!”

He, and all the other knights, whip their heads around in panic, only to see exactly what had been yelled about. The Dragon that Arthur had supposedly killed years ago is flying towards them like a hurricane, golden scales shining bright even in the shadows of the approaching storm. Next to him flies a much smaller dragon, pure white and clearly young, unstable in the air but still graceful, still terrifying.

Arthur’s heart sinks even impossibly further as they both fly straight over them, aiming for the other side of the field. If Morgause had two Dragons at her beck and call somehow, there was no hope, no matter what ridiculous plan Merlin had. Arthur felt the tears fill his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. If this was to end in fire, then he’d sprint to Merlin, just so he could see him, hold his hands, beg him for a smile, one last time.

Lancelot holds him back with a hand on his shoulder and a soft smile:

“I know this doesn’t make sense, but just... trust him.”

He turns back to Merlin just to see the great beasts land in front of them, almost acting as a barrier between the three of them and the opposing army.

~

“-Took you long enough.”

Kilgharrah does his best imitation of rolled eyes before dipping his head in a bow:

“Where would you like us, young Warlock?”

Merlin grins, allowing Aithusa to push her head into his hands as he answers:

“I want you somewhere off to the side looking vaguely threatening. Only intervene if you have to, I don’t want the Camelot knights getting twitchy and skewering you, you’re an old man after all, I’m not sure you could take it.-”

Morgana laughs aloud and Mordred snorts behind his hand, but Kilgharrah just rolls his eyes again, giving another bow that this time somehow seems sarcastic before clomping off to the side, prowling up and down the edge of the field and huffing the occasional puffs of smoke in the opposition’s direction. Merlin looks down to Aithusa next, scratching her chin and using a much softer voice:

“Go watch over Arthur, keep him safe but don’t let him or any of the others hurt you, I’m sure Lance will explain. Try to stay out of the fighting and don’t let Morgause get anywhere near Arthur or the knights, you understand?”

The creature purrs and nods, stepping around her master and beginning an impossibly fast sprint towards Arthur.

~

Arthur stares with wide eyes at the gathering in the middle of the field, letting out a deep breath when the Great Dragon bows down to Merlin’s confident stance. The smaller creature bounds to him as he... exchanges words with the beasts, and all Arthur can do is stare as his brain argues over which emotion should be at the forefront. Fear? Confusion? Betrayal? Some kind of guilt? Pride, maybe?

Lancelot definitely looks proud, worried, but proud, and Arthur spares him a questioning glance; before he can say anything, Leon lets out a quiet yelp, pointing across the field and drawing his sword on instinct. Arthur whips his head around to see the white Dragon speeding towards them, eyes bright, teeth bared, and sharp claws ripping up the ground with every step.

He draws his own sword, panic clawing at his gut, but before he can step forward in some pointless attempt to protect his men, Lancelot pulls him back again, stepping in between Arthur and the approaching Dragon with a placating hand held out to each of them; his voice comes out quickly and desperate:

“No, no, she’s on our side, don’t hurt her. Merlin sent her here to protect us, don’t hurt her.”

Arthur stares between them with a mix of blood-curdling fear and endless confusion. But he trusts Merlin, and he trusts Lancelot, so much to Leon’s displeasure he lowers his sword, though he doesn’t sheath it, not yet.

The Dragon finally reaches them, coming to a skidding stop a few feet away. Arthur’s fear is overpowered by confusion, and an odd fondness in the back of his mind, when the creature almost topples over in it’s haste. She purrs loudly, and even Leon appears to relax slightly, even more so when she dips her head in what appears to be a bow to Arthur, before turning her attention to Lancelot and pushing her face into his hands.

The other knights all start forward on instinct, but when Lance lets out a low chuckle and begins... scratching the creature’s chin?? They step back again, watching as the Dragon begins purring even louder, almost bowling Lancelot over as it rubs it’s scaled body across his legs. It’s... acting like a cat...

Gwaine coughs very deliberately and Lancelot looks up with a blush, biting his lip before saying, his words awkward and stilted:

“Uh... guys, this is Aithusa, she’s... a Dragon. She can’t speak yet, but-”

Percival makes a confused noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head with wide eyes as he asks incredulously:

“Dragons are meant to be able to speak??”

Lancelot grimaces, but nods, but before he can say anything, Morgause’s crazed voice echoes over the field, and their attention is drawn back to the face off between Merlin, Morgana, Mordred, and the enemy.

~

“You can not beat me, not even with your precious pets!!”

The gang can hear Kilgharrah’s low growl at the insult and the sound vibrates across the ground and up into their very bones, even with the distance between them. Aithusa tenses in response, eyes narrowed and teeth bared as she detects the anger and insult swarming in her Kin, but Merlin holds a hand out to the Great Dragon, and both creatures relax as he monotonously responds:

“I’m giving you one chance, Morgause, do not send your followers to a pointless death.”

His tone is even and confident, his back straight, his head held high, and Arthur wonders how he’d never noticed Merlin’s obvious power before. Despite speaking normally, his voice is heard by everyone, even over the howling wind.

The knights can see Morgause’s hands shaking in her rage, her eyes wide and bright golden as she screeches her response, her anger showing through clearly:

“I am no coward!! You are nothing but a servant, a child soldier, and a pampered princess! What hope do you have against me?! I am a High Priestess, you are nothing!!!”

Merlin lowers his head, nodding slightly in resigned sadness. His muttered words, once again, somehow seem to echo across the field, and Arthur recoils at the grief in his tone:

“So be it.”

He slowly lifts his arm, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the ground, his fingers splayed wide, and Elyan gasps, pointing wordlessly to the lightening dancing between his fingertips. Gwaine lets out a boisterous laugh, grinning as he realises with sudden clarity that Merlin is about to kick ass in a major way.

Arthur just gapes, struggling to process what was happening even as Gwaine whoops and Lancelot smiles proudly. The other knights are also staring, varying levels of confusion, awe, and happiness on their faces. 

From where they’re standing, they can see Mordred and Morgana get into a fighting stance, though neither of them draw the swords they have hanging from their hips. Morgause lets out an ear piercing screech, this one wordless, giving the distinct impression that her mind had snapped under the weight of her fury. Her army begins their march forwards as she hurls a fireball the size of a horse straight for Merlin, but he simply twists his wrist sharply forwards. A bolt of lightening rips down from the sky, intercepting the fireball and forcing it to the ground where it explodes in a miniature storm of silver sparks and golden flames.

Morgause screams again, her and her army speeding up in their approach as Merlin gives some sort of unseen command. All of a sudden, Mordred gives a small leap forward, planting his feet firmly as he thrusts his hands towards the ground before ripping them up again; with the movement, the ground at his feet explodes, vines and rocks and roots bursting from the field in a sharp line heading straight for the army. Morgana, at the same time, swirls her arms gracefully around her head, a few sparks of fire lighting up in the darkness as if from the friction between her hands and the air. She brings her arms down again, completing the elegant flow, stepping forward as she blows harshly into her cupped hands. A great, hot fire bursts forth, huge and angry and writhing as it shoots towards the enemy.

A few feeble counter attacks are thrown from Morgause and the sorcerers she has in her ranks, but ultimately, the army can only look on in horror at their approaching deaths. After a few moments of Merlin staring proudly at Mordred and Morgana’s handy work as it rips apart the first few hundred soldiers, he takes his own step forward, raising his arm to the sky. Lightening dances between just his fingertips at first, then down his arm, then all over his body; he connects to the flashes in the sky, and he glows brighter and brighter until he thrusts both arms forward. A tornado of flashing, crackling light shoots out from his hands, striking down thousands of soldiers. Shards of lightening jump from enemy to enemy, leaving none untouched by magic, each being struck down by Mordred’s earth, Morgana’s fire, or Merlin’s sky.

The Camelot army can only stare on in shock and horror as the enemy is wiped out in minutes, screams of those being buried alive, burned as if on pyres, or fried from the inside out reverberating across the field. Arthur’s mouth hangs open, his eyes wide and frozen on Merlin as he conducts lightening as if it were what he was born to do. Something deep in Arthur’s soul tells him that this is what he was born to do.

Aithusa’s protection isn’t required; none of the enemy soldiers get within ten metres of Merlin and his pupils, let alone Arthur and the other knights, but she patrols the front edge of Camelot’s army regardless, nudging back those that step too far forward (everyone was too focused on The King’s manservant, knight, and half sister being... well... Godlike, to care about the fact that a Dragon was using her snout to gently push people around), always with one eye on Arthur, just like her master had asked.

Within minutes, the field goes almost silent; the only sounds to be heard are the gentle crackling of still-smouldering bodies, and the deep breaths of Morgause, Mordred, Morgana, and Arthur. Merlin seems entirely unbothered, his stance still strong and powerful where Mordred and Morgana sag slightly from the exertion.

Morgause falls to her knees, tears on her cheeks as she finally realises the power that she’s up against; Merlin tilts his head slightly before clicking his fingers. The four of them disappear in clouds of deep black smoke and Arthur struggles to stop himself from yelping and falling back when they reappear in front of him.

Morgause is still kneeling, Merlin in front of her with a blank expression on his face. Morgana stands to the side, her face an odd mix of sorrowfully defeated—Morgause was her sister after all—and vindictively victorious. Mordred stands at her shoulder, looking a lot more tired but still managing to stay upright as he gazes upon the scene with well put together indifference. Aithusa bounds over to be stood at her master’s side, and even Kilgharrah joins them, standing behind Aithusa a way’s off.

Morgause finally speaks through her deep breathing, staring up at Merlin in desperation:

“Who are you?”

Merlin just tilts his head and frowns slightly, crouching down to place a soft hand on her shoulder:

“Who do you think?”

Morgause sags even further, her tears streaming down her face as she almost whispers, her voice cracking:

“Emrys.”

Merlin nods slowly, looking to Arthur for the first time since the whole ordeal started. Arthur is taken aback at the shining gold of his eyes, but holds his gaze, gulping and waiting for his servant (?) to make the first move:

“Your orders, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, looking first down at Morgause, who is staring at the floor blankly, then to Mordred and Morgana, who raise eyebrows at him, then Lancelot, who shrugs, and finally the other knights, who stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for his answer just as Merlin is. His hands clench at his side, but he looks back to the dark-haired man, his face determined and his voice strong:

“Your suggestion?”

Lancelot nods approvingly at Arthur’s obvious show of trust; the question is more than just a question, it’s a display that The King is treating Merlin like an advisor, asking for his counsel and trusting his allegiance in front of a crowd. Merlin smiles slightly, tightening his grip on Morgause’s shoulder, not that she notices:

“I’m not overly fond of execution, but we don’t have dungeons strong enough to hold her long term, and too many have suffered at her hand.”

Arthur nods, though he sheathes his sword. He takes a deep breath before his next instruction, knowing that this is... delicate, and important; a turning point in his Kingdom’s history:

“Make it merciful.”

Merlin holds in his proud smile and Morgause only has time to gasp quietly as his hand moves from her shoulder to her forehead. Her eyes roll back and she collapses to the floor, dead before she even hits the ground. 

The Warlock spares the dead witch a quick, pitying glance, and the grief in his eyes, even after all she had done, is endearing, reminding everyone around them of the compassion Merlin is capable of. He stands quickly, but is careful not to make any of his moves too sudden, stepping away from the body and towards Arthur. His stance is strong once again, allowing some before unseen authority, confidence, power to shine through; Mordred and Morgana take their places either side of them, and even Aithusa sits up, tall and proud, as Kilgharrah edges forward slightly.

This is Merlin, showing off his army, presenting it to his King, offering it up for judgment. An army consisting of himself, his two apprentices, and two Dragons; not large, but likely the most powerful the land has ever known, and ever will know.

Arthur gulps, but meets Merlin’s golden gaze. The atmosphere is thick and charged and The King couldn’t pinpoint whether it was from the residual lightening still jumping between Merlin’s fingers, or the sheer power that was just displayed, seemingly effortlessly. He glances over the Warlock’s shoulder at the carnage behind him and can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath. Merlin tilts his head, glancing at the massacre for just a moment before looking back with an almost repentant smile:

“I apologise for the theatrics,-”

He’s interrupted by Morgana’s whispered murmur of “I don’t, that was brilliant.” but ignores her:

“-but I can... fix that. If you like?”

Arthur frowns slightly, confused and so far out of his comfort zone that he doesn’t even want to hazard a guess at what Merlin might be implying. He feels a mould grow spontaneously in his gut, a horror with spores that spread throughout his bloodstream as he realises that... he doesn’t really know anything about magic, about how it works, about how Merlin is offering to use it. It had yet to occur to him to be afraid of Merlin, but the sudden realisation that he’d been persecuting his servant’s people with no real understanding of his own former hatred was... jarring.

The Warlock sees Arthur’s hesitation, widening his reassuring smile slightly as he repeats an earlier question, from a time that felt as though it had come years before, but was really only minutes. The discrepancy in timelines between Arthur’s head and the real world does not alter the King’s answer

“Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone.”

Merlin closes his eyes, holding his hands out to the side slightly as he lets out a deep breath. The storm, which Arthur and the knights had become entirely oblivious of despite it’s ruinous thunder and blinding flashes of lightening, quickly dissipates; blue sky and bright sun peek through the fading clouds. A gold shimmer ripples out across the ground from Merlin’s feet, spreading backwards like a wave over sand, turning pebbles and leaving the beach clean and fresh in it’s wake. The ground clears, bodies sinking into nothingness and fires being smothered by magic, even Morgause disappears into the dirt. 

Arthur absentmindedly thinks that that could be seen as honorary or disgracing; he supposes it depends on what type of person you were before the end of your life. Merlin would see being entombed within the Earth itself as a blessing, he somehow thinks that Morgause, with her God complex and inflated feelings of infallibility, would find it... demeaning.

Merlin sags his head slightly, and when Arthur’s brain comes back into focus, mostly prompted by the gasping and widespread whispers of the uneasy army behind him, he sees that the barren fields of Camlann, soaked with blood and scorched by lightening, no longer exist. In their place was a vast meadow, bright with the colours of spring and summer; untameable wildflowers stood tall and crimson butterflies were the only reminders of the bloodshed that had watered this paradise before them.

Arthur feels the smile on his face before he had even made the conscious decision to smile, but he decides that today, of all days, he doesn’t mind accidentally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Trust Merlin to do something as unspeakable as rip an army to shreds with lightening, and then apologise for his dramatics by creating heaven on earth.

The King sighs before shaking his head slightly, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. He can feel the sun on his skin, and his smile grows with the knowledge that the heat warming his cheeks was entirely unnatural for this time of year; Merlin really was pulling out all of the stops.

“You’re a gift to this world, Merlin.”

His voice comes out softly, as if he were afraid of ruining the peace, though he only adds to it; The King finally turns to his Warlock again and almost stumbles back at the immeasurable devotion shining from his now-blue-again eyes. His whispered response carries on the wind as if he were a part of it, and Arthur wonders just how much of this world Merlin has touched, just how much of this universe Merlin has created, extended himself to. Did the wind exist before Merlin? Did the sun? Did butterflies, or lightening, or the colour gold have any space in this universe before Merlin willed it? Gaius’ thick books say they have an answer, but Arthur thinks they might be lying:

“A gift to you, Arthur, only to you.”

~

THE END!

I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for a while, so I hope y’all liked it!! I LOVE writing BAMF!Merlin, (and BAMF!Mordred/Morgana as well so) :D

Same as always, you wanna extend it/write it properly/remix it, then that’s fine, but drop me message before hand and credit/tag me!! :)

[harrypotterbrainworms]

Denial Done (18+)

Summary: very very very spicy polyam fic. (request) 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name

Word Count: 3387

A/N: i am so sorry. (sorry it took so long too. i feel bad. i wrote most of this VERY drunk. don’t drink kids.)

Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his seat with a disheveled look on his face, both of his boyfriends noticed this of course.

“Sirius… Can you not sit still for 5 fucking minutes while we finish our essays?” Remus sighed laying his face onto the nearly complete parchment, Sirius always ran circles around them while they were working, always.

“Really. We need to finish these before tomorrow, ya know? We have until tonight and if it wasn’t for you and detention we would’ve been done by now” (Y/N) sighed in discontent as well, a look of annoyance and frustration on his face, yet Sirius couldn’t help it. He was always restless, but especially right now.

“Please, Merlin, will you stop doing homework for one second and realise we haven’t had sex in a two weeks. You’re killing me.” He huffed out at his boring, hot, homework obsessed boyfriends. He had probably been hard for days by now, but every time he tried to fix it himself he just couldn’t make himself cum, not like they could.

“You’re killing yourself, Padfoot. If we keep getting full essays for pranks, we’ll never have sex again” He hissed at Sirius, very obviously pissed at how much of a pain in the ass his boyfriend was being. Acting like they had deprived out of pleasure and not out of school necessity, so over dramatic, he thought.

“Can we stop saying sex, I don’t think I can handle hearing that word again” Remus tried to hide the blush forming on his face, he in particular didn’t like to bring up their sex life in any way, especially not in front of the other studying students in the library. Sure it had been 15 days, 17 hours and 30 minutes since they last “made love” and maybe he had been dying for a choice to bring it up again, but not in such a public space.

Sirius pouted and slumped into the chair he was sitting on before crossing his arms dramatically.

“Fine. I’ll be honest. I’ve had the biggest boner of my life for the last 3 days” He huffed looking like a child throwing a fit, looking down at his boner that was politely tucked under belt for the time being.

“PADFOOT. We’re in the library. Keep quiet” Remus whisper shouted at him, giving him a death glare as he checked whether or not anyone had heard him or not.

“I’m sorry if my needs are so much less important than homework” Sirius pouted even harder looking away from them with an angry red face, leaving his boyfriends looking at each other a little awkwardly.

“Homework. That was your fault” Remus mumbled in response first trying to pull his attention away from Sirius’s bulge and back at the stacked parchment.

“Fuck me.” (Y/N) said trying to ignore him as well, but he just kept at it as usual. Trying to push the boundaries of what they would do if he pissed them off enough.

“That’s what I want you to do.” He replied too smuggly only to be met with the cold eyes of (Y/N) grabbing his face, leaving a knot in his stomach and throat. That was the straw he needed.

“You know what, Sirius? Fine.” He pulled his face closer, Sirius being too scared to even breathe anymore.

“What?” He was getting what he wanted, right?

