#merlin speaks a bunch of languages

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour CH 4 - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: With Sebastian off in London doing Merlin knows what, you find yourself having to deal with more of his cronies and your pent up abilities. It isn't long before you come to realize that not even the wards on the house can stop the inevitable.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit language, nightmares, graphic descriptions of pain

Chapter 4 can also be read here on Ao3

Not long after Sebastian and Devlin left for London, you’d shuffled back up to your room to dwell on everything you and your former friend had discussed. It didn’t take a Leglimen to figure out that despite Sebastian’s claims that he was only being nice because he needed you alive, his actions were speaking far louder than his words. There were a plethora of ways he could go about getting you to do his bidding; he could bribe you with your wand, for starters. Or he could use the Imperius curse and simply make you a mindless puppet, content to obey his commands without any of the push-back or hurled insults. 

But he wasn’t doing any of those things. Even though he claimed that he had hated you for a time, he obviously didn’t now, and he seemed to be trying to win your trust in a way that went completely against what you’d expected of him. Moreover there was something in his eyes that made you draw pause– something eerily similar to affection.

Part of you– wistful and naive as ever– was giddy at the idea of him feeling any semblance of care for you after all this time. The past five years hadn’t afforded you many opportunities to be taken care of, and though there had been a few random flings with strangers throughout your travels, they had always been fleeting and loveless. Quick bouts of physical yearning brought on by too much firewhiskey and ale. Nothing of substance. Your old feelings for Sebastian were as close as you’d ever gotten to the kind of love written about in fairytales. 

That line of thinking got instantly crushed under the overwhelmingly rational part of your brain. You were currently his captive, being forced to aid him in the retrieval of yet another dark relic, all for his sister’s sake. He had taken your magic, insisted that you blindly trust him and his obscure plan, and in doing so he had unknowingly put you in a dangerous position. Without an outlet to use your magic, you were bound to be consumed by the dark power that coursed through your veins. Everyday you spent here would only bring you closer to an inevitable catastrophe.

You didn’t even want to consider who else would be affected if the repository magic set itself off here, surrounded by other people. 

Not that you would care all that much if you took out a bunch of dark wizards with you. The fact that Sebastian was actively working with the very people that had hunted you all over the Hogwarts region your fifth-year was disconcerting enough. The stench of dark magic on him might have been absent today, but you would never forget how potent it had been when you’d first set eyes on him. He was still using unforgivable curses even now– hell, he had probably been using them the day you arrived for the smell to be so strong. Just because he was being kind to you didn’t change the fact that these people were your enemies, and by extension, so was Sebastian. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by his suave one-liners or the playful glimmer in his eyes any longer. 

You spent the next hour restlessly tossing and turning in your bed, toeing the curtains of the canopy with your foot as you thought about where your wand might be stashed away. Knowing Sebastian, it was more than likely on his person, seeing as that was the only surefire way to prevent you from getting your hands on it. He knew from firsthand experience just how nosey you could be, so you sorely doubted you’d get lucky enough to find it hidden in a drawer in his own room– wherever that may be. Where did he hole up at night? He had to sleep somewhere, though seeing as you’d only ever interacted with him during the day, it wouldn’t surprise you to discover that he had become a nocturnal creature in the past five years. 

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing about him.

Your silent contemplation was cut short by the unmistakable sound of the bedroom door smacking against the wall as it was aggressively thrown open, and you shot upright with your heart thrumming wildly against your sternum. There had been so many thoughts racing through your brain when you’d returned upstairs earlier that you’d completely forgotten to barricade the door. It did little to deter anyone from entering, as you’d already discovered, but at the very least it helped prevent you from being scared shitless like you were right now. The door creaked on its hinges as its momentum caused it to drift back into place, but a high heeled foot then knocked it aside once again, leaving you face to face with an unfamiliar woman. 

You could tell that she was tall even without her boots on, the top of her ashy blonde head just a few inches short of reaching the top of the doorframe. Clad in black from head to toe, the form fitting clothing she wore accentuated all of her assets in a flattering way, leaving you feeling rather mousy in comparison. Her icy blue eyes narrowed once she zeroed in on you rigid atop the mattress, and her ruby red lips pulled back from her teeth in a fierce sneer. Her fair, unmarred skin looked like pure porcelain against the light that streamed through the windows, and you nervously scooted to the side of the bed in case the murderous glint in her eyes was genuine. 

She took a purposeful step into the room, your attention shifting to the small box full of clothing wedged under her arm and balanced against the curve of her hip. As striking as the woman was, the malice that emanated from her was enough to make you want to avert your eyes– but this strange female wasn’t Sebastian, and something told you that letting your guard down around her was the furthest thing from a good idea. Her cold gaze raked down your half-dressed body, rouge lips curling even more when she seemed to take note of the coat Sebastian had given you still draped over your shoulders. 

“So you’re what all the fuss is about,” she said, turning her nose up at you as she stalked closer to where you sat. “Don’t know why I have to hand over my clothes when your bag of rags would have more than sufficed, but whatever.” 

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you kept your mouth shut. Sebastian’s earlier comment about having someone named Nora bring you clothing came back to you then, and you realized he must have somehow given her the order all the way from London. He hadn’t seen anyone other than Devlin in the minutes leading up to his departure. 

Nora’s animosity was as obvious as it was perplexing, and you slid off the mattress and backed up a step when she reached the bed before unceremoniously dumping the box of attire on top of the sheets. Immediately you noticed that the majority of the material was varying shades of black and gray. Then rather scornfully, Nora began sorting through the pile, tossing shirts to one side of the bed and pants to the other. Mercifully, there were no undergarments to be found. You couldn’t fathom being made to wear someone else's unmentionables. 

When the blonde finally deigned to look at you, she was focused wholly on the woolen coat you gripped tightly around yourself. “He may as well burn that now. I doubt the stench will come out after washing it at this point.” 

Her comment gave you whiplash, and your voice returned to you as you indignantly asked, “What’s your problem?” 

“You are,” she practically spat. 

“You don’t even know me,” you helpfully supplied, and Nora scoffed, the sound ripe with contempt. 

“And thank Merlin for that. I have no desire to get to know the woman responsible for sending Sebastian to prison. Regardless of what he might think, you are without a shadow of a doubt the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

What in the sweet hells had Sebastian told this woman? Her negative feelings towards you seemed to be rooted in something a lot more personal than anything having to do with her boss. “I don’t see how my history with him has anything to do with you.”

Nora snatched up the now empty box at the foot of the bed, her grip on the handle white knuckled as she turned to face you fully. “It has everything to do with me. It was us that gave him purpose again– my people who pulled him from that cesspool of a cell you put him in and gave him his life back. But then after everything we went and accomplished together, he suddenly spends five months diverting resources to track you down, even though you want nothing to do with him. You’re not even interested in helping him and yet he bends over backwards to make sure you’re comfortable. If you ask me, he should have locked your ass in the basement and thrown away the key.” 

Your magic flickered to life beneath your skin, thrumming in your blood almost painfully as the wards of the house suppressed your abilities with the strength of a damn Graphorn. The anger you felt wasn’t just that; it was a unique blend of guilt and self-doubt. Everything she was saying to you were things you had already thought a hundred times over, but something about hearing it from someone else’s mouth caused your composure to slip. How much of your shared past with Sebastian did she know of? Who was she to him? 

The hands that had been holding onto the lapels of your loaned coat fell to your sides, curling into trembling fists. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me. It sounds like Sebastian doesn’t either, seeing as he hasn’t taken your opinion into consideration. Deal with it.” 

Suddenly Nora crossed the space between the two of you to glower mere inches from your face, but you thankfully held your ground. She was nearly a whole head taller than you. “Mark my words; as soon as he gets what he wants from you, he will toss you aside like you’re nothing. He’s worked too hard and sacrificed too much to forget why we’re here.” 

The relic immediately came into your mind, but you knew it was truly just a means to an end. “To cure Anne?” 

“Among other things,” Nora grinned wickedly, all teeth on display as her sharp eyes bored into yours. “I don’t care about our stupid deal– should he grow complacent in his role, I’ll end your miserable existence myself. You’ll get what’s coming to you, just you wait.” 

Maybe it was because you were actively being threatened by someone you didn’t know, or maybe the three days of being unable to use your magic had finally taken a toll that even the wards couldn’t stop well enough. Whatever the reason, Isidora’s dark magic from the repository flooded your system, roaring through your veins like a screeching tempest, so violent that your limbs shook from the ferocity of it. The almost sentient power whirled through your chest, your arms, your fingertips, bludgeoning back the invisible restraints that had worked to keep you meek and non-threatening for the past seventy-two hours. It slithered throughout your body– pushing and pressing in its insistence to break free– until finally a small piece of it slipped out and struck like a snake poised to bite. 

The barely there sliver of power was tiny, but it was also more than enough.

As you stood your ground and glared daggers at Nora, her fair skin paled impossibly further when she felt the dark magic seeping from you. The pathetic wards were momentarily forgotten as your magic reared its ugly, corrupted head, conveying to the witch that under no uncertain circumstances would you be an easy target. She could try to kill you, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Nora yelped, jumping away from you as a deafening boom sounded from beneath your feet. The floorboards groaned and strained before a large crack appeared underfoot and spiderwebbed across the room, stopping just short of where the woman now stood a handful of feet away. You enjoyed the moment while it lasted, relishing in the strain that lifted from your shoulders as you expelled the tiny bit of the pent up magic. Then as quickly as the power had appeared, it vanished, receding back beneath your skin and falling dormant under the renewed intensity of the wards. 

Nora’s eyes were wider than saucers as she stared unblinkingly at you, fear and apprehension alike overshadowing her pretty features. Your resolve hardened as you stood up straighter, a silent challenge reflected in your eyes. The look said everything words couldn’t, but you still opted to say, “Thanks for the clothes.”

The threat in your gaze registered fully, and without another word to you, Nora dropped the box she’d been holding and sped out of the room, not once looking back. 

***

Everything was shaking. The ground, the columns that stretched high within the cavernous room, and even the air seemed to quake with the power Ranrok had unleashed. You threw your hands out to steady yourself, watching on in horror as an unnatural creature crafted from pure pain erupted from the repository. It looked like a dragon– moved like a dragon– but the thing barreling towards you was in fact nothing of the sort. The transformed version of Ranrok flapped its gargantuan wings before banking left and dipping down out of sight, and your gaze fell on Professor Fig, already staring at you. 

He had never looked at you like that before. Saddened. Confused. Disappointed. 

He’d never once believed that you would claim the repository’s power for yourself– had always trusted you to make the right decisions time and time again. Even after reminding you of Isidora’s folly and the consequences that had followed her into death, you hadn’t yielded to him. 

“Isidora wasted her ability trying to save people from themselves. I will not let others dictate what I do with this– my– power,” you had said. 

The crestfallen expression on Professor Fig’s face had remained up until now. Your chest hurt at the sight, but before you could apologize to him or justify your reasoning, the beast that was now Ranrok soared overhead, knocking thick slabs of rock free from the ceiling of the cavern. There was no time to react as a massive boulder whistled through the air, heading straight for the Professor. 

He broke eye contact in the seconds before his demise, raising his arm above his head as though to protect himself from the inevitable. The chunk of rock landed with a booming crunch, and your stomach lurched vehemently. 

No…

No, he couldn’t be–

It wasn’t right– there was no way–

You reached out, your foot lifting to move towards the place Professor Fig had just been standing, but that first step was ultimately your last. The second your boot touched down against the rocky overhang, you were weightless– falling backwards as the earth crumbled beneath you and sent you plunging down into the darkness.

Into the belly of the beast. 

***

Your eyes snapped open abruptly, the darkness of the night leaching into your room and imbuing you with panic. For those first ten seconds of consciousness, you thought you were still beneath Hogwarts. That is, until the sight of the canopy overhead settled your nerves. 

Not for long, however. 

A vicious, skull splitting headache assaulted you the moment you tried rolling over in bed, stilling your movements and pulling a pained groan from your chapped lips. Your ears were ringing, and though it was dark, your vision was blurry. Beyond the banisters of the four-poster bed, everything was hazy and out of focus. You couldn’t even read the clock on the mantle, and you gave up trying after a sharp, concentrated bolt of pain shot through your head in protest of your efforts. 

Pushing yourself up slowly on shaking limbs, you became acutely aware of your own sweat-slick skin. The shirt you wore was one of the ones Nora had given you, and the soft cotton stuck to your clammy skin, chilling you to the bone and causing you to shiver uncontrollably. Moving imbued you with the overwhelming urge to vomit, bile rising up in your throat as you tried to swing your legs over the edge of the bed to make for the bathroom. 

Uncoordinated as the day you were born, your legs gave out the second you tried standing, and you collapsed to the floor in a trembling, sweaty heap as your bed-mussed hair fell into your face. Despite the struggle that came with trying to see further than two feet in front of you, when you turned your head to the side to glance out the windows, you could make out the distinct sight of your reflection in the glass, the red sparks that crackled across your skin telling you everything you needed to know. 

The repository magic was begging– no, demanding to be let loose. 

It had been too long since you’d used it fully, the power taking on something of a snowball effect as it accumulated more and more until it was straining painfully from within. You had to get out– as far from the wards as physically possible. You didn’t have your wand, so there would be no way to channel your abilities precisely, but at the very least you could let the overload of dark magic expel itself however it saw fit. The alternative was a very painful death that you weren’t too keen on experiencing. 

Forcing yourself up onto your unsteady legs, you stumbled to the bedroom door and shouldered it open, dragging your feet to the staircase before practically sliding down the steps on your bottom. The dull throb in your tailbone was nothing compared to the intense pain that wracked the rest of your body. Using the wall for support, you shuffled into the dining room, noting through your crippling headache that none of the doors were being guarded this late at night. Either Sebastian had taken more people with him to London or the Ashwinders in the house had grown complacent after three days of hardly seeing you. Regardless, you weren’t complaining in the slightest as you dragged yourself to one of the sets of doors you had yet to go through. 

Locked. 

Dammit.

With effort, you turned and made your way to the other side of the dining room, virtually falling against the handle before you tried twisting the knob. That one was locked too, and a half-sob slipped from your lips as panic started to sink in. The jagged, red bolts that pulsated against your skin were coming in faster waves now, silently urging you to move quicker before it was too late. Your only other option in the room was the door to the garden, but you already knew there was no way out that way. Still, it was your best bet. 

You didn’t know if the gods were being merciful or cruel when the garden door opened. It was just your luck to find an unlocked exit that offered no clear cut way off of the property. 

Pointlessly, your hands shoved against the cobblestone wall closest to you, as if that would get you anywhere. Dizziness met you when you craned your neck back to stare up at the top of the stone barrier before you, the wards seemingly sensing the growing magic within you and working even harder to stifle it. You felt like you were suffocating. With as much effort as you could muster, you dug your fingers into the divots of the wall and hoisted yourself up a few inches, then jammed your foot into whatever space you could find below to push yourself up higher. 

Another wave of pain rippled through you and caused you to cry out as your limbs spasmed, and you fell pathetically back against the grass with your knees folded under you as your fingers twitched uselessly. Your palms stung where they had scraped against the rough stone of the wall, but it was a far cry from the torment Isidora’s magic inflicted upon you. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you would try clawing your way out of here,” came a vaguely familiar voice, but you didn’t have the strength to turn around and face whoever it was. With a heavy thud, your head tipped forward to rest against the cool cobblestone, and through the insistent waves of agony that gripped you, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Your head lolled weakly to the side, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the red headed Ashwinder you hadn’t set eyes on since your first day in the house. 

What was his name again? Sebastian had said it to you once. James? John? Something with a ‘J’. His gray eyes were narrowed, his maskless face donning an expression of obvious suspicion as he gauged your pitiful state against the ground, and you dimly noted the fading bruise from the candelabra you’d thrown at him still decorated his forehead. Another surge of the repository’s power rolled through you suddenly, and you clenched your molars together hard in a bid to fend off the piteous moan that threatened to spill from your scratchy throat. 

The Ashwinder couldn’t conceal the blatant horror that spread across his face as he watched the dark magic crackle over your skin, and he drew in a sharp breath before taking a tentative step back. “What the fuck is happening?” 

It hurt to force the words out, but you beat back the raw, irritating pain that came with speaking to convey the direness of the situation. “Out. I have to get out.” 

“Out where!? You’re fucking glowing– what– shit, what’s going on?” 

Great, he was panicking. This was exactly what you didn’t need. “Take me outside,” you growled, the words almost breathless as they left you. “No wards– or else I’m pretty sure I’ll level the house to the ground and you with it.” 

“I– what? If this is your idea of threatening me, you’re–”

“It’s not a threat!” you barked, your fear clearer than glass in that moment. “It’s a promise, I can’t–” another wave coursed through you, and you whimpered before curling in on yourself even more. “I can’t control it,” you whispered.

To his credit, the man seemed to genuinely consider your request instead of outright refusing– though it probably had more to do with the unmistakable aura of dark magic that emanated from you. 

“If you escape outside the wards, I’m done for. How do I know you won’t just apparate away the second you’re free?” 

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t know– that he would just have to trust you. But the power pushing against your skin intensified in that instant, and you doubled over against the grass as a loud, grating cry tore from your lips. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Fuck– fuck!” he yelled, raking his hands through his already messy hair as he stared down at you incredulously. “You better not make me regret this.”

The Ashwinder closed the distance between you both and grabbed you by the arm, hoisting you upright despite your mewls of pain before looping your arm around his neck. He supported the majority of your weight as he half-dragged you through the dining room towards one of the previously locked doors before charming it open. As the two of you made your way down the hallway, he shuddered against you from the palpable force of the dark magic that radiated from your near-boneless body, and the next thing you knew, you were outside again– only this time in the front of the house. 

As he stumbled towards the end of the gravel path that led towards a set of iron gates, the wards grew fainter, and more of the repository’s power started to slip free from its shackles. The red head glanced sideways at you, picking up his pace the best he could before muttering under his breath, “Sebastian is going to kill me.” 

Sebastian would be the least of his concerns if he didn’t speed things along. 

Finally, the two of you crossed the threshold of the gates, and the telltale weight of the wards lifted completely from your shoulders. With your last remaining bit of strength, you wrenched your arm free from the Ashwinder and collapsed to the ground, crawling an additional few feet away from him as the magic erupted from you with the force of a steam train. 

You were certain your screams could be heard from miles away as all of the pain held within Isidora’s stored magic ripped from you. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before; it felt like your skin was being peeled away, and like your nails were being pried off. Like your bones were being broken, mended, then broken all over again. The emotional pain that came with all of it was just as bad. The kind of hurt that went hand in hand with mourning, fear, anger, and countless other emotions overwhelmed your fried brain and left you crying in earnest. The Cruciatus curse Sebastian had cast on you all those years ago couldn’t amount to a fraction of what a repository full of hoarded pain was doing to you. 

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your screams dwindled into muffled sobs and you were left twitching against the dirt. Despite your silent pleading to the gods to let you pass out in the throes of agony, you’d remained awake for every torturous second, and by now you desperately wanted to lose consciousness. The dark nothingness that sleep offered looked like a blessing next to the lingering feeling of the dark magic pulsating through you. 

You heard the Ashwinder say something from somewhere near the gate, then another voice responded in turn– rough, stern, and familiar– before a pair of solid arms were scooping you off of the ground. The weight of your eyelids was too much to fight, and your head lolled listlessly against a firm chest as you lay in a boneless heap against the warm body that carried you. It was all too easy for your mind to finally slip away as the sound of a door closing reached your ears, and then that blissful nothingness you had craved an eternity ago was there to greet you. 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Turns out Merlin is more than Bilingual??

A continuation of Merlin Is Bilingual, in which The Gang find out, bit by bit, that Merlin actually speaks a whole bunch of languages. They think this is the coolest shit ever.

Warning: I am using google translate for all of this. If you confidently speak any of the languages used here and I’ve made a mistake in word order or whatever, then let me know and I can edit :D

Ok. So.

The Gang are already confounded enough by Merlin’s previous rant in Rural Essetirian. But when Merlin explains to Arthur, and Lancelot and Gaius explain to the others—that Common was Merlin’s second language, not first—they become less speechless and more... well, more than curious, but not quite demanding.

Gwaine wants to know as many swear words as he can possibly memorise, though stops pulling them out during his friendly bickers with Merlin because it’s an automatic loss in whatever they’re arguing about. His pronunciation is terrible, and Merlin always laughs at him. Leon will occasionally wave something, most frequently some kind of weapon, in the air and point to it with an excited and questioning grin; Merlin will raise an eyebrow before chuckling and telling him what it is in Rural Essetirian. I feel like Percival is the only one to request actual lessons in the language and Merlin is like... ecstatic, because the only place he gets to speak it properly anymore is Ealdor, which he doesn’t visit as often as he’d like. Plus it’s considered slightly rude to speak a different language among others who can’t understand it; the knights’ new habit of joining Merlin on his trips home means he doesn’t even get to speak it much then either.

It’s a few months later as Arthur is holding audiences with the Kingdom’s citizens that a family walks in, and the previous reveal is... expanded on. They look scared, confused, like they had no real idea what was going;  their faces are dirty and tired looking, as if they hadn’t slept in an actual bed in weeks. The mother, in her early thirties, carries a young girl in her arms, barely a toddler, and a slightly older child clutches her hand, cowering behind her torn skirts.

Arthur sends them a comforting smile, leaning forward in his throne slightly to wave at the child before focusing his eyes back on the woman:

“There’s no need to be afraid. What’s your name, how can we help?”

His words only seem to upset her more and she shakes her head, eyes darting around the room as her shaky voice echoes out:

“Je... je ne sais pas. Pas d'anglais. Je ne connais pas l'anglais... No... no English.”

Arthur’s face falls as he realises the issue, eyes roaming over the room as he commandingly asks:

“Does anyone recognise the language? Or know anyone that might? Speak up, we can’t help them if we can’t communicate with them. Any-”

Merlin steps forward from his place behind the throne, but doesn’t look at The King as he walks off the dais, waving like Arthur had at the hidden child and then smiling at the woman:

“Français? Êtes vous Français?“

The woman’s face lights up and she lets out a huge sigh of relief as she smiles. The members of the wider council look a little confused, but otherwise they appear simply relieved that someone is able to help. Arthur however, and the Round Table knights that are present (only Leon and Gwaine today, unfortunately) struggle to keep their shocked mouths closed as Merlin smiles and nods before turning back to the King:

“French, give me a moment, Sire.”

Arthur just furrows his brow in confusion as he waves for Merlin to continue, shooting a confused expression at Leon stood at his other side before looking back down to his manservant, effortlessly speaking with the woman in French, apparently:

“Avez-vous traversé l'océan juste pour arriver ici?“

The woman shakes her head, but doesn’t panic again, continuing to relax as she focuses her attention on Merlin; instead of Arthur:

“Non. Notre maison est près de la frontière côtière. Notre récolte a échoué, nous mourons de faim, personne là-bas ne parle anglais.-“

She glances at The King worriedly before looking back to Merlin again:

“-Nous sommes désespérés. Les voyageurs disent que Le Roi est gentil.“

Merlin’s gentle smile grows as he nods, glancing back to Arthur himself and relaying the message:

“They’re from an all French village near one of the coastal borders. The crop failed, the people are starving, desperate. They heard of the kindness of The King from travellers, and came to request aid.”

Arthur nods in thanks, and still a little confusion, before looking to Leon:

“Do we have any knights that speak French? I can’t afford to send Merlin that far away just as a translator, and it would be unwise to send them back with food and no guard.”

He’s vaguely aware of Merlin quietly translating to the woman, but the servant turns around to answer the question before Leon even has time to shake his head no:

“Sir Lancelot is of French decent, he speaks the language. He could go, with a few others as protection? If you think that’s acceptable of course, My Lord.”

To the court it looks as though the servant is simply being respectful (even though making his own suggestions is still bordering treason) but Arthur recognises the slight sarcasm in his tone when he says The King’s title, settling a short, withering glare on him before clearing his face and nodding in agreement, only slightly taken aback by Lancelot apparently also knowing French:

“That sounds appropriate. Inform our guests that we will send out a small group with grain supplies to support them for a few months whilst they replant at the beginning of next week. We can put them up in the servant’s quarters until then if they can stay out of the way. Or help, for pay.”

