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warmerthanhotcoco · 8 months

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how dare you? - Draco/Harry

=> A Drarry oneshot inspired by the song "Wicked Game"

=> In which Harry questions why and how he fell in love with a man who just wants him dead... (or so he thinks).

=>Draco's no better.

=> Canon until the Battle of Hogwarts, where Draco makes the RIGHT choice.

Full of angst until, like, the ending scene. Ends with Ginny/Luna's wedding, so if you want a little bit of 'Draco with the Gryffindors' fluff, go ahead! Enjoy reading!

I fell in love with your smile. Once, twice. I never fell for this man behind a Death Eater's mask.

How dare you make me fall for you? How dare you make me dream of you?

How dare you give me hope?

Harry found himself screaming himself and the rest of Grimmauld Place awake yet again with another nightmare.

"Mate, you alright?" Ron sat up in bed, running a hand through his hair as he ran his eyes up and down Harry as if checking for blood. "Is it the scar?"

"I..." Harry frowned. No, it wasn't the scar. Unlike everybody assumed, his nightmares weren't always Voldemort; nor were they always losing Sirius and Cedric either.

It was a certain arch-nemesis. Not him dying, but him killing Harry with his own hands, like he claimed he would oh so happily do.

Would he, really? Would Malfoy actually kill him?

... Harry knew the answer. And it hurt.

"Yes. Yes, the bloody scar," Harry lied, wincing. "The pain’s fading, I'll be okay. Go back to sleep."

Several months later, Harry found himself storming into the Breakfast Hall after another nightmare. Last night had been a ruthless mess in his head, one he hadn’t been prepared for.

✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎ (the nightmare)

It had started with the night at the graveyard in fourth year. Except everything went in reverse. Harry was shoved against the Riddle gravestone, Cruciatus curses had flown around the graveyard freely.

“Kill the spare.” Cedric had been thrown aside like he was nothing.

“Good luck,” he had wished Cedric silently. Cedric had nodded back.

Everyone cheered when Harry broke through the surface. He had found himself searching for someone… he had spotted Cedric shooting him a proud grin. And then he had seen Malfoy leaning against a tree, rolling his eyes at the heroism.

“Haha! Having fun, Harry?” Cedric had called out to him mid-waltz, just like he did to the other champions.

And then somewhere to his right, as the couples started flocking the dance floor, he heard the most beautiful laugh.

“Barely started and you’re already tripping! Ow!” Draco Malfoy muffled a shriek as Pansy stepped harder on his foot.

Malfoy was smiling.

He looked around at the others dancing, and for a split second, they held eye contact: the smile on his face flew away like the wind.

And then all at once, Harry found himself back in the lake, but this time he was drowning. Gasping for air, choking on murky water, spluttering, coughing. Ah, there was Malfoy, seated by the water, holding out his hand. The same breathtaking smile on his face.

Harry reached for it with a gasp of relief, gripping it tight — only for Malfoy to push him back underwater.

✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎✦✧ ★ ☆ ✶✡︎ (the nightmare ends)

Harry sat beside Hermione, brows furrowed in frustration and pain. Fourth year had been Harry Potter’s gay awakening. It had been a shock when he had realised it was Cedric he liked, not Cho. Not his fault they were always together. But the one crush had led to so many… discoveries. Like on the night of the Yule Ball, when he had fallen for Malfoy’s genuine smile for the first time. He had told himself it was just his recent understanding of his sexuality messing with his head. For Merlin’s sake, had he been flustered when Bill appeared for the Third Task (looking dashing in his wizard’s suit). “Surely it’s just the hormones.”

Harry scoffed.

“What are you up to now?”

Hermione’s annoyed glare was focussed on him with full power. “Erm… Hermione?”

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course I am, not like I have anything to be mad about now do I!”

“…nope, not at all.”

Hermione punched his shoulder with a book. “Harry! You’re mocking me.”

“Am I?” Harry grinned, his tense shoulders relaxing for a moment. His best friends always made him feel better (even if Ron was being a brat these days). “Come on, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she grumbled aloud, despite her eyes darting towards the diabetic-ally sappy couple seated somewhere down the table. Lavender was too busy feeding Ron his pudding to notice.

“Ah, don’t worry, I hate it too.”

Hermione smirked, satisfied, before going back to her revision notes. “You ought to be studying…”

“Later,” Harry mumbled. His eyes latched onto a bob of sleek blond that had just arrived at the Slytherin table. The instant Malfoy sat down, his gaze drifted away from his ‘friends’ and locked onto Harry’s.

Harry bit back a gulp. Malfoy’s sharp eyes gleamed as bright as the stripes of silver on his tie. How ironic it was that his eyes and Harry’s would make a perfect Slytherin pair.

Harry found himself glaring back, holding his stance against Malfoy’s challenge. But really, he was enjoying it. The silent glare-contest that let him stare at Malfoy’s face for as long as he liked. Let him watch all the little blond strands flutter in the gentle wind that always kept the Hall cool. All the edges of his jawline, the little dark flecks in his silver eyes, the rosy blush on his nose… The faded scars from his ‘Sectumsempra’. Like a worshipper devoted to his idol, he etched all of it into his memory.

It wasn’t until Malfoy’s glare softened did he notice the faint grey lining his eyes. Was he not getting enough sleep? Was he facing some sort of trouble? His cheeks were hollower than before, his neckline sharper. Relative to the ‘rich boy smothered in luxury’ aura he gave off before… all he radiated now was gloom. (And beauty, but gloom.) Harry felt his eyebrow raising in concern, eyes asking a silent question he wouldn’t dare ask aloud. “Are you alright?”

Malfoy looked away.

“Harry? Harry! Cut it out!” Hermione whispered beside him, shaking him back to reality. She shot Malfoy a glare, which he deftly ignored. “What is it now?”

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head, downing a mug of iced water. “It’s nothing. He pisses me off, is all.”