(Y/N) ducked underneath the table with a sigh and started to unzip Sirius’s pants, he immediately knocked his knees up against the table at the sudden contact. Remus went red in the face when he realised what was unfolding, Sirius’s pants….

“Put muffliato on him, quick.” He huffed out to the very shocked Remus. He obeyed and charmed the already moaning Sirius.

“I haven't even touched you yet.” He groaned out, looking at Sirius’s twitching, dripping cock. He wasn’t sure how to feel, frustrated? Horny? Tired of his bullshit?

Sirius tried to say something, probably along the lines of “you’re so hot, just looking at you makes me wanna cum”, but nothing came out.

“This isn’t a good idea… Can’t you wait until we get back to the dorms?” Remus stuttered out nervously as he watched (Y/N) stare intently at the very hard penis in front of him, he may have even felt himself twitch in his own pants… not very convenient. (Y/N) looked at his tented pants and back at him, visibly dismissing his issue by sighing and turning back to the problem at hand.

“No, Remus. This can’t go on, we need to finish our essays and he’s not gonna shut up ‘till then” He waved in his general direction, extending his hand to rub his leg saying ‘later, okay?’. Remus looked a little uncomfortable, but would rather not get on (Y/N) bad side, especially while he was about to suck his boyfriend off.

“I guess.” He nodded and immediately looked at his book, trying to pretend like (Y/N) had just headed to the bathroom and was definitely not under the table.

Sirius just sat there, muffled and impatient. His dick twitching unintentionally at the swallow breath from (Y/N)’s mouth.

“You owe me.” He huffed out giving Sirius’s dick a kiss causing his boyfriend’s leg to shake a little at the anticipation. He slowly moved his face down while staring straight into Sirius’s eyes. The black haired boy bit his lip feeling very impatient, he wanted to push (Y/N)’s head down already, but he’d regret it immediately. Sirius looked like he was begging to speak, so he lifted the charm and let him speak.

“Don’t tease, please.” He pleaded to dead ears as (Y/N) harshly and delicately made sure to brush the head of his dick with every stroke.

“This isn’t a favour, Black. So just shut your face and then you can stop being horny for 5 fucking minutes” He stared through Sirius’s soul with that sending a twitch down his leg.

“Sit still, don’t be a fucking brat.” He groaned, grabbing Sirius’s feet between his thighs. Every time his boyfriend twitched he could just feel his leg rub up against him and for a moment he considered how much he could get away with, what if he just fucked Sirius unconscious under the table these thoughts only fuelling his agonisingly slow stroke.

“Come on, you’ve been depriving me all week.” He pouted in even a hopeful attempt to gain some control back, but was only met with evil horny eyes filled with all the possible things he could think of.

“No, Sirius. We’ve been studying all week and now you’re getting what you want. So you’ll sit still when I tell you, cum when I tell you and shut the fuck up when I tell you, okay?” He kept the same deep stare and deadpanned frustrated face, then grabbed his dick very roughly making Sirius dig his face into the book he was “reading” trying to muffle his moans without the charm.

“A-ah- okay…”

“Great.” He mumbled and pointed to Remus to cast it again. He looked up to the dripping boy in front of him once again, not leaving him a second to get comfortable before grabbing his dick full force. Not letting any moment to breathe with the fast and merciless strokes caused Sirius to involuntarily hit his knees against the table causing a few curious looks towards them.

Sirius felt like he just couldn’t keep up with the pace and rhythm anymore, just convulsing and shaking at every little touch he was given. The minute it looked like Sirius was gonna come, he just stopped dead in his tracks. He only moved on with slower and slower strokes and it never got faster than it was in the beginning which frustrated Sirius to his core. It felt like he would die at this rate, it added a layer of pleasure every time he just couldn’t do anything else, but watch his boyfriend work his magic.

“Wanna cum yet?” He gripped the base of Sirius’s penis pulling any form of pre-cum there was in the shaft making him gasp and keel over his face planted to his desk.

He nodded as well as he could, hoping only Moony and (N/N) could see and hear his muffled screaming at this point.

“Well you can’t.” He said picking up the pace just a little bit in spite trying to bring his boyfriend’s hope up.

He groaned at this response, tears starting to run down his face as he watched Remus shift uncomfortably. He thought he saw Moony rubbing one out over his pants, but was immediately distracted by the fact that (Y/N) had wrapped his mouth around his penis incredibly slowly and looked up at him. He couldn’t anymore, not with his boyfriend now running every part of his mouth up and down his dick. For the first time in the last 30 minutes it finally got faster and he begged and pleaded in muffled words and finally… (Y/N) nodded.

Remus slapped his hand over his mouth as he cum hard in his own pants leaving a small stain on it, the convulsions Sirius was pulled into sending him over the edge. A layer of sweat and tears glistening on his face under the pale candle light, he looked down to (Y/N) who had a long stream of thick cum running down his lips.

“What good boy, huh Moony?” He stared straight through Remus, he sat there shocked and upon seeing where (Y/N)’s eyes were going he removed his own cum covered hand out of his pants.

Remus nodded vigorously at (Y/N) as he watched Sirius convulse a few more times before panting heavily with a spaced out look on his face.

“Clean.” Before the words even left his mouth Sirius started kissing (Y/N) licking any remaining cum on his face with a smile of gratitude. He pointed at Remus’s hand as well leaving Sirius desperately licking up every bit of his cum too, not leaving a drop of anyone’s left.

“Will you disturb us again?” (Y/N) asked as he got up from underneath the table dusting off his knees and taking a cocky stride to his seat again.

Sirius shook his head starting to feel a headache coming on as he could barely tuck his very sensitive dick into his pants. Every little movement of his pants left Sirius feeling like he’d come again.

“Good. Homework?” He turned to Remus who was still looking at his hand in shock, but turned his attention toward with a nod.

“O-Of course” Remus replied and started absentmindedly writing notes and words onto his parchment. Every now and then he looked over to Sirius who still couldn’t hold himself together, everytime he was touched he flinched almost moaning in the process which left Remus harder than he ever imagined he could be.

(Y/N) looked up at Sirius to give a sympathetic look or a kiss on the forehead for being so good during and after the interaction. Leaving his black haired boyfriend very smitten and not at all mad at his still semi-throbbing cock. The days passed on as they always did, thinking about the next time.

Now in the dark room of their dorm, everyone and their mother could hear Remus Lupin pacing up and down the space, mumbling to himself. Nothing in particular just frustrated mumbling.

“Moony, just fucking sleep?!” James groaned with two pillows around his head

“He’s mad that I sucked Sirius’s dick and not his.” (Y/N) sighed pulling himself from the duvet he was hiding in, pulling a wand and book with him.

“You sucked his dick?!” James exclaimed pointing at Sirius who looked like he had folded himself into four different pretzels as he snored through the annoying pitter patter of his boyfriend.

“Yes, James. Keep up”

“I’m not mad or upset. You can suck who’s ever dick you want.” Remus huffed turning to face s corner to stand in alone while he continued his brooding session right in the middle of the common room.

“Remus. Just sleep, okay?” (Y/N) yawned trying his back away from Remus, wrapping himself in blankets in the process.

“Fine. I will. You’ll see.” He said before he could think, stomping off to his bed.

He threw himself onto his bed like an angry child sent to bed without dinner, but, he didn’t realise about an hour into being upset, the shadowy figure enter his four poster bed and closed the curtains.

“I know you’re upset. Do you want me to give you a wank, Remus?” The shadow now being recognised as (Y/N) whispered into his ear.

“N-No. Don’t call it that!” Remus stuttered out, but regretted saying it so loudly.

“Fine, do you want my hand to “make sweet love” to your penis?” (Y/N) dead panned at Remus sarcastically, moving closer to him on the bed until they were a few inches apart.

“Don’t patronise me.” Remus huffed around turning to face away from him, but that only gave (Y/N) access to his neck, leaving kiss after kiss on it.

“You’re doing a pretty good job doing that to yourself.” He stated between kisses.

“No I’m not.”

“Just tell me what you want, Moony.” He sighed and paused his neck exploration, hugging Remus from behind and snuggled his head into his neck.

“I-l- I want-“ He waited for a full sentence as he slowly pushed his hands into Remus’s shirt, making him more nervous.

“Yes?”

“I want you to-“ He felt (Y/N) hands slowly dragging up and down stomach skin, sending shivers down his spine. A small pit forming his stomach as he tried to say the words.

“To do what?” He smiled into Remus’s neck as he continued to kiss him.

“T-Touch me.” He finally said it, but it didn’t seem to be exactly what (Y/N) wanted to hear.

“Come on, Remus. I know you can say full sentences”

“I want you to t-touch m-me” He blurted out in a quick string of words as he felt (Y/N)’s hands falling south of his waist.

“That can be arranged” He said with a smirk, placing his fingers between Remus’s underwear snapping it.

He shiftly whispered a jinx into his ear, Remus feeling his hands pull together behind his back quickly. He looked up at (Y/N) who was usually shorter, but with Remus on his back and his boyfriend on his knees he felt inferior.

“You’re been a brat all day, honey. You didn’t expect me to just give you what you want on a silver platter, did you?” He cocked an eyebrow, pushing his boyfriend’s underwear and pants down, leaving it tangled together at his ankles.

“Of course not.” He huffed, trying his best to get into a semi comfortable position.

“Now, shush. I’m not putting any charms up.”

Remus suppressed a moan slowly escaping his lips as (Y/N) stroked him slowly, keeping a careful pace. He’d been sticking there hard for so long, he didn’t think he could last long.

“Please, god… I just” He huffed out, feeling the knot in his stomach as (Y/N) bent down kissing the light pink scars sticking out from his shirt.

“Speak up, I know you can.” Still kissing and suckling on Remus’s neck,

“I n-need to-“ He moaned as he felt his knees start to buckle from underneath. his toes curling in the process.

“Tell me what you need?” He said impatiently, always so needy and so apprehensive. He stroked faster, trying to pull Remus closer and closer to euphoria.

“I need to cum” He said blankly, a soft moan escaping his lips as he felt (Y/N)’s lips on his jaw.

“Aw? Already? Fine.”

“R-Really?” Remus perked up, a grateful smile on his face as he started to push himself closer to the edge.

“Knock yourself out” (Y/N) yawned a bit, looking as unfazed as he could.

“Thank you!” He was about to cum to the quick pace of (Y/N)’s pace, but before he could even bring himself over to the edge he stopped.

“No-“ He came everywhere, but he felt nothing. Only the lingering feeling that he was supposed to cum being left, he had every symptom of having the biggest orgasm in a while yet the pressure in stomach said otherwise. His legs shook and he was barely able to move where (Y/N) had pulled him to, his ass now in the air and his face buried into the mattress.

“What? Thought I’d let you cum properly yet after you’ve been brooding for days.” (Y/N) said pushing his boner against his boyfriend’s ass teasingly adding a few dry humps sending Remus through the motions again.

Remus moaned at the friction being caused, but immediately got a hand over his mouth which he thanked the lord for when he realised once again his friends were fast asleep around him. His core hurt, the unclenching and clenching of his muscles giving him unbearable cramps.

“P-Please, (Y/N)... This is too much” He twitched upwards, panting heavily.

“You haven’t said your safe word, Moony. If I knew better and I do, you’re enjoying this.”

He brought his boyfriend’s body to his own, Remus trying to cling to (Y/N) for his life.

“So fucking cute.” He said, grabbing the other boy’s face from behind, making him stare into eyes as he snaked his hand around Remus’s penis making him flinch with pleasure and pain.

“Yes” He agreed with him instantly as he moved his other hand to wring his nipple.

“Kiss me, love” He ordered and Remus connected their lips, every sudden fast stroke was a moan into (Y/N)’s mouth. He opened his eyes every few seconds to see a sweaty, blushing and moaning Remus making him want to fuck him right then. His thrusts became sloppy as he breathed a little heavy. He left out a sigh and stopped.

“I’m tired, come ‘ere” He propped himself up on the bedpost and patted his leg, Remus crawled to straddle his boyfriend’s leg and started grinding himself against.

“You can- cum properly this time- as long as you do it here” He said in between kissing and suckling on his neck, Remus nodded enthusiastically as he started to ride (Y/N)’s leg quickly.

“Slow down, love. No rush.” He held down his hips, slowing his movement which drove Remus insane while (Y/N) just brought his body toward him whispering in his ear.

Remus was flushed from ear to ear, his breath hinging every few seconds as he drew closer and closer to his release.

“Do you want to- ah- cum too?” Remus whispered as he was basically hugging (Y/N).

“Are you offering?” (Y/N) asked, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Yes, Merlin. Yes.” He sighed out defeated as he left (Y/N)’s thigh.

Remus pushed (Y/N)’s underwear down over his dick, watching it spring out. He grabbed one of pillows as he positioned himself to suck him off.

“Merlin, you’re too good to me.” (Y/N) breathed out as Remus put his lips around him. He watched Remus, stroking his hair tiredly as he felt himself coming closer and closer to cumming as well.

Remus bopped his head up and down at an alarming rate making (Y/N) buck his upwards into his throat. He pulled on his hair a bit, Remus humming around him.

“Shit. I’m gonna cum.” He shivered as he felt Remus’s tongue work on his dick.

(Y/N) pushed Remus’s head into him, releasing down his throat. He watched Remus undo too, a few strings of cum spewing onto the bed.

“Good boy.” He breathed out shakily as Remus pulled his mouth off (Y/N). He smiled tiredly and (Y/N) kissed forehead lightly, ruffling his hair as he helped Remus clean up and tucked in bed. He yawned and stretched his arms out, heading to his own bed.

“You guys are so hot.” He heard Sirius whisper from his bed, he was probably listening the entire time.

“You’re a slut, you know that. Could’ve joined us” He sighed and climbed into bed.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 27

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: If you read carefully, you knew this; if you didn't: reader was drugged at the party. Hangover from Hell ft. boys being cute, Loki being best friend material and reader fully integrating him into the Gen-Z community via Monster energy drinks and depressive music whilst being sad. I live for Loki/reader friendship tbh.

So folks, this is the last big plot thing before the endgame. I reckon it's about 10-15 chapters left until out happy ending and the next bit is going to focus on developing reader's and Stephen's relationship. There will be smutty parts too - either chapters or interludes, idk, depending on how well they'll integrate into the story.

I love y'all.

Ow, was my first thought upon waking up. My head throbbed something fierce, the pressure behind my eyelids was unbearable and my mouth tasted like a bog on a sunny summer's day. I was warm, from both sides, and one of the bodies felt foreign in everything besides the smell - sandalwood leaked through the lead curtain of alcohol and sex.

Needless to say, I had trouble piecing together the fine details of last night but had enough coherence to remember our... Activities. I was sore and Strange's long arm was still possessively draped over both me and Tony. The luck was on my side as I carefully wiggled out of his grasp, padding to the bedroom on quiet feet. The sorcerer barely moved, only grumbling briefly at the loss of my warmth and immediately quieting, shamelessly snuggling into Tony.

I would have not exaggerated if I said it was the worst hangover of my life. It was baffling, really, because I'd gone way wilder and didn't suffer half as much after effects; my first attempt to brush my teeth ended with my face resting against the toilet bowl, my empty stomach rejecting what little liquid in it was left as the room spun on its axis. That was incredibly embarrassing and I hoped my boys wouldn't wake up to witness my best impression of a bum - and they didn't, both men still sound asleep and interwined like snakes when I put on the shirt closest to me and departed in search of coffee.

My mood only worsened. Steve and Bucky were already up, shoveling an impressive amount of eggs and bacon, as Bucky quietly teased Steve about his own hangover. The blonde man was slightly greenish, disheveled - we traded equally glum looks and nodded to each other in silence. The smell of food made my stomach churn and I retreated, one black coffee in hand, towards Bruce's lab, having been informed by Friday that neither Tony not Stephen planned on waking up.

"Morning, Princess," Bruce smiled kindly, pushing his glasses out of the way to hold me close and give me a sweet kiss. "Had fun? The boys still asleep?"

I giggled at Bruce calling Tony and Stephen boys. "Yeah. I wouldn't be wearing Stephen's shirt if he was up and about, I think." I pointed out the obvious.

Bruce chuckled, holding my face to give me a long, thoughtful look. I stared back, hoping convey my respect and adoration without having to say a word; like Tony, I wasn't particularly apt when it came to talking feelings. Whatever Bruce was looking for, he found it, and sealed it with another kiss, twice as long and twice as sweet. We stood like that, my head on his shoulder and my arms firmly holding him to myself, until the elevator dinged behind the glass wall, revealing a shirtless Stephen and Tony in his pajama pants, both men bickering animatedly.

"Aw shit, here we go again," I rolled my eyes, unhappy about the possibility of the magic being broken. I rather preferred all three men to be like yesterday: friendly, kind and relaxed.

"I will kick them out if I have to," Bruce shrugged, turning me around to face them.

Tony smiled, seeing me, stopping mid-conversation. "Princess, I am disappointed in your lack of manners. You left me with Merlin and he is mean." The engineer unceremoniously snatched me from Bruce and smooched me, hangover breath and all.

"Gross, Tony," I rolled my eyes, giving the man a light shove in the chest. "Morning, Steph," I addressed the third man who had gone back to his usual stoic expression. Just to see his resolve crack, because I loved pushing his buttons, I gave him a good morning kiss too, and was unexpectedly blown away by the eager response from his side. As I pulled back, I noticed his cheeks dusting a light pink.

"I came to get my shirt but I think you'd rather keep it," The sorcerer's fingers caressed my skin beneath the collar of his shirt, voice still low and scratchy from sleep and those magnetic eyes fixated on the exposed flesh of my chest, no trace of previous awkwardness.

"You sure 'bout that?" I pushed one of the sides off, exposing my shoulder, seeing Tony gulp the remainder of my coffee, one hand already messing with the screen that Bruce was focused on. "I think I look better without it," I would never miss an opportunity to tease the uptight man.

"Quite," He grinned, "It's a shame I didn't get to see much last night..." Two could play this game, okay.

"Oh, but you will," Tony piped up suddenly, a hint of smugness in his voice barely covered by Bruce's fond chuckle. I really didn't know what to say, suddenly overwhelmed with the attention, my emotions amplified by the hangover - party drugs tended to exaggerate my anxiety on the comedown.