Merlin smiles slightly, proudly, before nodding and turning back to the woman as Arthur murmurs for Gwaine to go fetch Lancelot:

“Nous pouvons aider-”

~

The conversation that follows that Audience Day is abrupt, and loud (though not in anger, just in shock), once everyone bar The King, Leon, Gwaine, and Merlin have exited the room:

“When in hell did Sir Lancelot have time to teach you French?!”

Merlin looks surprised at the question, even a little confused, before he nods his head in realisation and answers The King:

“He didn’t, I already knew it fairly well when I came to Camelot. Will’s dad was French, taught us when we were young. I was a bit rusty, especially by the time Lance came back to Camelot, but it only took me a couple weeks to pick it up fluently. I’m surprised you haven’t heard us chatting away to each other.”

Arthur just looks at him incredulously as Gwaine laughs, clapping the servant on the back:

“You never cease to amaze, mate.”

With that, the knight wanders from the room, happy with the explanation and not requiring anything else as he laughs down the corridor. Arthur just shakes his head as Leon slowly asks:

“So... you don’t only speak two languages?”

Merlin purses his lips and shakes his head with a raised eyebrow:

“Uh... no, definitely not. It’s a skill I suppose, I’ve always been good at picking up other tongues.”

Arthur just rubs his eyes tiredly as Leon nods, impressed, glancing to his King for his next cue:

“Right, well... well done, I suppose, and... thank you for your help today. You’re dismissed, go finish whatever it was you were doing this morning, and do try to bring my dinner on time today, Merlin.”

The servant just smirks, previous conversation forgotten as he sarcastically bows, giving Leon a friendly smile and wave before he leaves the room. Leon raises an uncharacteristic eyebrow at The King, in this moment, his friend:

“Who knew, hey? Merlin is quite the extraordinary person, wouldn’t you say, Sire?”

Arthur waves a hand at him, blushing slightly when he notices the raised eyebrow and leading question:

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do me a favour and check on the squires, they always slack off on Audience Day because they know neither of us are there to yell at them.”

Leon smirks as he bows, not saying another word as he exits the room.

~

The others very quickly hear about this. Gwen and Gaius aren’t surprised: Lance has been teaching Guinevere French for months, and Gaius not only lives with Merlin and already knew, he likely wouldn’t have been fazed even if he hadn’t known; Merlin’s antics never really catch him off guard anymore.

They quickly demand demonstrations of the pair’s apparent prowess, at which point Merlin and Lancelot spend the rest of the evening talking shite about everyone in front of them, much to Gwen’s amusement.

The next time something wacky happens, all of them are out on a quest in another Kingdom (with permission of course, but without help), looking for some lost, Camelot relic believed to be somewhere nearby.

It’s not urgently needed nor does it pose a threat, but frankly—not that he’d admit this—Arthur was just bored, and needed something to do that would take him away from the city for a couple of weeks. Everyone has grown used to Merlin and Lancelot (and sometimes Gwen) switching between English and French, sometimes within the same conversation, sometimes within the same sentence, even. They’ve even grown used to Merlin and Percival’s quiet, daily lessons by the fire in the evening. The knight is picking it up rather quickly, and can hold a few basic conversations; soon enough, everyone is listening in on their little sessions. No one else is any good at it, but something warm flickers in Merlin’s chest when he notices his friends paying attention.

It’s when they reach the village closest to the cave that the maps were leading them to that it happens. The sign outside what the group assumes is an Inn is not only not written in English, it seems to have an entirely different alphabet. They all stand below it with furrowed brows, and it’s Elyan that pipes up first:

“That doesn’t bode well. I don’t even know if that’s a word or just... pictures.”

Percival holds out a hand, trying to stay optimistic with a cheeky grin sent to The King:

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. We’re in Nemeth, everyone speaks English here, someone will be able to help.”

Arthur sighs and raises an eyebrow at the knight’s words:

“When have we ever been that lucky?”

Percival’s smile doesn’t falter, but Gwaine snorts and nods in agreement at his words. They all stand and... strategically bicker over whether they should bother trying to get rooms or should just suck it up and camp in the woods, when Merlin comes out from the building, waving behind him with a grin, and yelling a friendly:

“Spasibo! Ya prinesu ikh vsekh seychas.-”

He turns to the dumbfounded group, who hadn’t even realised he’d left, and quickly launches into a fast-paced explanation, seemingly without noticing their confusion:

“Could only get us two rooms, it’s all they had left. I’ve paid half now, they said if we take care of the lone Wyvern that’s causing trouble a mile or so North then we don’t have to pay to second half. I managed to haggle us a free meal tonight as well, but if we want anything for the morning we’ll have to pay. I reckon the caves are only a couple of miles away, so I booked us two nights, I figured as long as nothing goes horribly wrong, that should do us fine. Anything else?”

Arthur sags, feeling just a touch humiliated as he responds:

“So there’s someone in there who speaks English after all...”

Merlin frowns slightly and shakes his head, raising an eyebrow before he slowly speaks:

“No... Arthur, did you not here me? Do you not see the sign?-”

He gestures up to the same sign they were all arguing over a few moments ago:

“-It’s a Migrant Village. Only about fifteen people actually live here permanently, everyone else are travellers going too and from the East of the Mainland. Pretty much everyone speaks Russian, or a localised version of it at least. The only English speaker is some old man on the other side of the village apparently, but I figured why bother going to fetch him if I could just do it. There was a little bit of a barrier, because I learnt so long ago and haven’t spoken it in years, but we got there in the end.”

Everyone just stares at him with wide eyes, until he frowns again and steps back defensively, crossing his arms:

“What?”

Arthur clears his throat and nods slowly to himself before responding, his voice measure and monotone:

“Merlin. Are you telling me you know... Russian?”

Merlin smiles and nods once, proud of himself:

“Yep! There was this one merchant that passed through our village on his journey between Camelot and the Essetirian capital, about twice a month. My mum always put him up on the floor in the kitchen for a night or two, and in return he gave us a few bits and pieces that he hadn’t sold, books and things mostly. He spoke Russian and very little English, so we taught each other. I was already fluent in Rural Essetirian, English, and almost French when I first met him, so it wasn’t too difficult to pick up a fourth language. Like a said before, I’ve got a talent for tongues I guess.-”

He turns away with nothing but a shrug, either not noticing or ignoring everyone’s dumbfounded stares as he wanders back over to the door, speaking to them over his shoulder:

“-Come on! They said they’ll start taking orders for food in an hour or so and I imagine you lot want to squabble over who’s sleeping with who.”

~

The next time it happens, it's only the next day, and Arthur sort of sees it coming. They've slayed the Wyvern—Arthur figured it would be easier to do on the way there than on the way back—and are wandering around a religious looking cave, trying to figure out where they should be looking.

In the centre of the cavern there’s a table covered in candles and mirrors and scraps of cloth, and the gang are reminded of some sort of shrine, to who though, or what, they've no clue. Not yet.

Merlin had been feeling odd since they got within a mile of their destination, though obviously hadn't said anything, just shot an uneasy look Lancelot's way and muttered a quiet "Quelque chose semble bizarre. Soyez prêt.". His warily curious gaze is focused on a locked door at the back of the room when Arthur’s voice rings out:

“Merlin!-”

When he turns around, The King has his eyes focused downwards towards some sort of placard set in the stone:

“-I suppose that it’s fair to assume you know more than four languages?”

A few of the knights crowd around Arthur to see what he’s staring at and nod in understanding; Merlin slowly wanders over, a confused frown on his face:

“Oh yeah, way more... Why?”

Arthur finally looks up, gesturing impatiently for the servant to hurry up:

“I recognise this language, but I can’t place it. I figure knowing our luck it’ll be the one tongue in all the Kingdoms that you somehow don’t know, but it’s worth asking,-”

He steps to the side as Merlin finally reaches the group, allowing the other man to stand in place and stare down at the foreign writing:

“-do you know it?”

Merlin tenses in place as his eyes find the words etched into the stone. He gulps and looks up at Arthur with a wary frown. The King takes notice of his sudden change in disposition, furrowing his brows in worry; he’s about to say something, to ask what’s wrong, when Merlin clears his throat and looks back down, forcing himself to relax:

“Yeah, I recognise the language, but I don’t speak it. Sorry.”

He tries to walk away, but Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place with both his grip and his annoyed stare:

“Well what is it? We can always take note of it, get someone to translate, and come back.”

Merlin just shakes his head:

“No one will translate that, not for you, Arthur. It’s...-”

He gulps and looks away again, before sighing and looking back:

“-It’s the Old Language.”

A few of the knights raise eyebrows but Leon nods in understanding, quietly answering Arthur’s unasked, confused question:

“Uther outlawed it, claimed it was the source of magic.”

Arthur nods and takes in a breath, understanding all of a sudden as he looks back down at the placard, still not letting go of Merlin’s tense shoulder:

“Ah, of course, the language of the Old Religion, Sorcery.”

Merlin huffs slightly and shakes his head, staring like Arthur at the words with a frustrated frown:

“Just the Old Language. It was the time’s version of Common. I mean... magical spells and enchantments take... inspiration from the Old Language, but you can’t just say a few words and expect magic to happen, it takes intent and power. Uther outlawed a whole language, had thousands upon thousands of books and people burnt, because he was ignorant. You can’t just...-”

He looks up at Arthur with an even deeper frown:

“-you can’t expect anyone to translate this for you. Because according to your father, and now you, that’s admitting to be an evil-doer who deserves the pyre.”

Arthur meets his gaze with wide surprised eyes, but quickly looks away. The awkward silence is thick, and though the knights desperately feel the need to walk away, they know that any movement they make would bring unwanted attention upon themselves. Arthur wipes a hand down his suddenly tired face and looks back to Merlin with a slightly melancholy expression:

“Yes, well, we all know my father was wrong about a great many things, magic being one of them. I hadn’t actually planned on telling any of you this until I was much further into it, but if mentioning that I’m privately drafting up a ban repeal is what it takes to get Merlin to admit he so obviously knows the Language of... sorry, the Old Language, then that is what I shall do,-”

He frowns slightly:

“-Or what I've just done, I suppose.”

Gwaine mutters a quiet “wasn’t expecting that” under his breath, Elyan and Percival let out soft gasps, Lancelot stares with wide eyes and does everything in his power to stop himself from looking at Merlin, Leon nods and smiles to himself proudly, and Merlin... well. Merlin stares with an open mouth for a worrying amount of time, until Arthur clears his throat, nods to the placard, and awkwardly says:

“So?”

The servant’s mouth slams shut and he vaguely register the ache in his teeth as he glances back down at the words before looking back to Arthur, once again with a wary frown:

“You’re... legalising magic?-”

Arthur huffs and looks away as he nods, gesturing weakly to the placard again:

“-And you’re not just saying that... to get me to hypothetically admit to something that you’re going to be angry about later?”

The King’s eyes turn just a little bit sad as he looks at Merlin and shakes his head softly. The knights look on in suspense as the King fills the silence with gentle words:

“I wouldn’t do that, Merlin. If you really don’t know how to read it, then fine. The tapestry isn’t that important anyway, we can always come back sometime next year—when things have settled down after the repeal—with a guide who can translate.”

Merlin keeps his analytical gaze on The King for a few more moments before letting out a breath and relaxing his shoulders:

“No, I... no, it’s fine. I can... I can translate it.”

Arthur smiles softly and steps out of the way again, finally letting go of Merlin’s shoulder so he can move back in front of the placard. He stares down at it with a scholarly squint, muttering under his breath as everyone waits with bated breath. He gets to a word near the end, it’s capitalised and underlined in faded gold paint, and his eyes go briefly wide as he glances up at the shrine. It’s Percival, with a soft hand on his shoulder and a quiet mutter in Rural Essetirian that breaks him from his stupor:

“Merlin, is something wrong?”

He whips his head around to look at the knight with a slight gasp before he relaxes again:

“Oh, nothing. Uh... nothing.-”

He turns back to drag his gaze across the rest of the knights before focusing on Arthur:

“-Uh, the Old Language is... different. There’s a lot of divergence in current culture and the culture back then and the language reflects that; it’s a lot more... faith oriented, and intense. There are some words and phrases and sentiments that just don’t translate directly into Common, but I’ll try to get the meaning across as best I can.-”

Arthur just nods silently and waits for Merlin to continue. The servant puts a finger to the start of the writing, and drags it across under the words as he slowly speaks:

“-Here stands... our? Like a collective, but not just for... people, for Gods and spirits as well, our meaning... a lot of beings, really. Next is a phrase for shrine or alter, but a lot... it’s a lot more than that. I don’t know how to describe it, it’s more important that a modern day Church, the language sort of implies that it’s almost a living entity in itself. Anyway, here stands our shrine, where we... gift? It’s a word meaning a lot of things, in this context it’s like a mix between gift and pray, though I suppose it’s the same thing. When you pray here you are gifting your faith, your belief, your power, to whatever, or whoever, it is you’re praying to. We gift our faith and trust in the Godling who will bring-”

Gwaine cuts him off with a wave of his hand and furrowed brows:

“Wait wait, what’s a Godling?”

Merlin frowns and purses his lips as he fiddles with his hands, trying to think of a suitable explanation as he looks up to the curious knights:

“It’s like... a baby God? I guess? A Godling is a human who has the potential to become a fully fledged God, but they haven’t gained the power or knowledge or experience or blessing necessary to actually make it there yet. A Godling is the beginnings of a God, before they’ve faced all the trials that prove they’re worthy, I suppose.-”

The others still look a little confused, but only because the concept itself is odd to them, not because they don’t understand what he’s saying. Arthur nods at Merlin to continue:

“-The Godling who will bring about peace and... balance? Balance in Common typically means between two things, this is more, this is balance on several levels in several dimensions; it’s total cosmic equilibrium. Bring balance into this world, the previous, and the next. We store our gifts here, so that he will... he will know he is trusted, and loved. By so many, and so much. He is the bringer of light, the restrainer of violence, the vibrancy in a meadow, the laughter on the wind. He is the darkness between stars, the... letter of blood, the wilt in winter, the screams through the fog. He is our Godling of Magic, and this be a place he can call home.”

Merlin’s voice gets quieter and quieter as he speaks, though no one has any trouble hearing him in the echoing cavern. His finger once again traces the golden-lined word, and Arthur is the one to quietly ask:

“That word, what is it?”

Merlin takes a few moments to respond, but clears his throat, not managing to stop himself from glancing to Lancelot before settling his gaze on The King:

“Oh, nothing important, just the name of the Godling this place is dedicated to.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, but before he can say anything, Gwaine lets out a loud huff and stomps away from the placard, Elyan and Percival’s amused gazes on him:

“I don’t see how any of that helps us find this damned tapestry. Why did we want it back so bad anyway? Why did whoever steal it leave it here?”

Lancelot snorts and Leon rolls his eyes, but Merlin is the one to answer, grateful for the distraction (he’s grateful for that a lot nowadays, when it comes to Gwaine, and he forces himself to stop wondering whether or not the other man knows more than he lets on) :

“It’s old, probably had a little magic woven into it. And it wouldn’t have been stolen, it was probably a gift, back from before the Pendragons when Camelot was peacefully ruled by magic. Whoever brought it here intended it as a gift to the Godling. It’ll be in a storage room somewhere in the back, I’d imagine.”

Gwaine turns around with a raised eyebrow:

“You mean to tell me that this wonderfully gorgeous and kind of spooky shrine, carved directly into a mountain, dedicated to an awfully powerful sounding, potentially human-looking, could-be-among-us, almost-God... has a storage room?”

Merlin just smiles and shrugs:

“Well... yeah? This place used to be heavily used. Small things like rocks and jewels and scraps of fabric can just be left in here, but bigger things can’t just be left to clog up the place. Their presence in the building is more important than being displayed all prettily.”

Gwaine shrugs in reluctant agreement, but when Merlin goes to wander off, back towards the back door, Arthur once again grabs his shoulder and pulls him around, pointing to the untranslated name with his spare hand, his eyebrow raised:

“The name actually... reads as it is in the Old Language. And it’s more of a title than an actual name anyway.”

Arthur frowns slightly and squints down at the word, trying to decipher the faded etching:

“Em... Emrys?-”

He says it as if it’s a question, the frown still present on his face. Merlin just nods as half the knights, bar Lancelot, who is evidently trying to hide his horrified surprise, are completely clueless, whilst the others look as though they might almost recognise it:

“-Emrys-”

When he says it again, he whispers it slowly, as if he’s rolling the syllables around in his mouth, trying to figure out how it’s supposed to sit on his tongue. He looks around the group, his lips parted for a moment before he speaks:

“-I know that name. I’m certain I’ve heard it before.”

Leon gasps and nods:

“Emrys! Iseldir, the Druid that healed me with the Cup of Life, mentioned that name. I was with them for a short while after I initially woke up, and he said... he said something about having Emrys on our side, that we could not fail, would not, with Emrys protecting us, fighting for us. He and his group must have faith in this... Godling, to be so sure that he was watching over us.”

Elyan shakes his head as Merlin sweats slightly, avoiding Lancelot’s gaze in particular:

“I thought Merlin said that Godlings are people, human people, before they... grow up, or whatever.”

Arthur nods his head and lets out a short laugh, though the others get the distinct impression that he wasn’t actually listening to their conversation:

“He’s a figure in prophecy, I think. Yeah, I knew I recognised the name, Emrys and some King or other, they’re important in Druidic myths, legend, fairytales. Something about peace and unification. And magic. I’ve seen similar things to this-”

He taps the placard absent-mindedly:

“-in Common, and various other languages that have been translated to me, whenever my father sent me on those stupid raids.-”

He frowns again, confused:

“-I was always under the impression that he was a slightly stronger than average sorcerer, nothing... God-like.”

Merlin speaks before he can help himself, and if Lancelot weren’t so anxious, he’d roll his eyes in exasperation:

“Warlock, actually.-”

Everyone looks to him in confusion, and his cheeks colour themselves pink as he frowns defensively:

“-Emrys is said to be a Warlock, not a sorcerer.”

Arthur just raises his eyebrow again:

“And the difference is?”

Merlin bites his lip and gulps and Arthur just rolls his eyes:

“Merlin. For the sake of the Gods. I am legalising Magic. Believe me, if you have any sort of weird, niche knowledge on it inside that thick skull of yours, I’ll be grateful, stop looking like you expect me to chop your head of at a moment’s notice.”

Merlin only just manages to stop himself from furiously muttering about the last ten years’ worth of expectations being difficult to overcome in a few short minutes, but he keeps it to himself, instead huffing and responding hotly:

“Sorcerers learn their craft, like you learnt how to fight with a sword, or how to read and write, anyone can do it, given they have the right resources. Warlocks are born with an innate ability to do magic, it’s a part of them, as necessary to living as breathing is. That’s not to say Warlocks are more powerful, some are born with so little natural magic they still need to learn spells and enchantments to be able to actually channel it properly, but some are born quite incredibly... powerful. Spills out of them uncontrollably if they don’t get to grips with it, kind of powerful. That’s rare though. Emrys is meant to be... one of the rare ones.”

Arthur nods along, and Merlin has to stop himself from being too visibly surprised at how well The King seems to be taking this. It’s Percival though, who injects with a quiet, but genuinely intrigued:

“How do you know all of this? All your other languages I get, but how did you learn the Old Language, and all this stuff about magic?”

Merlin bites the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with a lie that sounded convincing enough:

“I grew up in a rural village outside of Camelot. Lots of travellers, including the odd Druid, came through and... well, I liked to chat. I just never thought it... appropriate to bring up my knowledge before.”

Leon nods and mutters a quiet “fair enough” and though Arthur looks at him oddly, almost sadly, he doesn’t say anything more on the matter, simply nods in agreement and sighs before changing the topic back to the original matter:

“Anyhow, none of that helps us find out where this damned tapestry is.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and finally, finally, walks away from the placard, relaxing slightly as he gestures back to the door he was stood at earlier:

“This is the only passage that leads further into the mountain. There'll likely be a few overnight rooms, but the rest will probably be storage. I haven’t found a key so just... Percival can ram it or something.”

~

Lancelot and Merlin’s rushed, hushed French on the way back to the migrant village is what finally pushes Arthur over the edge from mildly frustrated (read: jealous) to actually annoyed. He huffs loudly and turns around, interrupting Lancelot’s whispered “Je ne peux pas croire que tu ne m'as pas dit!” :

“Oh for pities sake! How many languages do you know? So far we have Essetirian, Common, French, Russian of all things, and the Old Language??”

Merlin just looks up, eyes wide and frozen like a deer caught at the point of a crossbow bolt:

“Uh... We’re just speaking French... you’ve definitely heard us speak it be-”

Arthur rolls his eyes and turns to face the path again, huffing and ignoring his embarrassed flush as he interrupts once more:

“Answer the question Merlin.”

He’s vaguely aware of a few of the knights’ quiet laughter but he pays it no mind as Merlin whispers to himself:

“Prat.-”

And then loudly answers:

“-I don’t know. A few? I just... picked them up really quickly, grabbed as many books as I could and... figured them out. I didn’t have much else to do, and when I came to Camelot I was surrounded by even more people to learn from.”

It’s Gwaine that enquires this time:

“Wait, what languages have you learnt whilst living in Camelot?? I’ve only ever spoken to Common-born people.”

Merlin just smiles and shakes his head:

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not paying attention. A pretty big chunk of people speak Welsh, though it took me ages to pick that up. It’s... kind of complicated, and nothing like any of the others I already knew. Uhh... there’s a fairly small Gaeilge community tucked away in the Eastern corner of the lower town, same with Gàidhlig a few streets over.-”

At Elyan’s confused staring, Merlin quickly tags on:

“-Irish and Scottish. They’re... similar enough to learn, but don’t ever say they’re the same language, they’ll start chopping off ears and cutting out tongues. They’re friendly but also... competitive.-”

He frowns as he thinks for a moment, silently counting off on his fingers:

“-I... uh, I think those are the only ones I learnt in Camelot. Like I said, I knew all the others before I arrived, or at least mostly knew them and solidified my knowledge in passing, in my spare time. Like with my French and meeting Lance.”

The others nod on in bewildered understanding, but it’s Leon, ever the sensible one, who firmly replies:

“Right. I think it’s time you gave us an actual list of every language you know.”

Percival snorts in amusement and quietly agrees whilst everyone else nods along. Merlin just rolls his eyes, but complies when Arthur looks over his shoulder with an expectant raised eyebrow:

“Ok, so... uh. Common, obviously, Rural Essetirian, the Old Language, French, Russian, Irish and Scottish Gaelic, Welsh, out-of-a-book Spanish and Italian. Um... I guess I could get by in German? Maps and signs and simple conversation, but probably nothing too complex. Same with Mandarin,-”

Gwaine interrupts with a loud:

“Right, I know I’m probably the most well travelled of all of us, but where the hell is Mandarin from? And out-of-a-book Spanish?”

Merlin chuckles and dutifully answers:

“Mandarin is from Cathay, far East on the mainland. And out-of-a-book meaning I don’t really know slang or local dialects because I learnt solely out of a book, I’ve only actually spoken it aloud to like... maybe three natives max.-”

They all sort of nod again, though half of them look like the answer Cathay hadn’t really helped; they don’t question it:

“-I can get by speaking Mandarin, but I’ve no clue how to read or write it, they don’t just have a different alphabet, they have a whole different structure of written text, and I never got my head around it. Access to books that weren’t just the English phonetics of the words was basically impossible in a place like Ealdor. Anyway. My mum taught me the old dialect that use to be around in Nemeth, and also Latin, but I guess a lot of people know that nowadays.”

Leon snorts and nods:

“It’s the only other language I know,-”

Arthur visibly nods along in agreement, and when Merlin sneaks a peek at Gwaine, the secretly Noble knight also gives him a small, hidden nod:

“-But it’s impressive that you know it without being a Noble. I mean... all of that is impressive. Any more?”

Merlin laughs and shakes his head:

“Nah, though I’m always interested in learning more. I think I’d like to learn to read and write Mandarin and get fluent in German before I start a new one.”

They’re just passing through the clearing with the dead Wyvern in it—they weren’t sure whether they were expected to... deal with the corpse, or even how to, so they just settled with leaving it there for the locals to deal with—so they know they aren’t far away from the village as The First Knight is once again the first to respond, his words slow and careful:

“... Fair enough, Merlin. That’s quite the talent you have.”

The servant beams back at him, a sparkle in his eyes and a blush on his cheeks that only deepens when Arthur turns with a small, adoring smile on his face, to mutter:

“Hmm. You’re quite the extraordinary person, aren’t you, Merlin?”