⚡️ -> Shift of POV -> 🐍

Draco didn’t want to look away. Far from it — he longed to be able to wake up to those eyes, fall asleep to those eyes, drowning in their perfect green everyday. His anger dropped when he felt Harry’s gaze searching all over his face. Was he curious? Was he judging how terrible he looked? He couldn’t possibly be ‘checking me out’… Haha, perhaps in my wildest dreams, Draco scoffed internally. Definitely judging.

Potter raised an extremely judgemental eyebrow, his eyes questioning him. Here I was happily staring into his eyes, and there he is mocking me for looking sick. You’re pathetic, Draco, he chided himself and looked away. He’d rather lose the staring contest to bloody Potter than endure the mockery in those beautiful eyes.

It hurt.

Hurt as bad as every nightmare where Harry hit him over and over with Sectumsempra, even an Unforgivable or two.

Draco shook his head and went back to staring at the tattoo edges he could see peeking out of his sleeve. He wasn’t surprised Potter hated him, loathed him, detested his very existence. And maybe so did Draco. Long long ago, back when he was still a petulant child mad at Harry Potter not being his friend. Long before he felt the first pangs of jealousy when Potter brought Patil to the Yule Ball, long before Potter went around snogging a sodding Ravenclaw. Back then, they were equals, absolutely repulsed by each other. But now… it was worse. Draco fell for the Potter that saved a French girl he didn’t even know. Draco fell for the Potter that cried over a Hufflepuff he only befriended that year. Draco fell a third time, for the Potter that stood up to Umbridge.

Draco loved the Potter that hated him.

Can’t blame him, he laughed at himself, covering the Dark Mark and the wounds all over it with a glamour.

“Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!”

“Like it hot, scum?”

BOOM! Another bookshelf tumbled as the wood of the racks caught fire. Yellowing pages of old spells and potion recipes were set alight, burning into ashes in an instant under the heat. The Fiendfyre roared, spreading its wings like a dragon, drowning the entire Room in amber, racing forwards, chasing after the intruders.

Draco ran for his life.

He could hear Goyle sprinting too, only a few steps behind. A flame shot out and latched onto Goyle’s pants: the idiot ran past him, screaming.

A bookshelf came crashing down, and they slipped underneath, missing death by a hair’s breadth. Faster, and faster… The fire crept closer and closer, roaring louder and louder…

“DRACO WATCH OUT!”

“Goyle..?” The smoke and the adrenaline were too much: he couldn’t see a thing, let alone the boy supposedly beside him.

Let alone the tall cupboard that was toppling onto his path.

All he could hear were the dozen crashes all around him, and one loud ominous ‘Creeeeeak’ that crept closer and closer—

And a sudden ‘Swish’ — before he could yell, he was plucked off the ground and thrown onto a wooden log… A broom. He was on a broom.

Down on the ground, he could see the cupboard that had fallen being devoured by the flames… He realised just how closely he had escaped it.

“Goyle!” He bent over the broom to grab his Stunned friend. He looked back up.

A dark raven’s nest sat atop a flushed face, his back bent to steer the broom faster out of the Room.

He’d rather I be crushed to death… or burn. The heat must have gotten to his ginormous head, Draco bit back a sigh, tapping the broom with his wand. The dusty old thing shot out of the doors like a lightning bolt. With a wave of Granger’s wand, the doors slammed shut, right in the Fiendfyre’s face.

Gasping for fresher air, the trio sat down against the wall, exhausted. Draco slumped to the ground nearby, after having leaned Goyle against a pillar as well. They watched, horrified, as the beautiful diadem in Harry’s hands broke apart with a scream.

The Dark Lord lost another Horcrux. Draco lost a friend. Draco also now owes Harry sodding Potter his life.

And maybe he didn’t mind that one bit.

“Draco… Come.”

Narcissa Malfoy’s words bounced off of the stone all around the Hogwarts courtyard. Draco curled his fists in tighter, fully aware of the hundreds of hateful eyes, as he stepped out of the crowds and made his way across the courtyard. Voldemort [no, Draco refused to call him the Dark Lord anymore, he was just a bloody maniac] began grinning, big rotten teeth as ugly as the rest of him. Instead of maybe walking into Voldemort’s outstretched arms for a bloody stupid hug, he walked on towards where the old half-giant stood, stood stock-still before the body of the one man he dared love… and fell to his knees.

Time slowed, the one tear trembling on his lashes taking ages to sneak its way down his pale, grimy face. He could hear others behind him scowling, gasping, wondering. He couldn’t care less. A hundred memories flashed through his mind within the few seconds it took for the tear to fall.

✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎ ✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎

“Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy.”

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”

“You wait till my father hears about this. This is servant's stuff.”

“If I didn’t know better, Draco, I’d say you were scared.”

Draco scoffed. “Scared, Potter?” He spat the name as if it were a curse. Which it was. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what…?”

“I thought I heard hooves…” Why did Potter’s voice sound so close…? Draco looked down to find he had subtly hidden behind the boy. Throwing himself further away, he shuddered. “N-Never mind, it’s probably nothing.”

Draco felt satisfied to turn the context around this time. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish.” The Gryffindor’s eyes glowed with determination and anger. It pissed Draco off, seeing the anger he felt every time he saw Potter, reflected back. Was he mad over what happened with the mudblood?

Tsk. Draco swore to use the worst jinxes he could think of. “SERPENSORTIA!”

A Firebolt crashed into the pit, smashing into smithereens.

“Potter’s broom!” Parkinson smirked.

“Look!” A roar of cries ran across the stands as a limp body came crashing down beside the broom. The Headmaster raised his hand just in time: Harry Potter now lay mid-air, body as limp as a… a corpse.

Draco shook himself, correcting his expression into his most smug smirk yet, wary of his classmates jeering at the unconscious Seeker.