And what a comedown it was. My social energy ran out very quickly so I complained about a nasty headache and retreated into my room, Bruce's gentle hands pressing a bottle of Ibuprofen into my own. Despite my attempts to tame my rioting body, it got worse before it got better and shortly before lunch, I had thrown up twice more. Pissed off, I ran a bath with cold water and sat in it until I felt somewhat human to prepare myself for a journey to Wanda's apartment - as a last resort, I was going to chug on of Pietro's Monster energy drinks that I knew he kept hidden there.

The retrieval was a success. Cans securely hidden in the kangaroo pocket of Tony's oversized hoodie I had thrown on, I had to make a haste detour to throw up once again - the closest bathroom was in Loki's apartment and I only managed to knock twice before throwing open the door and making a mad dash for the porcelain throne, a very confused Asgardian following my movements with raised eyebrows.

"Hangover from Hell," I croaked once the first wave subsided. Loki nodded in understanding, waved a hand to summon me a water bottle and shut the door behind himself.

As I sat there, desperately trying to understand why was I feeling like utter shit... It clicked. Bile rose to my throat once again, and I just dry heaving, mulling my revelation over and over again.

I didn't take any drugs. I had been drugged. My memories became hazy and dream-like shortly after someone had given me the drink... Someone, who? It was a split-second moment; Sam, even in his drunk state, didn't keep his eyes off me for too long. Maybe it had been someone the team knew? Possibilities began playing out in my head. Cursed was my overactive brain - the anxiety from the leftover drugs was making me panic.

"Fuck, FUCK," My hands shook - I only noticed it because I had spilled water on myself, adding cold and wet to the unpleasant sensations I was already experiencing. "Why am I such a fucking fuck-up." Taking a drink from a stranger seemed downright idiotic now. Middle school bullshit.

"Are you alright?" Loki's worried voice interrupted my inner monologue.

"Yes," I replied, voice cracking. "No. I don't fucking know."

The door all but flew open, the Asgardian taking several long strides to take a good long look at me. The frown on his face tells me all I needed to know about my physical and mental state.

A slender hand tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "What happened?"

I laughed tersely, feeling tears to begin welling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm an idiot," Seeing his face get annoyed briefly, I conceded: "I got drugged yesterday. My drink."

The hand that he had slid between my shoulder blades froze. I felt his whole body go rigid and his nostrils flare, the smell of ozone and something foreign - magic - filling the small space. The air around us became charged with the power of his anger. "Pardon?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I physically fought with the need to flinch away from him, settling for lowering my eyes and staring at the dark stain on my hoodie. "I got carried away dancing. Someone handed me a drink and my stupid ass just shotgunned it," I confessed, picking at the wet spot. "And I can't tell anybody because I had a threesome with Stephen and Tony," I suddenly realised, my voice raising in pitch. "They're gonna think I didn't want it and feel bad. You know how Tony blames himself for everything under the sun..." Another wave of dizziness and nausea hit me as I leaned against the wall closest to me.

"Alright," Loki conceded after a brief pause. "We absolutely are telling the others. I'll make sure they understand," The Asgardian stated firmly in a tone that bore no argument. Seeing me lift my head to protest, he interrupted me before I could say anything: "Did you... Did you want it?" He asked me, hooking a single finger under my chin to look me in the eye.

I nodded, feeling my face heat up.

"You're not lying. The team knows of my ability to detect lies. Nobody will blame anyone..." Loki trailed off, obviously already plotting something. I wished it were a prank both of us were conspiring on instead of... Trying to make sense of this cluster fuck of a shit show. The circus called, they seemed to have left their clowns behind. "Although I will have a word with Sam." The Asgardian muttered darkly.

"No, it's not his fault. I just got too relaxed, I need to pucker up and be responsible for myself," I protested, damn well knowing it wasn't the Bird's fault. Everyone was drunk and I should've known better.

"It's not yours either," Loki sneered, seeing right through my self-loathing. It took a deep, slow sigh for him to calm down. His expression softened and the hand that was on my back resumed the gentle stroking as he scooted closer to me to press my side against his chest. "Vile people of this kind aren't exclusive to Midgard. It could have happened to anyone."

I nodded, my logical part briefly taking over as the waves of nausea and dizziness waned. I stifled a giggle, coming to another sudden revelation. "You holding up my hair as I barf out my hangover? That makes you qualified for the position of my Best Friend," I stated with a snort.

Loki chuckled, relaxing bit by bit. "I accept the position," His voice was unusually soft and a little bit shaky; I chose to tactfully ignore it. "Shall I call for assembly in the war room?"

I sighed, the dread and anxiety creeping it's way back in. "Can we just... Wait a bit? I have something- hold on-" I rummaged around my pocket, taking out two cans of Monster. Loki eyed them curiously and I extended one to him. "It probably won't do much for you but for me it's a last-resort hangover cure." I popped open the metal cap, seeing him do the same. "Be warned though, it tastes kinda funky if you're not used to it," I announced the disclaimer but it simply egged Loki on.

The scrunched up face he made was pretty funny. "It's sour but sickeningly sweet at the same time? I can't tell," He briefly eyed the written ingredients on the can.

"There are a bunch of flavors. Pietro likes the plain one, I like the purple one better, it's not so tongue-burning." I paused to inhale loudly. "If this is what college life looks like, I don't want to go," Mustering up my courage and gathering my balls in a knot, with one broad motion I closed my nose and poured the carbonated acid down my throat until my eyes watered. "Gimme a minute," I hiccuped, trying to keep it down.

Wide-eyed, Loki took a chaste sip of his own drink, eyeing me warily. He looked part impressed part disgusted with the little stunt. "I am pretty certain that is counter-productive."

"Caffeine make brain and body go skrrt," I argued back. "Friday, play my "grant me the sweet release of death" playlist. I'm upset," I announced and the AI obliged silently, the first notes of Placebo's 'Exit Wounds' beginning to play. If I was going to mop in a stranger's bathroom, I was going to do it with style. Even if said style was just simply stealing in my own misery with emo background music.

Loki stared at me, I stared back, both of us lost in our respective minds. At one point, he began swaying to the music slightly, resting the cool tin of the can against his cheek; I followed suit, mouthing along to some of the lyrics. It took us about a dozen songs to finally finish the liquid acid that was Monster energy drink and my ass felt like the bathroom tile itself: flat and hard.

"Do you ever feel like the universe just hates you for no fucking reason?" I groused, taking Loki's outstretched hand and slowly feeling the blood rush back to my legs.

"You wouldn't believe," He rolled his eyes in solidarity, vanishing away the empty containers. "Norns, give me a Hel-damned break."

I laced his arm through mine as we exited his apartment, feeling considerably less upset than I was before. I couldn't protect myself, but one look at Loki's sullen, irritated expression was bound to scare off anyone who dared to interrupt our mission.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[a-simple-imagine]

The Smarter Witch

Synopsis: You like to consider Hermione your academic rival but things begin to fall apart between the two of you when Malfoy and friends start asking questions. The reader is in Slytherin sorry.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader (can be read as romantic or platonic)

Words: 3.5+

A/N - I’ve been rewatching all the Harry Potter Movies at the cinema recently and I think i like it more now than I ever did before. This is my first HP story so go easy on me, okay? Comments are appreciated and requests are open!!

Warnings - Swearing, excessive use of the word mudblood... i think that’s it. 

"Granger," You call out, shoving your things into your bag as quick as humanly possible before charging after her. The crowd of other students growing the distance between you as you slip between them but not without almost crashing into people a bunch of times along the way. "Granger- wait." You try but she continues to walk away with Potter and Weasley beside her. You eventually manage to push your way through until you're walking in step with the trio. The girl stands in the middle, guarded by her two best friends.

"Hey," You offer them a smile, "Guess who got a perfect?"

"How?" It's instinctive to turn your nose up when it comes to Ronald Weasley. Not because of his social status like Malfoy suggests but you just found him rather... irritating. You completely ignore his question; breaking formation, you get ahead of the group and begin to carefully walk backwards so you can focus on the girl. She looked anywhere but at you, however, she had a smirk on her lips. Small but visible.

"Only because Snape favours you," The brunette proclaimed. This was routine for the two of you as of late. Always making excuses as to why the other came out on top. Only because of this. Only because of that. It was never as simple as just studying and doing well.

"You're just jealous that I'm a genius." You insist, your smile growing as you teased your own brilliance. Her head shakes a little.

"Since when were you, two friends?"

"Nobody said anything about friends Weasley-" You growl, your once happy expression morphing into one of pure distaste as you look at him. Spinning gracefully on your heel, you begin to walk normally again. "Since I'm so much smarter than you, I can help you study if you need it."

"I don't need any help from the likes of you, thank you," The likes of you? Did she mean a Slytherin? Or just someone who was smarter than her? Although you didn't actually believe you were smarter... well, not entirely anyway. Hermione Granger was often proclaimed as the smartest in your grade, didn't matter how hard you worked; you'd never quite be the promising young witch everyone seemed to think she was. Which is why you find yourself constantly competing. If you can prove to her you were smart then maybe everyone would see you as more than just a Malfoy crony.

You slap your hand against your chest just above your heart; stumbling backwards as if she just shot an arrow straight through. "Oh, how you wound me, Miss Granger. Care to share how well you did? One hundred percent?" She wouldn't have done badly at least not by everyone else's standard of bad. "Ninety maybe?" You turn back to them, coming to halt directly in front of the girl. "Merlin's beard Hermione, don't tell me you got less than eighty? That would be a travesty."

"if you don't mind, we're a little busy." She hadn't answered the question and as she walked around you, you expected she wasn't going to. "Come along Harry," she took his hand. "Ronald." And his before marching away. You watch them as they go, a smirk lingering before slipping off in search of your friends.

Come Friday afternoon and you found yourself in the great hall. The busy castle was beginning to calm and few people sat in the tables alongside the two of you. You take a sip of some water as you watch the gears in her head turn, debated her next move. At this point you already knew you would win; you always did. While everything else was more of a competition; Hermione Granger surprisingly wasn't all too hard to beat at Wizard's chess. Your Fridays together we're brilliant times to chat though, you'd often sum up any achievements from the week just to see who's doing better.

"I can't believe you beat me in history of magic again- I spent hours on that stupid essay. I basically lived in the library."

"I can help you study if you like," she offered, her eyes not leaving the board as she ordered her bishop forward. You watch as the chess piece moves along the board.

"You're not funny Granger," you tease, ordering your knight forward to take down her bishop. "Check,"

A paper ball hit the back of your head, drawing your attention away. Pansy stood with a wide grin on display, you ignored her and returned to your game but Hermione was also focused on your friend. "I think she wants your attention."

Another paper ball collides against your head. You sigh loudly before turning and mouthing 'what?'

"We're going down to the black lake? You coming?" She asked. "Or are you too busy with the Gryffindor?"

"just give me a sec." You wave her away, turning back to the other girl. "Have you moved?" She nods a little, her hair bouncing with the movements. You examine the board trying to figure out who she had moved but it didn't really matter. With a final move of your queen, the king was knocked off the board. "I do believe that is checkmate."

"I'm beginning to think you're cheating."

"Me?" You ask, pretending to be offended by the notion. "Never. How little faith you have me in, Granger."

"Slytherins are known for being cunning."

"We're not all cheating monsters, my dear sweet Gryffindor. Some of us actually have a conscience."

"I find that hard to believe," Her lips were curled into a cheeky smile. You'd never quite noticed the way her eyes crinkle when her smile is so big or how teethy it was. It was adorable. 

"I gotta go- same time next week? Maybe I'll even let you win."

"I don't need you to let me win,"

"You sure?" Nothing more than a harmless joke as you stand. "How many times in a row have I won now?"

"Slither away," Hermione smiles as you back away towards Pansy. You had to admit, you did firm Hermione to be intriguing.

Being in the same year, meant you actually saw Hermione rather frequently, however, your actual interactions were limited. Yes, you played Wizard's chess together every Friday but other than that, you basically only had very short conversations. It was like being in two completely different worlds simply because you were put in different houses. This school had a weird obsession with separation by houses. You were a proud Slytherin as were you friends but your ambition to branch out was often looked at as beneath some of the others. It was dinner time and you sat at the Slytherin table but your focus was pulled towards a certain familiar Gryffindor student. She just happened to be sat in your eye line, so you couldn't help but amuse her from afar. With funny faces and playful winks. Her most common reactions were shakes of the head or rolling her eyes but you knew secretly she enjoyed the teasing.

"Are you even listening?" A sharp elbow slams into your side. You bite back a groan as you shove the boy gently.

"The hell Draco,"

"What are you staring at?" There was a particularly bite behind his words but you'd grown used to how aggressive he could come across. He was always trying to be the alpha and frankly, everyone let him be. You simply shrug at his question; grabbing an apple and taking a bite.

"What did you want?"

The grey of his eyes flickers in curiosity as he tries to figure out what had you so distracted. When you look across at Granger, she's chatting to Ginny Weasley about something.

"Sometimes I wonder if the sorting hat got it wrong with you," He muses. "Should have put you in Gryffindor since you're so obsessed with Potter."

"Says the boy who never shuts up about him." You fight back. You couldn't care less about Harry Potter or his chosen one status. You knew Malfoy hated him though; it was a little weird just how much.

"You gravely misunderstand my interest in potter."

"I don't care if you have a crush on him Malfoy," There are a few snickers around the table but he's definitely not laughing.

"Don't be ridiculous." He growled, leaving the table. It was only a joke. You follow after him along with the others.

After dinner, you're lounging in the common room. One leg hooked over the arm of the couch as you read a book all about dragons. Fascinating creatures.

"So are you and the Gryffindor friends?"

"Who?" You question. Not even looking at the blonde as he sits down beside you.

"Granger." He confirms. "Pansy thinks you have a crush or something?"

"Pansy is a liar." The joke isn't as funny when it's against you. Your feelings towards Granger was nobody else's business but your own. You were often left conflicted when it came to her. You roll your eyes, sitting up straight. "I just like proving that I'm better than her."

"You spend a lot of time with her," Goyle adds.

"So?" You finally lower your book. Your brows knitted together in a clear frown as you scan the room. A few people had invited themselves into the conversation. "I spend a lot of time with you but doesn't mean I wanna get into your pants,"

"I don't know why you associate with any of them." This was beginning to feel like a lecture. Why do they even care who you hang out with? You didn't care much for the boys but you liked Hermione. She was kind, funny and really smart. You enjoyed the little time you ultimately spent together but if you admitted that, they would crucify you.

"They'd probably say the same about you lot," you state. Bringing the large book back up to cover your face. "Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to read here,"

"You can tell us if you like her," Pansy contributes. "I mean we all know you have a soft spot for the weak."

"Are you taking pity on her?"

"Maybe she wants to start hanging out with Potter. Can you imagine?"

You grit your teeth, not at all reading the words on the page in front of you. They're just trying to get a rise out of you.

"I can't imagine anything more pathetic," Malfoy chuckles followed by a few of the others. "They're an embarrassment to the wizarding world if you ask me. Parading around like they own the place-"

"We're nothing okay?" You slap your book shut. "Not friends or secret lovers or anything, I would never date someone so.... dirty." The word slipped out before you had a chance to stop. You didn't see her that way; she was much too grand to be considered dirty. And you couldn't care less about pure bloodlines. It didn't make her any less of a fantastic witch. "I'm not joining Potter's Merry band of monkeys, so just drop it okay." Ignoring the snickers and hushed whispers, you march off to bed.

It's the Friday following your little session in the common room. You forgave them all of course; you always did. There was no point in being angry at them over some harmless teasing. You had the chessboard set up and even brought along a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans but she was running late. Normally it was you showing up late; very unusual behaviour from someone known for punctuality. But as time ticked on and you were still left alone, you began to realise she wasn't going to turn up. Packing everything up, you decide it'll be best to search for her; something bad must have happened for her to not show at all.

"Weasley," you shout, jogging up to Harry and Ron who seemed to be missing their third arm. "You seen granger?"

"Why?" Asks the redhead. Harry presents you with a smile.

"None of your business," you spit at Ron. "Have you seen her or not?"

"Last we saw her she said she was heading to the library," Harry answered. You offer a grateful smile but you can't help but wonder why she's decided to head to the library. Was there a test you didn't know about? Was she trying to get the upper hand? Surely she could have just told you that instead of having you wait.

"Thanks, Harry," You skip along to the library but the journey proves pointless when you discover she isn't there either. You would be lying if you said you had searched particularly hard before giving up though. There was always next week. With a defeated sigh, you head back towards the common room. Luck must have been on your side because you spot her on the way back. Perched on a ledge with her head in a book. Typical Hermione Granger.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," you announce as you walk towards her. "I thought we were gonna play wizards chess so I could annihilate you again." The faintest sniffle hit your ears and you froze. Was she... crying? Shit. You don't do well with criers; you never know how to handle situations when people cry. It's always so... awkward. "What's wrong?"

"Go away." Her voice is quiet but echoes through the empty corridor.

"Granger?" You closer to her now, leaning against one of the stone columns.

"I said go away," Her words are harsh; she shoves her face further into the book. Was she trying to hide the fact she had been crying? It was pretty obvious at this point.

"What's up with you?" You wonder, folding your arms over your chest.

"I don't want to talk to you,"

"What did I do?" The confusion is very clear in your voice. You'd hardly even spoken to the girl recently so how could you have possibly upset her.

"You're as bad as the rest of them, now leave me alone," Sharp words as she grabbed her things and stormed off. As bad as the rest of them? What did that even mean? Pushing yourself upright, you follow after her.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Just some filthy mudblood am I?" Venomous words spat at you with the speed of a viper. You stumble back a little; she's never been so angry with you. Tears spill down her rosy cheeks."Malfoy told me what you said- Guess I should have known better considering your so-called friends. You're just as cruel as the rest of them."

"Hermione..." you sigh softly. You couldn't exactly defend your fellow Slytherin friends. "Why do you believe him anyway?"

"So you didn't say it then."

"No, I did," you shrug a little. "Well I said you were dirty, I didn't say... that word."

"Mudblood- Same thing though right? You think you're so much better just because you're of Pure blood."

"I didn't say that, I-"

"Just stay away from me." Her tone has you backing down from the fight. You consider following her as she charges off down the hall but instead, you go back to the dorms.

"You're a right git," you exclaim, storming into the room, grip tight on the book you launch at his head. Platinum blonde hair darts of the way.

"What the hell."

"You told her?" All eyes are on you as you confront him.

"What are you on about?"