~

The END!!

I hope y’all liked it!! Let me know!! I love reading all your comments and messages and anons and tags!! They make my day :D

[multifandomfanfic]

The Alley

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x reader

Warnings: oral (m receiving), some dirty talk, language, semi-public sexual acts

Summary: After a night of drinking, some feelings emerge between Eggsy and Y/N. It gets pretty hot and heavy.

Word Count: 2.1K

Request?: Nope!

Eggsy Unwin. If you had asked me how I felt about him a day ago, I would have told you that we were just friends. Maybe even best friends. I wasn't sure what we'd become after last night. It's difficult to think clearly right now. Our actions in the alleyway would alter our perceptions of one another for the rest of our lives. We weren't the same people anymore.

*the day prior*

"Hello, Y/N." 

I turned around to face Eggsy Unwin, the most charming and, by far, the most attractive of the Kingsmen. I was the only one who could tell him he was cute and charming without making him feel uncomfortable. We were practically joined at the hip after he landed me a job with the Kingsman. 

"Hello, Eggsy! You look dashing today!" 

I remarked sarcastically. It was the start of the workday, and he appeared especially tired. His unkempt hair was concealed by his white baseball cap. His sweatpants were wrinkly, and so was his fitted white shirt. He wasn't dressed for work.

"Oh, fuck off!"

He gave me a friendly punch on the arm. I flashed him a sly grin. 

"Did you have a long night?" 

He scoffed. 

"Not in the way you're probably imagining."

"Oi! Eggsy! Y/N!"

We both turned in unison to look at Merlin, who stood tall in front of us. He gave Eggsy a stern look before inspecting his attire.

"What on earth are you wearing?!?"

Eggsy shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I was in a hurry this morning."

He rolled his eyes and met my gaze.

"Make sure he changes before tonight's party."

I raised my eyebrows.

"What party?"

Merlin appeared surprised.

"Didn't you hear?! It's to commemorate the Kingsman's anniversary."

I cast a glance over at Eggsy. He raised his hands.

"Hey. This is also the first time I've heard of it."

I locked my gaze once more on Merlin.

"Hm." 

He furrowed his brow. 

“Oh! You guys can look at my invitation.”

He relaxed his face and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded-in-half piece of paper. He held out his hand and I took it gingerly from him.

Merlin gave us a slight nod of approval. He turned on his heels and stepped out of the training room. I quickly unfolded the invitation and skimmed it over. I scoffed and handed it to Eggsy.

"Who thought it would be a good idea to throw an anniversary party at a fucking nightclub?!"

Eggsy furrowed his brows, causing wrinkles to form on his brows.

"What?!"

He was astonished and open-mouthed as he read the invitation.

"This is going to be fucking mental."

"This is going to be a disaster Just a bunch of irresponsible agents who are busy getting blackout drunk."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Eggsy completed reading the invitation and returned it to me.

"Perhaps it'll be entertaining."

I bit the inside of my mouth

"At least, I'll be able to walk there instead of worrying about getting a ride."

My house was only about a ten-minute walk away from the club. I could simply walk there instead of worrying about who would drive me home and whether or not they were sober enough.

Eggsy drew his arms around his chest.

"I can call a cab."

My weight shifted.

"You know... If we're both drunk by the end of the party, you're free to spend the night at my house."

Oh my god. Why did I just say that?!

Eggsy's head shot up the instant the statement left my mouth. I was flushing hotly. My reply elicited a chuckle from him.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" He smirked smugly.

I opened my lips to speak, my words faltering.

"No! I-I was just-"

Eggsy burst out laughing and wiped a tear from his eyes.

"I was just messing with you!"

He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“See you tonight Y/N!”

He walked past me. As he passed, I caught a whiff of his cologne. Eggsy wore cologne all the time. It didn't matter what the occasion was. When I asked him, he only answered, "Is it so horrible that I want to smell good all the time?"

I shook my head to shake myself out of my stupor.

"Shit." I muttered beneath my breath. I cringed. "What was I thinking!? I sounded like a moron!"

I took a deep breath, attempting to clear my mind of the embarrassing interaction. I still had the rest of the work day left. I should attempt to concentrate.

-----

*later that night*

The club was exactly as horrible as I had feared. I used to be able to come out of my shell at parties, but I wasn't in the mood tonight. I was dazed by the bright lights and loud music. I was dressed in an outdated cocktail dress that was far too small for me. I was continually shifting I n a futile attempt to make myself more comfortable.  My heels were excessively large, and they slid around my feet, causing blisters. Nothing felt quite right. I ran my hands through my hair. The alcohol was the only thing keeping me going. My thoughts were already hazy.

How many drinks have I had?

I had absolutely no idea. I observed someone pushing their way through the crowd out of the corner of my eye.

"Y/N!"

Over the music, Eggsy yelled.

He was clearly drunk. His white button-down shirt was untucked, and three of the buttons were undone. His black dress pants were a little saggy. As a result, they began to pool somewhat at his ankles. His black dress shoes had gotten scuffed. He looked like a hot mess.

"Hello, Eggsy!"

As he walked, his legs wobbled. He sat on the comfortable sofa across from you after stumbling in every direction except forward. Due to my drunken state, it was difficult for me to fix my gaze on him. The couch was arranged around a tiny table that was strewn with drinks.

"This table has no fucking room!"

Eggsy swiped the glasses off of the table to the ground. A tremendous smash ensued, but it was muted by the agonizingly loud music.

When the waitress approached our table, Eggsy requested a gin martini, stirred. I requested two shots of vodka. I needed to stop drinking for the evening, but I wanted to finish with a few shots.

Eggsy and I discussed virtually every topic. Everything was 10 times funny because we were both extremely drunk.  I drank my second vodka shot and felt a feeling of unease wash over me.

"Oh fuck." I felt as if I were on a swaying boat. I was going to vomit.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

I covered my mouth with my hand. Eggsy leapt from his seat.

"Let's get you outside. I think you need some fresh air."

Eggsy lifted me from the couch and slung my arm over his shoulder.

He assisted me, or rather, I assisted him, outside. We rested our backs on the club's outer brick wall. I felt better as soon as the fresh air hit my face. My head throbbed as I leaned against the hard wall.

"Oh my God, I had to get out of there."

Eggsy gave a nod.

"Me too."

We sat there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but rather peaceful silence. As the booze began to take effect, I felt pure ecstasy.

"What do you want right now?"

I inquired, my words slightly slurred together as I spoke. Eggsy chuckled with his mouth closed.

"A blowjob."

He burst out laughing. I kept my mouth shut. I stared at a puddle near my feet, contemplating my next move.

"If you wanted, I could give you one."

Eggsy's grin had vanished.

"Here?!"

I turned my head to face him.

"Yeah. Why not?"

I had more confidence in this moment than I ever had before in my life. Eggsy cocked an eyebrow.

"We are right in the middle of a fucking alley!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Don't be such a pussy. There's no one nearby."

I was correct. At this hour of the night, this area was usually bustling with people. However, it was unusually quiet tonight.

Eggsy remained unconvinced. I got down on my knees in front of him and began unbuckling his belt. He didn't protest. The buckle clinked and his belt slid out of his pant loops with a satisfying woosh. I dragged his pants halfway down his thighs. I would have pushed them down more, but sitting butt naked on the filthy ground didn't sound appealing.

I shifted his boxers down just enough for his cock to pop free. I placed my hands on his hips. He tensed up under my touch, then instantly relaxed. I stroked his cock up and down a few times. Eggsy's breath hitched in his throat. 

I shouldn’t be doing this. He’s my friend.

I placed my hand back onto his hip. I licked a stripe from the base to the tip. I looked at him through my thick lashes. He threw his head back and sighed deeply.

Too late now.

I took him into my mouth and moved slowly at first. Eggsy reached down and entangled his hands in my hair. I took more of him into my mouth. He took my hair and formed it into a makeshift ponytail. Eggsy bucked his hips violently into my mouth. I gagged. 

“Sorry.”

His voice was thick with pleasure. It was breathy and undeniably sexy. I took his entire length into my mouth. I felt his cock hitting the back of my throat. This time I was able to control my gag reflex. 

Eggsy was a moaning mess. Sweat was forming on his brow. I had an idea.

I took my mouth off of his dick with a loud pop. I kneeled in front of him, my hands on his knees. 

“Why did you stop?” 

Oh my god his voice was sexy. 

I gave him a mischevios look up and down. My gaze lingering on his hard cock.

I gave him an up-and-down mischevios stare. My eyes lingering on his erect cock.

“You look hot... You should take off your shirt.”

Eggsy scoffed.

“You're the boss.”

He took his time unbuttoning his shirt. He was obviously getting a kick out of teasing me. I bit my bottom lip. He smirked playfully

He took his time undoing the buttons on his shirt. He was clearly having a good time teasing me. I bit my lower lip. He gave me a smug smirk. He completed unbuttoning his shirt after what seemed like an eternity.

"Would you be willing to do the honors?"

I yanked his drenched shirt away from his toned shoulders, throwing it to the side. I could feel myself getting wetter just by looking at him. His toned chest was riddled with sweat beads that clung to his skin. In the low light of the full moon, they glistened. His eyes glowed with hunger and need. They bore into mine.

"Do you like what you see, darling?"

His voice changed completly and was now low and raspy. I could tell he was eager for me to finish what I started. I smirked as I sucked on my teeth.

"You're hot. I'm shocked I haven't been tempted to suck your dick sooner."

Eggsy intertwined his fingers and placed his hands behind his head. Showing off his large arm muscles. 

“Please. Continue.”

He leaned back against the wall, watching me intently. 

“With pleasure.” 

I dipped my head back down, taking his entire cock into my mouth. Eggsy let out a satisfied moan. I hollowed out my cheeks, causing even more pleasure for Eggsy. 

“Fuck Y/N. Your taking my cock so well.”

His raspy voice echoed through my body. I was practically soaked at this point. 

I tasted his precum. His legs began to shake. I lightly played with his balls, causing his release to come sooner than he expected. He let out a final moan as his cum shot into my mouth. I swallowed it and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. 

As I raised my head to meet his eyes, I began to process what had just happened. At this point, I was too drunk and “in love” to care. Whether it was real or not, I wanted to feel it for a little bit longer. I wanted to feel like we were two teens that had fallen head over heels for each other. 

“My place?”

I asked. Eggsy nodded.

“Yeah. Get ready to be fucked so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

[weelittleweasley]

technicolor (f.w.)

prompt request by anon: it is said that when you meet your soulmate, you will know because the world that you knew in black and white would turn technicolor. during a harmless game of spin the bottle, you didn’t expect your soulmate to be revealed to you.

warnings: drinking, mentions of eating, mild language

pairing: fred weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

word count: 5.3k

The power of true love was life altering in your world. Literally. The world was painted in shades of blacks, whites, and grays. It always was for those who hadn’t met their true love, their soulmate, their one and only. It was said on the occasion that you had kissed your soulmate, the world before you would erupt into vibrant color. People spent their whole lives, searching for the person who brought color to them. 

Living in a dull, colorless world was mundane to say the least, but it was all you knew. The idea of living in a world of color was an exciting thought to say the least, but in a way it scared you. Suddenly the world as you knew it changing abruptly before your eyes because you had met someone that destiny created for you? It was a scary thought. But in your head, you had nothing to worry about. You didn’t plan on meeting your soulmate any time soon. 

Or so you thought.

Laying upside down on the common room couch, you flipped through the pages of a Quibbler, not really paying attention to the words on the page. You looked on either side of you, Katie painting her nails on your left and Alicia on the right making light chatter with Angelina. Needless to say, the four of you were bored out of your skull. It was a quiet Friday night, nothing happening in the common room. No parties, no quidditch match, no nothing. 

With a groan, you pull yourself up from your inverted position and speak, “So are we all just going to sit around here like a bunch of bums and wait for something exciting to happen?”

Katie sighs, “That’s even if something exciting happens.” She blows on her nails, shaking her hands back and forth to expedite the drying process. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

The two of you look to Alicia and Angelina who just shrug as you throw your head back in annoyance. “Well, someone think of something because I refuse to let a perfectly good Friday night go to waste,” you flop the Quibbler on the table in front of you and hold your arms across your chest. “What can we do to entertain ourselves?”

Alicia stands up and starts pacing, trying to think of something. “We could...sneak some food out from the kitchens? Convince a house elf to sneak us some sweets from dinner two nights ago. Those biscuits were so good,” she thinks out loud.

Katie groans, “The thought of food makes me sick. I ate so much at dinner tonight after Ron challenged me to see how many dinner rolls I could fit into my mouth.”

The thought of Katie with bread rolls in her mouth makes the group chuckle. “Okay, so food is out of the picture,” Alicia speaks with a soft smile. “What about a movie? I can see if Hermione would let me borrow her projector and we could watch one of those movies I have tucked away in my trunk,” she suggests, surveying the group’s reaction.

Angelina makes a sour face. “We had a movie marathon last week, I’d like to do something different,” she tells Alicia who rolls her eyes.

Alicia huffs, plopping herself back onto the couch. “Well, then I’m out of ideas, so you come up with something, Johnson.”

The group sits in a bored silence for a few moments before Angie breaks the silence. “Should I go bother Fred and George? Surely they’ll find something to do. They always make things interesting,” she speaks, raising her brows, gaging her audience’s reaction.

Katie rolls her eyes, “Merlin, Angie, if you want an excuse to see your darling Georgie, you can just say so.” You laugh at her comment and give Katie a teasing high five as Alicia giggles along. Angelina rolls her eyes and leans back on the couch. Angelina and George had been dating ever since sixth year when they kissed after their first date and they had seen the world in color, confirming their soulmate status. Katie mockingly starts teasing Angie now, “Meh, meh, I’m Angie, I love George, I see the world in color. Meh, meh, my sweater is green and not black like you guys see it, blah, blah,” making you cackle, throwing your head back in laughter, clutching your stomach.

You lean into Katie as you laugh, making her laugh harder as Angelina stands up, “Oh, piss off you two! I can’t help it that he’s my soulmate and I found him so early!”

“We’re just teasing you, Angie,” you wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes. “Go on, go fetch the twins. I’m sure they’ll think of something to do. Tell ‘em to bring Jordan with them if he’s around. Lee is always a good time.” Alicia nods in agreement.

With a small smile, Angelina darts off up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Alicia shakes her head, “That girl is whipped for the Weasley. I can’t believe she found her soulmate already. We’re not even eighteen yet.”

It was true. It wasn’t unheard of people finding their soulmates at a young age, but it surely wasn’t common. Most people were friends or knew their soulmates for a while before they were aware that they were in fact soulmates. For example, your parents both went to Hogwarts and we friends for years. It wasn’t until after four years after graduation that they realized they were soulmates. You smiled to yourself at the thought of your parents. You wished that you could have a soulmate story like theirs.

Katie folds her arms across her chest, “Quite frankly I hope I don’t meet my soulmate anytime soon. I feel like after you meet your soulmate, you’re expected to drop everything and be with them. But you have your whole lives ahead of you to spend time with each other. I’d rather be single and have fun and live my life in black and white for a while before seeing color with a soulmate.”

In a way you did agree with Katie. Most people who met their soulmate at a young age tended to drop everything in order to be there for their soulmate. Coordinating their lives and schedules to their soulmates, moving cities for them, planning their days around the other. It just seemed so intense. You were seventeen, you couldn’t drop everything right now for another person. 

Moments later, Angelina happily came down the stairs with a large smile on her face as George, Fred, and Lee all trailed behind her. “The entertainment has arrived, ladies,” George speaks with a big beaming smile on his face as you teasingly rolled your eyes.

You sit up and speak, “What entertainment did you bring, Georgie?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended at your comment. “Are we not enough for you, (Y/N)? Is our presence not enough?” George mockingly stumbles back. “Freddie, I feel faint! Catch me!”

Dramatically, Fred scoops up his twin brother as George pretends to faint. “Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), look at what you’ve done!” he mockingly screeches as you roll your eyes and giggle. Katie huffs a here we go as she leans back into the couch. The twins always put on a show when they were around you guys. You never minded it; they were quite funny when they wanted to be. “Quick, Lee, we need to revive him!”

Lee, now in on the joke, runs over to the coffee table and clear it quickly. “Bring him here!” he exclaims as Fred lays a fake limp George on the table as you laugh and Alicia scoffs.

“Good Godric, you three are a bunch of idiots,” she huffs with a smile on her face. No matter how much she hated to admit it, this was much better than sitting around and doing nothing.

Fred speaks, “Alright, Lee, give me the reviving potion,” sticking out his hand.

Even more dramatic than before, Lee pulls out a large bottle of fire whiskey from his satchel as he improvises an operatic song as he places it in Fred’s hands. Lee opens George mouth as Fred uncorks the bottle and pours a glug into George’s mouth. George swallows it and dramatically inhales. “I’ve been revived!” he exclaims as the boys cheer.

Katie perks up at the sight of fire whiskey. “Where in the hell did you get a bottle of that?” she sits up and grabs the bottle from Fred’s hands. Lee pulls out a few cups from his satchel and places them on the table, Katie immediately pouring everyone a glass of fire whiskey. 

Fred smiles, “It’s our emergency bottle. In case situations like this happen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Alicia speaks up, “And exactly how many emergency bottles do you boys have?”

The trio looks at each other before sighing and speaking as a chorus, “Four.”

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought,” she laughs before taking a cup of fire whiskey from Katie, Katie then handing you one. “Well, it’s better than nothing I guess.”

You look at the whiskey in your cup before sighing and taking a sip, the liquid burning your throat, but warming your chest up in all the right ways. A familiar sensation. You hum in contentment. “Better than nothing is damn right,” you smile as the twins chuckle. “What were you lot doing upstairs?”

Lee takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, “Same thing as you gals. Bored out of our skulls. However, these two numbskulls were trying to conjure up a plan to go pull a prank on Filch.” George snickers as Lee flicks the back of his head, earning a small ow. “Good thing you all were bored too otherwise I would have been dragged into that mess.”

Fred scoffs, “Oh please, you wish you could pull off a prank at the caliber that Georgie and I do. Isn’t that right, brother?” He turns to George who is already cuddled up next to Angelina on the love seat, arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close next to him. Fred rolls his eyes and makes a gagging sound. “You two make me sick.”

George just pulls Angie closer to his side as Angie blushes a deep crimson. “You’re just jealous, Freddie. I’ve got a hot girlfriend and I can see the world in color, making it quite obvious that you, dear brother, are green with envy.” Angie rolls her eyes, but still places a soft kiss to George’s cheek.

Fred shakes his head, “He’s gone soft, Lee. We’ve lost one of our bravest soldiers.” 

“Piss off,” Angie speaks up, defending her boyfriend as Freddie chuckles, lips turning into a gorgeous smile. “Now that we’ve all got our drinks, let’s really get the party started...” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Katie Bell, truth or dare.”

Katie groans and sips her fire whiskey before deciding what she wants to do. As she ponders, you see Fred scoot over to you as you giggle, him dragging his bum on the floor, making his way to you. Fred smiles up at you, “This seat taken?” he refers to the spot on the floor right in front of your legs.

You shake your head with a smile, “It’s got your name written all over it, Weasley.”

Fred gives you a cheeky grin, “Brilliant.”

He turns around and leans his back up against your legs and rests one of his arms on your knees. You and Fred were close friends. In fifth year when Angelina confessed to you that she had a crush on George, you started spending more time with the twins and developed a close relationship with them and Lee. You, in particular, got along with Fred like a house on fire. The two of you loved to crack jokes on the sidelines, teasing George and Angie, giggling and stealing little glances here and there.

Angelina always told you that you and Fred would make a cute couple. She insisted she saw the way that Fred looked at you, but you always brushed it off as if it were nothing. You and Fred were friends, nothing more, nothing less. A partnership would just totally ruin the vibe between the two of you. There was no point to it. Even though you may have always admired Fred’s looks from a far and his charming personality, you had finally convinced yourself that you and Fred Weasley were platonic.

As Fred leaned up against your legs, sipping on his whiskey, your eyes found Angie’s as she lifted her brows, looking at you knowingly, sending you a look that said Oh? You rolled your eyes and shook your head, responding with your eyes, No way. She just shrugged and sipped her fire whiskey nonchalantly as if to say Whatever you say...You just brushed it off and leaned back as Katie challenged Lee to a dare.

----------

The night progressed and the drinking continued and the bottle got less and less full. Soon enough, the common room was full of your tipsy giggles as the lot of you cracked jokes with each other. You hugged your sides as you cackled as Fred did a spot on impression of Draco Malfoy as he mimicked him walking through the halls, yelling “Potter!” every now and then. Of course, the humor was amplified by the liquor in your hands, but it still was hilarious. The whole group was in a fit of giggles as Lee quite literally fell to the floor from laughter too hard.

Alicia laid her head in your lap as she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes as you all recovered from laughter. “Fred, that was brilliant. You’ll have to show Harry tomorrow morning,” she tells him as Fred plops down next to you on the couch, stealing Katie’s spot as she was now sat on the floor next to Lee. 

Fred chuckles and rests his arm around the back of the couch, gently hovering behind you as you suddenly become very aware of his presence. You spot Angelina out of your periphery vision as she smirks to herself before leaning over and whispering something in George’s ear, making George look at you with a devilish smirk on his lips. Your gaze towards them hardens as you mouth, Knock it off. George just smiles and sips his drink quietly, pretending to mind his own business. 

You turn to Fred and give him a soft smile as he drops his left eye in a wink, making your heart skip a beat. “Easy, Weasley,” you say in a cautious tone as he lifts his arms in defense. You shake your head and lean back into the couch, bumping into his arm that is draped across the back of the couch. Neither of you bother moving. 

Alicia rises from your lap and reaches for the fire whiskey bottle, but groans in defeat when she realizes it’s empty. “Bloody hell,” she groans. She looks to Lee and begs, “Is it appropriate to call this an emergency and you can grab another one of your emergency fire whiskeys?”

Lee laughs, “I regret to inform you we have a one emergency bottle a night policy.” Alicia groans and flops back onto the couch. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in Lee’s mind, making his eyes grow wide and a little smile dance on his lips. “However,” he wiggles his brows and surveys the group. “Now that we’ve got an empty bottle, I think we all know where we can take this party...”

Looking up from her cup, Katie says, “Where are we taking the party? Are we going to bed?” she asks with sadness in her voice. “But the night is so young!”

Shaking his head, Lee looks at Katie. “Are you daft, Bell?” he asks as she rolls her eyes, sipping her whiskey. “I meant we could play a cheeky game of spin the bottle,” Lee suggests.

Alicia huffs, “Really, Jordan? What are we? Fourth years?”

“Oh, come on, Spinnet, it’s just to add a little spice to the mix,” Lee shimmies his shoulders making you laugh. “Besides, it gives you an excuse to have the privilege of planting a sloppy one on me.”

Alicia fake gags. “I’d rather spend a whole day with Professor Snape,” she spits as Lee laughs.

George speaks up now, “Angie and I will sit this one out, but we will watch the show.” He pulls Angie impossibly closer to him as she cuddles into his chest. “For obvious reasons,” he smirks. Fred boos his brother and throws his now empty cup of fire whiskey at him. “What? I am not kissing someone other than my literal soulmate,” he rationalizes. “Besides, you’ve got five players. That’s enough. That is, if everyone is comfortable playing.”

The group all looks at each other, gaging everyone’s feelings of playing a cheeky game. You had to admit you’d rather not play a game as childish as spin the bottle, but for a weird reason, you were keen on playing at least one round. As you looked around, it seemed like everyone was on board to play. 

Your eyes meet Fred’s for a moment as he looks at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips for a split second, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. You quickly turn away, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. “I don’t see the harm in one game,” you shrug as you see Fred smile from the corner of your eye. Lee claps his hands cheering as Alicia and Katie agree.

Fred speaks up, “Well, I can’t let Lee be the only bloke having all the fun, now can I?” 

Everyone is on board with the game as Lee cheers, “Alright! Five for five!” He places the empty bottle of fire whiskey on its side in order to spin it. “Everyone knows the rules. You spin and kiss whomever it lands on, no matter who it is. I’m looking at you, Weasley. If you land on me, I expect the best snog of my life,” he teases as you all laugh wildly. “Whomever the bottle lands on gets the next spin. All good?” Everyone nods. Lee smiles, “Groovy. Welp, youngest goes first. Bell, you’re up.”