“Potter. Potter! Is it true that you fainted?”

Somebody at his table mimicked a dramatic faint, mocking Potter. The rest of the Slytherins cracked up, sniggering beside him, reminding Draco to stay in character. “I mean…” he scoffed, flashing a scornful grin. “You actually fainted?”

Weasley pulled a face at them, Granger pulled an annoyed Potter away, an arm wrapped tight around his back. Draco frowned.

“Barely started and you’re already tripping! Ow!” Draco muffled a shriek as Pansy stepped harder on his foot. Snarky Parkinson retaliated, making him laugh. Oh how wonderful the night would have been had he kept his eyes away from the centre of the dance floor. For right beside where Diggory was twirling Chang, Potter was watching him: judging, probably. In a way, it could have been satisfying: the Gryffindor Patil girl was all over him, but his eyes were on Draco.

Except they were scrunched up in hurt.

Almost like… Almost like Potter was hurt to see Draco dancing with somebody else…

It confused Draco. And Draco hated being confused.

“Father will kill you, Father will kill you,” Draco chanted inwardly — begging himself to not punch Umbridge in the ear. Sure, she was sodding torturing Potter. But his father really would kill him if he went against the Ministry…

Draco, for the first time in his life, regretted ever being born a Malfoy.

“No,” Draco denied recognising the captive. He wasn’t lying. The Potter he knew was breathtaking in his own Potter-y way, not blown up and blue like this wretch crouching before him. But he’d know those pretty eyes anywhere — but neither did his prick of a father (whom he now officially loathed), nor his unhinged aunt deserve to know that.

Besides, the trouble was worth it when Potter gazed back at him with nothing but pure gratitude.

Draco sat against the wall, watching the Horcrux break apart. The diadem was beautiful. It wasn’t worth Crabbe’s life, though. Voldemort was a sick scoundrel, just like his father.

Potter and Malfoy clashed eyes for a bare minute.

I save you, you saved me. Guess we’re even now. Nothing more between us.

Something snapped inside him. He had hoped the life debt would have dragged on a bit longer.

Draco nodded silently, pulled Goyle up, and stumbled away, sulking.

✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎ ✦ ✧ ★ ☆ ✶ ✡︎

Draco shook his blond head, refusing to cry. Potter — no, Harry — had once looked so innocent and charming and bright. The day he had first seen the frizzy-haired boy, Harry had been full of toothy smiles and sparkling green eyes.

“Draco~” Bellatrix’s voice twisted his nerves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Voldemort hissed. “The boy’s dead!”

No. He refused to believe the light was gone.

Without a second’s hesitation, his wand shot out a brilliant blue hex towards the wraith.

A round of gasps. A very satisfactory “Ha!” from the only Weasley twin left.

“That’s right. Harry’s not dead, not to us.” Longbottom? The sound of a sword being pulled out.

And with a loud ‘Thud!’ the body in Hagrid’s arms rolled over. Draco’s arms shot out simply on instinct, catching the body just in time.

Green eyes stared up at his, wide in shock and glistening in… relief. Quiet joy. A very silent ‘Oh, there you are.’

Draco scoffed in response. As if I’m the one who returned from death. “Get up!” He shouted, pulling them both to their feet as Longbottom, Granger and the Weasleys led the Light Army into attack, while cheering for the Boy Who Did Indeed Live.

Lucius Malfoy was fuming. Oh, the glee in Draco’s heart.

He’d have to fight now, try and sneak his mother away too. He’ll find his way back to Harry later. Just like he always did.

“You know,” Parvati Patil stretched her arm (which was covered in shiny bangles up to her elbow). “I really did think Ron would be the first to marry from our lot. Who’d have thought his little sister would beat him to it?”

Draco Malfoy scoffed, taking another sip from his white wine. It was a wonder a Weasley wedding even HAD the muggle drink — just as much of a wonder it was for anybody else to see a Malfoy enjoying it. “He’s a bloody idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t even asked Granger yet.”

“Right?!” Parvati burst into laughter. “So dense, honestly! Oh, but I’m so happy for the girls! Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, there she comes! Hello, pretty bride!”

Luna Lovegood waved, giggling, her blond locks flying in the summer breeze. “Hi! You know, I had somebody ask me if the gentleman over there was my brother.” She chuckled, patting Draco’s head for no reason.

“I wouldn’t mind being a Lovegood,” he swirled his glass.

“Join the family?” Luna grinned.

“Too late,” he held up his left hand, flaunting the sparkling silver ring.

“Put it down, put it down! The aura of richness is blinding me,” Ginny Weasley cried, linking arms with her new wife, pulling a face at Draco. “Hey, Parvati, come dance with us!”

“I will, in a bit.”

“Malfoy, find your drunk fiancé and come dance, yeah?” She asked, already dragging Luna away to join the others.

Draco watched them leave in silence before downing the rest of his glass. “So.”

“So?”

“Have you found your… person?” He felt awkward asking after Lavender Brown, given it was Greyback, one of his father’s old lackeys, that bit her.

“Lav? No. I think I’m close, though. Maybe I’ll find her soon, and bring her to your wedding this winter,” she sighed with a distant gaze.

“Maybe.”

“Have you found yours?” She smiled knowingly. Draco falling to his knees over Harry’s corpse had indeed been quite the dramatic memory for everybody present.

Draco smiled back (he had learnt it felt oddly good to do that), eyes drifting over to spot Harry laughing his heart out with Neville Longbottom. “I have.” He placed his glass on a floating table nearby and rose to his feet. “Excuse me,” he bowed to the lady before strutting across the tent to find his partner. “Ahem.”

“Oh!” Harry jumped. “Hello, Dray~”

“You’re drunk as hell.”

“Wasn’t me! I tried to stop him,” Neville held up his hands in surrender, slinking away to escape.

Draco sighed. “I was about to ask you to a dance but… You’re a mess.”

“Am not! I can dance!”