"Hermione- you told her I thought she was dirty."

"Your words, not mine." Draco shrugged a little. A huff of a laugh passing his lips which pissed you off even more. 

"I-," you look around, picking up a pillow and tossing it at him. "You are such a pain in the ass."

"Why do you care about that filthy mudblood, you said you don't even like her?"

"I don't even like you and yet we're best friends," You shout, looking at the coffee table you grab a mug and aim at the boy. Draco's hand shoots up in defense.

"Don't you dare throw that at me or I swear-" He fought back. You lower your hand and so does he then you throw it anyway, hearing it break as you collapse on the couch. "You don't need someone like that." He muses as he cautiously approaches the couch.

"We can't all be insufferable snobs Malfoy," you grumble, rather casually considering what just happened. "You mess up everything for no bloody reason"

"Probably shouldn't go around calling her dirty then," He argues. "I didn't make you say that..."

The boy hovers over the back of the couch and you shove him away. "I hate you."

You realise you have to be the one because Malfoy's not about to admit he did anything wrong. And you know at the end of the day it was your fault for saying it in the first place. You retire to your bed, no longer watching to deal with other people.

For the next week or so Hermione avoids you like the plague. You'd obviously see her in some of your classes but when you'd try to speak to her after, she'd rush out before you had a chance to so much as saying hi. If you managed to catch her gaze, she'd stare daggers; if looks could kill you'd be six feet under by now. You'd sometimes find her in the library, it was the one place she could cause a scene but neither could you. When you tried to whisper to her, she'd completely ignore you. You were beginning to miss the limited interaction you hard; Half the fun of studying was ultimately doing better than her in the end.

The girl was alone today, searching the shelves. The library was fairly empty and it was getting late. You take the opportunity to make some paper birds and send them fluttering over to her. One by one until she whispers yells at you to stop. You chuckle. Doing it again. This develops into a habit throughout the next couple of days. You'll send paper birds her way, just to get a reacting out of her. You start writing little messages on them too but you don't think she ever reads them before setting them on fire.

It becomes abundantly clear she's not giving in and therefore one day during breakfast you abandon your table and enter what Malfoy would consider enemy territory. Pushing Neville aside to sit next to Hermione. A bunch of lions look to you like you'd just entered their den without permission; in their defense, you never sit here. Hermione gets up to leave but not before you can grab her wrist.

"Can you please stop ignoring me," she yanks out of your grip, walking away to leave you surrounded by kids you've only ever spoken to in passing. You groan loudly.

"What happened between you two?" Ron asked.

"Do you ever keep out of other people's business Weasley or do you have some obsessive need to weasel your way into everything."

"Just tryna help, jeez."

"If you must know, Malfoy told her that I referred to her as a... y'know."

"Mudblood?" Harry continues for you.

"I called her dirty but I didn't mean it."

"Thought you weren't friends anyway," Ron wore a smirk like he caught you out or something so you just ignore him.

"Now she's ignoring me. I just want her to talk to me."

"Have you apologised?"

"How can I apologise if she won't bloody talk to me, Harry? I thought you were supposed to be smart." You comment, dropping your head against the table. "I've tried writing notes but she burns all of them. I'm running out of ideas, I can only be so charming."

"Can't really help you there," Ron replies.

"All the boys in this school are so bloody useless," you sigh dramatically, slamming your hands on the table to push yourself up. "You’re her best friends and you can't help? Pathetic."

You debate joining the others but you decide against it and leave the great hall. You're not hungry anymore.

"You really should stop sending paper birds," The voice catches you off guard, whipping your wand out before realising it's her.

"I'll stop if you talk to me again," You counter, lowering your wand.

"I'm not ashamed of my parents."

"And you shouldn't be." Your head falls, "I really am sorry for what I said, it was definitely a peer pressure thing and I was stupid." You blurt out. "Malfoy can just be a lot sometimes and I was trying to study so... I don't think you're less than just because your parents are muggles Hermione. Not even a little." You take a deep breath. "I just want my friend back."

She hesitates. "Oh, so we're friends now huh?"

"Only if you want to be," You shrug. There was part of you that wanted to say maybe you like her as more than that but you kept it to yourself; at least for now. "I understand if you don't like... I was really shitty."

"So Friday then?"

"What?"

"Wizards chess? I think I may be able to beat you now, I've been practising."

"Pfft not likely," You tease, your smile growing. "Friday sounds good."

// NEXT

[lit-in-thy-heart]

Merwainecelot + leaping hug? It sounds a little dangerous now I'm typing it but it is them 🤣

@donttouchtheneednoggle i received this and spared a second to scream before the chaos entered my mind, it is absolutely a little dangerous but that makes it completely plausible, thank you for the prompt! 💖

this is set between s3 and s4 and there is a slight magic reveal?

do i need to say it's under the cut by now? probably not but it is under the cut because i had far too much fun with this...hope you enjoy it! (i promise you there is fluff)

i am working my way through the others but if anyone wants to send a prompt across, i will welcome it!

Squinting against the menacing sun, Lancelot finally dropped Gwaine’s fingers with a deep breath. Of course it made sense to split up and cover more ground, but he couldn’t quite shake the fear of losing a second partner within a period of several days. He knew it was just his fatigue thinking and he forced himself to glance over at Gwaine once more before diverging in his path.

Merlin had been missing for two days and neither Lancelot nor Gwaine had caught a second of sleep since. The other knights had attempted to coax them into a slumber but, each time their eyes closed, the aching absence of Merlin’s body burst all thoughts of peace. They’d both spent hours going over Merlin’s movements, trying to pinpoint precisely where they had lost sight of him. Lancelot ran his fingers through his hair. If they didn’t find Merlin, then it wouldn’t just be him, Gwaine, and their inner circle that would be crushed. It could potentially be the entirety of Camelot. Arthur had inherited a weak strain of Uther’s paranoid streak and, if Merlin didn’t appear – or, worse, he appeared but not in a live state, which didn’t bear thinking about – then the peace treaty certainly would not appear.

Lancelot dropped to the ground, fingers fumbling along a nearby branch. Catching one fingertip on a thorn, he cursed quietly and inspected the damage, mind distracted for one moment of relief. Watching as blood bubbled to the surface, Lancelot pressed his mouth to the small puncture mark. There had been one afternoon, several months ago, where he had done nothing except lounge outside with Gwaine and Merlin, sketching as Gwaine had struggled to sew a new neckerchief for Merlin (Merlin had given them both one as a favour in a melee and Gwaine’s had been hacked to pieces, along with part of his arm) and Merlin had been depriving a branch of hawthorn of its thorns. Lancelot lingered by the tree for several moments more before straightening and running his hands through his hair again.

The forest had been searched countless times by the knights in daylight hours, and by him and Gwaine in the snatches of starlight when Merlin should have been tucked between them, but that didn’t mean that they were going to stop haunting it. If anything, it made Lancelot more determined that Merlin had hidden himself away in some concealed cove until it was safe to venture out. Because as powerful as Merlin was, there was no way that he could simply disappear off the face of the earth. Not without leaving some clue for Lancelot and Gwaine.

At a rustling, Lancelot withdrew his sword and assumed a defensive stance, lowering his weapon as his eyes latched onto a flash of dusty blue, the corners of his mouth hopefully curving. Gwaine stumbled into view. Through the filter of the trees, the sunlight caught his hair and twisted it into threads more valuable than any precious metal. He swiftly moved to Lancelot’s side, hands skimming his shoulders.

‘You haven’t found him yet?’

Lancelot shook his head, one hand moving to push back Gwaine’s hair whilst the other fell to the neckerchief tied around his wrist. He had a matching one, in red, covering the veins that Merlin had traced many times over during stolen seconds when their mouths had met in the shadows. He’d left his mark on both of them, and had then had the audacity to pull away his touch and allow the cold air to come rushing in. As Lancelot buried his fingers in Gwaine’s hair, moulding his palm to the soft curve of the other knight’s scalp, Gwaine pushed his head further into Lancelot’s hand, closing his eyes.

‘It had to be during dinner that he went missing,’ Lancelot said. They were the same words that he’d said time and time again, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do but cover the same ground in the hopes that they’d dropped something along the way. ‘We were all distracted, then, and anyone could have taken him without us noticing.’

Lancelot could feel Gwaine’s head moving against his palm in agreement. ‘Particularly if he had nipped off to restock on wine.’ Biting his lip, Gwaine opened his eyes. ‘You don’t think that he’s still in the castle and just got lost on the way?’

‘No. We’ve searched every nook and cranny of that place. And you can’t get lost for two days.’

With a sigh, Gwaine dropped his forehead so it rested beside Lancelot’s. ‘If you head east, I’ll head north,’ he heavily said.

Pressing a kiss to his mouth to remind himself that Gwaine wasn’t an apparition, Lancelot nodded. ‘If you find him, you know what to do.’

Gwaine dropped a kiss on Lancelot’s temple and departed with his mouth set in a thin line, fingers curled around the pommel of his sword. He would be quite happy to never set eyes on a forest again, although that would mean that he would probably never be able to step outside Camelot’s inner courtyard. The grip on his sword tightened as he kicked through undergrowth, other hand firmly keeping the hair off his forehead. On the afternoon of his disappearance, Merlin had taken the string Gwaine always used to tie back his hair, as well as all of the shirt strings the three of them owned, with the justification that he couldn’t play with Gwaine’s hair if it was constantly tied back. Gwaine hadn’t had the chance to say that he only tied it back around Lancelot and Merlin so he didn’t miss any of the subtle smiles that fell across their faces like the dappled shadows of trees in the breeze.

He supposed he could tie it back with Merlin’s neckerchief, but he wanted a piece of Merlin to remain close to his skin. Elyan had been the one to suggest winding the garment around his wrist, when Gwaine had crashed into his and Percival’s chambers after realising Merlin was missing. As Percival had left to frantically seek out Lancelot, who had already been tearing through the castle in panic, Elyan had taken Gwaine softly in his arms and gradually slowed his shallow breaths with careful words and a firm grip. And then, after Gwaine’s heart had stopped gunning at a hundred miles an hour, Elyan had chastised him for the guilt at not taking action like Lancelot had done. Lancelot, it transpired, had not taken as much action as Gwaine had thought, concealing himself in a cupboard where Percival had found him struggling for breath. Merlin had been the most important constant that they both had, and they’d lost him. And when Percival had tentatively guided Lancelot back to Elyan and Gwaine, the two of them had collapsed into one another with tight grips, as if afraid that the other would also melt into the air. It had taken them several hours to recover, by which point Leon had already headed a patrol and searched the surrounding area. They’d found nothing but a bloodstained rag caught on the branch of a blackthorn, and one graze of Gwaine’s and Lancelot’s fingertips had confirmed that it was from Merlin’s clothes. Gwaine still had that tied around his arm, which he had been told was not necessarily wise, but there were no open wounds on his skin.

Kicking a shrub aside, Gwaine set his jaw and scanned for any scrap of Merlin that he could find. Then, hearing Lancelot scream his name, he dropped the hand holding back his hair and sprinted in the direction of Lancelot’s desperate voice. 

Lancelot had actually been making progress. A delicate river dropped through the forest and, thinking perhaps that there might be several hiding places that they had previously overlooked, he had headed towards the bubbling murmurs that came from the gentle current.

In the glancing gaze of the sun, the surface of the river skittered across the tree trunks with fractured grins and Lancelot had stopped for a moment to readjust his eyes. Consequently, it had taken him a while to spot the figure emerging from the river, and even longer to recognise the features.

Merlin had stepped into the sunlight, dripping with water, and for one awful moment Lancelot had been convinced that Merlin had drowned and this was his spirit returning to condemn Lancelot and Gwaine for not rescuing him. But then Merlin had spoken his name in the only way that life itself could, holding out his hands, and Lancelot had disregarded all fears and leapt straight into his arms.

Between calling Gwaine’s name at the top of his lungs, Lancelot’s hands frantically roamed Merlin’s face, searching for any traces of injury. There were bruises around his throat and dried blood at the top of his head, but nothing seemed too serious. And Merlin hadn’t dropped Lancelot yet, despite the knight’s legs being wrapped around his waist, which was a promising sign.

Satisfied that Merlin wasn’t going to keel over, the elation on Lancelot’s face slid away to reveal a stern expression. ‘You could have told us that you were leaving.’

‘Funnily enough, I didn’t have “getting kidnapped” on my to-do list,’ Merlin replied, the fatigue in his eyes shining through as he spoke the fateful word ‘kidnapped’.

‘I meant leaving dinner, but it doesn’t matter now,’ whispered Lancelot, pressing a kiss between Merlin’s eyebrows.

‘Merlin!’

The force with which Gwaine collided with them both, paired with the momentum created as he jumped from the ground, toppled all three of them over and Merlin let out a yelp as he made contact with the damp forest floor, only inches from the perilous edge of the riverbed. Gradually, Lancelot and Gwaine slid from him and established themselves either side of him, drinking in his appearance. Then Gwaine decided to clamber on top of Merlin again and began rigorously running his fingers over Merlin’s body, just as Lancelot had done. Only, this time, his hands found a thin cut on Merlin’s upper arm, where a chunk of his sleeve was missing.

‘What happened?’

Following Gwaine’s gaze, Merlin frowned and prodded the swollen skin around the cut. ‘I’m not sure. Must have caught myself on something when I was being dragged away. Honestly, I don’t understand how word has got out so quickly that Arthur actually values me. He sure as hell doesn’t act like he does when he’s around me.’

Leaving Lancelot to explain the delicate concept of Arthur actually caring about Merlin, Gwaine hastily began to strip off, tossing his armour aside and pulling off his shirt to untie the scrap of Merlin’s clothing that had been retrieved by Leon. Once it was flat in his palm, Gwaine placed it in the gap and slid his gaze over to Lancelot when the material slotted perfectly over Merlin’s cut.

‘Blackthorn.’

At that single word, Lancelot’s eyes snapped up. ‘Fuck.’ Motioning for Gwaine to remove himself from Merlin, Lancelot climbed on top of him instead, hands fluttering around the injury. ‘Did they give you any treatment for this?’

With a frown, Merlin looked between the two knights. ‘No. I didn’t even realise I’d been cut until Gwaine noticed it. I had escape plans on my mind, and then had to try and remember where the castle was. I really wish they had provided us with maps.’

Gwaine, putting his shirt back on – much to Merlin’s dismay – glanced at Lancelot again. ‘Are you going to be able to draw it out, or do I need to find garlic?’

Placing his hands over Merlin’s arm, Lancelot’s brow furrowed. ‘I should be able to draw it out, but it’s going to take a lot.’

‘You can use me, if you need to,’ Gwaine softly said. He drew one of Lancelot’s hands towards him, settling it beneath his shirt and over his heart, his own hand covering the gentle fingers. ‘You can take everything you need.’

‘Um…What are you doing?’ asked Merlin.

‘The long and short of it is, Merlin, that you have been scratched by a blackthorn and if Lancelot doesn’t deal with it then bad things are going to happen very quickly. Lancelot has also not slept for two days so pulling out the infection is going to take a lot of out him if he does it alone. So he can draw his strength from me. Oh, and I know you have magic. And that you’ve been trying to teach Lancelot how to heal.’ Then with a grin, Gwaine added as an afterthought: ‘Lancelot has been teaching me some stuff, and let’s just say that your and his being aren’t the only things I can set on fire.’

‘That’s—That’s a lot of information to receive in several seconds. And why didn’t you tell me that you knew about my magic?’

‘Because I was waiting for you to trust me enough to tell me yourself,’ Gwaine said, though there was no bitterness in his tone. He knew how prejudiced he had been towards magic, and he couldn’t blame Merlin for being terrified about the reaction if he ever came out with it. There were many things in Gwaine’s past that he hadn’t yet disclosed to either of them for fear of being abandoned. ‘Lance, are you ready?’

‘I’m ready,’ Lancelot quietly responded, closing his eyes and focusing on feeling for the teeth of infection that had sunk into Merlin’s skin.

‘It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Gwaine. It was—It was just that I’d already endangered Lancelot by telling him. I couldn’t bear to have two people I love executed. I was trying to protect you.’

Gwaine ran his thumb across Merlin’s forehead. ‘I know, Merlin. I know.’

They lapsed into silence and Merlin closed his eyes, letting himself drift like a feather in the wind between the boundaries of Lancelot’s and Gwaine’s touch. There was a growing warmth in his arm that was reaching uncomfortable temperatures, but he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it meant Lancelot’s trick was working. He’d regretted making the offer of teaching him magic as soon as the words had tumbled loose from his lips, but as much as he’d hated keeping yet another thing from Gwaine, he hadn’t felt able to go back on his word. In the end, though, it had worked out for the best. Lancelot, despite having Merlin as a teacher, had excelled in healing spells – quite how he managed it, Merlin was none the wiser – and as he reflected, the warlock really should have noticed the training injuries on Gwaine’s body that had faded suspiciously quickly overnight. And Gwaine having an accolade for fire spells bore an element of poetic satisfaction as well; just as Lancelot had healed Merlin so long ago with his acceptance, Gwaine was always able to set him beautifully ablaze with love, and Gwaine himself was overflowing with it. Merlin wasn’t entirely certain of what effect he had on them, but they had said over and over that he meant everything to them, so there was definitely something that kept them tethered to him.

Gasping, Lancelot pulled away and promptly fell against Gwaine, his eyes closed. Gwaine himself looked drained, and Merlin wasn’t feeling much better – despite his importance as part of a ransom, his kidnappers hadn’t really put much thought into keeping him healthy over the past couple of days, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up with them both for a week. He sat up and twisted around so he was leaning against them both, relishing the arms that found their way around his body, and he savoured the memory of Lancelot’s weight around his waist when he had clambered out of the river. Placing a hand on their legs, Merlin sent a warm shiver up them both with as much of the energy that he had remaining. It wasn’t exactly healing, but it was a shot of assurance and gratitude, and when he raised his eyes Lancelot and Gwaine were regarding him with identical smiles that illuminated every shadow that fell across their faces.

Then, gradually, Lancelot drew him closer to them, sparks from Gwaine skipping across their interwoven limbs as Merlin was loosely caged by the two people whose fleeting gaze could extinguish the stars, their hearts forming a distinct and harmonious rhythm that was like shy rain on glass.