Katie giggles, “Put on your chapstick, you lucky sons of bitches.” Alicia laughs as Katie reaches and spins the bottle. The bottle does a series of spins, turning clockwise as she anticipates who she’ll be planting a kiss on. She nervously dances back and forth as you watch her with a small smile on your face.

Slowly the bottle stops spinning to land gently on Fred. Your heart stops for a second and your mouth runs dry. You blink a few times and swallow hard. The group all claps their hands and laughs as Katie rolls her eyes. You on the other couldn’t help but have a tight feeling in your chest. You force a smile on your face before you look at Angelina quickly. She raises her brows, monitoring your reaction as you just shake your head, letting her know you were fine.

Katie scoots over to Fred as Fred leans down. “Get ready for your mind to be blown,” Fred jokes as Katie slaps his arm.

You watch very intently as Fred ducks his head down to connect his lips with Katie. You stop breathing for a moment as you watch Fred kiss one of your closest friends. Your palms start sweating and you pull yourself away from looking at them kiss. Lee and Alicia oooh and giggle as you look at Angie, eyes screaming at her, Okay maybe I’m not fine. 

She gives you a nervous smile and mouths, “It’s just a silly game.”

You nod your head and shake it off. It was a silly game. That’s all. A stupid, silly, childish game. It meant nothing. You knew Katie didn’t like Fred like that. She had fancied Adrian Pucey for a few months now. This kiss meant literally nothing.

It felt like the kiss had lasted for hours when it was a brief five seconds. Katie pulls away from the kiss and returns to her position on the floor. Fred just smirks and leans back in his seat, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. You watch as he does so, the small gesture being surprisingly attractive to you as you gulp. But you quickly turn around so Fred doesn’t catch you watching.

Katie laughs, “Eh, you’re nothing to ride home about, Freddie. Hate to break it to you.”

Fred shrugs, “It’s alright, Bell. The first stage of grieving is denial. You’ll eventually accept that that kiss was the best one of your life.”

Lee cackles as Fred joins him in his laugher before leaning over and spinning the bottle for himself. The bottle spins round and round and round as you watch it, the bottle hypnotizing you. You secretly wished that the bottle would land on you, wanting to be able to kiss Fred Weasley and getting the confirmation that you didn’t like Fred in that way. But honestly, you just hoped it was anyone but Katie or Alicia. 

The bottle slowly stopped spinning as it gently landed on Lee, making the group erupt in laughter. Lee’s lips drew up in a devilish smile as he rubbed his hands together, “Here I come, big boy!” he exclaims, making you laugh even harder.

Fred laughs and sits up in his seat. “Give it to me, Jordan,” he challenges.

Lee springs to his feet and grabs Fred’s face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together before smashing his lips on Fred’s. Fred is laughing as Lee kisses him roughly, rocking him back and forth. George is absolutely dying of laughter, falling into his chair as the rest of the group squeals. 

Alicia grabs onto your arms, squeezing you as she laughs, you doing the same. The kiss happens for a while as you cackle, “Good Godric, come up for some air why don’t you?”

With a smack, Lee pulls off of Fred as Fred falls back in his seat. Fred’s eyes are wide as Lee wipes his lips. “And that,” Lee points to Fred, “is how you kiss someone. Not that pathetic thing you gave Katie.”

The group comes down from laughing at Lee spins the bottle for himself. The cycle repeats for a while. Lee kisses Alicia, Alicia kisses you, you kiss Katie, Katie kisses Lee, and then the bottle spins again. Lee spins and the bottle gently lands on you as you giggle. “I’m expecting excellence, Lee Jordan,” you eye him as he laughs. “Not going to lie, Alicia might give you a run for your money.”

Lee rolls his eyes, “In her dreams.”

You giggle before the two of you close the gap between you two, kissing each other. The kiss is honestly not bad. Lee’s lips tasted of the fire whiskey along with vanilla and sugar. The kiss was gentle, but not bad at all. Your friends around you all cheer and oooh at you two in typical fashion as you both smile into the kiss. You pull away and Lee sends you a wink. “The reviews are in,” you speak. “Not bad, Jordan. Not bad at all. Actually, pretty damned good!”

Lee pumps his arm. “Hah! Take that, Spinnet!”

“Alright, my turn to spin,” you giggle and excitedly spin the bottle.

The bottle spins and spins and spins as everyone waits in anxious anticipation. Who could it be? Slowly, the bottle stops spinning and lands on the person right next to you, Mr. Fred Weasley.

Your heart stops as your mouth goes dry. Everyone immediately erupts into cheers, specifically George who springs onto his feet. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one!” he cheers as you gulp.

Kissing Fred Weasley? Maybe this game was a mistake. 

You stare at the bottle, and then to Angie who wears the biggest grin on her face, and then back at the bottle and finally to Fred. His eyes stare back at you as you gulp. A smirk dances on Fred’s lips as you suck in a breath. The whole group stares at the pair of you, silent, waiting for something to happen. 

The tension between you and Fred was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Cat got your tongue, (Y/L/N)?” Fred teases you as he scoots a little closer to you. You suck in a shaky breath as he chuckles lowly.

You snap yourself out of this anxious gaze and speak, confidence now coursing through your veins. You were going to kiss your best friend and it was happening now. “Make your move, Weasley,” you challenge with flirtation laced in your voice.

Fred smiles, “No need to tell me twice,” he lowly whispers.

Immediately, Fred cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. Your lips connect and the whole group loudly cheers and screams. You hear Lee scream, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” 

But you couldn’t care what was happening. You were kissing Fred. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Fred’s lips were soft, but demanding as they pressed firmly onto yours. His lips tasted of sweet cinnamon and spice; his lips were like a personal drug that you couldn’t get enough of. You pressed your lips harder against his as you both sucked in a breath, your hand resting on his forearm. His lips moved gently against yours as you both enjoyed this kiss too much for a friendly game of spin the bottle. 

You opened up your mouth enough for Fred to slide his tongue in, massaging his with yours as you moan just loudly enough for Fred to hear, making him smile into your kiss. As the group watched you two softly snog, they only cheer louder. You were too involved in relishing in the way Fred’s lips felt pressed against yours to care about how your friends were reacting.

The kiss was everything you wanted a first kiss with someone to be. It was gentle, but didn’t lack in passionate or desire. His lips moved in sync with yours as you followed his lead, his tongue dancing with yours. It was exactly how you imagined kissing Fred Weasley.

You are pulled from your thoughts when George cries out, “For Merlin’s sake Freddie, don’t eat the poor girl!”

Gently, you break the kiss as Fred’s lips follow yours for a moment, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. The two of you keep your eyes closed, relishing in the moment that you two shared.

Lee laughs, “Is it just me or is it hot in here?”

You giggle and gently pry your eyes open. But that’s when you gasp.

You look at Fred who sits in front of you in full color. His bright red hair contrasting against the light blue thermal shirt he wears. His brown eyes stare at you just as much in shock. 

It happened.

“Merlin’s beard...” you whisper.

The room fall silent as your friends stare at the two of you in confusion, wondering what could have possibly happened that made the two of you stare at each other in shock.

“Is it...” you start.

“Yeah,” Fred answers. He lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

You let out a light laugh with him and slowly, look around the room taking in your surroundings, the whole common room in beautiful colors of maroon and gold. Color dances everywhere as you let out an amazed chuckle. 

Looking at Angie with amazement, she suddenly realizes exactly what’s going on. A smile erupts on her face as she lets out a sigh. “Good Godric,” she breathes. She looks at George. “It happened.”

The entire group registers what is happening as they stare at the two of you in awe as you two take in your surroundings gentle. “Oh shit,” Lee breathes out with a smile. “That’s bloody brilliant...”

You look back at Fred who just wears a gentle smile on his face as you look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes that swim with amazement and adoration. You could look into those eyes forever. And lucky for you, that’s what you were going to do. 

Breaking the silence, Angelina says, “We’ll leave you two to it then. Guys...”

Your friends all start to leave the common room, running up the stairs to the dormitories, definitely to chat about what just happened.

You are now left with Fred in the common room, sitting on the couch together, staring at each other in technicolor. “Hi, Freddie,” you breathe out with a smile.

Fred smiles, “Hi, (Y/N),” he reciprocates. The two of you just take the other one in for a few moments as you gulp. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? Merlin’s sake, this was supposed to be a cheeky game of spin the bottle and all of a sudden. “We’re soulmates,” Fred speaks plainly.

“I guess so,” you laugh. You gently bite your lip. “I never thought it would be you, Fred.”

He inhales a long breath. “I had a feeling,” Fred admits as you teasingly smack his arm. “I’m glad I was right,” he confesses as you blush. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. With and without color,” he tells you. “I didn’t think that you could get more gorgeous, but color has proved me wrong.”

You shake your head, “Freddie...” you trail off, blushing wildly, crimson appearing on your cheeks for the first time. Fred takes your hand in his and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You give into his touch, nothing feeling more right. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Fred lifts your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re soulmates,” he repeats himself as you nod. “Wow...so, we get to spend forever with each other, huh? You’re going to get really tired of me, aren’t you?” he jokes as you laugh.

“I could never grow tired of you,” you confess, squeezing his hand. You run your hand through his red hair. The signature of the Weasleys that you could finally see now. “I do have to say though,” you start. “I was not expecting your hair to be this red.”

Fred laughs, “Get used to it, darling. You’ll be staring at it for the rest of your life. Not to mention, the Weasley genetics are strong. Sorry to say that if we decide to have kids, they’ll end up like this.”

You roll your eyes, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Freddie.” He smiles and sends you a wink. “So,” you breathe out. “What do we do now?”

He inhales deeply and sighs. “Well,” he starts. “I think we ought to tell people, specifically our parents,” he says as you nod. “But other than that, we do what we want.” You gaze into Fred’s eyes and smile. “(Y/N), we have the rest of our lives together. There’s no rush. We can go at our own pace. We don’t have to pay attention to what people say we should be doing. I’m just happy that we’ve found each other that way we can start forever now.”

Your heart fills with joy and adoration at his words. You had always worried that you wouldn’t love soulmate, nevertheless like them, but loving Fred Weasley was going to be the easiest task of your life. Living your forever in color together.

“Sounds good to me, Weasley,” you smile.

Fred leans in and closes the gap between you two, kissing you again sweetly like he had done minutes ago for the first time. His lips are even gentler than before on yours as you smile into the kiss. Fred pull away and smiles, “Reckon we go upstairs and get the teasing out of the way from the lot?”

You take a moment. “Let’s wait a little while. We have forever for them to tease us. We’ll only have this moment for a short time.”

He shakes his head. “Merlin, you’re perfect.”

And there the two of you laid in each other’s arms, taking in the new colorful world before you, souls now connected forever. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[xviruserrorx]

Ask game that @bbcfandomsuniverse recently did (hope you don't mind me jumping in 😊)

Their post is over here in the larger font like above with the questions if they are easier for you to see! But from here on the text will be in the standard regular font, Thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3?

-Nine? And far too many WIPs that are like two paragraphs from being finished

What’s your total AO3 word count?

-92,277

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

-On AO3, 4 but In my little book of things and my docs a lot more...

BBC Merlin, Mortal instruments fandom, Durarara, The Umbrella Academy (*ones not posted* Penny dreadful, Robin of sherwood, BBC Atlantis... And other horribly written things for many many anime and manga series)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

• Rain Before The Rainbow- 146

• Snow and Powdered Sugar- 49

• Broken Raven- 39

• The Ingenuous- 21

• I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You- 20

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! I always try to respond to comments and continue what whatever they talked about or just give my thanks.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It's not currently posted but it's another one of my fics that is almost finished and pretty much is a retelling of the Diamond of the day of BBC Merlin if events had gone differently with saving a bunch of characters including mordred, daegal, kara, sefa, Gilli among many others and it's very angsty. Like tears and sobbing angsty...

Do you write crossovers? if so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I actually wrote ONE crossover that I never posted and it was a disaster... I will never mention it again.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I wouldn't call it hate but it was simply someone voicing their opinion on the fic which yeah... Kinda you know hurtful to me but i'm just a stranger to them that's writing fanfiction so...

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Nope no nopitty no

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge no. And also who ever does steal my fics you picked the most worst person to do it from XD. (But in all seriousness if someone ever finds one of my fics posted anywhere else or under a different user name please message me here on Tumblr 😊)

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but again I'm completely open to it and would love for my fics to branch out to all of the non-english speaking audiences.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would love to work with another writer on a fic! I actually really want to but have no clue how to even go about it.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Oooo, I'm gonna go back to my beginning fandom roots and say a platonic relationship I love is from an anime called Princess TuTu and it's Fakir & Muto... I watched the anime along with another one called Sugar Sugar Rune when I was like 4 and they will always hold a special place in my heart along with the Original Fruits basket and the Manga...

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Probably one of my Umbrella Academy fics that I had started to write. Mostly because when a lot of stuff happened with the very strong opinions in certain comments it made me loose inspiration and hope in writing for the fandom in a way. But it was my favourite idea and now I can barely look at it anymore...

What are your writing strengths?

Figurative language my beloved... I mold and bend works like clay to my will and abuse them for the sake of art. I sometimes place words that have no correlation besides each other but with their surrounding pears have all the meaning of everything I mean for them to say. My teachers all throughout school loved and hated my writing all the same but i always counted it as one of my strengths.

What are your writing weaknesses?

That I get distracted in words and go off on off topic tangents. I always do this and I have to stop myself. And like I've said before this just end up a old tangled yarn ball of metaphors that in another persons hands, the knots are yanked at and pulled so impossibly there's no chance to get it undone. But in mine, the twist and turns of yarn become limp and fall so incredibly loose between my fingers. So I want to make my writing able to be untangle without too much of a yank or tug.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done it myself with Raphael Santiago from Mortal instruments in Spanish and Small dialogue bits I'm okay with. But if it's like a full speech I'm not too keen on it even if I understand the language.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Wait funny story real quick, I recently found my old notebook I used to write fanfiction in when I was like 8 and it's atrocious. But if I remember correctly the first fanfic in their is with Magi (another anime and manga series very dear to my heart) but if i'm correct the first piece of actual fanfic I wrote was a bit earlier and it was Pandora Hearts maybe? Or even around the time that shows like Avatar and Teen Titans aired...

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I have to go with "The Ingenuous" mostly because I remember many years ago thinking those two would be good friends but completely abandoned the idea because it was like 2015 and I thought the fandom was dead... And also because these two don't have a canon relationship I have taken free will with it and halfway through writing it I realized their relationship has elements of practically me and one of my friends I've known my whole life. And that person is very near and dear to me and I've always held them close to my heart... So really that fic just has everything of me and I've given my all into that fic.

I'm tagging

@zoingfandom and @ohanahoku-ao3 and thats It because I feel awkward tagging other people I know are Ao3 writers XD

Zoing & Ohana please save me from my awkwardness and tag more people please, I beg of you. But also Anyone else if free to join in!

[acnelli]

First Time Falling

This is my entry for the @hpqueerfest 2021. Thanks to the mods who hosted this! And a big thank you to my great beta-readers @nagemeikenu and @static-abyss who put up with my phone-writery (writing time is hard to come by these days).

This story was inspired by Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, and it’s set in a world where Harry didn’t go to Hogwarts, but had been prepared for his destiny.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Rating: T TW: strong language, mentions of war time, mentions of drug and alcohol consume Prompt: Falling in love for the first time as an adult (late 20’s-early 30’s) Summary: Harry Potter –Head-Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World– spontaneously asked out a cute redhead and it turned to so much more than he could have ever hoped for. 

You can also read this on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** *** ***

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office. The heavy mahogany door slammed against the wall, making Hermione jump up from her chair.

“Ron,” she shrieked as a bunch of paper fell off her desk. “What happened?”

Instead of providing his best friend with an explanation for his sudden intrusion, Ron paced back and forth. The panicked look in his eyes made Hermione assume the worst.

With one swift motion, Hermione stepped in front of the redhead, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing. “Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, taking his hand into hers. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt? Is your family okay?”

Hermione’s worried expression and the panic in her voice finally brought Ron to his senses. “No, don’t worry, Hermione,” he sighed as he closed her office door. “I’m sorry! But...do you have time for a quick cup of tea in the cafeteria?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. This report is giving me a headache and I need a break.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and gestured for Ron to lead the way.

“I swear, Ron, if you almost gave me a heart attack over something Quidditch related, I’ll hex you into next week and make your new Firebolt disappear forever,” Hermione added as they made their way down to the Ministry cafeteria.

Ron glanced over at the bushy-haired witch, suppressing a grin as he told her his distress was indeed about Quidditch. They grabbed their beverages and headed towards a free table. Gracing him with a dark look, Hermione gestured for Ron to finally tell her what’s going on.

“Harry Potter asked me out on a date!”

This statement caused Hermione’s drink to go down the wrong way, resulting in a violent coughing fit and her spitting out the tea.

“What?” she wheezed out between coughs, as Ron cleaned his face and shirt with his wand.

He waited patiently until Hermione recovered, both from the coughing fit and the shock. “See, even you don’t believe me,” Ron sighed, harshly rubbing his hands over his face, “I don’t blame you, though. I can’t believe it myself, after all.”

Finally being able to speak again, Hermione put her elbows on the small table and leaned forward, determined to not miss a single thing about this story. “Spill! How? When? Where? And don’t you dare to leave out even the smallest detail.”

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief about what had happened to him just twenty minutes ago. Not being able to wrap his head around it, he decided to tell Hermione today’s events from beginning to end.

“Today, Robertson sent me a memo to come to his office to discuss the ridiculous complaints about the Tornados/Harpies game last week,” Ron started and couldn’t help rolling his eyes about the things he had to put up with at work sometimes. “So, I went there, gave him my report about the match and a brief overview. Thank Merlin, he only asked his usual useless questions about referee bribery claims. I was ready to launch into a whole speech but he suddenly dismissed me and told me to write up a statement for the press.

“I was just on my way back to my office when I met Seamus. The fucking wanker had the nerve to claim the next Cannons match for himself. I know he did that just to spite me so, naturally, I gave him an ear full about it as we waited for the lift. We only noticed Harry Potter standing right behind us when we got inside the lift. I probably sounded like an idiot but Seamus and I kept the conversation up because I always get second-hand embarrassment when people stop talking if Potter walks by or joins the lift.”

Hermione patiently listened to his ramblings, restraining herself from telling him to get to the point already.

Ron sipped on his tea and shook his head. “You know what? I read too much into this. Just realised that I’m acting exactly as everyone else does. What’s the big deal? Just a bloke who wants to have a pint after work.”

Hermione stared at Ron, expecting him to go on with his story, but he just kept sipping his tea.

“Ron!”

“What?”

“How did he ask you out?” She accidentally raised her voice but Hermione was finally losing her patience with him.

“I told you, he most likely-”

“Just tell me the damn story, already!” Hermione snapped, blushing a little when she noticed the people on the other tables giving her funny looks.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Calm down, barmy woman.”

“You're the one marching into my office like a lunatic. Spill it! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Ron continued with his story, curling his hands around the tea mug to keep from fidgeting.

“Seamus had already gotten off at another level, so it was just me and Potter in there. I tried to avoid the awkward silence, so I asked him if he followed Quidditch and was going to listen to or even watch the Tornados match tonight. He said that he does follow Quidditch and that he intended to listen to the match at home but if I'd be up to it, we could listen to it at this new pub that just opened in Diagon. He totally caught me by surprise, but I must've agreed because he told me he'll meet me at the fireplaces at 5. Then he left the lift. Then I freaked out and came to your office.”

Ron marked the end of his story by taking another sip of his tea before he defiantly crossed his arms in front of him.

“Jesus, Harry Potter actually asked you out! Oh my God!” Hermione almost squealed, grasping one of Ron's arms.

“Nah! I don't think so anymore. I bet he just wanted to have a pint and was only being polite when he asked me to come along,” Ron said. “Who'd ask someone out like that anyway?”

“Someone looking for a partner?”

“Yeah, but think about it, Hermione. Why would he ask me out? The guy is not only fucking famous, he's also devilishly handsome. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“So?”

Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just declared the desire to live as a chicken.

“So? So, why would someone ask me out while on a random stroll through the Ministry? Who'd think ‘Oh, that freakishly tall ginger with more freckles than skin looks kinda awkwardly cute. Let's try to get a leg over?'"

“I dated you,” Hermione interjected.

“You don't count.”

“Well, thank you!” Her sarcasm was all but ignored by Ron.

“I just know I'll embarrass myself tonight,” Ron insisted, looking quite unhappy. “Let's go back to work. I still have to write that useless report.”

“Devilishly handsome, hm?”

“Shut up!”

**** **** **** ****

Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask the cute ginger out for a pint.

Maybe it had been the Prophet article speculating for the umpteenth time about when the Savior of the Wizarding World would finally settle down and make some black-haired, green-eyed babies. Rita Skeeter had many ideas about what worthy witch could conquer the heart of Harry Potter. All things considered, the article had probably not been the worst thing written about him so far.

Sometimes he wondered if he should've taken Sirius’ advice to feed the press and public meaningless details of his life. It wouldn't stop the constant speculations and made-up affairs, but it probably would reduce the paparazzi following him around, the crazy fans sending him love letters and maybe, they would find something more newsworthy than where Harry Potter bought his toilet paper.

But he hated the fact that people demanded this from him. He was 29 now, and while the great hype about him was over, he still seemed to be interesting enough to write about, even over a decade after his defeat of Voldemort.

He knew the majority of the Wizarding World was sincerely grateful for what he'd done. There were so many parents thanking him for the simple fact that they're still alive and able to see their children grow up.

It reminded him that it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the nearly friendless childhood, his secret life away from the public, the growing up with the knowledge that he might not live long enough to celebrate his 17th birthday. All of that had resulted in ending Voldemort once and for all.

When he'd destroyed the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes though, Harry’s hope of finally living a normal life got crushed soon after. In the post-war world, it had been next to impossible to lead a life like everyone else. Because of his childhood and his training by Alastor ‘Mad Eye’ Moody himself, he learned not to trust easily. And since occasions to make friends or interact with strangers had been few and far between, he never really learned what to look for in a friend.

He was well aware that he was complaining about a comfortable life. His parents had left him a respectable amount of gold, and Sirius bought him a flat in London after he graduated from Auror Academy. Maybe he'd gotten this job because of his fame and reputation, but he knew he deserved the position as Head Auror. There was hardly anyone with the same amount of training and experience he brought to the table, and he was under the impression the people working for him did genuinely like him as a boss. Two of them he even considered friends after all these years.

Aside from the two friends at work he also had his family. He had Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and his godson, Teddy. He wasn't alone by any means, but he'd never met someone he could possibly fall in love with. Hell, aside from one of Tonks’ old friends from school and her father's attempts to set him up with several of his countless nieces—and later nephews when Harry told his family girls didn't do it for him—he'd never even dated. Toby—a fellow student from elementary school and the only friend his age—dragged him to Muggle pubs and clubs, resulting in the occasional snog or even a shag with a stranger. Needless to say, his first time hadn't exactly been romance novel material and it sure wasn't something he liked to think about. Sometimes, Harry feared that he would never fall in love, that he wasn't capable of developing those feelings for another person.

Those unpleasant thoughts combined with the Rita Skeeter article may have been the result of his sudden impulse to just go for it and ask the redhead out. But it also could have been the brilliant blue eyes, the kind, shy smile and the lean shoulders. Harry was sure, though, that the main reason for it had been the fact that this man hadn't treated him like a Messiah. It had just been an easy conversation, even if it had been only two minutes.

Harry hoped it would remain that way when they watched the game later. In fact, he could just brush it off as a friendly meeting with a fellow Ministry worker if Cute Ginger wasn't interested in anything more.

But when he thought about the redhead’s lopsided grin, Harry felt a foreign flutter in his stomach and he couldn't help but hope for more, even if it was just another visit to the pub.

**** **** **** ****

In the 30 years of Ron Weasley’s existence, he'd never been on time for something not work-related. Today, though, he was almost ten minutes early as he waited by the fireplaces for Harry Potter.

Again, he felt rather pathetic. For a hot second, he considered waiting in a nearby bathroom to pass the time, pretending to get to their meeting place just in time. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a petty teenager anymore, and even if Potter found it pathetic, Ron didn’t expect a repeat of tonight, anyway.