“Yeah? And if you fall?”

“You can catch me!”

Draco chuckled. Harry seemed to like being caught by him, ever since the day of the Battle. “Fine. Let’s go, your ex is waiting.”

“Hey, we both have our own beautiful blondie partners now,” Harry laughed.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” Draco gripped his hand as Harry dragged him off to the dance floor, his heart soaring with joy, feeling himself falling for him all over again.

He had once been mad at the universe for this. For making him fall in love with Harry James Potter: so despicably, idiotically, and wholly in love.

Now, he could only be grateful for the ring he now wore, the hand he now held… the heart he now owned.

Somewhere in the back of the tent, sat a lonely Weasley twin. Chink! A coin rolled along the floor to rest at the Weasley’s feet.

George sucked in a gasp, picking it up. “Five galleons,” he muttered to himself. He looked up just in time to see Harry dragging Malfoy to the dance floor, joining Ginny and Luna, and Ron and Hermione. He chuckled, a tear slithering down. “Told you I’d win, Fred,” he patted the empty seat next to him. “Bet closed.”

#drarry #draco x harry #lots of pining #just a little angst #(a lot of angst)#the boy who lived #the boy who had no choice #but draco makes the right choice in the end #gryffindor wedding fluff #except with luna and draco #luna is one of the brides #draco is the other bride's ex's fiancé #harry potter fic

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin becomes a little obsessed with time, and how it’s running out:

Merlin struggles with a massive workload, and doesn’t understand how to ask for help, even with the simplest tasks, because people are relying on him. For small things, and large. He can’t let anyone down. He can’t.

REQUESTED

TW: not eating or sleeping properly, a little blood

Merlin is tired.

No one really notices the exhaustion, not at first anyway, what they do notice, is how much busier he seems to be.

He’s rushing around the castle so quickly, fetching and carrying things for Gaius, completing various chores for King Arthur, and trying to fix any problem he comes across (both the mundane, and the... less so), that no one sees him for long enough to notice the bags under his eyes. No one notices the way he sways on his feet if he stands still long enough. And if they do notice? Well, he’s rushing off to complete the next task on the list before they can say anything.

The few times he’s stopped to chat, he’s been quiet; polite but not really friendly.

His friends brush it off at first, he’s always been the type to rush places, and they figure he’s just got a lot of things to organise with the Yule celebrations coming up.

It had never really occurred to Merlin, but being the King’s Personal Manservant actually made him one of the most highly ranked servants in the castle. And that meant, everyone asking him for help, all the time.

Anything in the castle that could possibly concern The King, even briefly, was run by Merlin first. Everything from flower arrangements, to the week’s dinner menu, to which chambers to house guests in, to when exactly The King would like this paperwork completed.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin had managed to stay on top of things for years, even during busier times such as these.

But this winter was different somehow.

Merlin was a fully trained physician by this point, and he didn’t like to think about it much, but Gaius was getting older, quicker and quicker it seemed.

This just meant that more and more of the excursions that Gaius used to take outside the Physician’s chambers, were now being passed on to Merlin.

He valued the trust that Gaius placed in him, but a trip to the lower town to treat this year’s strain of flu took him away for almost a week.

Long nights consoling young children who were in pain, followed by long days making it to as many houses as possible, to treat as many people as possible, meant he lost out on a lot of sleep. Especially since his mind was thinking about a million other things at the same time.

After finally getting the outbreak under control, he made quick work of the journey back to the castle, only to find a list of various speeches that needed writing and chores to catch up on, and a long line of panicking servants who needed whatever duties they had double checked.

Merlin had barely caught up on all of that work, staying up late through the night, when a second outbreak occurred in a different section of the city.

Gaius had made it clear to The King that the people’s health, and therefore Merlin’s position as Secondary Physician, should come first; Arthur whole heartedly agreed, and gave Merlin the time off to deal with it happily enough, but that didn’t erase the huge list of things he still had to get done when he returned.

He was only gone for three days this time, but with Yule getting closer and closer and foreign nobles arriving for the celebrations, Merlin had a ridiculous number of things to do when he got back.

The headache that had been coming and going over the last month soon became permanent, and the shaking in his hands became something he had to actively account for any time he carried something heavier than a plate.

Merlin was rushing from the kitchens to the stables after dropping off Arthur’s empty breakfast tray when he heard it.

He paused in the corridor, leaning his weight against the cold stone of the wall as he strained his ears.

Just as he was about to write it off as him hearing things due to the lack of sleep, he heard it again, clearer this time, like someone was crying just on the other side of the stone.

He backtracked down the corridor a few metres, and slowly pushed open the door to a storage room, only to see Annabeth, the castle’s youngest serving girl, having a cut on her cheek being cleaned by George.

The both of them look up in shock at the intrusion, and Merlin clenches his fists as he sees the tears on Annabeth’s cheeks. He is especially worried when he sees the concern, painted clear as day on George’s face. George who was well know for being the least reactionary, most expressionless servant in the castle.

He shuts the door behind him, and walks forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She immediately launches herself forward, and begins crying once again into Merlin’s chest.

He almost falls back, barely able to carry his own weight right now, let alone the weight of a distraught young girl, but thankfully George notices his imbalance and catches him with a firm hand on his back.

Merlin gives him a grateful, but bleary smile, as he strokes a comforting hand up and down Annabeth’s back.

He nods to the bloody cloth in George’s other hand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

George catches his meaning quickly, and replies in a quiet, but harsh voice:

“Lord Anselm reported that his manservant had taken ill, and requested that Annabeth take over. He was... displeased, with a dropped pillow.”

Merlin frowns in worry, as the girl, barely even fourteen summers, looks up at him with red eyes:

“I didn’t even drop it, it fell off his bed when I had my back turned. But he started yelling and he... he threw an empty goblet at me and then got even angrier at that mess. He wouldn’t let me leave for ages he was just standing over me and screaming.”