[futurewriter2000]

Heartless - pt. 16

A/N: Whoever was the anon that told me to do a Mulciber x reader from this- I hate you and love you at the same time. Goddamn! God-fucking dammit I love myself some evil characters. Also, no gif for this because I don’t have time because I have to get to work in like 20 minutes and I’m still in my bath robe. Hope you like it babes and mwa <3

XX

‘ You walked into the classroom, empty as it was, so was your head. You hadn’t studied for this exam- was it Charms?

“The test will begin now.” you heard Professor Slughorn say as he waved his wand and the exam papers flew open to the first page.

Your eyes had gotten more confused. This wasn’t Charms, nor Potions... was this math? You looked up at the professor with your heart racing fastly, then your anxiety leading into frustration. You looked down for a pencil and you had not pencil, nor quill, no any other pen.

“Are you joking?” you heard someone laugh from a seat behind you.

You turned around with a panic, thought the paper exam disappeared in front of you and so did the professor. The classroom was empty, your soul started to become more soothing.

There; at the desk behind you sat a boy with his eyes, green as the colour could be, he kept chuckling, tilting his head back and running his hands through his dense curly hair until they rested behind his head. His smile was wide, his teeth perfectly straight and the corners of his mouth had perfect lines with dimples far in the middle of his cheeks.

“Mulciber?”

“You’re dreaming Hogwarts? And professor Slughorn?” he continued to laugh, putting his feet on the top of the desk.

And it was as if the tension you felt from your dreams, the control that you were not able to grasp before, was now in your hands and your hands were on the wheel. You could move your hands and you could stand up as if you were in the real world.

“You’re a Legilimen- and the dreamer one and you cannot control your dreams?” he kept looking at you and with your eyes solely focus on him, the background of your dreams changed back to the same place when he first visited.

“I’m starting my training soon.”

“Soon?” he scoffed. “Soon as in when school starts and then probably in the mid-October when that piss off Mad Eye Moody decides to actually mentor you?”

“He’s a great Auror.”

“He’s a drunk!” Mulciber started to get frustrated. “And would only waste your potential. You know what he would do to you?” he started to take steps towards you. “He would restrict you of all the things you could do with your gift and your gift- the gift we both share. It has no limits.” he was now close to you, whispering with greed and desire.

“You’re talking about black magic.”

“I’m talking about magic, darling.” he stepped away, jumping on the rocks that seemed to appear only in a second. “There is no good magic, bad magic. There is just magic and there are only bad wizards and good wizards.” he turned around on the last stone and kept looking at you with his eyes blazing into your soul. He jumped off, changing his whole energy into this playful, yellow aura that you could feel so lightly.

“And what do you propose?”

“You know exactly what I propose?” he walked to the edge of the cliff, looking as the sun started to set. “I know you’re considering it, so let’s speed this up-”

He was suddenly in front of you- in a flash. “I don’t want-”

“Yes, you do.” he was growling at you with eyes that screamed danger. “I’ve taken a notice in you, (Y/n) Potter since the moment you stepped onto that train- even before. “ he started. “With your pig tails that you took off the moment you got on the train, I knew you and me are meant to be connected.”

“Connected?” you laughed.

“Haven’t your mother told you about your ancestors, (y/n)?” he asked and your smile immediately faded. “Haven’t you ever wondered where you got this gift from? From who?” he continued to pull your curiousity, word after word. “You think you’re the first of the family? Why your mother acts so tense?”

“You’re-”

“I’m not lying. You know I can’t lie in dreams- and not with you since we’re connected.”

“We are not connected.”

“We are. The moment you let me into your head and the moment I let you into mine, you and me made a soul contract, darling. This isn’t the 3D world, love. This is much more greater than that. This is 5D. This is more than magic, more than anybody else could think. This are unlimited minds, thoughs, emotions, intensity, secrets to life, secrets to magic, secrets of people-”

“And you’re using it for evil.”

“I’m using it for my own personal gain. You would too.”

“I would never.”

“Yes, you would.”

“You don’t-”

“Let me finish.” he pressed his hand on top of your mouth gently, his other hand on your hip and squeezing you tenderly as his body pressed against yours. He was looking down on you with eyes, filled with lust and desire. The would wander on you for only a moment before he would speak in his voice low, almost like a hungry wolf talking down its prey. “The train ride was hopeful. I knew you’d be in Slytherin but you never were. You were a hat-stall. Two long minutes of indecisiveness and I was tensed because I needed you to be in Slytherin but you asked the Hat to put you in Gryffindor because of your brother-”

“I-” you tried to speak, your eyes furrowing angrily.

“Shhh.” he hushed you down, leaning forward until his lips were pressing onto his own palm as if they wanted to kiss you into silence. “I’m talking, remember?” he said with dominance. “But I knew you were a Slytherin. I saw how you managed to do everything by yourself. To pull yourself from the depth- I could have felt you dying inside for a year, filling yourself with pills-” your eyes widened and for a moment you looked away. “And I wanted to reach out to you so desperately because how you felt, I felt. It wasn’t easy but my father wouldn’t let me. He said it’s a test for you- a test you passed. You pulled yourself out by yourself, you took your own pain and turned it into something good- something great. Oh, I knew you and me will become the unstoppable pair just like our ancestors.” he smiled. “But that’s for another day.” he winked and pushed himself away from you, turning you his back.

“You-” you started to talk but felt like you couldn’t breathe. “You knew about-”

“Of course, I knew. I felt you. Your year was my year. Year of torture.” he seethed through his teeth. “I wanted to murder you, you know? You put me in such misery back then.”

“Then why didn’t you? You could have done me a favour.”

“Because I’d screw up my life if I ended yours.” he let out a laugh. “Seeing you in the hall- Merlin, you were so pathethic and sad. It almost made me cry.”

You felt something bubble inside of your stomach, a ball forming in your throat as tears wanted to push themselves from their eyes but you only swallowed thickly and felt the anger bubble.

“Seeing you trying to emotionally fulfil yourself with torturing others, bullying them because you weren’t pleased with yourself, beating Sirius because he rebelled towards his family and you couldn’t, made me almost cry too.” you snapped at him and his eyes widened. There was pure surprise on his face but it started to resemble much more like pride.

“And then came the passion.” he continued to smile, walking down to you. “When I saw you standing up to your brother and his friends, when I saw you hate them as much as I hated them, oh I knew you and me were about to have so much fun in the futrue and I have been patient so the day you reached out to me was the day that I had been waiting on.”

“Reached out to you?”

“The day at the woods. I read the book, you were in the bed- who do you think created that scene in your head. Who do you think pulled you out, dummy? You think I wanted the Dark Lord to take you away from me like that. No, I had to scare you away from him. I had to tip off that piss off twat to come and rescue you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Merlin, (y/n)? Are you really that daft?” he continued to laugh. “Or just naive? Or just ignorant? Me and you are connected. When you were dying on the ground, your soul reached out to me- because of our ancestors- because we are the reicarnation-”

“You’re talking crazy.”

“Am I?” he opened his arms. “You and me were meant to be- when we’re together, we’re stronger but first-” he started to walk towards you. “-first you need to learn what I had learn and the best was to do that is with my help.”

And he was right. Despite how much you did not want it to be him, you wanted this for yourself. You wanted to see where this gift or curse or whatever it was, lead you to. You wanted to unlock every single potential in your body and he knew so much. He knew so much more and he had told you everything in just these short period of time meanwhile your own mother was holding back your family secret. You had always been the odd one out and you could never figure out why but now since you had found out that one of your ancestors were just like you- you trusted him more. You wanted him to be the one to teach you because he was the only one who did not lie to you and you were just so sick of people lying to you, constantly to your face. It was tiring and you wanted this. You had the need for this and it may have sounded heartless but you didn’t care about your family at the moment. All you cared about was you and your comfort and your future.

“Meet me at the bar down the Muggles street tonight.” he was close to you because he already knew the answer to his proposal. “I want to see you in person.” he touched your cheek with his soft hand, looking at you with eyes so caring. “Wear something... edgy.” he winked, starting to back away as you just wanted to reach out for his warm hand. ‘

The moment you blinked was the moment you woke up in the dark room. You sat up and looked around- letting something catch your eye at the window. You walked to it and found a ripped piece of parchment on the shelf.

“Don’t drink your coffee this morning, darling.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, seeing as the letters had burnt out and changed it shape. “Don’t you trust me?” it said on it and you rolled your eyes, laughing.

“Said the scorpion to the the frog.” you told yourself.

“And then they both drowned.” said the parchment. “We’re in this together, darls. Keep that in mind.” and the parchement burnt itself, poofing into dust and resolving into thin air.

[arthur-rex]

nobilitydefined + thelegendofemrys + modern!arthur aka COURAGE, STRENGTH & MAGIC

@nobilitydefined @thelegendofemrys​

Touchdown in Madrid, capital city of Spain. Arthur and the Knights of Albion have reached the second leg of their European tour. Much has happened in the cities east of Paris. The band have played record-selling concerts in Rome, Prague and Amsterdam, amongst others. Their path ahead lay now towards the west. After the European tour has ended, the band has been reliably informed that they would conquer the States next.

Arthur pulls on a pair of Ray-Ban aviators as the door of the small plane specially chartered for him and his bandmates, is opened. Outside and already waiting on the airport platform to greet them are dozens of fans and reporters. The affinity with which the newspapers, TV stations and internet coverage reported on every movement of the band is truly remarkable. Unfortunately, such attention to detail was allowing a host of more unfriendly eyes watching Arthur and his knights in the shadows to plan their attack. 

All they needed was the perfect moment to strike...

Of course, such brewing trouble is hardly something that concerns the young rock star. As Arthur gazes out to observe the layout of the land, a new country to explore and conquer, he stiffens only slightly as his drummer joins his side.

“You finally stopped being sick from the re-entry turbulence, Gwaine?” 

The feckless knight really is a sight for sore eyes. But Arthur won’t forget how the drummer had been teasing him with the others for joining Morgana in the private cabin up front for most of the flight. The guitarist hums dryly under his breath. 

“I’m sure the fresh air will perk you up. Here, hold my luggage. After me.”

Pushing his bags into Gwaine’s chest and enjoying the slight ‘oof’ that the action elicits, the rock star proceeds to walk down the steps from the plane door onto asphalt. The crowds roar at his approach, and Arthur grins and waves a hand to greet them in return.

The rock group are escorted by limousine to their waiting hotel. Having arrived with barely enough time to prepare a stage for a concert, the Madrid gig has been scheduled for the following evening. Which meant the band have time to relax and chill in the grand suite of one of the largest rooms in the Westin Palace. The large and expensive hotel is set out over six floors, with a stunning open lobby under a large glass dome. 

Leaving the tour crew to check in their bags, Arthur and his bandmates take a wander around their luxury accommodation for the night; taking in the game room, the sparkling swimming pools, the saunas, the gym, the restaurants, the bars, the little cinema and even an onsite beauty salon and hairdresser. 

Merlin isn’t with them.

The wandering roadie has had competing priorities. Conversations with Arthur after he’d revealed his magic to the rock star in Amsterdam, swiftly led to the warlock striking out to learn and study more. So the mysterious recluse had left on his quest to find the right books, the right knowledge to finally treat Arthur’s soul problem. 

In reality, he is being played for time. Forces more malevolent than before were afoot. The warlock had been observed in Paris and schemes were unfolding to ensure his extended removal from the situation about to unfold. In order for Arthur and his knights to be eliminated, it had been determined that distancing the wizard from the mortal musicians in his care provided a window of opportunity to carry out their foul purpose. Arthur sending out his warlock to find a cure had been an opportunity almost too good to be true; since it became the perfect distraction to occupy the time of Emrys. 

That book chase was going to be strung out. 

And now, with the wizard out of the picture, efforts to subdue and capture Arthur and his Knights could go ahead. The goddess was still left waiting for the blood of the Pendragon. Mixed with that of his knightly brotherhood, the resultant elixir would only make the gruesome enchantments to raise beasts that heralded the end-times that much more powerful.

***

“Where’s Adrien?” Elyan eventually asks of Arthur, as the group settle down and prepare to head off into separate rooms to sleep.

Arthur shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. He said he had to go and catch up with ‘his studies’ whatever that means. I’m sure he’ll be back with us sometime tomorrow.”

Clapping the shoulder of his backing vocalist, Arthur smiles warmly at Gwen’s brother. “It was nice, by the way, for you to invite your sister to meet us in Amsterdam. We spent a wonderful afternoon together in the café she always favoured.”

Saying ‘thank you’ directly still appears to be a tricky thing for the modern Arthur to say, but he says it nevertheless, in a roundabout way. Elyan smiles warmly in response and tells his band leader to think little of it: all of them were willing to die to make this tour a success for Arthur and his music. The guitarist finds himself strangely touched. 

For it has been hard, continually having to hold himself together - the splintering of his mind seemed to be kept in check only by Merlin’s comforting presence and up until recently; that strange, yet treasured little bracelet he gave the rock star while on tour. 

Unfortunately, Morgana had destroyed the carnelian amulet in a fit of jealous rage in an altercation right before the flight to Spain. 

Arthur sighs. Conversations with both his publicist and his roadie over the last few days have led to some disturbing revelations; ones that make the guitarist truly question his place in this world. Could he really be the famous Arthur Pendragon from legend? But how? It still seemed faintly ludicrous. Arthur had not shared any of this with the rest of his bandmates, of course -- knowing that they would only think he is completely off his rocker.

Merlin’s magic remains a secret too. That would be the roadie’s choice when to reveal his powers to the others. 

Arthur will not break confidence in a friend. Not ever.

As midnight approaches, the bandmates eventually appear to settle down for the night. Percival and Elyan take one room, while Arthur, Gwaine and Leon take another. Snoring inevitably fills the air. Arthur scowls. 

For some reason, he is unable to sleep. 

Rolling his eyes, the brunet tries turning over in his single bed. Leon and Gwaine are fast asleep in their own beds, tucked under the heavy satin quilts, nearby. Gwaine appears to have his mouth open, drooling slightly. The rock star sighs. 

Tonight is going to be a long night.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

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

Version 1, Good!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 2, Dark!Merlin)

~

“You’re late.”

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

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

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

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

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

She raises an eyebrow and nods:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this about, Ava?”

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

“I think you know, Em.-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know-”

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

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

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

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

Ava rolls her eyes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods decisively, repeating in a confident voice:

"-I wish to see them save themselves."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

“You can come out now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He glances up to an equally defensive looking Mordred:

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

“You knew, didn’t you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it? Is he ok??”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Percival shakes his head slightly, looking conflicted:

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

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

~

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

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

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

“It wouldn’t be selfish.”

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

“Merlin?”

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

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

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

“What did you do?? What was that?!”

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

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

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

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

“You... you want me to stay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But- but I’m-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

“What do you mean why? Why what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE END!!

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

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

[studentville-struggles]

Blind Date // Part 2

Pairing: (Post war)Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: 1,514

Summary: What will happen when the friends of a witch avoiding magic, set her up on a magical blind date?

TW: mild angst, suggestions of PTSD? mentions of war, fluff

Masterlist // Part 1

Tags: @divergentofhogwarts @dragonrosegardens @at-least-i-have-harry-potter @mayorofzillyhoo

Having your house connected to the floo network was far easier than you imagined, and true to his word, Draco used it to travel over. A lot.  

Even if you would use the floo network to go home from Draco’s, he would go first ‘to make sure everything was okay.’ It was a good first step back into magic and Draco had never pushed you to even touch your wand, wanting to do things in your time.  

You had spoken more about the war together, with many tears on both sides. Draco telling you about the things he saw at the manor, how his Aunt had cast many a spell on him to make Voldemort favour her. You hadn’t even imagined what it was like for Draco, not having a choice on what side he was on.  

You had told Draco that you would work up to using your wand, and Draco agreed that it was the best plan. Though Draco also said he wanted you to put your wand box in plain sight, wanting you to get used to seeing it again.

You had completed step one: travelling by floo. Now it was time for step 2: apparating yourself somewhere. Draco had said to start small; just yourself and only across the room. It was like being back at Hogwarts and learning for the first time, though this time you were rewarded with hugs, kisses and wine.  

Feeling more confident you decided to surprise Draco by apparating over to his house. He was definitely surprised, effectively clearing the contents of his kitchen table onto the floor. Rushing over to you, you squeaked out a ‘surprise’ before realising just how dizzy you were.

“Too much.”

“Merlin darling, are you okay?”

“Very much no.” Words were making you nauseous, as was blinking and breathing.

After your impromptu lie down and cuddle with Draco, you invited Draco out to a muggle bar for a jazz evening. With Draco helping you back into the magical world, you were showing him more of the muggle world you’d been calling home for years. Whilst he was yet to visit you at the labs at work, he was enjoying seeing the muggle fashion and going exploring with you.  

“Draco?” You sleepily mumbled from your side of the bed, tired from the nights dancing.

“Yes love?”  

“What was that on the table earlier?” Draco chuckled.

“Nothing. I’ll show you another time.”

Another time came very soon. Draco sat across from you, letting you read the short letter. He thought he could say everything better in a letter than in his words.  

“Draco, what in the name of merlin is this?”

“We’re going back to school.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? They’re rebuilt it very sympathetically and I thought seeing some old friends might help?”

“Can you explain please?”

“I know you and Longbottom were friends at school, I know you keep in touch still and I thought that since you were closer to him then than with me, maybe it would help see how he’s doing since the war?” Draco was very much in his own monologue now. “He’s a professor and I thought he could help in the first steps of moving into wand magic?”

“But won’t he need to teach?”

“School ends in a week, then he’s free to do as he wishes, and he wishes to help.” Seeing the nerves on your face Draco began to worry himself. “Darling I just want to do this right by you.”

Leaning in you gave Draco a soft kiss, realising your initial response was out of panic, and now seeing just how much Draco had invested in helping you.  

“Thank you Mr Malfoy. I am so lucky to have you.”

“mhm, let’s get packing my favourite witch.”  

Draco had started calling you ‘his witch’ or ‘my favourite witch” because he saw how insecure you still were about the magical world. He had come over when you were having a bad day and you had admitted feeling as though you had strayed too far from that world to even be called a witch. Obviously, Draco had said that was the opposite of the truth, that no matter which world you worked in, whichever one felt more like home, you would also be a witch, his witch.  

“You never have to pick a world, you can have both my love” he had whispered that night, placing soft kisses all over your forehead as you began to relax into a restful sleep.