He decided to just treat this like a meet-up with Dean and Seamus every other Thursday after work. Just two guys, enjoying a couple of pints together, talking about Quidditch. Nothing special. Nothing to freak out over.

The atrium was busy as ever but he spotted Potter right away when the Head-Auror stepped out of the lift and made his way towards the fireplaces. He still wore his magenta work robes and Ron couldn't help but notice how sexy they looked on him.

“Hi!” Potter greeted Ron, smiling somewhat shyly. “Ready for some beer and Quidditch?”

“Sure! But I forgot to introduce myself earlier, so I figured I'd do that now,” Ron said, giving the dark haired man a smile in return, as he offered his hand for a proper introduction. “I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“I'm Harry.”

**** **** **** ****

“No way! How did he get out of there?”

Harry barked out a laugh at Ron's tale of a night out with Seamus and Dean. His outburst was loud enough for the other guests of the pub to look in their direction. Ron found it amusing how a simple change into Muggle clothes, different glasses, and a slightly lighter hair colour resulted in no one recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Since it was a Muggle police station, Seamus had to spend the night there. Statute of Secrecy, and all. We picked him up the next morning and filled him in on what he'd done the night before, including showing everyone his pale arse.” Ron grinned deviously at the memory. “I invented some things for good measure. Unfortunately, Dean is too good for this world and told him a few hours later that I was taking the mickey.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “That reminds me of Remus searching the whole of London for Sirius, only to find him several hours later in a hidden spot on the roof. He was gazing at the stars and totally stoned. Combined with Firewhiskey, he didn't remember a single thing from that night.”

“Sirius?” Ron looked quite interested at the mention of his Godfather’s name. “Sirius, as in Sirius Black?”

“Yes. He was my Dad’s best friend. And he's my Godfather.”

“I'm just asking because I'm related to the Blacks. My grandfather married Cedrella Black.”

“Yes, I recognize the name. Her face got blasted off the family tree,” Harry said, and at Ron's raised eyebrow quickly added, “Sirius’ mother blasted everyone off that tree who didn't uphold the Black family's motto ‘Toujours pur’. So, Cedrella must have gone against the high and mighty Black Pureblood tradition.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a swig of his beer, “she married a Weasley. I'm sure that alone was reason enough to disown her. The Weasleys have been notorious blood traitors since forever.”

“Sounds like your grandmother had good taste in men if you ask me.”

Harry winked at Ron, and the redhead felt the burning blush creeping up his neck.

Ron was once again amazed at how little time it had taken him to lose his nervousness. But Harry Potter made it very easy for him. Harry was confident, yet humble and polite. His humor didn't have Ron's sarcastic edge, but the redhead found Harry delightfully witty with a good amount of sass.

Ron didn't know what he expected but it was undeniable how easy it was to talk to Harry. He could only hope the raven-haired man enjoyed this just as much as he did. Harry laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in Ron's more-than-mundane life.

As much as Ron tried to see this as a meeting with a good friend, he couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest every time Harry smiled at him or his leg accidentally bumped against Ron's. And if the alcohol hadn't gone to his head already, making him imagine things, Harry's eyes kept flitting down to Ron's lips.

When the woman behind the bar announced the final round, they decided to call it a night since it was one of Harry's work Saturdays tomorrow.

As they ventured out of the crowded pub and into the cool night air, Ron was disappointed about the evening coming to an end. Time had flown and he was sure they could've talked for several more hours.

“Would you mind if I walk you home?” Harry asked just as Ron wanted to wish him a good night.

Ron nodded, not being able to suppress his smile as Harry obviously remembered him mentioning that he only lived a few blocks away.

They kept their pace slow and walked a little closer to each other than necessary, their hands bumping against one another. Every touch sent a jolt through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to take Harry's hand.

Eventually, they reached their destination. During the entire walk home Ron had gathered all of his Gryffindor courage to ask Harry out, this time for an official date.

“I- um,” Ron started, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck to ease his nerves. “I really enjoyed this evening and I was wondering...Maybe I got this all wrong, but you seem interested, and well, I'm interested too. And if you're not, that's totally fine. But...caniseeyouagain?”

And before Ron's face had the time to go completely crimson, he got his answer as Harry took his hand to pull him close, leaned up and kissed him.

Harry pulled back from Ron's lips, his stunning, green eyes slightly darker than usual and holding a hopeful glint.

Ron didn't give himself the chance to overthink as he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck and kissed him again. A deep groan escaped him when Harry licked at Ron's bottom lip and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ron was positive that he'd never experienced something more incredible than kissing Harry Potter. The only things he was capable of paying attention to were Harry and the wild thumping of his heart. And while it was exhilarating and new and positively made him weak in the knees, it also felt a lot like coming home.

Having lost all sense of time, Ron couldn't tell if they'd kissed for a minute or several hours when they broke apart. Harry's hands still gripped his shirt and Ron let his own hands glide from Harry's dark hair down over strong, well-defined shoulders to finally rest at his hips.

Both of them tried to catch their breath and Harry, who finally let go of Ron's shirt to put his arms around him, smiled up at Ron almost shyly.

“Yes, you can see me again,” Harry said, grinning.”What are your plans for tomorrow night?”

“Well,” Ron pretended to think about it for a second, “I thought I'd do this.”

And with that, he leaned in to kiss Harry again.

“I think that's a brilliant idea.”

**** **** **** ****

Just as he turned off the radio and grabbed his coat from the rag beside the door, a loud knock sounded through Harry's now quiet flat.

“Ten minutes early. Eager, aren't we?” Harry said as he opened the door for a tall ginger with a picnic basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Says the one waiting right beside the door like a good dog.”

Ron shoved his way inside, putting down the basket and broom before pulling Harry into his arms.

“Happy Birthday,” Ron murmured against the other man's lips. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a present, not the other way around?”

Harry pulled back a little, apparently confused. Ron grinned at him and squeezed Harry's arse. “Thanks for wearing my favourite pants today.”

Chuckling, Harry pointed at the broom Ron had brought with him. “No way I'll fly on a broom in these. Good thing I also packed my joggers.”

Ron hadn't told him where they were going for Harry's Birthday. He'd just instructed Harry to be ready at 9 in the morning, so they'd be back in time for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry's family.

Only two months had passed since their first kiss, but Harry already felt as though he'd known Ron for much longer. Every kiss, every touch, all the teasing and banter, and late night talks felt so completely natural, yet blissfully exciting.

“Come on, grab your broom. We're on a tight schedule.”

Ron winked at him and before Harry knew it, they were standing in the middle of a giant Quidditch pitch.

There wasn't a single soul besides them, but Harry immediately recognized the giant Hogwarts House banners from his family's keepsakes of their school years. Aside from that fateful day when he'd fought Voldemort on those grounds, he'd never visited the school. Not before, not after.

Harry tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The surprise must be the result of one of their late night talks, when Harry confessed that his deepest desire while growing up had been to go to Hogwarts.

“Are we allowed to be here or do I need to arrest you for breaking into school grounds?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind and Harry could feel Ron smiling against the back of his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to playing the big bad Auror and the naughty Suspect later, but this is actually 100% legal. Having contacts with important Quidditch officials has its perks sometimes. And my annual chess game against McGonagall helped too, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” Harry said, lifting one of Ron's hands to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles. “Fill me in on that plan of yours.”

Ron let go of him and reached for their brooms, tossing one of them at Harry. “I thought we'd fly over the grounds first, so I can show you everything from above. The castle looks fucking amazing from up there and the Great Lake is a sight to die for when the water reflects the sun.”

Ron mounted his broom and flew in slow circles around Harry as he continued to talk. “I hope you don't mind that I invited your family for dinner. But I thought we could all show you the castle, introduce you to our favourite spots and secret places. Andromeda can show us the Slytherin common room. I've never been there myself. I'll show you the kitchen first. That's where I'll cook dinner later while the others show you around.”

Jumping down from his broom, Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of excitement and reluctance as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a telltale sign of the redhead being nervous, Harry had learned in the last weeks.

“So, I thought this to be fitting for a 30th Birthday. I wasn't sure what to get you that you don't already have, and I reckoned this might be fun.”

Harry didn't know what to say and his silence only made Ron doubt his plan more. It always baffled Harry how Ron didn't realize how wonderful he was. He wished Ron could see himself through Harry's eyes.

Right at that moment, as Harry looked into Ron's blue eyes, it hit him. In fact, he knew he'd been harbouring these feelings inside him for weeks now, but only now he could see it with shining clarity.

He was falling in love.

The feeling was new, something he'd never experienced, but still he recognized it for what it was.

 Love.

***

[penny-anna]

i was tagged by @handwrittenhello, thank u! <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

i got uhh... 355! that's a lot

What’s your total AO3 word count?

aww don't make me check it. *checks* 988,031.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

i have 12 currently listed on ao3 tho a couple of those are for crossovers. uhh i'm not going to say them all as some are embarrassing. the Big Ones are the Witcher, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings & Merlin, anyway.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they are all witcher fics are present!

New Monster Stories

The Price of a Touch

Somebody to Love

sandstorms and hazy dawns

Constellations

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

OH that's a good question! i actually used to but i got out of the habit (oddly) when i moved to a fandom where i get less comments. the reason for this is that getting less comments meant i liked to go back and re-read them as if they were new comments and once i replied that would mean i was 'done' with them. so if i haven't replied to your comment that is because. i am still enjoying it.

i do reply when someone has a question or other comment that i feel warrants a response tho

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oof so the answer is definitely this merlin series which tbh i can't say i'd recommend as it's genuinely pretty brutal. i don't know if i can say that i regret the bleakness of the ending tho.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

very rarely write 'crossovers' in the strictest sense BUT i do rly like writing fusions & of those i think the weirdest is the merlin/borrowers fusion bcos the whole concept of M-rated borrowers fic is just. frankly unacceptable!! but i did it anyway.

side note i do actually have a bunch more material around that one drabble (a whole au that's like the plot of the first borrowers but a romance essentially)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

uhh kind of? yes. way back when i was about 14 and had just started posting fanfic i got a hm Scathing review on a fic i posted. however i was not especially bothered as i was very up myself when i was 14 and it would have taken more than 1 rude person to make me think what i was doing was anything less than Stellar and also the review was pretty dumb.

a lot of the stuff they didn't like in my story seemed to come down to them having failed to realise it was an AU & what i learned from that experience was you can't trust people to actually read your author's notes. the other stuff they took issue with came down to 'this was clearly written by a teenage girl' and in retrospect i'm like yeah no shit. this sounds like it was written by a teenager bcos i was in fact a teenager. do u have nothing better to do.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yes. tho not super often these days.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

sorta? once someone translated one of my fics & posted it without crediting the original. it was very very obviously a direct translation even without speaking the language it was written in. they'd been doing it for a while and i believe they got reported but i don't actually remember what came of it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

answered this above lol. yes i've had a few fics translated!! i don't really keep track of them. i used to go through and look at the comments on translations but i don't really bother these days.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

ok so i'm going to go with my gut instinct on this one & say Two/Jamie, even tho i'm not that into it these days. just in terms of. the level of enjoyment i had back when i was shipping it.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

OH you know i was actually thinking about this the other day! i always wanted to do a fourth installment of my Merlin urban fantasy AU that would tie some stuff together (and also feature gwen! who was absent from the entire fic bcos i was saving her for later!! i'm so sorry!) but i just lost interest in the fandom. i remember being conscious when i posted the 3rd part that it was kind of a parting gift to the Merlin fandom as a whole. am still pretty proud of that one.

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue!

What are your writing weaknesses?

basically. everything but dialogue lol.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i did it 1 time using google translate in an original story & then i ended up actually selling the story so i had to scrabble around trying to find someone who spoke the language who could help me in advance of publishing it and then the process of translating it turned out to be much more complicated than i expected.

i don't remember the usernames of the very kind people who helped me out w it off the top of my head but thank you again!!

anyway no i will not be doing that again probably.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

it was lord of the rings & tbh as lotr fanfics written aged 12 go it really wasn't that embarrassing but it is no longer online.

for some reason (and this is probably for the best) my tastes ran exclusively to crack fic & i also really liked legolas so it was just an extended fic about legolas having really stupid adventures which i thought was very funny at the time. it was co-written w a friend and tbph her chapters were legit funny. go figure.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

i feel like i end up saying this every time this question comes up but the thing i'm proudest of is prolly the LOTR daemon au (if you can count that as one fic lol)

uhh who do i know who writes fic & hasn't been tagged. @thescarletpaperback @uighean

[myrmidryad]

20 Questions - Writer’s Edition

Tagged by @lambourngb thank you! 💗

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

81 total, mostly Les Mis and RNM.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,557,760 holy shit I’ve written over a million words 😵

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3, not counting the universes I’ve written fusions with, there are seven: Les Mis, Roswell New Mexico, Merlin, MCU, Young Avengers, X-Men, and Vikings.

On ff.net, nine more: Teen Titans, Xiaolin Showdown, Transformers, Naruto, Narnia, Hellboy, Artemis Fowl, Lord of the Flies, and Skins.

Some fics are on both, but when I moved to AO3 I mostly left the ones I didn’t think were good enough to expose to a new audience. And gone from the internet forever (probably) is the Maximum Ride fanfic I wrote and posted to a forum back in the day. RIP that fic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

from one side to the other (Les Mis, exr soulmate oneshot)

sentimental you and faithful me (Les Mis, exr bodyswap oneshot)

Just Another Guy With A Bow (Avengers, Clint/Coulson, Clint origin fic)

potentially lovely, perpetually human (Les Mis, exr empath!Enjolras)

This brave new world’s not like yesterday (Les Mis, exr the bowling alley fic)

5. What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

If there’s a rocket, tie me to it is one of the first Les Mis fics I wrote, and it’s uhhhh very canon in that everyone dies. In my head it was kind of a partner fic to <a pattern in the system> A Bullet In The Gun, which was also a dystopia fic, but that one had a happy ending, and I wanted to go again and have the canon ending for Les Amis. And I think that might have been the last unhappy ending I ever wrote? I like happier endings way better!

6. What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Basically all of them have happy endings, especially the long ones that actually have plots! But I’m going to pick Finding You, because I skidded canon to the left to force events into happiness before tragedy could ever strike, and spun that out into a nice long roadtrip with lots of happiness and love and friendship, ending on a great big optimistic note that everyone’s future would be just as happy and unstruck by tragedy. I reread chunks of this fic all the time for the good vibes.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

I’ve written a bunch of fusions, but I think the only one that actually counts as a crossover is Fighting the Hurricane, which is a Les Mis/Pacific Rim fic. I’m not sure if my Les Mis/Oglaf fic is a crossover or a fusion, but it’s definitely the craziest one I’ve written just because Oglaf itself is so off the wall - Sharpshooter.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I looooooove writing smut, of all kinds. I’ve written a lot of bdsm smut in particular for Les Mis, and weirdly almost none for RNM, idk what that’s about.

9. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually do these days, though on multi-chap fics if I’m posting a chapter a day or similarly quickly, I’ll wait and reply only the last chapter. I didn’t used to reply to comments at all unless they were particularly stand-out or asked a question, which was following the example of other writers, more than anything else. I also had the notion that people do sometimes use the number of comments on a fic as a metric to judge whether to give it a go or not, and replies massively skew that count.

I reply now, or try to. Um, confused widgeon, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I haven’t replied to your comments from July 2020 yet. They were too nice and I got overwhelmed. One day I’ll get to them!

10. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Lol yes, I was weirdly pleased and immediately deleted it.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve had a couple of people ask about it before, but idk if it went anywhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I co-wrote very bad Transformers fic with my best friend in secondary school and we had a great time. Shout out @scythling! Since then though, no. I’m too precious over creative control, I think, and I quite like writing in a vacuum.

14. What's your all time favourite ship to write for?

Of all time is tricky. Enjolras/Grantaire will have to take the trophy though, I think. They’re iconic!

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I have a bunch I’ve abandoned and accepted that I’ve abandoned, too many to list, so I’m not counting those because I know I’m never finishing them. Of the ones that are still in my WIP folders...there are also too many to list, but only a handful I’d be sad about never coming back to. I think the main one is probably Underground Dreaming, which would be very difficult to finish for multiple reasons, the main one being that I always envisioned it as open-ended. But I am sad that I stalled out on posting more than a few fics in that series. Too much research can kill the muse!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and spooky atmospheres. Love me a spooky atmosphere.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I use ‘grinned’ way too much. Dialogue tags in general, but ‘grinned’ in particular. And I’ve developed a real problem with length, where I’ve become almost incapable of writing short fic. Which isn’t necessarily bad, exactly - length is needed for some of the stories I want to tell, but being concise isn’t something that comes naturally to me anymore.

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Language barriers are one of my favourite things to write, actually, but because I’m very much not fluent in anything but English, I shy away from putting in actual words from other languages. I’d much rather have a whole exchange or speech in another language actually written all in English, with the difference indicated either by outright saying the character/s are speaking in another language or by altering the grammar and sentence structure.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Either Teen Titans or Xiaolin Showdown.

20. What's your favourite fic you've written?

Shadow Work is something I’m going to be proud of till I die, probably.

I think a lot of people have already been tagged so uhhhhhh if you haven’t done it already or want to @beautifulcheat @sugarfey @im-the-punk-who @gritkitty @maeglinthebold @daughterofelros @dotsayers

[thessalian]

Thess vs More Toby Day Theory

So, a couple of things - because, again, I’m on the Toby Daye train:

1) the Luidaeg’s geas means she’s going to have to kill Toby. Honestly, why doesn’t she just kill Toby and get it over with? Because, honestly, the Luidaeg said she’d kill Toby but said nothing whatsoever about Toby staying dead. She never mentioned letting Toby go to the night-haunts. Think what Toby’s survived. Multiple drownings. Elf-shot. Knife in the heart. Plummet from a very high place that broke every single one of her bones. So the Luidaeg could kill Toby any time she wants to so long as she doesn’t do it in a way that Toby can’t recover from. And hell, that’s what she might have meant to do when asking for payment in the form of bleeding Toby for an entire day, or until she’s satisfied. Leave just enough blood in her body to let her come back, and have a stack of sandwiches on hand, and Toby should be fine even if her heart stops.

...I think she’s avoiding doing it because she knows Toby wants to keep the last tattered shreds of her humanity. I imagine her body has tilted towards Fae as much as it has as much because of the times she’s died as because of significant magic use and Amandine’s interference. When she needs power badly enough, her body finds it in the blood, and the more Fae her blood is, the more power she has. Killing Toby again would probably be the end of Toby’s humanity, and the Luidaeg is trying to spare her that. Then again, that might satisfy the geas in a way that would bolster the “her heart stopped, so she died” loophole, the human side of her dying for good. The Luidaeg probably understands Toby wanting to keep something of her long-dead father for as long as she can - she did the same to keep something of her children, when she made the Selkies - and would rather do anything else. Still, she’s probably going to have to. One day, Toby’s going to be entirely Fae. If it happens at the Luidaeg’s hands ... well, it’s certainly poetic enough.

2) So ... the Roane were killed because Eira told a bunch of merlins that they could tease immortality from the Roane’s skins. Everyone says that it’s because Eira just didn’t like anyone else being happy, or that the Roane wouldn’t share their gift of prophesy with her. Thing is ... Eira plays a very long game, and she’s been about the supremacy of her line, and Titania’s children in general, more than any other of Titania’s Firstborn. She wanted to break the Ride, but she mostly wanted to break Maeve’s Ride - the Queens took turns, I think it was mentioned. I think Eira’s other reason for seeing the Roane killed was to make sure that no one could interfere with her plans.

It took me awhile to figure out the timings, but it definitely works. The Three would have had to still be around and properly active when the Roane were slaughtered, because that’s when Titania cursed the Luidaeg with the inability to lie. I haven’t seen any mention of how long after the slaughter of Roane it was that Janet broke the Maeve’s Ride, but I would bet it wasn’t long. It’s a time the Luidaeg won’t talk about; a time whose memory Toby only unearthed when the Luidaeg fed her an awful lot of her blood. A time the Luidaeg, who can’t lie, was speaking a language she now can’t remember, so probably a time she can’t consciously remember ... likely due to her grief. For a couple of reasons, potentially. I mean, if the death of the Roane was recent enough, one of the Roane might have said something just before the merlins came to kill them ... or maybe one of the few survivors did. Ether way, in The Unkindness Tide, the Luidaeg said that it took years for her to be able to do anything but answer a yes or no question; if she was still learning the limitations of the geas she was under, she might have had a really hard time phrasing suspicion as truth in a way that would maintain the sheer urgency of the thing. Prophesy is vague and tricky, and seldom gives anything direct enough to phrase as truth.

And ... given the serious mention Amphitrite made of what most of Titania’s children would do to make their mother smile, it stands to reason that most of them behaved with Titania the way the Daoine Sidhe behave around Eira, and Titania wanted to be the One True Queen of Faerie. And “You can never lie” is a pretty weird thing to curse someone with. I mean, yes, it does poke holes in the Luidaeg’s ability to see Eira pay for what she did - because at that point, she wasn’t entirely sure of what happened, and could be shut down with the simple question, “Can you prove any of it?” But Titania couldn’t have been stupid, any more than Eira’s stupid - it’s nice to have things that can be shut down with “Can you prove it?” or “Are you sure?” and have the answer have to be no because of a horrifically open-ended geas, isn’t it? Lots of stuff could be shut down with that kind of loophole. Like, whether Eira orchestrated the breaking of the Ride and Maeve’s resulting banishment. Or like, whether Titania told Eira to do it. Which brings us to...

3) The more I think about it, the more I think that people who think Stacy might be Titania have a point. I wouldn’t have thought a changeling should be that adamant against bringing the Roane back. She framed it as “The Luidaeg’s putting too much on you”, which is a mom-response if ever there was one ... but in nearly the same breath she told Toby that she could back out. Of a bargain with the fucking Luidaeg. There’s no way a changeling educated by Devin would be that ignorant of how dealing with one of the most powerful beings in the area works, especially not after knowing what Firstborn can do owing to her children getting kidnapped by Blind Michael. So ... someone who’s subconsciously really used to being the most powerful person in any room, ever (see also: yelling at the False Queen at Toby’s first trial).

Though that does bring me to another question: it’s pretty obvious that Stacy’s concerned about Cassandra dating because she doesn’t want the risk of someone finding out things they shouldn’t, or what might happen with any of her children’s kids, even if those worries are subconscious (though that said, I have to wonder what kind of alchemical solution Walther used for his transition, and whether it allows him fertility - in the novella dealing with Arden waking Nolan up, he was nicking things from the clinic that I’m damn sure were hormones, so...). Anyway, my question of the musing variety is this: Karen and Cassandra look very similar in terms of the Fae characteristics they share, neither of which fit with Barrow Wight, Nixie or Hob. We don’t know a whole lot about what Andrew or Jessica or Anthony look like in that regard, so we’ll see if that becomes relevant. Anyway, point is - if Stacy is Titania ... how does that work in terms of who’s Firstborn? I mean, they’d all be children of Titania, so technically all Firstborn, but Cassandra and Karen at least look like the same descendant race, so would that make Cassandra Firstborn? I guess that depends on what Jessica and the boys look like, whether there’s more than one descendant race in the offing from the Brown marriage.

Also ... how strong is the transformation, if Stacy is Titania? I don’t think it can be that strong - not bone and blood deep the way it was with Officer Thornton turning out to be Oberon. Why? Well, because blood magic is Oberon’s province. Maeve would have an easier time of it because water magic is about transformation. Titania only has flower magic - illusions. So the change in her couldn’t go overly deep unless Oberon or Maeve did it to her. And Maeve left first, so it wouldn’t be her. If Oberon made that change to Titania, I have to wonder if Toby could break the spell, or if Oberon would have to do it himself, or if even he’s capable of it now? I also have to wonder what would happen if Toby were to actually taste Stacy’s heritage now, with her being so much stronger now. Would she taste Barrow Wight? What watermarks would she find in Stacy’s blood, if she were to look now? And the kids - would she see Barrow Wight in the kids? Would she see as much human as she should? And what would happen if she pulled the Hob, Nixie and human out of those kids? What would the result be if she had to change them?

[tattooedsiren]

fic writers game

tagged by @sal-si-puedes 

How many works do you have on AO3? 62.