Merlin can see George tense in anger out the corner of his eye, and he calmly shushes the girl, wiping away her tears and giving her a small smile:

“He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault. George is going to take you to Gaius, to get that looked at properly, and I’ll deal with Anselm until his manservant gets better, ok?”

George frowns slightly, but Annabeth speaks up before he can say anything:

“You won’t get in trouble, will you Merlin?”

Merlin gives her a cheeky wink and ruffles her hair:

“I’m always in trouble.” She giggles slightly, and Merlin counts that as a win.

She steps back, and George takes her hand, but he looks at Merlin, speaking quietly once again:

“Are you sure? I know you’ve got a lot of work at the moment, you can drop her off at Gaius’ and I can serve Lord Anselm, if you like.”

Merlin shakes his head, but realises quickly that was a bad idea as his vision starts swimming. He closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, before looking back at an obviously concerned George and replying:

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him. All those bloody quests Arthur drags me on means I’m well equipped to deal with people like Lord Anselm. Though I would appreciate it if you could pass by the stables and let them know to have Arthur’s horse prepared for noon, tomorrow.”

The fact that George’s lip twitches only slightly at Merlin’s address of the King, tells Merlin that the man is truly worried about Annabeth, and now probably Merlin’s safety as well.

He nods his head slightly, with a quiet “Of course.” and with that, the three of them leave the storage room.

They head in opposite directions, but after moving only a few feet, George looks back and calls to Merlin over his shoulder.

Merlin turns, slowly this time now that dizziness has become a problem, as George asks with a frown:

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?”

Merlin gives him a small nod and smile, before waving him off:

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. I’ll see you later.”

George’s frown deepens, but he nods slightly, and turns back around again, leading Annabeth in the direction of the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin took a deep breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes as he watched them turn the corner, before turning in the opposite direction, and making his way to the guest chambers.

Lord Anselm was a visitor from a neighbouring kingdom, known for his harsh treatment of anyone he deemed below him (which... to be honest... was everyone, as far as he was concerned). He was here for the Yule celebrations, and to suck up to the King no doubt.

Merlin paused outside the room, taking another deep breath and trying to not look so exhausted, before knocking politely on the door.

A voice grumbles from the other side, calling for him to enter.

Merlin entered slowly, and shut the door behind him, immediately spying the Lord eating his breakfast at the table. He was an intimidating man, tall, even taller than Merlin, with a heavy gait, a thick beard, and a permanent scowl.

He looks harshly at Merlin, and roughly asks:

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my girl?”

Merlin clenches his hands behind his back, but replies neutrally, looking somewhere over the Lord’s shoulder:

“I’m afraid she has succumbed to an injury, and won’t be serving you anymore. I’m The King’s personal manservant, meaning I won’t be able to serve you full time. We’re a little understaffed at the moment, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

The man growls and stands up, stalking quickly towards the manservant.

Merlin was especially glad that he was made aware of his balance and dizziness issues earlier, because if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold himself upright when Lord Anselm swung a harsh fist to the side of his face.

He smirked horribly as he said:

“Insolent little thing, aren’t you? Are all of King Arthur’s servants so pretty?”

Merlin’s head rocked violently to the side, and he took a step back, before righting himself. He took a subtle deep breath as he winced in pain, but schooled his face back into indifference as he returned his gaze to just over The Lord’s shoulder:

“Would you like me to return your tray to the kitchen, My Lord?”

Anselm growled once more, obviously unhappy with the lack of reaction, and brought down a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leaning in close and snarling:

“You do that, pretty boy.”

Merlin waits impassively for him to release the bruising grip he had on his shoulder, before stepping around him and clearing away the tray.

Lord Anselm stared at him distastefully, but Merlin dutifully ignored it, and headed to the chamber door with the tray of leftovers and dirty plates. Anselm turns quickly towards him:

“Hurry back. I have things that need doing.”

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looks him straight in the eyes before saying:

“Like I said My Lord, we’re incredibly understaffed at the moment. I’m afraid no one will be able to serve you until your own manservant recovers from his illness.”

The shocked look on the Lord’s face gives Merlin just enough time to leave the room and hurry half way down the corridor, before Anselm followed him out.

Merlin heard the door bang off the wall as Anselm ripped it open, ready to shout, enraged, but the sight of the guards patrolling the corridor stopped him, and he slammed the door shut again with a huff.

Merlin let out a relieved breath. He had hoped that the sight of the guards would stop him from making a scene, and he was glad he was right.

One of the guards, an older man named Gavin who had always been kind to Merlin, stopped him with a hand on his (unbruised) shoulder:

“You alright Merlin? I though Annabeth was serving him?” He nodded at the other guard to continue on, mumbling that he would catch up in a minute, before looking back at Merlin, who blearily nodded:

“He threw a tantrum, hurt her. George took her to Gaius and I said I would deal with him.”

The guard frowned and muttered “bastard” under his breath, but widened his eyes as he saw the bruise blooming on Merlin’s cheek:

“Bloody hell, Merlin, do you always take over for the violent ones? You should get that checked out.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, only slightly:

“It’s fine, I’ve got too much else to deal with at the moment. The manservant he brought with him is sick, and Annabeth is certainly not serving him again, so I told him he would have to deal with minimal serving, until his servant gets better.”

Gavin let out a breath, and chuckled slightly:

“Pfft. Balls of steel, Merlin. Go on, you look in a hurry, I won’t keep you.”

With that, Merlin gives him a brief smile, before rushing towards the kitchens once again, trying not to feint the whole way.

The whole ordeal only pushed him twenty minutes behind, but twenty minutes was a problem when he was already three days behind on Arthur’s laundry, two days behind on stocking up on ingredients for Gaius, and two weeks overdue for a lunch with Gwen.