Pulling out a couple trunks you asked Draco which was the best size and then set about grabbing as much of your clothing as possible, Draco not actually telling you how long you were going to be away for. Looking down at your full trunk, wand box placed right at the top, you looked back up at Draco, worry starting to set in.

“Draco,” you whined, realising you were potentially about to ruin everything.  

“Yes love?”  

“What about my work? I can’t just disappear for an undetermined about of time.”  

“Sure you can, I already sorted it all.”

“You what? How?”  

“Well we met Shelly for a couple drinks that one time, so I sent her a letter – don't give me that look, I used their horribly inefficient system not an owl – and asked if she could help me.”

“How did that go?”  

“Well she said to email her some plans.. So I had to go and ask an employee of mine to help me find out where to find an email.”

“You are incredible.”

“Aren’t I just. Now come on lets head to mine, your holiday experience starts now.”  

True to his word, you felt like you were on holiday, Draco not letting you lift a finger once that night. Anything you wanted to go at get Draco would ‘accio’ or go and get himself. Even heading to bed that night, Draco insisted on carrying you to his room claiming “it is technically our first holiday, it should be a little romantic.”

The next morning, just as you were getting ready to head off to Hogsmeade to meet Neville, Draco suddenly realised he was forgetting something rather important.

“I FORGOT THE KETTLE”  

“I’m sorry, you what?”  

Walking into the kitchen, you could see Draco frantically trying to shove the kettle into his already full trunk.  

“They might not have one at the castle.” Bless this man.

“It’s okay, if worst comes to worst we can boil water over the stove.” He still had a panicked look on his face.  

“But will it taste the same? I really like it, I can taste the difference now.”

“Oh Dray, sweetheart. We can bring it if you really want to, I’m sure there won’t be that big of a difference in the taste.”

  Looking down at his case, Draco seemed to realise there wasn’t really any hope of the kettle fitting in, and nodded in defeat. It warmed your heart to see him so worried over tea, especially considering he wasn’t that bother over it a few months prior.

---

Arriving in Hogsmeade, you could feel your chest tightening, already feeling as though this was close enough for you. Sensing this Draco, Draco decided some retail therapy would help calm your nerves, help make the town feel like anywhere else in the country.  

“Shall we go to Scrivenshafts? I can’t remember if I packed a quill, don’t want to make the professor hate me on the first day do I?”

“Since when did you ever care if the professors liked you?”

“Since I had someone to impress.” Draco sassed back, completing it with a wink.  

After wandering round and buying an unhealthy amount of stationary, Draco led you to the Three Broomsticks. Grabbing a butter beer each you could sit back and catch your breath a bit.

“I wish I’d had the courage to speak to you at school you know. I always wanted to take you here, especially in fifth year.”  

“Really? I didn’t even think you knew I existed. You never spoke to me.”  

“I couldn’t, every time I tried the words wouldn’t come out, and then the mess that is my family spiralled so far out of control I couldn’t bear thinking about loving someone so pure as you. The only thing I could do was keep you safe.” Draco wore a sad smile, memories of his familiar slowly being torn apart.  

“I guess we can both make new memories here then; I can maybe touch a wand without freaking out, and you can talk to me in the castle. If you’re really sweet, I’ll even let you take me for a walk by the lake.” You ended your little joke with a wink, managing to lift his smile a little. 

 “Challenge accepted darling, shall we head in?” Taking his outstretched hand, you allowed Draco to lead you out of the pub and towards the castle. Ready to start this new part of your journey, especially with this changed man next to you.  

You knew exactly why your friends chose him.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay in getting this online. Please drop me a comment to let me know what you think? What do you want to see happen next? x

[blankparchment]

Oml Arthur Pendragon x servant reader pls

I’m too Gryffindor for this lol. This is probably not what you wanted but this is what happened, so whelp. Bit long but I hope you enjoy!

You hated Merlin. But he was busy and you were nearby and damn him for taking no time at all to drag you to Arthur Pendragon’s bedchambers and beg you to clean up before the prince noticed anything amiss. So there you were. In Arthur’s bedchambers. Cleaning up after the prince. Alone.

It wasn’t too hard a job. Arthur was a bit messy, but it was all just thrown clothes and leftover breakfast, which were no trouble at all to clean. You were nearly finished when you realized there was a sword laying abandoned under his bed. Who loses a sword? You picked up the blade and grimaced at the weight. Upon inspection, you realized it well sharpened and upkept. Perhaps hidden rather than lost? It didn’t matter. You decided to put it back right when the door opened with a loud bang.

You reacted on instinct rather than thought. In a matter of moments you strode to the foot of Arthur’s bed—toward the danger, not away—and held the blade out as though challenging the offender. It was heavy enough that you had to use two hands. You had no training with a sword. You had tried out daggers before, but never a sword like this one, so heavy you could barely wield it. You hadn’t yet comprehended who had come in before your sword met another, it arced and flew out of your hands, and you were pushed back onto the bed where you fell.

The air didn’t clear until a sword was leveled to your throat and you recognized the wielder as none other than Arthur Pendragon himself. His expression was one of surprise rather than hatred and it wasn’t until that moment that it occurred to you that he likely reacted on instinct just as you had.

“I promise this isn’t what it looks like,” you managed to say.

Arthur shook his head slowly. “Y/N?” he asked. “What—what are you doing here?” He looked hopelessly confused, but the blade remained firmly leveled to your throat.

“Um,” you began, throwing an obvious glance at his sword. He hastily moved back and sheathed his weapon, an embarrassed blush settling on his cheeks. “I was just cleaning,” you continued. “Gaius sent Merlin out on chores. It was faster if I did it. I, um, didn’t mean to point a sword at you?”

“Right,” Arthur nodded. “Yes, of course. You were cleaning. Because you’re a servant. And I didn’t mean to point a sword at you either but—” Arthur cut himself off. “Why were you pointing one at me again?”

“You surprised me,” you quickly put in. “I was just about to put the sword back. The door banged. I thought you were an intruder.” You blushed and straightened yourself, moving a few steps back.

Finally, some of the tension in the room settled, understanding dawning on both parties. You did know the prince, of course. You ran into him at times, he had asked for a couple of favours in the past. Merlin was always talking about him too. And Arthur was kind to you, or as kind as a prat of a prince could really be.

Arthur’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed and he took a step closer to you. “You thought I was an intruder?” he repeated. You nodded confirmation. “But I saw you. You heard me come in and all but charged for me. If you thought I was an intruder … Y/N, why not run?”

You blinked. That was one of the last questions you had expected. “Oh. Um, generally someone breaking into the prince’s bedchambers isn’t a good sign. They could be dangerous.”

Arthur sighed impatiently. “Yes, obviously. So why not run? Or hide? It’s like you said. It’s dangerous.”

You finally realized what he was getting at and shrugged. “What would happen then? I might be safe. Or I might be found, but let’s pretend I got away. The intruder gets what he came for. Keys to the dungeons or the vault maybe. A jewel or two. Then they run about the castle, kill a few other servants along the way. If I don’t alert a knight in time, they make it all the way to the dungeons and they let prisoners go, and then more people die. Or they take a magical artefact and all of Camelot is at risk, or—”

Arthur crossed the distance between you two and put his hands on your shoulders. You fall silent.

“Y/N,” Arthur sighed. “I know what the risks are. I know that intruders can be dangerous. But surely you know that protecting Camelot is not your responsibility? You could’ve been killed if it wasn’t me who walked through that door.”

You took a step back and his hands fell from your shoulders. “I can’t stand by and watch people die,” you said with narrowed eyes. “I won’t. A-and maybe I’m not so good with that sword. But I have to try.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, you don’t. You should run. Protect yourself.”

“Is that what you do?” you asked, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“It’s different,” Arthur denied, his voice raising. “I’m the prince and I’m a knight besides. It’s my job to protect Camelot.”

“It’s not different!” you argued. “You’re not the only one allowed to protect people—”

“I don’t want to see you hurt, Y/N!”

You froze. Arthur was breathing heavier and took another step closer. “What?” you managed to say.

When Arthur put his hands on your arms, you didn’t stop him. “Look, you could’ve died today. You don’t even know how to use that sword, Y/N. And I-I don’t want to see you dead or injured, especially not on my behalf. You’re too—you’re just—” He fell silent, unable to articulate what he meant.

“O-okay,” you stuttered. “But I can’t just stand by. If there’s a next time I mean. I can’t. Not even—” you blushed “Not even for you.”

Arthur ducked his head down for moment, tightening his hands on your arms just slightly. “I know,” he sighed. “So I guess we’ll have to start tomorrow.” He abruptly let go and stepped back, heading for the table where he began unbuckle and put his sheathed weapon down.

Your head was spinning from the change of pace. “What?”

Arthur shot you a small smile and leaned back on the table. “Well, any Defender of Camelot needs to know how to use a sword.” At your shocked silence, his smile dropped just a tiny bit. “And I suppose I’d feel better if you knew how to defend yourself.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

You couldn’t help but smile too. “In that case … okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You headed for the door, only pausing to pick up the fallen sword and toss it onto the bed. Just before you left his room, you stopped. “And Arthur? Thank you.”

[misc-oneshots]

Blessed

Sirius Black x Malfoy!Reader 

Words: 4691

Y/N is Lucius Malfoy’s twin sister who didn’t join her brother at Hogwarts until the second year. A chance event changes her whole life and now she has a secret that could get her killed, she’s not even told Lucius. When James Potter finds out and not only vows to keep her secret but also tries to help - it rubs Sirius Black up the wrong way. Why was his best mate trusting a Slytherin, a Malfoy, so close to the brink of war?

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

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Malfoy Manor was a grand and imposing testament to tradition and pure breeding. When your brother Lucius was away at Hogwarts it was boring. You couldn't wait for next year when you could join him and spend time away from your parents. As your twin brother you should have been able to join him this year - but illness had kept you at home.

You knew that your parents were embarrassed that their daughter had been too weak to attend her first year of school, but Dumbledore had promised that you could join your brother in the second year at the same stage as long your studies where up to date. Lucius had told you all about the Slytherin common room and he'd already handed down his first-year books for you to study. He'd told you the sort of person to avoid, the mud-bloods and the blood-traitors and you'd nodded like he expected you to, but you were excited to meet some muggle-born witches after finding a book on muggle history. You kept it hidden in your favourite tree on the Malfoy grounds. The Manor still held so much for you explore and you planned to finish seeing all the grounds before you started Hogwarts, that's why you were running, as best you could in the stiff dress mother brought you, towards the back door.

You skidded to a stop when your legs ran into a house elf and you tumbled to your knees. The house elf was up straight away, her wide eyes fearful as she tried to help you up, "Oh Miss Malfoy, please forgive me. I'm very sorry mistress!" The house elf cowered as you pushed yourself up, "Not to worry Ukle, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm sorry, are you alright?"

"Ukle is most well Mistress, most well, the house of Malfoy is very good to Ukle." She told you bowing her head, her voice quivering. You narrowed your eyes and felt your stomach flip, Luci always told you that servants where proud to serve the Malfoy's and that you would be treated the same at Hogwarts, but you couldn't help that you didn't like it. It sounded false, she sounded...scared. Swallowing your nerves and decided to go for it, to just ask her but as you opened your mouth your mother's shrill tone hit you like a riding crop.

"You'll do well to remember how good we are to you, elf." she snapped coming from around the corner, "But I doubt you'll stay in good favour if you continue to speak to those above your station whilst you have duties to attend."

With a squeaked 'Yes ma'am' the house elf burrowed her head and scampered off. Your stomach dropped, as your mother left you wished that you'd spoken up to her, to defend the poor house elf who you'd ran into but cowardice in the face of your mother had stopped it and it left a sour taste in your 11-year-old mouth.

--

A few feet past the tree line was your favourite spot on all your families’ grounds, bunching your dress up, you climbed up your favourite tree that you used for storage and pulled out the muggle history book you'd stashed before jumping back down and tucked yourself into the tree trunk to read about Muggle Royalty. The Tutors were your favourites, they got up to some free strange things. After twenty minutes your attention was taken by tiny buzzing and small scratching sounds of desperation. You stood and glanced around but when the source of the noises wasn’t obvious you threw your book back up into the tree, afraid to be caught by anyone with a muggle book.

It took five minutes to find the small iron traps around the roots and up the sides of a nearby tree. You leaned in close and held your breath at the tiny creatures struggling to escape the traps. They were no bigger than your hand, small imp-like creatures who were squealing in pain at crushed limbs and wings in the traps.

Fae.

There were actual Fae on your grounds, Fae were very ancient powerful creatures who used old magic despite their size and someone had laid traps for them like they were vermin. Had Father set these up? Had he made poor Ukle set up these death traps to let these amazing creatures starve in agony?

Tears swelled in your eyes, the innocence of a childhood sheltered from your parent’s cruelty but now having to confront it. You should walk away, leave like the pureblood that they wanted you to be. But as your tears spilt, you knew that you couldn't bear to see anyone, or anything suffer like this. Some of them where paying attention to you now and those that were watching you had stopped struggling and fallen silent. “Erm, hello.” You whispered, nerves biting at you, “I’m Y/N Malfoy-” at your surname a few of them screeched and you covered your ears quickly, tears threatened to spill from your eyes again. “I want you help! I want to help you!” You shouted over their screeching until they stopped.

You dropped your hands from your ears and shuffled towards them on your knees, in the back of your mind you knew that your mother would scold you for dirtying your dress and that thought alone was enough to distract you from the tears welling in your eyes. You tried to keep your voice steady and calm, you were a Malfoy after all, “I’m going to try to release you all but I’m not sure what I’m doing so please just be patient.”

It took the best part of an hour to release them all, an hour on your knees pulling and yanking at the enchanted iron traps until your fingertips were raw and bleeding and your forearms where covered in dirt and dead leaves. With a squeal the last Fae was released and joined the others that had waited for it before rushing away through the trees like a gathered storm. Watching them go you let out a shaky breath, you were bruised, bleeding and dirty but how many people could see that they’d seen a gathering of Fae so close and came away unharmed? You wiped some sweat off of your brow and felt dirt smear your forehead but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, it shouldn’t be too hard to sneak through all the secret passages of the Manor to get back to your room without seeing Mother.

The trek back through the woods was harder than ever before, the heavy weight of your dress was dragging you down and you were exhausted from the days adventure but beside that you felt light. Lucius had always mocked Care of Magical Creatures as a subject but maybe you had a flair for it. A scratching in the trees behind you made you pause and slowly you turned, hoping that perhaps you may see the Fae again. A spider, nearly as large as the chandelier in the Manor’s hallway, skittered over the roots of the trees behind you. Your breath caught, your heart banged in your ears. You’d seen these in one of Lucius’ books, before you had chance to scream the thing was on you.

You fell back against another tree trunk and screamed and fought as it bit and scratched down at your scrambling arms, it’s bites making you squeal in pain as it burnt your skin. Your legs were being pulled together as it tried to wrap you in it’s web. White-hot pain was blinding you but faintly you heard a screech and felt it’s weight pulled off you and the tight bindings around your legs loosening.

It felt like hours for you to come around, but it must have only been minutes, the first thing you noticed was the spider away from you, on it’s back, its legs curled in on itself. It was well and truly dead. A foul smell had you looking down and you vomited at the sight. The creatures’ bites had been acidic and everywhere that it had bit your arms had burnt down to the muscle and bone and the outer skin was sizzling. You were dying. Tears wet your cheeks, elven years old and dying alone in the ground of her house, that was not a fitting end for a Malfoy. You dared to look down again at your body to the swarm of little Fae walking all over you. One on your chest looked particularly angry at being vomited on.

“Sorry.” You mumbled to it, “Glad to see that you’re okay,” You swallowed hard, “I hope it’s not Mother who finds me.” You mused to your new little friends, it was nice to have some company as you passed.

“Many this will help Luci stop being so angry.” You conspired with them and you get the impression that a few of them where listening to you as you told them your inner worries, “He���s always so angry in his letters about the other students.” It was nice to think about your brother in your last moments, you and he had always been close. “Maybe he’ll see…Muggle, pure-blood, we all die the same. Father used to tell me that I had an old soul, at least one part of me got to be old.” You gave a humourless laugh to your new friends and closed your eyes.

-----

It was night when you next opened your eyes, it took a few moments for confusion to set in about even being able to open your eyes. Quickly you sat up, finding yourself in no pain and ran your hands down your arms which were smooth except for the Goosebumps from the night air. “By Merlin’s beard?” You whispered confused and looked around, had you fallen asleep and dreamt it? Then your eyes landed on the crow picking at the spider’s corpse and your blood ran cold. Shuddering you pushed yourself to your feet and sprinted back to the side of the Manor and ducked into a side entrance, usually reserved for the staff, and didn’t stop sprinting until you reached your room. You slammed your door shut and quickly ripped off your dress to examine your body for other wounds but found none. You quickly rushed to your en-suite, filled the basin and washed the dirt and blood from your hands and face.

You held out your, now clean, shaking hands to examine the wounds that had been there but no matter how many times you turned them over there were no wounds. You turned your hands again and your breath hitched at the markings on your wrist. You swallowed, blood rushing in your ears and reached your other hand slowly towards the new mark on your wrist but stopped short when a knocking at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “Just a moment!” You called and quickly kicked the tarnished dress under your bed and picked up a robe from your vanity chair and wrapped your body up just as your door opened. Your mother wasted no time stepping into your room with Ukle behind her.

“Where have you been Y/N?” She asked stopping to stand in front of you. You did your best to look reproachful, “Sorry Mother, I was reading the potions book that Lucius sent me. He wrote me and said that the Slytherin House Leader is the potions master.” Even though her face was sour your mother nodded, glad that you wanted to get in good with Slytherin masters, she knew all about the slug-club and as a Malfoy you would be expected to be asked to join.

“Ukle, run the child a bath.” You mother snapped, and the house elf quickly abided. Your mother turned to leave but you stopped her. “Mother?” You asked quickly and she half-turned with a raised eyebrow at your behaviour.

You swallowed, “Tomorrow when go to Diagon Ally, might I look for a book on Magical Creatures?” She looked at you suspiciously, so you quickly appealed to her pure-blood pride, “I’ve been looking though Lucius’ books but I still find myself lacking. A Malfoy should have no gaps in their knowledge.”

She nodded, “Very well, your Father will be glad to here that you’re taking your studies so seriously.” You thanked her as she left and then thanked Ukle for running your bath as she left too and then it was just you and your thoughts.