What’s your total AO3 word count? 666,480. That’s soooo many words to me.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? On AO3 I have three fandoms posted: Suits, Teen Wolf, Merlin. Wrote a bunch more in the 15 years prior to AO3 which I won’t bother listing.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? by my side - 5,035 kudos a truth so loud - 3,282 kudos something inevitable - 2,988 kudos whatever the question - 2,571 kudos exclusively yours - 2,353 kudos Insane to me that my first ever Suits fic when I had no idea what I was doing is in the top 5 lol. And I still remember by my side kinda breaking out, which I honestly did not expect at all.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I used to reply to every comment. But then I got really behind and never caught up. Now I just respond if people are asking a question or if it’s a particularly touching comment. I love every single comment I get, I’m just a mess about even reading my AO3 emails these days... :(

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Not All Rules Are Meant To Be Broken. Pretty sure it’s the only fic I’ve written without an explicitly happy/hopeful ending. Never again lol.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Not really my jam, to be honest. I’m very boring.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? I've definitely got crit (some constructive and some not), and people who didn’t like the ships (especially some of my more controversial ships, though that begs the question of why even read it?), but not full on flat out hate.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? Occasionally. It’s pretty vanilla tbh.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I’m aware.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I have, way back in the day.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No. Have talked about it before but it’s never eventuated. Maybe one day...

What’s your all time favorite ship? Harvey/Mike will forever hold a special place in my heart.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I don’t really do WIPs. I’m someone who will focus on one fic at a time and write it until it’s done, or if I can’t make it work I give it up and completely abandon it.

What are your writing strengths? I’m not sure. I think maybe dialogue and characterizations. And inducing feels in the reader.

What are your writing weaknesses? Plot. Like I’m so in awe of writers who do super detailed, structured, mystery type plots. My brain could never. Also sex scenes. 

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? If in small doses and appropriate for the fic, great. I’ve done it once for always a good idea, where Mike moved to Paris and there are a few lines of dialogue in french, mostly because it was a good way for characters to say things that hint at things without Harvey knowing about it. But it was sparingly done. If it’s too much, and you don’t speak that language, it can definitely throw you out of the fic and become too hard basket as a reader.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Pretty sure it was Star Trek Voyager, because I’m that old.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Oh man, I could never choose. I do have particular fondness for futures that all might start someday,  something inevitable, whatever the question.

I tag: @crazyassmurdererwall . @cinematicnomad . @machtaholic . and anyone else who wants to have a go. :)

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 10

ao3 || ffn

A Step Further

Ron gently set Hermione down, and she broke the kiss long enough to shed the wet towel that was still wrapped around her body. Hermione sat back on the bed and reached out, bunching Ron’s shirt in her hands as she pulled him on top of her. His lips found hers again as he felt her hands move from his chest to around his neck and into his hair. Merlin, he could get used to feeling her fingers intertwine with the locks of his hair.

Hermione didn’t hesitate when she quickly moved her tongue into his mouth. The more comfortable they became with each other, the braver each got. She grazed her teeth across Ron’s bottom lip and bit down gently as she grabbed his shirt and pulled it upwards. Ron had to shift himself slightly as he helped her take his shirt off, but he feared there was ultimately no hiding what she did to him in the thin cloth of the swimsuit he still wore.

Her arms wrapped around his now bare back as she pulled him closer to her, the bare skin of their torsos now barely touching. Ron felt himself groan into her mouth at the connection. He felt her hands hesitantly explore the expanse of his back as he found his own hand trailed down to her hip, pulling her even closer to him, no longer caring if she felt how she made him feel as he was completely intoxicated by the feel of her.

As they continued to snog, Ron couldn’t help his own hand beginning to explore her body. He was caught between the raging hormones that fueled his desire to feel every inch of her soft skin, while the tiny, rational part that was left of his brain was sounding the alarm of not moving too quickly. His hand moved above her hip and grazed her stomach. He stopped when the tips of his fingers reached the edge of the bikini top.

He pulled away from her lips briefly. “Can I?” he asked. He didn’t want to assume she’d be okay with this.

Hermione bit her lip and averted his gaze. “I- I do want you to, but...”

Ron pulled away slightly more to get a better read on her body language. “Hermione, if you’re not ready, I’m fine with that-”

“I am ready! I just…”

He didn’t quite understand, and that worried him. He could normally read her well, but he couldn’t place this worry. “What is it?” he asked her gently. “Please tell me.”

“It’s barmy. I shouldn’t even let it bother me,” she said, still avoiding those blue eyes that both made her heart melt and would get her to tell him anything if she wasn’t too careful.

“But it is bothering you, and until you give me a straight answer, I’ll respect it as a no,” Ron said firmly as he pulled his hand away from where it was resting on her stomach and sat up. 

Hermione covered her face in her hands as she let out an audible sigh. She already missed the warmth of his hand and body near hers, and regretted even sort of bringing it up. She knew she wouldn’t get him close like that until she told him, though. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.” 

Her voice sounded muffled through her hands, but Ron heard her insecurities loud and clear. This was about Lavender. Would that part of his life ever not come back to bite him in the arse?

“Hermione,” Ron started. He was trying to find the words to say to ease her worries. “There’s no comparison.”

He watched as her hands left her face and he gave him a strained look and a distressing cry left her lips.

“No! I didn’t mean it like- ugh, Hermione! She doesn’t compare to you! She never did and she never will. Merlin, I shouldn’t be telling you this-”

“Then don’t. Ron, do you know how many nights I had to listen to her brag about what you’d done in empty classrooms when they thought I was asleep? I think Parvati started to feel bad because eventually she  seemed less and less interested after a while.”

“What? Hermione, I didn’t know. If I’d have known-”

Hermione shook her head as she cut him off. “You don’t have to lie. We were fighting so badly, you wouldn’t have defended me to her. It’s bad enough I had to hear about your romantic Valentine’s evening where you, and I quote, ‘sealed the deal’ with her.”

“Wait, what?” Ron was staring at her blankly as his head was whirring with a thousand thoughts. “She didn’t say that we- that we- Merlin, Hermione, I never had sex with her!” It wasn’t often that his face and neck became flushed in addition to his ears, but he was beet red from what looked like anger right now.

“Y-You didn’t?”

“Bloody hell, no! I avoided her the entire day! Not that I’m proud of it, but I didn’t get her anything, and she kept pestering me in class about disappearing to an abandoned classroom to celebrate that night. I lied about having rounds and hid in the kitchens to get some schoolwork done.”

Hermione let out a mixture between a laugh and a cry in what seemed like relief. “I can’t believe I let her get to me. No wonder Parvati was trying to get her to shut up! She knew she was just doing it to get to me. And to think I cried myself to sleep for a week after hearing that.” She finally sat up on the bed.

“You didn’t…” Ron’s guilt expanded at her admission.

She nodded. “And that was after I’d made my New Year’s Resolution to get over you. Six weeks later, and I’d clearly failed.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron told her.

“You don’t have to apologize for her actions, Ron,” Hermione said.

“No, but I’m apologizing for my own. I never should have used her to get back at you.”

“Get back at me?”

“Er, yeah…” Ron wasn’t expecting to bring that up at all, but it slipped out. Though he supposed it was going to come up eventually.

“Ron, I’m going to need you to explain, please.”

“Right. Er, remember when I got mad at you and didn’t speak to you?”

“How could I forget? Are you finally going to tell me what I did?”

He winced at the memory that was long since shoved into the back of his brain. “Ginny and I got in a row. A bad one. Bloody hell, if Dean and Harry weren’t there, it probably would have turned violent…”

“Ron…”

“Er, yeah, anyways, we caught her and Dean snogging behind the tapestry to one of the shortcuts. I was already in a right foul mood from practice and that just set me over the edge. I may or may not have gone all overprotective brother on her, and she may or may not have called me out on being the only one who hadn’t snogged anyone.”

Hermione eyed him carefully. “What do you mean?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“She so bluntly threw it in my face that Harry had snogged Cho and you’d snogged Viktor so I needed to get over her snogging Dean.”

Ron held his breath as he watched Hermione’s reaction. She was taking a bit longer to process his words and that was making him nervous. “That still doesn’t explain why you shut me out for a whole week.”

He couldn’t tell if she was playing dumb just to hear him say it, or if she really didn’t know. “I got really angry over it. Harry seemed like he knew what Ginny was talking about. I’m not proud of it. Not after everything had been going really well between us. I was mad that you never told me, and jealous that I- well, admitting that will just make me a bloody prat.” Ron shook his head.

“Say it.”

“Why?” He looked at her nervously. Where was the crazed look he was expecting to see in her eyes? She simply raised her eyebrows, but didn’t elaborate. “ Fine, I was hurt that I wasn’t your first kiss. Are you happy now?” Ron rolled his eyes slightly.

An odd smile crept on Hermione’s lips, and Ron was preparing for the worst now. “You know, it’s a shame you didn’t just ask me about it.”

He waited for her to continue and when she didn’t, he said, “Okay, two things. Do you really think my sixteen year old self would have walked right up to you and asked if you’d snogged Viktor? And why are you smiling about this. You’re scaring me a bit.”

“I’m smiling because I’m finally relieved to know that none of this was my fault. And you really can be such an idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’d have bothered to ask me, you would have learned that Ginny exaggerated.” 

There it was. That triumphant look she’d get when she’d solved a particularly hard riddle, or when she’d outsmarted a teacher. It was also the same look she had after she’d punched Malfoy in the nose third year. “What?”

“Your sister was lying. Viktor kissed me, yes. I won’t deny that. A few times, actually, but it was always chaste, and it never deepened into anything more. I tried to like it because he was sweet and genuine, but there was no spark. And he respected that when I told him I wasn’t interested in him like that. Unbeknownst to me, but my heart already belonged to a certain red-headed git whether I wanted it to or not.”

“So, was Viktor ever actually your boyfriend?” Ron asked, completely astounded.

“No, you prat!” Hermione threw a pillow at his face. “He wanted to be, but I declined. I was waiting for you! And instead of going to Slughorn’s party together where I’d hoped that maybe something could happen between us that night, I had to wait another year and a half for anything to happen because of your pig headedness!”

Ron was expecting her to be furious, and yet after she’d finished explaining her side of the story, she broke into a fit of laughter. It was contagious and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. When they’d settled a bit, he said. “Sounds about right for us, taking forever to sort things out.”

Hermione nodded. “Maybe it was supposed to happen this way.”

“That sure would make it easier to forget all the lost time we could have had together,” Ron agreed.

“But that’s what makes it our story, isn’t it?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, and now we have our entire lives ahead of us,” Ron said. 

He felt his heart speed up and his stomach flutter at the thought of spending the rest of his life with her. His eyes sought hers, and Ron hoped she knew how serious he was about that statement. There was no way he was going to waste this chance he had with her.

“We do,” Hermione said breathlessly as she locked eyes with him. 

It only took one glance down to his lips from her before he leaned in and kissed her hard. They both fell against the pillows, settling on their sides as they quickly found the rhythm they’d left off with before. As Ron moved his hand to a more comfortable position, Hermione pulled herself away briefly.

“How far did you really go with her? I’m sorry I’m bringing this back up. I don’t really want to know, but I need to know,” she tried to explain.

Ron nodded slowly. He understood what she was saying, and he’d want to know the same if he were in her position. “There was...touching, but it never went further than that, I swear. She tried to go down on me once, shortly after Valentine’s Day, but I didn’t let her. I couldn’t. Once the initial lust of the relationship had died off, I realized pretty quickly that she wasn’t what I wanted. Or she wasn’t who I wanted it with. After that, I spent half the time imagining she was you when we’d snog and my eyes were closed. Not that it even comes close to this. Merlin, Hermione, you have no idea what you do to me. No matter what you’re thinking, you have to know that what I had with her will never come close to how this feels.”

He waited for Hermione to process his words as he searched her face. When she finally took a breath, she whispered a quiet, “okay,” indicating that she believed him. Ron never took his eyes off her as he waited for her to make the next move. She leaned in to capture his lips with her own, and he felt her hand find his. Where he expected her to simply intertwine her fingers with his own, he was surprised to find her guiding his hand up her body, and settling over her breast. 

He looked down as she pulled her own hand away and let it rest on his hip as she pulled back slightly and whispered, “You can go under if you want.”

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t want to mess this up. She nodded against him as he saw her look up and met her eyes with his own.

Ron kissed her gently then, as he adjusted his hand to make it more comfortable. It took a while to overcome the awkwardness of feeling each other in an intimate way, but once they passed the initial unease, they spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other on a deeper physical level. For the first time, Ron understood that intimacy didn’t mean sex. Far from it. He would be perfectly happy spending any alone time like this so long as it meant he had Hermione in his arms. 

A/N: Don’t hate me too much y’all, I did promise this was going to be a slowburn, after all.

[fishoutofcamelot]

I saw your r recent contribution to the post about hard vs soft magic systems and I agree wholeheartedly. You also mentioned having a bunch of worldbuilding and stuff about the magic system, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some?

(For reference, this is the post in question)

Certainly! While the worldbuilding/magicbuilding hellscape i was describing in the notes is actually in regards to an original-content wip I've been working on, i also have a LOT of headcanons regarding the BBCM magic system too! (Do not ask about my wip's magic system, because i won't be able to shut up about it)

WARNING: long post ahead and mobile won't let me include a cutoff/read-more line. If you're not interested, get ready to scroll down like your life depends on it (and it does).

So! First things first. Here's what we know about the BBCM magic system:

Magic requires spells, most of the time. This seems like a no-brainer, but still an important distinction. There are a lot of magic systems that don't require vocalized spells - Avatar: the Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ninjago, to name a few. Spells are rather common for wizard/witch/medieval fantasies, and are typically used to control and channel the intent of the magic. This suggests that the magic of BBCM is some kind of force or energy that needs spoken commands to control.

Spells are repurposed words from Old English, aka the language of the Old Religion. (Let's ignore the obvious anachronistic nightmare of the fact that Old English is exactly the same language they would've been speaking in this time period.)

The use of a spell causes someone's eyes to flare gold, plus that fancy wooshing sound effect that Arthur miraculously never hears. This suggests that magic somehow changes your physiology, although it could be also just be a side effect of channeling.

However, magic doesn't always require a spell. Though never fully explained, it appears to be something only innate magic users are capable of - Merlin, Morgana, Mordred. It is something less controllable than spellwork, typically governed by moments of strong emotion rather than logical intent.

The show consistently flip-flops between the idea that magic is something you're born with, and that Merlin is rare for being born with magic. It's never clarified just how someone acquires magic. Gaius asks Merlin where he studied, suggesting that it's something you can learn, while Balinor claims that you either have it or you don't. Though not confirmed fact, i suspect it's similar to how it works in the show Supernatural. There, some witches are natural-born, while others are taught (and some get their powers from spooky demon deals).

It has a life-for-a-life policy. Basically like the Law of Equivalent Exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist, a life cannot be created without another one being sacrificed first. This rule only canonically applies to creating life/the Cup of Life, and any other possible applications aren't addressed.

This rule apparently doesn't apply to animals, as Merlin brought a dog statue to life without killing anyone (that we know of), and Valiant's shield had three live snakes in it. However, it's possible that lives were taken as payment in the process of animation without Merlin's knowledge, but it never happens on screen so we don't know. So either a) animals don't have souls to exchange in the life-for-a-life policy, b) they do but it happens off-screen, or c) those animated animals aren't actually alive.

The Cup of Life infuriates me from a magicbuilding perspective. Ignoring the obvious question of how it came into the druids' possession, its existence isn't clearly defined. Does it require the fancy rain ritual that Nimueh gave it, or was she just extra? Why does drinking from it give you life, while bleeding into it makes you undead and also mindlessly obedient to the sorcerer who made you as such? Were there life-for-a-life consequences for creating an immortal army? Wtf happened on the Isle of the Blessed to allow Merlin to "master life and death", and what does that even mean? All valid questions that never get answered.

Spells sometimes need need a 'source'. Think the staff from "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" and Morgana from "The Fires of Idirsholas." It is unclear what makes these spells different/special.

There is a power hierarchy. Some spells are too powerful for some practitioners to cast, although the reason for this is unclear. Does it drain you of energy/life force? Do you exhaust/overwork your magic muscles? Do you get a little pop-up that says 404 Magic Not Found? Unclear.

Magic is something that can be trained and improved. For example, Morgana gradually became more powerful over time. Merlin naturally had a lot of power straight off the jump and just had to discipline it, but he's a ~special~ case so he doesn't count.

There are some subsets of magic that are definitively born traits. Morgana is a Seer, possessing this capability even before her magic manifested. Likewise, Merlin is a dragonlord, which he inherited from Balinor. Although Balinor did mention that it wasn't a sure thing he would have the ability until he faced a dragon, so there may be some variation in whether or not someone lucks out in the Magic Gene Pool. This may suggest that natural-born magic is hereditary, as both Morgana and her sister Morgause had it. Vivienne and Gorlois both probably didn't have it, otherwise you'd hear Uther bellyaching about it, which raises the question of where they got it? A grandparent, perhaps? Maybe they both carried a recessive magic gene or something...

Unless you're Merlin, magic can be taken away by the Gean Canagh. It's not explained how this is possible, though, as it's never explained how you acquire magic in the first place. But Merlin never lost his magic because he's "magic itself" which if you ask me is just a deus ex machina wrapped inside a headache wrapped inside a heaping load of chosen one bullcrap. But it's canonical lore, so we have to consider it.

Despite my previous complaints, i actually find the idea of Merlin being "magic itself" rather intriguing. Is he a creature of magic, like a dragon or a questing beast? Is his body made of magic, like how a statue might be made of clay? Does it run through his veins like blood? If this is the case, then why didn't he suffer more severe ramifications for losing his magic? Why didn't it kill him? How did it restrict his magic in the first place? Placebo effect? The fanon explanation is that he's "the living embodiment of magic" but that makes my bullcrap richter scale shoot off the charts because that makes NO sense whatsoever. "Son of the earth, sea, and sky?" What does that MEAN?

There is a vivid link between magic and the Old Religion, which has its own beliefs and rituals and deities. Primarily, the Triple Goddess. The Triple Goddess is actually an existing deity in Neopaganism and Wicca. This also suggests the existence of the Horned God, another entity from neopagan lore and her masculine consort/counterpart, but that is never confirmed.

WHO. OR. WHAT. IS. THE. FREAKING. DOCHRAID. She's described as a creature of magic, which suggests that humans/humanoids can be creatures of magic, fueling my theory that 'Emrys' isn't human.

Destiny exists. It is unclear who creates/writes destiny, who controls it, who or what is privy to knowing about it, and what that means for the concept of free will.

The crystal cave is a thing, i guess. It's the heart of magic, is haunted by Taliesin, and is filled with prophetic crystals. I actually skipped the episodes that involve this stuff because i disliked them, so i don't know much about the Crystal Cave. Apparently ghosts can manifest there tho???

The veil is a thing too. It is unclear how some spirits can retain their human figure and mentality, like Balinor and Uther, but others become dorocha. I imagine its also like Supernatural - being a ghost for long enough will drive you insane, and though it takes a while all spirits eventually turn into dorocha.

Creatures of magic exist. These are normal creatures who have magic imbued into them somehow.

Okay, i think that's everything we know. It seems like a lot, but keep in mind that all of those rules are VERY nebulous. But that at least gives us a jumping-off point!

So here's my working theory/headcanon.

Magic comes from a connection to the spiritual energies of the Triple Goddess. Kinda like a third eye, and for the sake of simplicity that's what we'll call it. The druids have adapted a way of life that revolves around faith and magic, likely in an attempt to cultivate and one day attain this Third Eye. Like Gaius, who trained with the High Priestesses, you can study and practice and discipline yourself into acquiring it.

Magic is a cosmic force owned by the Triple Goddess, accessible to anyone with the Third Eye link. Imagine the Triple Goddess as a milkshake and the so-called Third Eye as a straw. The studying and training that people dedicate their whole lives to is basically just looking for/building a straw.

However, some people are just naturally born with a straw in hand, but require practice and study to be able to properly use it. Or like Morgana, it takes a few years for them to even find it/activate it.

Spellcasting is essentially just sucking through the straw, and the vocalized spells gives that Magic Milkshake some purpose/intent/shape.

The bigger the spell, the more Magic Milkshake is required. Some people have bigger/wider straws than others, so magic comes easier for them. But with enough training and practice anyone can widen their straw/strengthen their straw-sucking muscles to cast with the big leagues.

The Gean Canagh devours your straw/Third Eye. Perhaps you have to rebuild a new spiritual connection from scratch, or perhaps it permanently severs any and all connection to the Triple Goddess. Like getting excommunicated from the Church, only worse.

The Crystal Cave was/is the Triple Goddess's home, but she's out of town on a business trip atm so she left the spirit of her most loyal follower, Taliesin, to look after the place. It's super powerful and has all those cool crystals because it's hella steeped in her magic juices.

While most magic users get a standard-issue straw, others get Fancy Premium Membership Straws. Normal joe shmoes like Gilli have plastic straws, while a Seer like Morgana has a metal one or something (can you tell this metaphor is starting to get out of hand?). Those Premium Straws are only hereditary in nature. So there's a Seer Straw, or a Dragonlord Straw, or a Disir Straw, but it's also not a sure thing you'll even inherit it at all. It's all luck of the straw draw.

Creatures of magic aren't just animals that possess straws, though. They've been made/produced using magic rituals and processes and spells. Like Nimueh's afanc, nathairs, wraiths, shades, etc. So probably like a thousand years ago, some especially powerful shmuck came by and invented dragons. Which leads me to an important question: WHO THE HELL THOUGHT THE DOCHRAID WAS A GOOD IDEA.

Im reluctant to say these creatures were invented by the Triple Goddess, though, for reasons I'll get to in a moment.

So this still leaves the whole Cup of Life, life-for-a-life policy thing to be explained. I do believe that the policy is universally applicable to the creation of souls, and i do believe that animals have souls too. But individuals get their souls exchanged for those of equal value. So every soul has a certain weight to it, and you need to exchange souls of equal weight to create one. So when Merlin brought the dog to life, some random dog somewhere dropped dead against his knowledge.

Creating undead armies involves killing them and then resurrecting them. That's what 'undead' means. Zombies. So yes, to raise an immortal zombie army, Morgause's spell probably caused a bunch of people around the world to mysteriously drop dead.

Which leaves two last things to explain: destiny and Merlin.

Destiny is, i think, a combined effort between human choice and supernatural predeterminism. That is, for the most part humans make their own choices, but there are occasions where the Triple Goddess has to step in and do some course correction. Uther starting the Purge was free will, but Arthur and Merlin's destiny was an act of divine damage control. The Triple Goddess sets destiny into motion and informs a chosen few about it.

Okay SO. That leaves Merlin. And this is the bit im kinda excited about.

The Triple Goddess is a reservoir of power, a cosmic force of spiritual energy intrinsicallu linked to the fabric of the universe. People can spiritually reach out and tune into/channel her supernatural frequencies. But as a milkshake cannot suck itself through a straw, the Triple Goddess likewise cannot cast a spell. She can influence destiny, but she can't physically cast any magic on her own. That's why she didn't create the creatures of magic.

So a few years ago, Uther hecked up big time. And people of magic, the Triple Goddess's followers and acolytes and straw connections, were dying in droves. I can imagine that all those Third Eye tethers snapping en masse was painful for her to go through. She relies on the tethers to remain connected to the real world, and if all the tethers snap then she will be cut off from Earth altogether. And Earth requires magic to continue existing/thriving, so that's kind of a no-no.

So, the Triple Goddess knew that the only way to save the world was through divine intervention. Thus began the destiny of the Once and Future King and Emrys. She knew humanity is bigoted so there was bound to eventually be a repeat of Uther, so she made OaFK resurrectable, so they could keep him on the bench in case anyone ever needs him again.

Where does Merlin/Emrys fall into things?

Well. The Triple Goddess knew that saving her people and the world would require an immense magical undertaking, something no ordinary magic user would be able to pull off. But she has the power, if only she could use it. But a human can. So the Triple Goddess decided to be reborn into the body of a dragonlord's son. Merlin. Emrys. Magic itself.

Of course, this whole Being Born As A Human Thing is tricky, and as anyone familiar with reincarnation knows, you don't usually recall your past lives. So she became Merlin, unaware that he was ever the Triple Goddess. (Although she did add a clause saying she'd be destined to remember her past life eventually, which got hecked up for reasons ill explain later)

That's why so many creatures of magic/magic users recognize Merlin by his presence, why thr druids carry such reverence for him. Whereas the sidhe and other individuals don't recognize him, because they are blinded by heresy. They may have a spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess, but do not use her magic as she intended, and she's too busy wearing jaunty scarves to excommunicate them herself.