Plus he still had one speech left to proof read, and considering Arthur wrote it himself, it’s more likely to end up being a full re-write, rather than a proof read.

OH, and that leak that he’d promised the stablehands he would help fix.

Ah shit. He also had to collect Gwaine’s spare sword from the blacksmith at some point, before he forgot again.

AND there was a huge delivery of flowers today, no doubt there would be some sort of problem with that.

All of that, on top of the fact that no one has tried to kill Arthur in recent weeks, and it was starting to unnerve him.

His journey to the kitchens went much like that. Task upon chore upon promise upon paranoid intrusive thought piling up in his head with every step.

He finally got to the kitchen doors, and paused outside. He took a deep, shaky breath, and shut his eyes tight, before forcing his mind to calm, and pushing through the door.

The noise and smells immediately had him turn his head sideways, as if trying to escape the sudden onslaught, but the movement did nothing but force him to realise how much the side of his face had begun to throb.

He took another deep breath as the persistent noise, now in his mind, and out of it, made him want to scream. He resisted the urge, and dumped the tray next to the sink, before rushing out once again, ignoring the glares that the cook sent his way.

As he hurried down the corridor, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to stop the shaking, he decided that laundry was the priority right now. If he could just get at least one basket done, that would be enough for today at least; and he could read over the speech whilst he did it.

Ok. ok. This is fine.

He finally made it to Arthur’s chambers, bursting in without knocking, and walking straight to the pile of dirty clothes.

He doesn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that they were on the floor, instead of in the basket, and he certainly isn’t with it enough to notice the conversation between Arthur and George... wait... George??

Merlin is only lets his surprise distract him for a moment before he looks back to the laundry, bending over far too quickly, and having to hold himself up against the wall as his vision swims.

He vaguely hears George calling his name, but he waves his hand behind him absentmindedly and ignores him. He forces his eyes to focus again, as he picks up an armful of clothes.

He stumbles over to the desk, still not paying attention to the other two occupants of the room. He looks around blearily, once again beginning to clench and unclench his hands under the dirty clothes in his arms, just to stop himself from falling over.

He takes a deep breath, and interrupts whatever it is Arthur is saying:

“Speech.”

Arthur is clearly taken aback, having realised that Merlin hasn’t listened to anything either of them has said. George gives him a knowing look behind Merlin’s back, and Arthur frowns.

Merlin turns around, quick enough to make his vision blue once again, but not quick enough to make him fall over, and looks in Arthur’s vague direction:

“Speech. Where is it?”

Arthur gasps as he notices the now deep purple mark up the side of Merlin’s face and steps forward, George follows him, and takes the laundry from Merlin’s hands, and setting it on a chair before turning back to him.

He turns just in time to see Merlin almost tip backwards, and rushes forward, placing firm hand on his back once again.

Arthur slowly brings his hand up, concern written all over his face as his fingers hover just over the bruise:

“Merlin... what happened?”

Merlin rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back around to the desk, gently pushing George’s hand away and looking through the paperwork:

“Fell. Speech? I really do need it Arthur, I don’t have time.”

Arthur looks at George out the corner of his eyes, and George shakes his head, mouthing “Lord Anselm” .

Arthur frowns again, and picks up a piece of paper from his bedside table, going to hand it to Merlin, before snatching it back when he reaches for it:

“Not, until you tell me the truth, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs, and rolls his eyes again, before snapping:

“Fine, Lord Anselm punched me in the face because he’s a Lord and I’m a servant, and he can do whatever he wants to me and that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Speech. Please?”

In Arthur’s shock at Merlin’s bluntness, Merlin leans forward and grabs the piece of paper, before quickly turning away, ignoring the loss of vision at the sharp movement. He knew his way around Arthur’s chambers when he was asleep, he could manage a short black out.

He gathers up the laundry once again, and stumbles towards the door, interrupting Arthur’s:

“Merlin! Will you just-”

With:

“Don’t have time.”

And leaving the room before either of them can say anything more.

Arthur shakes himself free of the shock, and looks to George, bewildered:

“You really weren’t kidding were you? He’s completely out of it. Do you know what’s wrong?”

George frowns only slightly as he replies:

“It’s a busy time of the year My Lord, and we’re rather under staffed at the moment. Merlin has a habit of being unable to say no when people ask for help. That, on top of his normal duties to yourself and Gaius, and having to deal with the flu outbreak, I think- If I may speak freely, Sire?”

Arthur nods immediately:

“Of course, George, always.”

George nods gratefully before continuing:

“I think he’s just a little over-worked at the moment, My Lord. He’s never been good at asking for help.”

Arthur nods and hums thoughtfully. He thinks for a minute before looking back at the servant:

“Hmm. Keep an eye on him, won’t you George? I can’t have him keeling over, and make sure he gets some food in him.-”

George gives a firm nod:

“-Thank you, you’re dismissed, go back to your duties.”

With that, George turns and leaves the room, wiping the worried frown from his face and resetting it into his normal neutrality.

Merlin was unendingly grateful to find that the speech wasn’t actually that bad. By the time he finished hanging Arthur’s clothes to dry, he had a solid idea in his head of all the little bits he needed to tweak. He just needed to get a quill to it, and it’d be done and dusted.

He rushed as quickly as he was able without falling over, back to Arthur’s chambers, opening the door slowly this time; he really didn’t have the time to stop and chat, and if anyone was in there, he would just come back later.

Thankfully, the rooms were empty, and Merlin only had to spend around five minutes sat at the desk (where there was a small plate of food, labelled “For Merlin”, which of course went untouched. Deliberately ignored or just unnoticed, who knows), writing out his adjustments.

Five minutes however, was long enough for him to forget to not move too quickly, and the moment he tried to stand up, he immediately passed out. He fell back into the chair, and slumped forward onto the desk, his bruised cheek landing with a smack on the wood.