You sank into water, having no energy to enjoy the magically dancing bubbles in the air, and stared at the mark on your wrist. You needed those books tomorrow to research yourself. You knew what that mark meant.

You were Fae-blessed.

----

True to Dumbledore’s word you joined Lucius in the second year of Hogwarts thanks to your good-health and fabulous scores. It had caused quite a stir when Lucius had returned to school with his twin sister. The Malfoy who had missed a year, who was so much shorter and weaker than her brother but even under their scrutiny you didn’t look weak. Lucius had boasted to La Strange, Snape and, Bellatrix that it was because you were a Malfoy, and Malfoy’s were not kept down for long. But you knew why you had been so much healthier over the last few months, you felt stronger, faster and more powerful.

Since you’d nearly died, and the Fae had blessed you, you’d done a lot of research into those blessed by the Fae and it didn’t all make for happy reading. The good news was that it meant that you healed faster, your magic was more powerful, your sense of smell had improved so your potions where always of star quality. The biggest plus was that you didn’t need your wand to use magic, if you really needed to and focused then you could current your magic through your hands but often it was too dangerous because the cons of your new life outweighed the pros. Con – as one book had put it ‘The Fae-blessed are no longer considered human, much like the werewolf, the Fae-blessed are a Magical Creature.’ So, you hadn’t daren’t tell a soul about your condition, your family would disown you or possibly even kill you themselves to save the family name. You also had to avoid liquid iron as much as possible, unless you wanted an interesting, painful reaction.

Death-eaters, though a new thing and you knew your father was one, had a theory that the increased magic of the Fae-born was hidden in their skin. You’d heard horror stories of Fae-born being killed and skinned and their skin being made into sword sheaths and even furniture since Death-eaters believed this should enhance their magic. Since you had no urge to be made into a lampshade, you ever uttered a word of your condition. Not even to your twin brother. Dumbledore had figured you out and told you that he had made the head healer aware in case you had any issues. It was for all your cunning, determination and resourcefulness to keep yourself alive and safe that you were sorting into Slytherin. You mother had sent you a courteous letter and signed it from herself and your father, but you could practically envision your father behind you as she wrote it ‘Why are you sending congratulations? She should have attended last year.’

----

You met the Marauders that year, but they paid you no attention when they realised that you wouldn’t rise to their pranks like Lucius would. Like Black had once grumbled to Potter as they’d walked passed you, Not even worth it, that one. But you’d caught their attention when you’d snorted out your nose and mumbled, “Didn’t know my Father had come back to Hogwarts.” They’d all turned to eye you, but you’d already gone back to reading your book while perching in the windowsill waiting for Charms to begin. After that you had a weird truce where you ignored them, and they ignored you. You had no interest in the rivalry between your houses, instead choosing to avoid getting too close to anyone to keep your secret safe. You were the Slytherin that they complained the least about if they ever got partnered with you because of the few times where you’d spoken up to Professor Slughorn to remind him that he’d not given Gryffindor any points for Peter’s help with a potion when you and he had been partnered together.

That had caught Lily’s attention, you were both part of the Slug-Club – together with James Potter – as thanks to your sense of smell your potions where always amazing. Lily Evans and you were his favourite students and due to that bond alone over the next year you became awkward friends. She couldn’t fully trust a Malfoy and you couldn’t have too many muggle-born friends without drawing attention to yourself and if you wanted to survive you needed as little attention as possible.

Another uneasy alliance that you’d made was in Remus Lupin, the Marauder who smelled funny to you, was your library pal. The back-corner table of the library was your shared domain, he took one half and you took the other. You rarely spoke unless you were both struggling on a question or he was asking if you wanted a drink while he fetched himself one. You liked your neutral acquaintance, especially when he started putting chocolate in the middle of the table for you both to share, since you’d been blessed you’d found yourself with an incredible sweet tooth. When you went to Hogsmeade you made sure to stock up on other sweets for your table so that you could share them and pay him back.

You knew that the other Marauders knew about your study buddy sessions from when you’d heard James teasing Lupin but apparently, he found no fun in it when he realised that you weren’t secretly dating. The other Slytherins weren’t happy about you associating with the Gryffindor but you waved it off as him being the only silent student in the library. A few months into your study meeting you realised why he smelt funny to you, he was a Werewolf. The realisation surprised you, but you were happy to be on okay terms with the only other non-human in the school and vaguely wondered if he’d figured you out. That was when you used your Malfoy connections to obtain Wolfs Bane, passing it off as ‘find me some or my father will hear about this’, and began to make Remus a potion for his monthly issues.

You non-humans had to look after each other. You followed the Marauders one night – also learning that they were unregistered animagi! – and started to leave the potion in the Shrieking Shak every month for them to find. You had to be careful to time it, knowing that whichever of them was the dog – you guessed Sirius because of them calling him Padfoot – might be able to track your scent if you weren’t fast. But hey, no had caught you yet since becoming a Fae-blessed.

----

By the time Year Four had started the Marauder’s hadn’t found who was helping Remus and had put it down to Dumbledore and no one had figured out your secret. Things between you and Lucius where strained, he was your twin, and in many cases, your other half and he didn’t understand the sudden distance that you had put between them over the last few years. But at least when you’d been back at home during the summer it was like the old you, like you relied on him to protect you but he’d yet to figure out what he was supposed to be protecting you from. When he brought it up you blamed teenage hormones and brushed him off. Your skills at using just your hands for magic were getting stronger but you daren’t use it for fear of getting caught but it was hard. Every sudden surge or drop in mood made your fingers tingle with energy that was just begging to be released.

You sat waiting for your potions class to begin while idly flicking through your potions book, James Potter sat beside you and leaned across to his side to flirt with Lily who was partnered with Lupin. Behind you Sirius sat with Peter and flicked things at the back of James head. Slughorn continued to partner you with James or Lily, as some of his favourite students it gave him an excuse to give you all and abundance of house points for your superior potions. Across the room Lucius and Snape were partnered together and keeping a watchful eye on you amidst the gaggle of Gryffindors.

While Slughorn blathered about what potion he wanted concocting your mindlessly made notes, not realising that within the next few hours would be the first time that anyone found out your secret.

After the few times that you’d been partnered together you and Potter had developed a rhythm, he collected ingredients and bothered his friends while you did all the prep. “Malfoy, have you got the liquid iron?” Potter asked, in classes he was always civil with you and you wondered how much of that had to do with him noticing the weird, uneasy friendship that you and Lily had. Your stomach dropped, you’d have to be careful here, just too strong a scent of that and you’d end up exposed. Not looking at him you pretended to read the instructions and mumbled, “No I haven’t would you mind fetching it?” You asked. You heard a snort behind you that was definitely Sirius, “Bloody Princess.” Choosing not to react to that you glanced at James who was giving you a look like he agreed with his best friend. You rolled your eyes and tried to play it off, “Fine, will you keep an eye on the cauldron’s temperature, if it goes to a boil then the whole potion will be a waste.” He narrowed his eyes, “I do know that Malfoy.”

Of course, he knew it, his father was famous for his potions, but you didn’t react and instead stepped away to fetch the vial of liquid iron. You held your breath and tried to will you hands no to shake as you lifted it. You could feel magic stirring within you, wanting to pulse out of your hands at your level of anxiousness but you pushed it down, bit your lip and walked back to your desk as carefully as you could. Putting down the vial on the desk you let out a discreet, shaky breath but when you looked up at James he was watching you intently. You swallowed hard, he’d been watching you fetch the vial. His held titled to the side as he studied you and you hoped, beyond hope that he wasn’t planning on using it in a prank against you. After managing to distract him by going through the complicated steps and him turning around to help Sirius and Peter with their potion, you came to the stage you were dreading – adding the Liquid Iron. “Potter, would you mind adding the Liquid Iron while I stir?” You asked, trying to sound casual. He gave you a funny look again and you added, “Please, Potter?”

He pushed up his glasses and leaned over so that he could speak quietly to you, “Are you allergic or something?” You swallowed and nodded your head, keeping your voice low, “Quite severely.” You admitted, hoping that no one could hear you and that he wouldn’t use it against you. You could see Lily and Remus watching your closeness.

James righted himself, “In that case you shouldn’t even be stirring Malfoy, I could spill it on you.” He mumbled and took both the vial and the ladle and started to pour the Liquid Iron and stirring it. Your chest tightened at the gesture, “Thank you, Potter.” He pulled a face so that his glasses would slip down his nose slightly and stop getting fogged by the potions steam. “Don’t mention it.” He mumbled as he watched his stirring over the top of his glasses. “No, I appreciate it.” You mumbled lowly to him and he just nodded.

The rest of the potion went smoothly, as it always did when you where paired with another Slug-Club member. James was turned in his spot, with his back rested against your desk as he pestered Sirius and James. You were just waiting for your potion to cool now so you started to tidy your area and didn’t pay attention to the mini-play squabble that James and Sirius where having until Sirius leaned over his desk to jostle James who fell straight back into your desk. The potion in your cauldron wobbled and some splashed out straight onto your hand as you’d instinctively tried to catch it.

You cursed instantly and held your hand back to yourself and cuddled it under your robes. You hissed another curse word again and squeezed your eyes closed. Your skin felt like it was on fire with the Fae reaction to the Liquid Iron and your own magic begging to be released. “Malfoy - shit I’m sorry.” Potter rushed quickly and tried to pull your arm away from you to look at the damaged, but you held it close to yourself. “Piss off, Potter.” You hissed, the Fae-blessed mark on your wrist burnt through the charm that you had hiding it. You had to get out of here – now – before they realised what you were.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy, he’s only trying to help you.” Sirius snarked behind you. “Not now Pads.” James mumbled and leaned over to snatch something from Lily’s table before handing it to you, “This will take away the sting.” He told you and you snatched it from him.

“Lily, Moony,” You were faintly aware of James talking to the table beside you, “Tell Slughorn I’m taking her to the infirmary, she’s having an allergic reaction.”

You didn’t hear the rest but felt his hand on your shoulders pushing you out of the classroom. When you slowed down he put his arm around your shoulders to urge you along. When you reached the infirmary the matron, knowing your ‘issues’, quickly ran to you and shooed Potter away. He tried to help get you onto a bed, but Matron stopped him, and he was left standing confused as she struggled to get you into a bed by herself. James stayed put, the Matron quickly pulled the curtain round the bed but not before he saw an angry welted mark along your wrist and was he imagining it or were your eyes brighter?

The curtain closed, and James couldn’t stop the unease in the pit of his stomach, this wasn’t normal, and he was sure he’d seen that mark in a book somewhere. He followed his feet and James found that he’d walked straight past his potions class, he didn’t care about the grade now and didn’t want to deal with the Slytherin’s bothering him and found himself in the library.

He racked his brain for where he’d seen that mark before until he settled on the Care of Magical Creatures section.

So, no Sirius love in this one but maybe you get the gist of where I’m going with it? I plan on taking this all the way past Prisoner of Azkaban. Any thoughts would be super welcome and if you want tagging then let me know :)

@siriusement 

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

[bellatrix-la-strange]

Lee Jordan’s Untold Love Story

Also on ao3 and ffn.net

Fred Weasley’s funeral was held on a Wednesday, two months after the Battle of Hogwarts.

His entire family was in attendance, as were his friends from Hogwarts, acquaintances he’d made in the brief stint of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and trusted comrades brave enough to house and hide three escaped freedom fighters from Voldemort’s forces.

And that’s what they’d been—Fred, George and Lee. Freedom fighters.

There was a casket with Fred’s body in it. As per wizarding tradition, every member of Fred’s family had touched their wand to the wood and inscribed his last resting place with a piece of their magic. It could take on many forms, each one unique to the person who left it and their relationship with the deceased.

(When it was George’s turn, a line of fire snaked out of the tip of his wand and burned the silhouettes of a hyena and a coyote lying on their sides, heads resting on each other’s tails and turned towards each other so you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. A perfect yin-yang.)

In the back, on the outer edge of the last row, was Lee Jordan. He sat unnaturally still, only the slightest swish of wind ruffling his hair betraying his statue-like demeanour. He didn’t have a very good view of the Weasleys up ahead, but his seat was precisely positioned so as to let him see straight past the sea of bowed heads and extravagant hats to the coffin containing his late best friend.

Lee’s mourning was a silent one. He kept his lips sealed shut by mere force of will and didn’t let a single sound escape even as Fred’s casket was engulfed in white flames and the last remains of the man he’d loved were burned off the face of the earth.

George turned back and caught his gaze then, as though he, too, could sense the change in the air, a sudden heaviness, a dulling of colours as the last thing left tying Fred’s soul to their plane of existence was brutally severed.

You should be up here, George’s eyes seemed to say. With us. You’re his family, too.

Lee shook his head and lowered his gaze. While the ceremony continued around him, he concentrated all his attention on the bouquet of white dittanies and forget-me-nots squeezed between his hands.

“We can’t just stand by and do nothing! There are people dying out there, Lee, and my entire family is right in the thick of it,” Fred exclaimed, pulling at his hair with one hand and waving his wand around the air with the other. “Fucking hell, my brother is out there, running around with The Boy Who Lived, the only person in this entire fucked up world the Dark Lord wants to see dead more than anything. My little sister—Ginny—she’s…”

“Hey hey, stop. This?” Lee pointed a finger at Fred. “This stops right now. It’s not helping anyone if you worry yourself to death. We’re at war, Fred, as you so aptly pointed out, and everyone is in danger. You’re a pureblood traitor and I’m a mudblood mutt—”

“Don’t you dare call yourself—”

“I don’t believe it,” Lee hastened to add, “but it’s the truth for now. How long do you think it’ll take before they come for us? We’re not exactly hard to find.” Shrugging his shoulders, Lee turned around on the spot, arms spread wide, and pointedly looked around the colourful joke shop.

Despite himself, a hint of a grin pulled at the corner of Fred’s mouth. “I just feel so useless tucked in here, hiding, while the rest of my family is out there fighting for their lives.”

“All right,” Lee said, nodding, “I can work with that. So what do you want to do?”

Fred’s head snapped up from staring holes into the ground. “What?”

“You’re not the only one who’s been feeling restless lately. I can tell George is about two days away from blasting through the front door, Death Eaters be damned, and while there are some things I’ve enjoyed about being holed up in here for days on end with nothing better to do other than enjoy each other’s…company, there’s only so much more I can take of these four walls. So what do you want to do?”

“I want to help in any way I can,” Fred stated. “We don’t have to fight to be useful, there are other ways to help people. We opened up this store because we wanted to bring laughter and joy to other people’s lives, remind them that no matter how hard things get, they could always find a pocket of brightness in here. But they took that away from us, too. We need a way to bring that back, spread the word that we’re not gone and we’re not done. Not by a long shot. They need to know there are other people out there who are fighting, too.”

“Hope.” Lee said softly. “They need a reason to have hope.”

Fred nodded. “And so do we.”

“So it’s decided, then? We’re going to go out there and spread hope to anyone who will listen.”

“In any way we can.”

Lee and Fred stared at each other then, taking in every detail of the person they loved most in the world, one of the many they’d risk certain death with.

“I’ll go tell George.”

“I feel like James Bond.”

“You’ve mentioned him before. Is that another one of your Muggle celebrities? Oh, wait, no— is he the one who’s a spy and goes on adventures around the world? There’s a number on the cover of the book, right? Seven-something.”

Lee grinned, pleased Fred had remembered one of his favourite characters. “Double-oh-seven. That’s the one.”

Fred snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the one. You’re going to have to lend me the book some time. How else am I supposed to keep up with you if I don’t get half of what you’re saying?” he teased.

“I don’t know, you seem to have no trouble at all keeping up with me any other time.” Lee turned heat-filled eyes on Fred and watched the bob of his throat as he swallowed past a sudden dry mouth.

“For Merlin’s sake!” hissed George. “We’re in the middle of a mission and you two can’t even keep your flirting to yourselves for the few hours it would take us to finish here?” There was a noise then, a crunch of twigs underfoot, and the robed figure of a Death Eater passed by their hiding place, completely unaware of their presence thanks to the many protective charms in place. Still, the trio waited ten minutes in silence before George continued. “It’s been years, surely you’re past the honeymoon period.”

“It’s all about keeping the romance alive, brother. After all, how can I truly call myself a proper prankster if I don’t find the time to seduce my fiancé on the outskirts of the Death Eater camp we’re scouting?” Fred philosophized.

“Fiancé?” asked George, eyes opened so wide Lee was afraid his eyeballs would plop out. “As in, actual fiancé? With a ring and a wedding and a marriage licence?”

“A candy ring,” Lee supplied. “I’m afraid it’s all eaten up now and I really doubt we’ll find time to plan a party anytime soon—are we even allowed to get married in the magical world?—but other than that, yes, proper fiancé.”

It was a good thing they’d used so many enchantments on their hiding spot in the end. Though no one could have foreseen it, only the strength of a thrice reinforced Silencing Charm was able to keep George’s whoops and cheers contained.

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“That’s funny, I recall you saying the exact opposite countless times before.”

Lee shrugged, shoulder scraping against the door-jamb. “I stand by all those other times, by the way, but it’s hard not to make a comment when you start scrunching up your face in a way I’ve never seen before.”

“Never? Are you sure?” Fred leaned back against the couch, legs spread and arms hugging the backrest as he looked up at Lee from between the locks of ginger hair falling on his forehead. They’d been on the run for months now, moving their radio operation from place to place every few days to make it harder for the Death Eaters to catch up to them. Needless to say, self-grooming had fallen on the wayside in favour of survival.

“Positive.”

Fred snorted, bringing up a hand to scratch at the weeks old scruff on his cheeks. “Harsh. I have feelings, you know? I’m not just some beefcake built for your viewing and playing pleasure.”

It was Lee’s turn to snort, but he sobered up quickly and levelled his fiancé with a sober stare. “You’re thinking bad thoughts again. I can tell when you do that, you know. You get clingy and distant at the same time. You wake up in the middle of the night and hardly get any sleep.”

“You notice that, huh?”

“We’ve been friends—best friends—for just shy of a decade. I know you better than you know yourself at this point. Only George and Molly would be able to give me a run for my money.”

“No, they couldn’t,” Fred said softly. A tap of his hand against his leg and Lee was settling down on his lap, hands interlocked behind Fred’s head and neck bent down so their foreheads were just shy of touching. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” said Lee, in that same tone of voice that one uses when confessing a deep secret. “Me too.”