Why get the Once and Future King involved when she could just save everyone herself? Well, the Triple Goddess prefers to let the humans keep their agency and save themselves, and would rather remain in the role of protector/helper. Its just her nature.

But if that's the case, then why did Arthur's destiny fail? It's simple: Kilgharrah.

Remember what i said about the Horned God, counterpart to the Triple Goddess? Yeah, that's Kilgharrah. Like the Triple Goddess, he's another power reservoir, but he's jealous because people worship her and not him. He is against everything she does and actively seeks the destruction of the Triple Goddess's magic/influence for Jealous Evil Reasons. To stop him, the Triple Goddess enlisted some of her followers to bind him into the body of a dragon (perhaps this is how dragons were created) so he would never be able to do that. Years later, the Purge happened and "Kilgharrah" got locked away, further cut off from his power.

When Merlin walked in, unaware that he used to be the Triple Goddess, Kilgharrah seized his chance at revenge and manipulated Merlin into setting him free. Then, once free, he decided to lay claim to the power vacuum left by the Triple Goddess's quasi-absence. He began controlling destiny in whatever limited capacities he could, using magic of his own to permanently bury Merlin's knowledge of his past life. Then he ensured that Arthur would die and the Triple Goddess's magic would never return. But since he doesn't have FULL control over destiny (his powers are still limited by his dragon form, after all), he couldn't rewrite the bit where Arthur gets benched in Avalon. He's probably conspiring with the sidhe to ensure Arthur stays trapped there forever, or else he would've come back a long time ago.

As for how the Gean Canagh took Merlin's magic...well, yes, it devoured his Third Eye straw, but those are created by a strong spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess. And since he's literally the big TG himself, all he had to do was find himself again (by returning to his old home, the Crystal Cave) to recreate a new one.

Over the last 1500 years, Kilgharrah/the Horned God has been steadily accruing followers and worshippers in the hopes that one will become strong enough to release TG's bonds on him. Then he can kill her once and for all and claim full dominion over the universe, with the sidhe to support him.

I imagine that's how Arthur's resurrection would happen - Arthur and the rest of the dead Round Table are in Avalon when they learn about the treachery and plot to kill Merlin/take over the world, and spend the next few hundred years fighting their way out of Avalon.

Okay, I think that just about covers it. God, that was long. Any questions?

[ferretsarefurryappendagedsnakes]

📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂📂 M O R E PLEASE 👁️👁️

💀💀💀 of course, my shameless gremlin:

1. Morgana learned how to sword fight from Gorlois before he died. As in they played with wooden swords a bunch.

2. It was actually after a swordfight that she won with Arthur that young Morgana met Gwen. She went to Tom's shop for a new sword and met Gwen and little Gwen was the one who made her a sword and they sword fought as well.

3. Know the hand twirl we see Arthur (and Morgana a few times) do with his sword? He picked that up from Morgana who in turn learned it from Gwen.

4. Also we know Gwen and Leon were childhood friends, I think he and Morgana were good friends too. Arthur was always jealous she seems to be able to make friendships better than he could.

5. I also think Gwen made Excalibur, not Tom, so Morgana was also killed by a sword Gwen made. (I hurt myself with this one honestly)

6. The core four had fun nights just to themselves.( Yes I wrote a fanfic of this and am shamelessly linking it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227108 )

7. Merlin absolutely loves vines. He quotes them most when drunk. His favorite is "Don't F#%K with me, I have the power of God and anime on my side!"

8. Aithusa could hunt but Morgana felt guilty about him being trapped in the well with her and would magic up a bunch of extra rats and stuff to make it easier for the dragon. She'd also float fish out of a stream as they walked to give him as treats.

9. GWAINE DIDN'T DIE. HE PASSED OUT AND RECOVERD FINELY.

10. Elyan could speak multiple languages very fluently and nobody knew til one mission where he saved all the knights lives by speaking to someone Arthur had accidentally insulted by saying a phrase in their native tongue that Gwaine told him to tell people he liked ( Gwaine knew a few different language himself).

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty One

“They’re dead.” Neville tells Harry, voice riddled with fear and sadness. 

Any pretenses of worrying about waking Ron fly out the window, “Dead? Who's dead? What is that?” He fires off, noticing the parchment in his hand. 

“Hediwg, she came, I’m sorry Harry, I shouldn’t have opened it. You and Ron were gone and I thought maybe it was about Brimblehawk. It was marked urgent I just-” 

“Neville, who is it?” He steps closer, his eyes already glossed over. 

“I-I’m sorry. Maybe if we h-had-” he starts emotionally. 

Harry grips his shoulders and shakes him, “please.” he begs. 

“The Granger’s. They’re dead.” 

At the words Harry falls to the floor, taking Neville with him. 

He didn’t know Hugo and Jean Granger very well, but these were Hermione’s parents. They gave him his best friend. And if she ever came back nothing, nothing, would ever be the same. 

“Oh Merlin. No!” He cried out, “We should’ve done more.” He whimpered, clutching onto Neville for dear life. 

Tears were now streaking Neville’s cheeks as well, “I know Harry, I know.” He cried. 

They stayed like that for a while on the floor. Eventually, Harry calmed enough to ask about the letter Hedwig brought that held the news. 

“Bill sent it. It didn’t say much, just that they were dead and that he’d be here in the morning.” He explained, holding up the parchment. It was indeed only two sentences long, “It was five when I heard the owl, I reckon he’ll be around soon. Do his parents know about…” Neville trailed, eyeing the bed. 

The Chosen One sniffled before wiping his nose with his sleeve, “He’s seventeen now so he gets to decide if his parents know or not. Since he wasn’t exactly, you know, conscious, I owled them for him. He’d want them to know. I used Madam Pomfrey’s owl. I doubt it's as fast as Hedwig’s but it should’ve reached Devon by now.” Harry answers. 

Finally collecting himself a bit more, Harry stands up, hovering over Ron’s sleeping form. 

“He’ll lose it.” He whispered after a few minutes of silence. 

Neville soon joined his side, “I know.” 

“He’ll blame himself. If he sees Hermione again, he’ll tell her it was his fault. It’s not.” Harry says, voice becoming more strangled. 

“I know that. We all do. Hermione will too.” He responds, gripping the dark haired boy's shoulder and giving him a squeeze. 

“Dumbledore must know by now, he’s got to.” Potter said surely, turning to face Neville under his grasp. 

Neville shrugged, “I’d assume, but what difference does it make?” He said weakly. 

“I wanna know how. And I wanna know who.” He said with a fire in his eyes. 

The other boy could sense as much and made a move to ease him. The last thing anyone needed was a raging Harry and a raging Ron. “There’s something else.” Neville whispered. 

At his words, Harry instantly softened, sensing the seriousness in his tone. 

He braced himself for what was to come next. 

“It wasn’t really Hediwg that woke me up.” At this Harry’s eyes squinted in confusion as Neville sighed, “Fred and Geroge’s owl, it was the one pecking at the window. They talked to Brimblehawk, they know where that place is, with the chandelier.” 

“W-what?” He breathed, never did he think their plan would ever amount to anything, but he hoped it would. More than anything. 

“Harry, when Bill comes today we need to tell him what we know. I know before you and Ron didn’t want to start anything or were scared they’d move her, but I reckon it's now or never.” He pauses, “no matter what happens next, nothing will ever be the same.”

Slowly, but surely, Harry nodded in agreement. The Grangers were gone. It felt like the worst had happened, but he knew deep down, there was potential for worse. 

Who would be next? A Weasley? Neville? Lupin? Hermione herself? 

No. 

No. Harry was through playing this waiting game. It was time Hermione came home, or what’s left of it anyway. 

“Harry?” Neville broke his daze. 

“You’re right.” He confirmed, “I just hope Ron’s awake to help. I want Hermione back more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything, but Ron, it’s like-it’s like it's killing him.” The Boy-Who-Lived whispered. 

“We’ll get her back, Harry. We need her.” 

At this very moment Ron groaned in his sleep, head falling to his other shoulder. Instantly, Harry felt the need to pull the blanket around his best mate tighter. Let him feel protected from the real world for just a little bit longer. 

“You need to come back soon Ron.” Harry whispered low enough that Neville wouldn’t hear. 

He felt Neville’s eyes burning into his back as he watched the scene. Stepping away, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, “you never told me where she is.” He says, voice cracking, “Hermione.” He adds. 

“Wiltshire.” He responds, “A place called Malfoy Manor.” 

Harry’s entire body erupts with chills. 

... 

It wasn’t until two hours later, around seven in the morning, that Ron began to regain consciousness. 

He opened his blue eyes, doing his best to adjust to the harsh light in the room. 

Everything around him was a blur, he moved his hand to rub at his eyes, but found it to be very weak.  After blinking a few times, it seemed to do the trick as the world became clearer. 

This was not his dormitory. 

Why the fuck was he in the hospital wing? 

“Merlin, you’re alright.” He heard Harry breathe from nearby, though he sounded underwater. 

Suddenly, everything came back to him like a rush of cold water flooding his veins. 

Birthday. Chocolate Cauldrons. Romilda Bloody Vane. Slughorn. Meade. Hermione…

“M fine.” He croaks, trying to sit up. 

Harry gently pushes his shoulders down, “I wouldn’t do that. Neville’s gone to get Madame Pomfrey to give you some potions that’ll sort you out. Though, I imagine she’ll be livid, we aren’t supposed to be here this early.” 

It’s true. Madam Pomfrey shooed him away last night, but he simply returned to his dorm, nicked his invisibility cloak, and came back. 

Neville’s presence was a bit harder to explain. 

“Since you’re technically of age, your parents didn’t have to be informed, but I owled them last night. They’ll be along soon with Bill, I reckon.” He let’s slip. 

Ron could sense his best mates unease. Not only that, but why the hell would Bill be popping in if his Mum and Dad were? Something was a little off. 

“Bill?” He questioned. 

Harry’s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish’s would, before Madame Pomfrey came to the rescue.

Well, sort of. 

“Mr. Potter! Visiting hours do not begin until eight o’clock! You and Mr. Longbottom will be dealt with accordingly after I sort out my patient here! Little regard for following rules. Just like your fathers.” She tutted the last sentence under her breath as she moved to Ron’s side, leaving a blushing Neville in her wake. 

The matron picked up a glass vile and slowly tipped the thick potion past Ron’s lips. 

“Now Mr. Weasley, the bezoar seemed to do wonders for you. Most of the poison has been flushed from your system, but there are still trace amounts present. You’ll be on a few potions the next few days to get you fit as a fiddle. You may feel tired or get aches, but any symptoms besides  those you must alert me, understand?” 

Ron just nodded in response, swallowing the terrible tasting liquid as she spoke. 

“Now how is your knee?” She asked next. 

He thought about it for a moment, but any pain within that region didn’t register, “My knee?” He questioned. 

Harry shifted uncomfortably at Ron’s ignorance, as Neville flushed a bit, seeming to have realized where this was going. 

Madame Pomfrey nodded, “yes you’ve been whining about it since last night. I did a full body scan and there’s no internal injuries to it, maybe just sore?” She thought aloud. 

“My knee.” He repeated to himself, now understanding that he was not groaning about a pain in his leg, but rather, his Mione. 

“Oh, uh,” he began nervously, but cleared his throat, “yes, it’s feeling better now, thank you.” Ron said quickly, red as his hair and avoiding both of his friends' eyes. 

“Excellent. You rest.” She then turned to look over Harry and Neville for a few moments, both squirmed under her gaze. “I’ll allow Misters Potter and Longbotton to stay. The headmaster was quite insistent that Mr. Potter be present for when your family arrives.” 

“Harry?” Ron said aloud, again, getting the feeling something bigger was going on. 

The nurse nodded, “yes. I’ve been told your parents and brothers will be joining us too. I know how the twins can be, but you must remain on bed rest, do not work yourself up.” She reiterated. 

“The twins?” Now he was really confused. He’s almost positive his Mum wouldn’t allow the two of them to see him in this state if she knew how well, weak, he was. Ron didn’t need any added troubles. 

“That’s what I said Mr. Weasley. Someone will also be waking your sister soon I’m sure. I’ve been told William will also be joining at Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore’s insistence.” 

“Did they say why?” He asked next, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with Harry, but maybe Madam Pomfrey knew differently. 

“No, but I’m sure your family is just concerned. The Weasley’s have always been a tight bunch.” 

And that’s true! But ever since everything happened during Christmas holiday, Mum, like Dumbledore, has been very adamant that no one draw any attention. To carry on as they were. 

Surely over half of the Weasley clan coming to Hogwarts to speak with Dumbledore would draw suspicions.

And right under Snape and Malfoys nose, no less. 

“Now I must go finish filing your report for the archives. I’ll be back soon with your hourly potion.” She walked to her office before stopping, “stay put.” Madame Pomfrey warned. 

Once she disappeared, Ron was given a second to take in Neville and Harry. Both had bloodshot eyes. Harry was biting the edge of his nails as Neville twisted a piece of parchment in his shaking hands. 

Ron was awake, he was okay, so what were they so worked up for? 

“There’s something else.” He whispered, but the pair heard. 

“Ron-“ Harry began. 

Before he could finish, the hospital wing doors flew open, revealing a mass of red hair, along with Dumbledore and McGonagall not far behind. 

“Ronnie!” His Mum cried out, racing over to his bed and giving him a hug. 

He did his best to respond, but found his limbs feeling heavy, “I’m okay Mum.” He whispered. 

Over her shoulder, he didn’t fail to notice the crowd that came in. And any doubts that something bigger was going on was all but confirmed by the looks on their faces. 

Sure, they were all relieved Ron was alright, but they were not jumping for joy like he suspected. 

Like his Mum, Ginny was crying. Something he hasn’t seen her do in years, save for Christmas. 

Bill was anxiously shifting his weight between his feet, something he got scolded for when he was younger as a nervous habit. 

His father looked solemn. They exchanged a brief nod, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to smile at his son. Not when he’d have to break his heart all over again. 

The twins weren’t laughing. They weren’t smiling. They weren’t joking. They were stiff, serious, stoic, three words he would never associate with them. 

McGonagall herself looked a little misty eyed as she fiddled with her robes’ sleeves. 

Dumbledore also had an indescribable air of sadness around him. Ron couldn’t put it into words, he could feel it. 

“It’s Hermione, isn't it.” He spoke to the room. He just knew. 

They all exchanged nervous glances, no one knew what to say. 

“Not exactly.” Dumbledore answered, stepping through the Weasley’s to be right at Ron’s bedside. “I’m glad to see you well Ronald.” 

He couldn’t help but scoff, “cheers.” 

“Ronald Billius! You ought to treat Albus with respect. We are all very happy you are alright, you should be too!” His Mum called from his fathers embrace. 

“I am.” He said softer, “but that doesn’t mean I need to be treated like a kid. I feel fine. A little tired, but I am fine. So someone now please tell me what in the bloody hell is going on.” He grunted. 

Molly again made a move to scold her son, but Dumbledore dismissed her with a wave of his hand. 

“Can’t put anything past you can we Ronald? That’s an Auror’s trait if I’ve ever come to know one.” He commented, almost like he knew that was Ron’s dream. 

Well, he probably did know somehow. This was after all Albus Dumbledore. 

“Uh thanks.” The ginger said a little impatiently. On any other day he might’ve flushed at the compliment and thanked his headmaster. Right now, he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Harry can’t let this go on any longer. He just physically cannot allow another moment to pass with Ron laying there, the truth just within arms reach. 

“The Grangers are dead.” He said it quickly and lowly. 

Though everyone, save for Ron, knew the news, all eyes still snapped to Harry in awe at his bluntness. 

Ron made a move to sit up and this time no one made a move to stop him. They simply watched as his eyes widened in a painstaking state of shock. 

“No.” Was all he managed. He couldn’t believe it. 

“Son, I’m so sorry-“ Arthur began, stepping forward. 

“You promised.” He gritted to his father. 

“Ron-“ the old man protested. 

“You promised!” He yelled, voice so riddled with anguish. “You said someone went. That they put up wards.” 

“They did son, I promise you. Someone from The Order was sent, but I’m afraid the wards weren’t casted by someone with Dumbledore’s caliber of magic. They didn’t stand a chance against her.” Mr. Weasley explained, voice almost as strained as his sons. 

“S-she?” He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a tear drop land on his knuckles. 

“We can’t be positive, but the work matches-“ 

“Bellatrix.” Ron spat angrily. 

He didn’t need to see his father nod in confirmation to know he was right. 

“This isn’t right. None of this is right. She needs to answer for what she’s done to Hermione, to her parents!” His voice was rising again. Anger was easier than the guilt pounding its way into his chest. 

“It’s not that easy Ron, if it were-“ This time it was Bill who spoke. 

“I don’t give a bloody fuck what’s easy and what’s not! This is Hermione we’re talking about, that-that was her family. So when she comes home, she won’t even have a home to get back to! You do realize how fucking preventable this entire thing was? So far The Order has been nothing but fuck up.” He seethed. 

“I understand you’re upset Ronnie, but you know we’re doing all that can be done.” Molly interjected softly. 

“No you’re not!” He protested. 

“Oh yeah? And what have you been doing? Beating up Cormac McLaggen? Getting yourself poisoned?” Bill retorted, not liking his brother's attitude, pain or not. 

“William!” His Mum scolded. 

Ron ignored him, “you can bet your arse I’ve been doing a lot more than planning a fucking wedding!” 

This seemed to set Bill off, “don’t get pissy with me just because I have Fleur and Hermione is-“ 

Whatever he was going to say, no one would ever come to find out. 

Ron summoned all his strength and latched roughly onto one of his eldest brother's wrists. Enough to surely bruise. 

“Don’t you dare finish whatever the hell you’re about to say.” 

At this Bill relented, he knew he was out of line, but letting emotions get the better of you surely was a Weasley trait. 

“He is right Bill.” Fred broke from his place in the corner. 

Ron’s brow scrunched in confusion at his brother's words, but his curiosity only grew as he watched Fred and Harry exchange a nod. 

“What?” Bill voices exactly what Ron’s thinking. 

“I reckon Harry, Ronnie, and Neville have done more than The Order has.” Fred then turns ro McGonagall and Dumbledore, “no offense.” 

“Mr. Weasley, need I remind you that certain things are not to be brought up in the presence of others?” McGonagall scathes, eyes flicking to Neville. 

“He knows Professor.” Harry states. 

“Mr. Potter-“

“I didn’t tell him. He figured it out.” 

At this, the old woman looked relieved and maybe even a little proud. 

“He’s Hermione’s friend too.” Ron added, certainly more calm then the last time he spoke. 

“Plus, according to a letter Fred and I received a few days ago, without Neville’s help we wouldn’t know where Hermione is.” George told the room. 

At this everyone grew shocked, no one more so than Ron. 

“I-it worked?” He stuttered, not able to believe it himself. 

“We have the closest apparition point here.” Fred pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket before handing it off to Dumbledore. 

He eyed it for a moment before realization struck, “Wiltshire?” Ron swears he hears fear in his tone. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need to be filled in.” McGonagall spoke up. 

“You and I both Minerva.” The old man agreed, though his voice faltered the slightest. 

“I think I’m the reason Hermione’s parents are dead.” Harry piped up. 

“Harry, no.” Ron shook his head, pushing himself upright. 

“He-he told her that someone would die if she spoke to me again and…” he trailed, feeling a bile rise in his throat. 

“You spoke to Hermione?” Ginny questioned. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you Professor, I just thought- we just-” Harry was growing hysterical. 

“Calm yourself Harry, you can ease my mind by explaining what instance you are referring to.” He encouraged, voice soft. 

Slowly, the Chosen One nodded, “that-that night she was taken, I collapsed, do you remember?” He asked to no one in particular, yet everyone nodded. “Well it happened again, the same night. It was him and he h-had Hermione.” He took a deep breath, “she s-spoke to me through him, it made him mad, r-really mad. He told her if she did it again someone would, someone would d-die.” Like Ron, tears found their way down his cheeks. 

“I don’t follow Mr. Potter. If this all happened at Christmas then why would he wait?” McGonagall couldn’t help but question. 

“Because it happened again. A few days ago.” 

A few gasps echoed in the empty wing. 

“Even before everything, I had my suspicions about Draco Malfoy.” He eyed Dumbledore carefully as he said this, but the old man showed little emotion. “Hermione and Ron thought I was barmy, but then Ron started seeing it too.” 

All eyes soon fell on the bed ridden boy, silently demanding an explanation. 

“Mr. Weasley?” Albus encouraged. 

“It started on the train I reckon, Malfoy, he well bumped into me and apologized. He seemed, I dunno- sorry? But for a lot more than that.” Knowing this wasn't a satisfying explanation he continued, “then he told Katie Bell Hermione was away for a family emergency so she couldn’t fulfill her prefect duties and there was just no way he’d know she was gone. We weren’t even at Hogwarts when he said it.” 

“I see.” Dumbledore said, pursing his lips. 

Ron continued anyway, “Then I had these dreams, really bizarre dreams about Malfoy telling me he knew where they were keeping Hermione. It sounds mental, but I just knew there was something more to it.” 

Harry jumped back in, “When Hermione was able to get through to me, the only thing she said was ‘Malfoy’, that’s when I knew it was more.” The dark haired boy ignored all the astound faces and pressed on, “so we broke into his dorm.” He admitted, eyeing his professors cautiously. 

Thankfully, neither had the heart to scold him at the moment, both too invested in the story. The twins even took a moment to exchange a small smirk. 

“In his room we found a picture. The picture had the same chandelier I saw on Christmas when I first felt him with Hermione.” Harry finished. 

“And I recognized the picture from being in The Prophet and Neville, he recognized the photographer's name.” Ron supplied weakly. 

All eyes then turned to the third boy, “Balthasar Bartolo Brimblehawk. He was a big-“ 

“Wartime photographer.” Bill breathed from his spot. 

Neville nodded, “yeah and he’s got a place in Diagon Alley.” Next all eyes fell on the twins.  

George cleared his throat, eyes locking with Ron, knowing his brother was unconscious when their owl arrived. “Didn’t want to talk to us, not at first anyway. We told him we were sent from The Order and he seemed interested, but not enough to let us in.” 

“Then we told him it was a favor for Augusta Longbottom’s grandson and that’s when he cracked.” Fred jumped in. 

“Don’t tell me you-“ McGonagall began, clearly ready to chasistize the boys for disclosing private information. 

“No.” Fred promised, knowing where she was going, “the second we picked up the photo and asked where it was he wrote it for us. No questions asked.” 

“I reckon he knows exactly what goes down there.” George gulped. 

The room fell silent for a moment until the crinkling of parchment cracked it. 

“So this is where Miss Granger is?” Dumbledore asked, holding up the offending piece.

Harry shrugged, “makes the most sense.” 

“Why hadn’t anyone thought of them earlier?” Ron’s cracked voice asked. 

“Estates like the Malfoy’s and the Lestrange’s are some of the wizarding world’s best kept secrets. Furthermore, we had no reason to suspect the Malfoy’s involvement, not with this anyway. Sources said they had much bigger things going on.” Dumbledore said cryptially, not willing to reveal what Severus told him at the start of term. 

And thankfully, no one questioned it, too focused on Hermione. 

“What now?” Bill asked. 

Everyone turned to the headmaster, knowing he was the one to call the shots. However, the old man's attention was fully on Ron. 

“I believe that Miss Granger has been departed from us for far too long.” Albus watched as the bed ridden ginger’s eyes glossed over. He then turned to Ginny, “Miss Wealsey, why don’t you and Mr. Longbottom make way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Bring some back for Mr. Potter too.” He suggested. 

Though they both wanted to fight to stay, they complied, knowing Dumbledore knew what he was doing, “alright. We’ll be back soon.” Ginny said, pulling Neville with her. 

“As for the rest of you Weasley’s, please join me in my office. I do believe we have a great deal of planning ahead of us, yes?” At his words, Molly let tears streak her cheeks as she let Arthur guide her to the door. 

“Minerva, please summon The Order, we shall meet tonight.” Dumbledore said as she too vacated the room. 

Leaving just Harry, Ron, and the old professor, he turned to the bed, “I hope the next time we see each other I can offer you more than just my condolences. Please rest Ronald.” 