He woke again with a start, and jumped up quickly as he ran his hands through his hair roughly. He began to breath deeply, and tears came to his eyes as he brought his hands down roughly, gripping the edge of the table so hard he could feel his hands bruising.

Merlin, after managing to keep what he thought was a tight lid on it all day, was officially panicking.

His cheek was throbbing again, but he could barely feel it, only able to think about how much time he was wasting.

He can’t be taking naps now. He can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still two days behind on laundry, two days behind shopping, two weeks since he’d last properly spoken to Gwen, he can feel a storm in the air so the leak HAS to be fixed now and Gwaine NEEDS his sword and where are those fucking flowers??

The more Merlin’s thoughts rush around his head, the more tasks he remembers that he needs to do, the more he panics. And the more he panics, the less he can breath, and the less he can breath, the more time, he is wasting.

When Merlin finally manages to open his eyes, which he hadn’t realised had been shut painfully tightly, he notices that the shadows on the walls have barely moved since he last checked.

Huh.

Ok.

He breaths slightly easier as he just about manages to drag himself over to a window, peering down into the courtyard below, to see that the castle was still busy.

He must’ve only been passed out for a few minutes at most.

It’s ok. There’s still time.

Merlin takes one last deep breath, pours himself a glass of water from Arthur’s jug and downs it all in one.

Ok. Too much to do, no more wasting time.

Merlin quickly straightens out the desk, leaving the speech in the middle for Arthur to see, and ignores the remaining fuzziness in his head as he stumbles out the door and down to the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin spends the next few hours down at the market.

He could feel his heart pounding louder in his ears with each second that he had to stand and wait in line, but it was no ones fault but his own that he had left the shopping too late.

He just had to be patient. Ignore the headache, ignore the pain in his cheek and shoulder, ignore the bruises on the palms of his hands from where he gripped the table, ignore the paranoid thoughts about assassins and poisoners and bandits.

By the time he made it back to Gaius’ chambers, it was dark. His hands shook violently, and he could barely see what he was unloading from his bags, but he kept pushing forward.

Without sparing a glance towards Gaius, he rushed out of the room again, now unhealthily used to the constant swimming in his vision, he dragged his hand along the stone walls of the castle corridor, and used that to navigate to the kitchen to pick up Arthur’s dinner.

The cook of course yelled at him about being late, but instead of brushing it off like he normally did, he internalised it.

He spent the whole journey up to Arthur’s chambers working himself up.

He was late. He was running out of time. He was so fucking tired. But that’s fine. That’s ok. One more job tonight, and he can rest. Just one.

He delivers Arthur’s food without a word, and if Arthur wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now.

Merlin lays out the meal, and quickly goes about lighting the fire for the night, and turning down The King’s bed. He turns to Arthur, not really bothering to focus his eyes and actually look at him, before saying:

“Anything else tonight, My Lord?”

The lack of sarcasm would be worrying enough to Arthur, but the way Merlin’s eyes stayed unfocussed, even as Arthur walked towards him, and the way his words slurred, almost sent him into a panic.

Merlin finally makes eye contact with him as Arthur grips his shoulders, but he quickly lets go when Merlin flinches in pain.

Fuck that hurt.

He’d forgotten about the bruised shoulder.

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Merlin, are you alright? You look exhausted, you look sick. And you didn’t eat the food George left out.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, and moves towards the door, rolling his shoulder slightly to try and sooth the ache:

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine, and I’m not a dog Arthur. Just lots to do. Am I dismissed?”

Arthur nods slowly, but suddenly adds, as Merlin gets to the door:

“Yes, but only if you get something to eat and then go straight to bed. Get some sleep Merlin, whatever it is, can wait until morning.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at him, just waves his hand over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

Ok. One more job. Just one more and then sleep. Maybe. He did have some useful new spells he needed to memorise... having as little time as he does means he should probably get at least a few done tonight.

Ok. One more job, then he can sit in bed and memorise some of those spells, then maybe he can get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise bought tomorrow’s jobs.

He headed over to the stables, at this time of night no one should be around, he can wave his hand, make some sparks, and the leak would be gone.

He halts in his tracks and his eyes widen as he subconsciously begins clenching and unclenching his hands once again.

No.

The stablehands know he promised to fix it. If they see it’s been fixed with some sort of miracle, instead of patched up properly, they’ll know.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he’s also running on no food, no sleep, and a potential concussion. Trying to use magic right now was probably not his best idea.

He forces his hands to still, and continues his trek across the courtyard, towards the stables.

The next time he stops, it’s because he hears the distinct sound of an armoured guard falling to the floor (the fact that he recognises the sound immediately, should tell you all you need to know about how insane Merlin’s life is).

Merlin rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he mumbles:

“For fucks sake, I knew it had been too long.”

Without wasting another second, Merlin turns back around, and sneaks carefully to where he’d heard the noise come from.

He finally spies the slumped guard by the main entrance to the castle, and after establishing that the attacker was long gone, he rushes over.

The growing puddle of blood, and lack of pulse, worries Merlin endlessly. Whoever did this was good, the guard never saw it coming, and now he was dead.

Merlin doesn’t want to leave him like this, but in all likelihood, the assassin was going to head straight to Arthur’s chambers, and Merlin had to catch up before he could do any damage.

The exhausted manservant rushes through the large doors, trying ever so hard to focus eyes, and not quite managing it, but powering through anyway. Thankfully he new the route to Arthur’s chambers by heart, he didn’t have to be able to see to know where he was going.

He’s already out of breath before he even reaches the staircase that leads up to the royal chambers, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and catch his breath. Arthur was in danger, and as per fucking normal, Merlin was the only one that seemed to know anything about it.

He forced himself up the steps, being mindful of his weak legs and using the wall to pull himself up as quick as he could.

He swore to himself as he turned the corner to see the vague outline of a man with a dagger slip unnoticed through the doors to Arthur’s chambers.