“So what do we do?” asked Fred, rubbing circles on Lee’s back.

“We push through it. We don’t let it control us, but we also don’t forget that it’s there. We use that fear to our advantage because it’s always great to have just a tiny bit of it in the back of our minds; when the time comes, that little nugget of fear might just end up saving our lives,” said Lee, his voice calm and sure as his fingers teased out the knots in Fred’s hair.

“Mmm,” Fred sighed. “See? This is why I’m marrying you.”

“My superior intellect and sage-sounding advice?”

“And your smashing bod,” Fred grinned, pulling Lee in so they were chest to chest and allowing his hands to wonder and squeeze.

Not to be outdone, Lee grabbed a handful of Fred’s hair and pulled, catching his lips when his head was tilted back. They kissed for a while, lips parting, hands wandering and hips rocking smoothly, as if they had all the time in the world. Eventually, the kisses slowed to pecks and the pecks morphed to content, lazy nuzzling.

“This is what we have to look forward to,” murmured Fred, eyes half closed so only a sliver of blue was visible through a curtain of fine lashes. “After the war is over, we can do whatever we want. The shop was doing well, once we open it back up we could definitely afford our own place, one close enough to the Floo network so I can travel to Diagon Alley in the mornings and you can get to whichever news station was lucky enough to land you—maybe the Daily Prophet, after they get rid of all the Death Eaters—”

“I’d rather work for the Quibbler, thank you very much,” muttered Lee, afraid that if he spoke above a whisper his voice would break and betray the tsunami of emotions he was drowning in.

“Right, so no Daily Prophet. You go to the Quibbler and I’ll go to the shop and and since I’m my own boss, I’ll probably get home before you which means that I will cook dinner—”

“That chicken dish I like?”

“Exactly,” Fred smiled, closing his eyes and leaning back so they were now lying on the couch with Lee’s head resting on his chest. “So I’ll cook us dinner and by the time you get home everything will be ready and maybe George will have come back with me from the shop and on some nights we can invite Ron with Hermione, and Harry will be back with Ginny at that point for sure, and Percy will be just around the corner at the Ministry so maybe he’d like to join as well—”

“This place we live in, is it a home or a halfway house for wayward Weasleys?” asked Lee.

Fred shrugged and said, “Why can’t it be both? In any case, mum will insist on seeing us at least once a week so Sunday nights will be spent at the Borrow and that leaves Saturday nights at your parents’ house...which doesn’t leave that much time for us, so maybe we can push it down to just twice a month?”

“Agreed,” said Lee. Then, almost shyly, “You’ve really given this some thought.”

“It’s the rest of our lives, Lee,” said Fred, “there’s nothing better to think about.”

“...and that’s it for tonight, our dear listeners. Remember to keep your wireless at hand to catch more from Potterwatch and I know we can’t make any promises, but I’m making this one anyway: we will be back. So keep fiddling with those dials: next password will be ‘Umbitch’. Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night.”

George let out  deep breath and removed the headphones covering his ears, shaking out his hair like a wet dog and wiggling a finger in his ears. Sitting across him on the same dilapidated table, Fred and Lee were going through the same rituals, the former stretching out his back against the chair while the latter picked up and put away their equipment.

“I think that went well,” George said. “We had twice as many people listening in than last time. With any luck, those aren’t all Death Eaters plotting out ways to find us and tear us apart limb from limb to then use our skulls as ceremonial cups.”

“You should write poetry, George,” said Lee, “who wouldn’t want such vivid imagery of their own demise planted in their mind as they’re on the run from the most dangerous wizarding organization of all time?”

“You think so? Thanks, mate,” George smiled from ear to ear and said, magnanimously,  “I’m sure you have some talent too, and when you find it, I’ll make sure to encourage you as much as you did me. I won’t forget this.”

Lee shared an eye roll with Fred, who was chose to keep silent, looking on in amusement, and said, “I’m sure you won’t, George. In the meantime, why don’t you make yourself useful and—” The colour drained from Lee’s face as the words got caught in his throat. He turned panicked eyes on the Weasley twins and brought a finger up to his lips, taking out his wand and moving on light feet to the door.

The twins exchanged puzzled looks of their own but followed the protocol they had in place for situations just like this one. They charmed their feet silent with a mumbled spell and went about the room, packing up their stuff and removing any evidence that they’d been there in the first place.

When all was said and done and Lee still hadn’t moved from his vigil by the door, Fred walked up to him and whispered, “What’s going on?”

“I-I’m not entirely sure,” Lee stammered, “I thought I heard something—a cough.”

“That’s what we set up the perimeter alarm to sound like,” Fred supplied.

“I know! But it’s been almost fifteen minutes and nothing’s—”

A mild-mannered cough interrupted Lee and was followed by a feminine sneeze. Lee could feel the tension in the room suddenly reach an all time high as the three of them processed their predicament.

“Someone’s coming,” hissed Fred, “and they’ve set up Anti-Apparition wards. We can’t apparate away.”

“Any ideas?” asked Lee, shuffling lightly on his feet so his body was covering Fred from anyone bursting in through the door.

There was a resounding boom around them, followed by the house shaking on its foundations and the windows blowing out to pieces. George, Fred and Lee locked eyes and nodded their heads as one.

“Get the brooms out, Freddy,” said George, “we’re going flying.”

Dust covered every surface of the great hall. There were beds set up on the floor; the right side for the injured and the left side for the dead.

Fred was lying on his back on sheets of white, features soft and relaxed, as though he were dreaming the most wonderful of dreams. He was resting on the left side of the hall.

He was surrounded by his family. His mother held his head between her hands and rocked herself over his prone body, barely coherent enough to recognize the arms wrapped around her torso as those belonging to her husband who had his face buried in her hair, darkening her auburn tresses with his tears.

His siblings were arranged close by in various forms of distress. Ron was holding onto Hermione like she was the only thing keeping him up while Ginny had her head tucked into the crook of Harry’s neck, fingers idly tracing shapes on the palm of his hand as they both stared blindly into the distance. Percy and Charlie were sitting back to back on the dirty ground, the former with his head bowed down to his chest and hands grasping at a bleeding leg while the latter was inspecting the new ugly burns running up and down his arms. Bill was standing tall and weary with his wife in his arms and George…

George was lying down next to his dead brother, legs out straight, arms at his sides and face looking up at the enchanted ceiling. No one would be able he wasn’t as dead as his brother if it weren’t for the tear tracks continuously running down the sides of his face and disappearing into his hair.

Lee watched this all from a distance. He couldn’t tell where he was in relation to his dead fiancé and would-be family, but he couldn’t just see it all; he could feel it, too. It was a gaping wound in his chest, festering and growing by the second until it became so large it felt like it was swallowing him whole and any life he had left was being choked out of him by grief and heartbreak.

The war was won. Voldemort was dead and his remaining Death Eaters were being rounded up by the vengeful families of their victims and if they weren’t caught tonight, there always tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and the one after that one and so on.

They had all the time in the world now.

But for Lee, within the cavernous walls of Hogwart’s great hall, at that very moment, time stood still. And he didn’t think it would ever start again.

Lee woke up with a shuddering gasp. His legs moved of their own accord and propelled him from the bed, running to the bathroom where they landed on the floor with a resounding smack as his stomach hacked up its contents into the porcelain bowl. He spent a few seconds catching his breath before flushing his vomit down the toilet and stumbling to his feet.

The cold water felt wonderful on his overheated skin. He let it run over his hands then washed his face and cleaned out his mouth. Supporting himself on the edge of the sink, he lifted his head and stared at the reflection looking back at him in the mirror.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he muttered.

“I’ll say. I’ve been waking up to this for the past three months and I never get tired of it.”

Lee smiled and relaxed for the first time since waking up as two wiry, freckled arms wrapped around his stomach from behind and brought his bare back against an equally bare chest.

“What was it this time?”

“Another nightmare,” Lee murmured.

“The same one?”

“Mhmm,” Lee hummed.

“I’m sorry, love.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Really? Because I’d consider getting hit by a deadly, rare curse which has my family thinking I’m dead and nearly succeeds in actually killing me, leaving you with recurring nightmares of my death and the ensuing life without me, to be kind of my fault.” Fred’s voice was gritty from sleep and his breath was warm against Lee’s neck as he leaned forward and placed a kiss there.

“You’re right, I should be coming to you for restitution,” said Lee, his face betraying nothing after years of experience pulling pranks alongside the Weasley twins.

“Damn bloody right you should.” Fred turned Lee around so they’d be face to face. “I’m sad to say I’m all out of money at the moment and unfortunately Gringotts doesn’t open until well into the morning.”

“I can’t possibly imagine waiting that long,” Lee announced. “How will I cope?”

“Therein lies my problem,” said Fred, nodding his head solemnly. “

Fred levelled Lee with his best ‘come hither’ look, wiggling his eyebrows for extra effect, and Lee couldn’t take it anymore. He snorted with laughter and said, “Really? Now? And that’s what you’re going with?”

“I’m standing by it and after all, there’s no time like the present,” Fred winked. “Even if we do have all the time in the world, best to sometimes live in the moment, don’t you think?”

Lee thought back to his nightmare, to the very real memories sprinkled in between the nightmarish sequence of Fred’s death and his funeral. He remembered all those moments stolen in between missions and Potterwatch broadcasts and fights with Death Eaters. He recalled the flash of memories, one more precious than the other, which had run through his the second he’d walked into the great hall and spotted Fred’s body among the dead.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes catching on the band of gold on his finger and dashing to catch the same glint on Fred’s own finger. “We can live in the moment. For now.”

[azaleablueme]

Starry Night

This is a surprise birthday one shot for  @callieskye .

@callieskye   because I just wrapped it up and wanted to post it while it’s still technically your b’day, it’s also unbeta-ed. @idearlylovealaugh will make it better, I promise!

UPDATE: This is now a beta-ed story, thanks to @idearlylovealaugh !!!

For now, enjoy the musings of 16-year-old Ron. I really hope you like it!  💖 💖 💖 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONCE AGAIN SWEETY!!! ………

The mouldy, old wood creaked as Ron made his way up the stairs as quietly as he could manage to the tiny bedroom Hermione was sharing with Ginny.

He had ensured his sister was busy with the twins who were once again busy finding ways to sneak into the dining room that doubled as the meeting room for the Order. He’d have been there too; after all, Harry was still stuck with those Muggle relatives of his while the Ministry hearing hung over his head. It made Ron sick in the pit of his stomach to imagine what was at risk, but he trusted Dumbledore - surely the Headmaster would not let Harry be expelled. But despite all his vehement and hopeful arguments, the truth was that he was as worried as her- only he didn’t want her to know. She did all their share of worrying anyway, and he didn’t want his anxiety to seep into whatever little hope she had left. He had even helped her with her research, browsing through enormous volumes of law books that, in his opinion, could easily substitute for a strong dose of Sleeping Drought.   

He knocked softly on the wood and when there was no response, pushed open the door and called.

“Hermione?”

The girl sitting on the bed in the dimly lit room looked up with a snap, and Ron noticed she had a smudged ink-stain near her brow, perhaps due to flicking of those shorter curls at her temple absentmindedly.

“Ron,” she responded in exhausted relief and a lazy smile materialised easily.  He walked towards her, looking fondly at the pile of books surrounding her form. An inkpot was balanced precariously on top of three books and she was filling up a scroll, squeezing in words at the very end of the parchment.

Ron dragged the only and woefully old chair in the room, pulling it close to her and picking up one familiar volume as he sat down.

“Found anything new?” he asked, forcing his hands to flick the pages he knew he would never read if only to curb the urge to wipe the ink stain off her face.

She heaved a sigh, placed the quill in the pot and turned slightly to face him.

“A fair amount of similar cases where the judgement went in favour of the accused. I’ve noted them all with the dates and a synopsis of the case and the verdicts. Do you think we should give this to Dumbledore?”

Ron noticed the creases on her brow and the quiver in her voice, and it tugged painfully in his heart.

“We haven’t seen much of him lately, have we?”

She nodded and seemed to scan the books, absentmindedly searching for some more material. “We can give it to Remus, or your Dad perhaps?” she asked hopefully.  

He knew she was trying to keep the jitters away by drowning herself in research work, the only thing she could do while stuck in this woeful place.

“Guess we can do that,” he replied, although he knew that Dumbledore probably wouldn’t need it. “The twins and Ginny are trying to find out what they are discussing,” he added in hope to get her out of the room. However, her face fell and she looked away quickly, busing herself with corking the inkpot and setting it aside.

“You don’t want to know?” he guessed, hunching over ever so slightly to reach her. Merlin, when would he stop growing?! She looked pretty small when compared to him as it is.

“What’s the point, Ron, not like we’ll be allowed in the meetings anytime soon,” she grumbled bitterly.

“But we can try,” he insisted, hoping to cheer her up, “Fred said something about a new product that’ll help. They are just days from perfecting it.”

Hermione looked up, met his eyes and smiled- a tired, sad one that made him want to dash down the stairs, knock the door of the kitchen down, and force the Order to let her in. Didn’t they know, not knowing was almost physically painful for her?! And didn’t they know he’d do anything to make her happy?

Woah! Wait, What?!

He gazed bewildered at the girl who was not just one of his best friends but meant so much more in ways he didn’t quite understand himself. She was looking down again, busy sorting her books, and he was mighty glad about it too, for it would be absolutely barmy if she found him gawking at her.

Something happened at that moment, a desperation of sorts which he’d later find to occur every time in the future when Hermione would get upset. But fifteen-year-old Ron was too preoccupied with the curly brunette in front of him to bother deciphering the depth of his emotions. Instead, he stood up promptly and extended his hand.

“That’s it, C’mon, lemme show you somethin’.”

If she was surprised by his boldness it would certainly be dwarfed by his when she took his hand, and almost on reflex, he pulled her up. His heart was doing some wonky movements inside his chest and he hurried them towards the door lest it got some more funny ideas.

“Ron, where are we going?” she asked, hurrying to keep up as he dashed up the rickety old staircase, hand still firmly grasping hers. He couldn’t pause to ponder over how magical it felt to hold her this way, not now.  

“Hold on, almost there,” he replied, without breaking steps. If he stopped now, he would surely do something absolutely mental(like pulling her into his arms or something crazier) and he had to avoid that scenario at all cost. He was way too young to die.

He paused only when he reached the tiny attic and pushed open the door. Hermione, who was holding the stitches on her side and panting, gasped.

“Wha-”

“C’mon. Not as bad as it looks, I swear,”

She looked up at him in contemplation and nodded once. “Well, what can this room have that we haven’t seen enough of already?” she mused and followed him inside.

He chuckled, “Not spiders, I assure you- but this…”

With practiced ease, he grabbed the rope hanging from the ceiling and pulled- a section of the slanted roof opened up just like he knew it would, and the floor extended to form a tiny balcony overlooking the park in the distance, complete with a wrought iron railing and the glittering sky adding a different kind of magic to the backdrop.

He watched as Hermione let out a soft gasp and then walked into the open space, taking in the view. Once again, his heart did some sort of a weird jiggle, but he had to admit, this time it was quite pleasurable a sensation.

He watched as Hermione held onto the railing, soaking in the freshness of the open air while her curls danced in the cool night breeze. He now knew it was an utter waste of time pretending otherwise. He fancied this girl. 

Oh, fuck, alright, he was bloody insane about her. 

‘Fancying’ could never describe his feelings enough. Two restless weeks alone at the Burrow before she arrived was all the proof he needed. At first, he had tried to convince himself that he missed the adventures they had together, or perhaps by some weird twist of fate, he’d got habituated to her nagging. He even tried to sway his brain into thinking that he only missed her bickering. And then he was sure he was just worried about her safety. But even a bigger moron than he would have eventually figured out what was common in all his arguments- her.

“Ron, how did you find this place?” she beamed, and he could feel his ears redden at the sight. The chill in the air had added pink to her cheeks, and that smile- Sweet Merlin! He was doomed to die of some painful curse of her own invention once she realised the things she was making him feel.

He looked away, pretending to watch the light-illuminated neighbourhood. “Just chanced upon this place before you arrived. Was trying to escape Mum’s chores.”

He glanced at her and noticed her bite her lower lip. Looking away quickly, he grabbed the rails harder than before. But then her hand was so close to his…

The first time he had found this place, his thoughts had created an image very similar to this- Hermione, the night sky and him- all by themselves. Ron didn’t think he had it in him to bring her here though. It would need far more courage than he possessed.

All his actions tonight were instinctive. He knew he fancied her, but that wasn’t all. There was a strange kind of twist in his heart whenever she got upset and he wasn’t quite sure if it came as a part of the package of fancying someone. But then, she wasn’t just his crush but also his best friend. And while he could do nothing for Harry who was possibly going bonkers with those lunatic, muggle relatives of his, Ron could at least try to help Hermione relax.

“Do you think they can see us?” she asked all of a sudden, scooting closer and pointing at some muggles down in the street.

“Don’t think so, this is an extension of the house which is invisible,” he replied, forcing himself to ignore the tingling in his arm that was practically touching the side of her arm.

She sighed softly, scooting a tiny bit more to close the gap between them, resting her head on his arm. “Harry will be okay, right, Ron?”

“Of course, we’ve got Dumbledore,” he replied fiercely.

How long would he be able to hide his feelings under layers of bickering and arguments? That was supposed to be his backup plan; no one would notice the change in him since he seemed to be an expert at making her cry anyway. The thought made him queasy. No, no more making her cry. Bickering would have to do. But that was for another day when the lioness in her would bite back at him with equal vigour. For now, all he needed was her to relax.

“Thank you, Ron. I needed this,” she whispered, and he grabbed the railing harder. His hand seemed to be trying its best to wrap around her shoulder.

“Wanna go downstairs?” he asked. This had to be about what she needed and not what he wanted.

“Let’s stay a little longer, please?”

“Alright,” he replied and she looked up at him and beamed before looking away.

He smiled and relaxed, and Hermione seemed to snuggle closer.  

Perhaps someday in the distant future, he’d allow himself wrap that arm around her and pull her into him. Someday, it would be alright and not so selfish to dream. Maybe, by some miracle, Hermione wouldn’t curse him for having these feelings, maybe… The list of his wishes that involved her seemed to be unending.    

But tonight, he had made her smile. That was enough for him for now.