With that, he exited the wing as his robes billowed behind him. 

Weakly, Ron attempted to call out but failed. Part of him was overwhelmed and frustrated at not being involved in the planning. This was Hermione after all. 

Another part wanted to sob in relief at the prospect of her coming back to him. Not willing to let himself dwell on her condition. 

However, he could do neither. Not when his stomach was churning terribly as the news of the Grangers death began to settle with him. 

“I promised them.” Is all he said, round, watery eyes finding Harry’s. 

The dark haired boy knew he was on the verge of hysterics. 

“I promised her parents they’d see her again. How am I ever going to-“ he allowed himself to collapse onto his best mate. 

Harry held Ron tightly. Assuring him it wasn’t his fault as he felt his body shake with sobs. 

And maybe from the emotional drain or maybe from the after effects of his poisoning, exhaustion took over as he fell asleep, still in Harry’s embrace. 

It wasn’t until Ron’s breathing evened out did the Boy-Who-Lived spoke, “and I promise you, we will bring Hermione home.” 

[nearlymanaged]

17. Arrogant Toerag and A Birthday Kiss

That spring, the morning of March tenth ushered Remus’ seventeenth birthday in with a thunderous rainstorm. James, Sirius, and Peter had woken him up with magical fireworks whizzing all around their dormitory, and spent the rest of the morning surprising him with little acts of service. One of them happened to be James hexing a sixth year Ravenclaw boy who once won a duel against Remus in their third year and had been boasting about it every chance he got ever since. 

Unlike Sirius, Remus didn’t care for big celebrations and loud parties to commemorate his existence. Instead, it had become a Marauders tradition for the other three boys to get him a chocolate cake every year. They always did it in secret, sneaking off to the kitchen a couple of days beforehand, making plans with the house elves. And Remus always pretended like he didn’t know what was going on.

“Where’s Wormy?” James checked his wristwatch, tapping his foot impatiently. “He should have been back by now.”

“I can’t believe he’d gotten himself a detention on Moony’s birthday,” Sirius folded his arms over his chest with a pout, at which James turned to face him pointedly slowly.

“Do you hear yourself?”

Sirius merely narrowed his eyes at his friend. James had just suggested that everyone play something together, like Transfiguration Charades or Spin The Bottle or whatever else, while he was going to go get the cake. He plunged into this whispered conversation the moment Remus disappeared at the top of the stone steps, to stash away all the chocolate bars he’d gotten from his friends throughout the day.

There was a wide, red banner suspended in air across the length of the common room. It read ‘HAPPY 17TH BIRTHDAY, REMUS!’ with a whole bunch of hearts that Sirius had personally charmed to float around the words, leaving faint trails of sparks behind. Occasionally, it would start singing Happy Birthday, consequently startling an unsuspecting student here and there.

“We should go get the cake now,” James said louder this time, speaking over the singing banner. “Sirius?” 

“I’ll go with you!” Lily jumped up from her armchair.

“Nevermind, Sirius…” James mumbled, all while gazing at Lily, starry-eyed. “Well, well, well. I didn’t know you’re that interested in spending time with me.”

“Get that smirk out of my face, Potter. Didn’t you see that Sirius is busy?” She cast a glance back into the common room as the two of them clambered out through the portrait hole.

“Ah, yes, daydreaming about Moony...” James shrugged, throwing the invisibility cloak over them both in one swift motion; when he spoke again, he couldn’t keep a note of annoyance out of his voice. “I don’t get it. If Moony fancies him back, how come they’re not together?”

“You tell me! We both know Remus is not going to make the first move.”

There really was no arguing with that, James thought as he crouched ever so slightly, loosely hooking his fingers under Lily’s arm to keep her close and fully covered. “Sirius’ Boggart is Remus rejecting him... But I didn’t tell you that!” James added in a hasty whisper.

“Of course you didn’t,” Lily waved it off as they marched down the corridor, unseen by anyone, “but surely, Sirius has been nervous about asking people out before?”

“Oh sweet Merlin, you have no idea how dramatic Sirius can be. He hasn’t stopped whining about how he can’t mess it up because it’s Moony.”

“Well... Encourage him! Be his best mate, cheer him on!”

“Easy for you to say, Evans,” James chuckled, gently nudging her side with his elbow. “How about you encourage Remus?”

“It’s not a matter of encouragement. Unfortunately, he doesn’t believe that Sirius fancies him.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t believe it? Hasn’t he noticed that they’ve been pretty much acting like they’re already together?”

“What, you mean Sirius always touching him somehow and walking him to lessons when he himself should be on the other side of the castle? No, no, that’s just what friends do. Or are you talking about how they wrestled in the common room the other day until Remus managed to pull his jumper off Sirius while sitting on top of him? Because, obviously, Sirius hadn’t asked permission to borrow it so justice needed to be restored, that’s it, nothing more than that. Just two pals,” Lily sighed and shook her head.

“You’re joking...”

“I wish. For someone as smart as Remus--”

“He’s a fucking idiot.”

“Couldn’t have said it better,” Lily let out a melodious laugh and James felt it wrap itself around his heart.

“Who’s there?” The voice of Peeves spoke almost directly above them, prompting them to quickly tiptoe away while trying not to laugh.

“So what are we going to do about them?” James whispered again once they were sure there was no one around at all.

“What do you mean?” Lily turned her head to look at him.

“I mean, we have to help them. They’re two of my best friends, I can’t watch them throw their love away… And also,” he added with a guilty smile when Lily peered at him with a quirked eyebrow, “I am so bloody tired of Sirius whining about it.”

“I don’t know that it’s up to us to do anything,” she grinned at his confession. “They’re both adults...legally, as of today. They can handle themselves.”

“Uh-huh, so you didn’t volunteer to come with me so that Sirius could spend more time with Remus without us around? I see, I see. So you are hopelessly in love with me, after all. Incredible,” James concluded as they stopped in front of a painting of a fruit bowl, offering her a cheeky smirk. 

“You know,” Lily was feeling for the edge of the invisibility cloak as she spoke, “sometimes you say things that are so moronic that there simply aren’t words in the English language I could respond with.”

She stepped from under the cloak and then things happened in such rapid succession that James’ unspoken retort died in his throat - they heard quick footsteps getting nearer, Lily held her arm out just to the left or where James was still hidden by the cloak, and right as he was about to lift it and cover Lily again, it was too late.

“Oh. It’s you.” Snape was standing at the end of the corridor; he seemed to be stunned for a second but then took a few rather eager steps towards Lily. “What are you doing here?” He stumbled over his words, doing a poor job at hiding how surprised by Lily’s presence he was.

“Waiting...for someone… Am I not allowed? Are you a Prefect now?”

“No…” Snape clicked his tongue, managing to pull himself together now. “Waiting for your new delinquent friends?”

“Who?” Lily’s face soured.

“Potter and his gang, of course,” he spat out and James narrowed his eyes, trying to decide whether he wanted to hex Snape or smack him instead. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather friendly with them lately.” He paused, allowing Lily to say something, perhaps hoping that she would deny it; however, she remained silent. Snape spoke again, now sounding more like his usual annoying, stuck-up, nasty self, James thought. “You used to think that Potter was an arrogant toerag. What happened?”

“I did the hard thing: I grew as a person and learnt and accepted that I had been wrong, instead of holding onto a grudge against a silly childhood memory.”

“A silly childhood memory, really?��� Snape laughed mirthlessly. “They’re bullies and you know that as well as me. And freaks, too. Did you know that one of them is bisexual? Even Muggles call his kind freaks.”

“Yeah,” Lily spat out, stoney faced. “And the other’s a gay werewolf, and I’m a mudblood. So what? None of this means anything, Severus.”

“That’s not fair-- You know I didn’t m--”

James caught a briefest moment of hesitation in Lily’s steady breathing. “Severus,” she took half a step towards the Slytherin boy. “I’m planning on joining the Ministry and Dumbledore after Hogwarts, as soon as I sit my last exam. A lot of us are going to do that. Don’t you ever for a second forget that this is not about Potter,” James saw her fingers curl into a fist slowly, to stop her hand from shaking, but her voice was strong and fierce. “And not about anyone else at all. This isn’t even about you calling me a mudblood-” Lily plowed on even when Snape gave the tiniest jerk of his head, as if about to say something- “you chose the Dark side and I just cannot— I will not stand for it.”

Snape stood there for a moment that seemed to drag on and on, silent, staring at Lily down his nose. “Dark side?” He finally uttered, barely above a whisper, and James rolled his eyes before remembering that he was invisible. “There are no such things as bad and good sides. The world isn’t just either black or white. You, of all people, should know that, Lily.”

“I’ve said my piece, Severus. No matter how many times we’ve tried to figure it out, we always ended up in the same spot. Can you please just...go. Leave me and my freak friends be.”

James heard bitterness in the last sentence that Lily uttered. He watched her stare at Snape so intensely and fearlessly that her eyes seemed greener and hair redder all of a sudden, as if her whole being was charged full of magic bursting to get out. Finally, Snape turned on his heel without another word, and angrily marched off.

James’ hand was clutching a fistful of the cloak and, after waiting a couple of seconds, he pulled it off himself. Lily was still looking in the direction where Snape had disappeared around the corner. Then, she turned away, as if waking up from a trance.

“What? What’s that look?” Lily peered up at James, her eyebrows knitting together over those green eyes.

There were a few things he wanted to say, and it took some amount of self-restraint to get his thoughts in order before he spoke. “Remus is gay?”

“Fuck.” Lily breathed out, her voice saturated with frustration. “I should not have told him. I really shouldn’t have… But calling Sirius a freak because of who he fancies… It just made me so mad...” She mumbled on.

“Don’t worry about it. If Snape tries doing anything to hurt Remus, I will personally pluck his greasy hairs out, one by one. I won’t let anyone bully Remus for...” James trailed off, a wave of red hot shame flushing his face. “I know I’ve been an ass,” his eyes darted to the floor momentarily, “to quite a few people. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Snape’s not wrong about that, about me being a bully.”

“Yes, you have been an ass. But listen to yourself now.” Lily’s arms were folded across her chest, her right hand fingers picking at a loose thread coming out of her left sleeve. “Isn’t that the best we can do? Try to be better, all the time?”

“Yeah… I think so. Look, Lily, I--” James kept fiddling with the bunched up cloak in his arms; he wished he would have known how to put into words what he was trying to say. He wished he knew how to make Lily understand that he truly was ashamed of how he had behaved in the past, oftentimes around her, and that he didn’t think he was that prick anymore. “I’m not saying that I’m sorry that that tosser is not in your life anymore, but...I’m sorry you lost a friend. I know that you used to be close…”

“Yeah…” She offered him a faded smile, but the next moment, her eyes had lively sparks in them again. “I appreciate you saying that.”

“So…” He glanced around for what to say next, before the words erupted out of his mouth. “You don’t think I’m an arrogant toerag anymore?” 

Lily shook her head at James’ grin. “I like being friends with you, James.”

“Me too.”

“So shall we get going then?”

“Huh?”

“The cake…”

“Ah, yes! The cake! Right!”

* * *

“What’s that?”

Remus, who had just walked out of his dormitory and down the steps, lifted a book he was holding to show Sirius the cover. Slanted gold letter across it read ‘Twelve Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches’. “My dear aunt Davina sends her love for my birthday.”

“Oh…”

“She loves to talk about how getting married at seventeen was the best decision she ever made.”

“Oh?” Sirius crossed the common room alongside Remus.

“She’d love nothing more than to have my dad allow her to arrange a marriage for me.”

“Oh.”

“I think she might secretly be a lesbian. There you go,” Remus handed the book to an unsuspecting second year boy who was sitting on a pouffe, counting his gobstones. “I’m a Prefect,” Remus added when the boys stared up at him utterly bewildered. 

“Remus. I love you.” 

“Thanks, Pads,” Remus laughed out. “So where did everyone go?” He looked around the room.

“Come over here, we’re playing Truth or Dare!” Dorcas Meadowes waved them over from a group of people clustered in a disorderly circle.

“Ooh!” Sirius perked up at the same time as Remus let out a groan. “Oh, shut up, you. It’ll be fun,” he grabbed Remus by the wrist and dragged him towards a spot where a few people scooted over to make room for them.

Remus had never been a big fan of the game, he always rather felt that he had too many dark and embarrassing secrets for it. Over the years filled with long evenings in the Gryffindor tower, it had become a bit of a joke about how he would become grumpy and sour at the very mention of it. But he would humour his friends once in a while and join in for a bit, and try to be a good sport about it as much as he could bear.

Most of the kids in the group were sixth and fifth years, with a few girls that Remus knew to be fourth years, and a handful of younger pupils whom he did not know, other than recognising their faces from seeing them around. It was a while before the bottle landed on him, and the moment it did, his heart seemed to give out an extra beat. Remus scolded himself silently and gave out a faint sigh as he looked over at one of the fourth year girls as she posed the dreaded question: 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answered without missing a beat and a couple people hissed ‘oh come on’.

“How many people have you snogged?”

“Very original,” he drawled. “I didn’t realise we’re playing truth or dare for eleven year olds.”

“Fine then. What’s the biggest secret you’ve ever kept?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a secret anymore if I told you now, would it?”

“Oh please. You just didn’t want to answer the first question because you’ve never snogged anyone,” jeered a fifth year old boy in a Sex Pistols T-shirt, already reaching for the empty bottle impatiently..

Remus looked him squarely in the eyes and said, “four,” before snatching the bottle himself and spinning it. 

There was some debate at first but it was agreed that the glass neck was pointing more towards Marlene than Frank. “Dare!” She exclaimed before he could even ask.

“Alright,” Remus grinned at her with blatant mischief painted all over his face, “go ask Sir Nicholas out,” he nodded his head towards the Gryffindor ghost having a seemingly pleasant conversation with some first years at the edge of the common room.

“But...he’s dead!”

“I don’t make the rules,” he shrugged.

“Fine,” Marlene was grinning now, obviously unwilling to lose. “Take notes, you lot!” She got up as everyone laughed.

“You sly thing, you!” Sirius lightly smacked Remus’ knee, leaning in a bit closer, grinning at him as he did. “I thought we weren’t doing Truth and Dare for eleven year olds!”

“This whole game is for eleven year olds,” Remus smirked back at him.

The bottle kept getting spun over and over again, and miraculously never landed on Remus again. He was laughing with everyone, having loads of fun; but he mostly cared for the moments when Sirius would lean in, far closer than necessary by some standards, to whisper a joke that only Remus could understand.

“They’re still not back?” Remus glanced around the common room while Frank was accepting a dare to smell five people’s armpits.

“Who?” Sirius followed his gaze distractedly for a split second. “Oh, our two closest, best friends in the world, yeah…”

“It’s good that you have nice hair,” Remus bobbed his head with mock gravitas. “At least you have that to offer to the world…”

“You think I have nice hair?” Sirius asked with a strange mixture of eagerness and sheepishness.

“Speaking of our friends,” Remus slowly peeled his eyes off Sirius’ face, letting them roam around the circle of people they were a part of as he spoke. “They’ve been leaving you out this year, haven’t they? You’ve only had, what? Four detentions?” He looked back at the black haired boy who, for a moment, seemed to have been hypnotised.

“I’ve been busy, I don’t have time for detention this year,” Sirius’ features fell seamlessly into a relaxed smirk.

“Oh god. What are you plotting now?”

“You’ll find out…” Sirius answered vaguely just before their conversation was cut short by someone having spun the bottle and landed on him.

“Truth or dare?” Another one of the fourth year girls with waist-length, silky-smooth hair batted her lashes at SIrius none too subtly.

“Dare, of course.”

“Alright,” she smirked and then exchanged looks with her three quietly giggling friends. “Snog anyone in the circle for thirty seconds. You can choose any person. As long as they’re okay with it.”

“Alright,” said Sirius as he mirrored the girl’s smile; she and her friends, as well as a couple other people, all seemed to be bursting with anticipation. “Remus…”

Remus didn’t register the sound of his name at first, having suddenly lost all interest in the game. He had no desire to watch Sirius snog anyone. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything else that he didn’t want to do more than that. He gave a little jolt and looked over his shoulder, assuming that Sirius needed him to move out of the way to get to the person he was going to kiss. He could see the confusion that he felt reflected in a handful of the faces among the group. “Yes?” Remus looked over at Sirius again. Great, he thought, front row seat...

“Are you okay with it?”

“Okay...with what?”

Sirius gave him an unamused look, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly, as if asking him to quit playing dumb. The smile tugging at his lips was nothing short of charming, but there was an ounce of bashfulness in it too. “You can say no…”

“No. I mean...I’m okay with it,” Remus stammered, his heart suddenly beating so hard that it was knocking all air out of him.

“Alright then,” Sirius turned himself on the spot, still cross-legged, to face Remus.

At a loss of what to think, say, or do, Remus mirrored his movements so that their knees touched as they looked at each other. “Let’s make it five,” Sirius mumbled feebly and placed his hands on Remus’ knees as he started leaning in.

Remus had momentarily gotten lost in his head, trying to figure out how he got to be there, in that moment. He looked into Sirius’ eyes as he felt his own upper body gravitate towards him. There was only a ghost of a smile crossing Sirius' face now; he seemed tense, on tenterhooks almost. And yet, there didn’t seem to be any hesitation in his movements as he closed the gap between them.

This time, Remus was getting lost in a kiss. This kiss felt nothing like the mundane fifth that it should have been by all accounts; this kiss tasted like the sweetness and the yearning of the very first and the very last one too. 

* * *

Sirius couldn’t remember ever being happier than he was in that moment; feeling Remus’ eyelashes flicker against his, the barely-there stubble on Remus’ chin lightly grazing his skin as their lips danced and their mouths breathed magic in each other. He wished he didn’t have to stop kissing Remus after thirty seconds - and, unless he was sorely mistaken, it didn’t seem like Remus was in any hurry to pull away when someone finally announced the end of their half a minute of bliss.

When Sirius opened his eyes, his hands still planted on Remus’ thighs, he couldn’t - and didn’t try to - keep a giddy smile at bay. “I knew you’d taste like chocolate,” he said quietly.

Remus’ face glowed red but he was smiling back at Sirius. “Interesting thing to spend your days thinking about.”

“Oi! Black! It’s your go,” Frank leaned over to push the bottle towards him.

Sirius tore his eyes off Remus’ face slowly, reluctantly. He grabbed the bottle, spun it again, and just as it was slowing down, a panting Peter showed up.

“I’m so sorry, lads! I thought I’d never get out of Filch’s sad dungeon! He was threatening to keep me scrubbing armours until midnight… Oh! Truth or Dare!?” Peter asked excitedly and, without waiting for an answer, plopped down to sit right between Sirius and Remus.

Mere minutes after that, James and Lily came back with a three tier chocolate cake (the house elves had been making them bigger every year). Some players from their circle dispersed around the common room, others stayed to raise butterbeer bottles in a toast to Remus’ birthday. Big slices of the cake were being passed around and people were chattering and laughing, and talking to Moony and wishing him a happy birthday; hugging him and patting him on the back. It seemed like all of a sudden, everyone needed to be in his immediate vicinity; all while Sirius desperately wanted to cling to that one, now seemingly fleeting, moment of happiness.

He found himself perched up on the armrest of a chair, his fingers loosely wrapped around a cold bottle, his mind wandering, watching Remus deep in conversation with Marlene from afar. It made Sirius nothing short of ecstatic, seeing him smiling and laughing so much. But he also felt a selfish gnaw of bitterness - the whole night was rushing by and he just didn’t seem to find a good enough moment to steal Remus away and tell him about all that time he had indeed spent thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

“Hey…” A soft voice startled him out of his daydreaming and Lily sat down on the other armrest of the same chair. “Those two boys were fighting over this,” she lifted the same book that Remus had gotten rid of earlier that night, “but...I don’t think they wanted to have it, I think they were both trying to get rid of it… Anyway,” Lily shook her head, relaxing her frown. “It says ‘To Remus, with love, Aunt Davina’ right here, on the title page,” she held up the open book.

A genuinely tickled chuckle escaped Sirius’ lips. “Evans, I don’t think he’s interested in charming witches.”

“You don’t? Oh, okay. Good. I mean, this is pure rubbish, anyway…” Lily tossed the book straight into the fireplace, causing a little cloud of ash to rise up.

Sirius looked at her with a curious smile, quirking an eyebrow at the unexpected act of delinquency. “I always thought you were a bit of a prissy know-it-all, Evans, but just in the last few months you managed to completely shatter that image in my eyes.”

“Charming.”

“That was a compliment.”

“Explains why you’re single.”

“How dare you,” Sirius let out a dramatic gasp, making Lily laugh.

“Alright, I shall leave you to it then,” she said, getting up.

“To what, Evans?” 

“To lovingly gazing at Remus, of course,” she flashed Sirius a grin before disappearing on the other side of the common room.

He started drowning in his thoughts, almost immediately, his eyes landing on Remus once again, catching his beaming eyes dart away just then. The past couple of weeks had been so different, so impalpably lovelier than the ones before. Sirius had noticed Remus flirting back a lot more readily and sitting a lot closer than necessary. There were so many other, smaller things that excited Sirius and made him feel giddy with possibilities. And he knew - he had known for a while - that he needed to tell Remus how he felt about him. He needed to tell Remus he was in love with him.

[soulgathered]

do not reblog.

name : romani archaman | king solomon age : physically in his early to mid thirties ( in actuality he is closer to around 3k years ). family : mashu kyrielight ( he views her as his daughter )

romani archaman is a strange enigma. chaldea’s doctor seems to have simply come into existence. claiming to be an old friend of marisbury. he started working in chaldea in his twenties, already having finished his doctor’s degree at a rather young age. he then became the head of the medical facility.

during the erasure of humanity, the death of olga-marie & the destruction of most of chaldea, romani became the leader of the organization. he is in charge of the missions, always sitting in the command room & going through the procedure of proving the master’s existence to sheba, so they won’t be erased during their time travels.

he seems a lighthearted & foolish man & something about him simply invites people, but especially servants, to bully him. an instinctual feeling of “all of this is your fault”. despite that, he seems eager to get along with most people. most, not all. there is a stark contrast in his behavior towards certain individuals, mainly king david, merlin and king gilgamesh, though with the later he simply seems intimidated.

during the story it is revealed that the one behind the disappearance of humanity is none other than the grandcaster, king solomon. from there on out there is a slight shift in the doctor who seems even more stressed than usually. 

it isn’t until the final confrontation that the truth is revealed : the one posing as king solomon is goetia, the personification of all the demons solomon had summoned and the king’s hope to guide and protect humanity. however, solomon, unable to properly convey those feelings, had left goetia to observe humanity by himself. after solomon’s death, goetia came to the conclusion that humanity was unworthy, setting the plans in motions to erase their entire history.

however, a few years before that, marisbury had participated in a holy grail war, summoning the true solomon to his side. the two of them won the war & marisbury offered the grail to solomon, giving him the option to fulfill one wish : a simple wish, really. to live as a human. having been given his clairvoyance as a child, solomon never had the luxury of living as a human, always being more of a tool for what an ideal king should be. emotions, wishes, all of that were things he denied himself.

that was the birth of romani archaman, a simple man who could now live his life as he wanted. however, in his last seconds as solomon, he glimpsed the erasure of humanity, setting him on the path of becoming chaldea’s doctor...

... & sacrificing himself for the greater good. to give chaldea’s last master a chance to defeat goetia, romani changes back to solomon, using his last grand spell to erase himself out of history, out of the very concept of humanity & therefor weakening goetia, whose very being is bound to the concept of solomon.

misc .

he has a terrible sweet tooth. 

if he isn’t eating something sweet, he is most likely drinking coffee as sugar & caffeine are what is keeping him going.

he gets joy out of the most mundane things since he never really got to enjoy them in both versions of his life.

he enjoys spending time with the jewish heroic spirits that roam chaldea. all except david, he seems to avoid his father & does not even reveal his identity to him, not until his death.

he speaks a bunch of languages, especially old ones.

I personally do not think that the person looking like romani is actually him, but rather goetia in his body, or a fusion of goetia & solomon. I also elect to ignore that. in any AU where romani appears again, goetia used his last powers to return him to chaldea. in those verses romani can freely change between the doctor and king solomon & he can summon goetia. however his magical powers are not as strong as they used to be, especially because he does not have all his ten rings. 

...he is still in denial that merlin & the idol magi*mari are the same person.

he’s a rather talented musician & poet