Where the fuck were the rest of the guards?? Merlin had expected to see a few more bodies on his way up but there had been none. Shift change over maybe? In which case, how did the assassin know?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind; something to worry about later, as he sprints down the corridor.

He almost falls several times, tripping over nothing but his own exhaustion, but he uses his own momentum to stop himself tipping over, forcing his feet to just keep moving forward.

He bursts into the room loudly, and the assassin, who had almost reached Arthur slumped over asleep on his desk, whips his head around to stare at him in shock.

The King mumbles from his spot on the desk:

“Merlin... I told you to get some sleep.”

That seems to snap the assassin out of his surprise, and he lurches towards Arthur, bringing the dagger up so he could swing it down viciously into his back, but Merlin rushes forward to meet him.

He shoves Arthur’s chair with as much force as he can muster, and steps into the space it had resided in as Arthur sprawls on the floor, cursing loudly.

It takes only a second for Arthur to be on his feet, a sword that was hidden under the desk gripped in his hand and any remaining sleepiness scrubbed from his face, but that second is all it takes for the dagger to sink with sickening force into Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin gasps and staggers back as Arthur steps forward, swinging the hilt of his sword down onto the attacker’s head, and with a loud thunk, the would-be assassin drops to the floor, unconscious.

Arthur turns quickly towards Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, dagger still planted deeply in his shoulder, and once again curses loudly. He rushes forward to catch his manservant just as he falls, widening his eyes as he notices the rapidly growing crimson stain on his tunic:

“GUARDS!!” he yells it towards the still open door, but looks to Merlin as he mumbles:

“Shift... change. No one there yet.” with a groan.

Arthur curses for a third time, as he pulls Merlin’s uninjured arm around his neck, and starts to stagger towards the door, dragging Merlin, who is basically a dead weight at this point.

The manservant groans, not sure if it’s the constant, background panic that’s seemed to plague him the last few weeks, or the pain of the newest stab wound that’s making him dizzy, but either way... ow.

Merlin finally manages to raise his gaze to realise that Arthur is currently dragging him past the closest exit to the stables (god knows how they’d gotten that far without Merlin noticing), and he half-heartedly pulls away.

Arthur almost stumbles with Merlin’s sudden movement, but says strongly:

“No not that way Merlin, gotta get to Gaius, you’re going to ok, alright?”

Merlin’s breath deepens in panic, and Arthur, mistaking it’s meaning, says:

“Almost there, Merls, don’t worry, Gaius will fix you right up, just hang on a little more for me.”

Merlin tries to pull away again, going so far as to softly thump Arthur on the chest to make him let go (it doesn’t work, he’s far too weak):

“No... no, you don’t.... understand. I can‘t, I don’t.... I don’t have time.”

Arthur frowns at him, but continues moving in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. He turns his concerned face away from Merlin, to see two guards turning into the corridor ahead of them:

“HEY!! One of you go to my chambers to collect the would-be assassin, and one of you run ahead to Gaius to warn him we’re coming; deep stab wound to the shoulder. Tell anyone you might see to be on high alert, an attempt on my life has been made.”

Arthur growls as they just stand in shock, obviously taken aback at the sight of the King near dragging an almost dead-looking servant down the corridor towards:

“NOW!”

With that they jump into action, one of them sprinting back the way Arthur and Merlin had come, the other sprinting ahead, to warn Gaius.

Arthur looks back down to Merlin, trying to pick up his pace as he notices him grow weaker and weaker:

“Come on, only a few more corridors Merlin, then Gaius will take care of you and you can sleep it off. I’ll even give you tomorrow off, how does that-”

Before Arthur can finish his question, Merlin moans, and tries to pull away again:

“No... time. Too many things to do... not... no time. Leak...”

Arthur stares at him in confusion as Merlin trails off, but blinks in surprise, as he gains a sudden burst of lucidity again:

“NO! Leak needs... sorting. Flowers and... Gwaine’s sword. Check on... Annabeth-”

He pulls away from Arthur far more violently this time, and the King drops him as he staggers from the force.

Arthur curses and kneels down, panicked as he tries to get his arms under Merlin’s weight again. Which Merlin is making very difficult.

The manservant can’t really feel the pain at this point. All he knows is that time is passing. Time that should be spent fixing things. Whatever stupid thing Arthur wants right now needs to wait.

Leak. Then spells. Then catch up on laundry through the night. Then check on the flowers in the morning. Hopefully lunch with Gwen. Sword next. Then. Then he can maybe think about whatever is happening right now.

Arthur finally gets his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulls him up, growing more and more worried as Merlin tries to wiggle away, like he doesn’t want to get treated.

Only one more corridor.

Arthur continues his journey through the halls, breathing deeply with the exertion.

Merlin had lost the last of his strength trying to escape, and the fall to the floor had knocked his other injuries slightly, so Arthur was forced to pick him up, carrying the limp man bridal style.

He finally made it to Gaius’ chambers, to see the guard holding open the door, and Gaius rushing around, gathering various ingredients and tools.

Arthur bolts through the door, not even looking at the guard as he spots the empty cot in the middle of the room, and carefully lays a clearly delirious Merlin down.

The dark haired boy continues to mumble, a frown etched deeply onto his features:

“No... time... too much else... to worry about...”

Arthur calms his own breathing before looking back to the guard:

“Make sure the alarm is sounded. Find out if the assassin was caught and report back to me as soon as you know anything. I’ll be here.”

The guard nods firmly before running out of the room, and Arthur turns his attention back to Merlin. He gasps as he notices blood dripping from the palms of his hands, and lurches forward, forcing Merlin’s fingers to uncurl.

Arthur realises with a numb horror, that something much more than the stab wound is wrong with his... friend. This isn’t even close to the worst injury he’s ever seen Merlin get, but still he lies here, panicking about something to such an extent that he drew blood with his own nails.

Gaius finally bustles over, and without even looking at him, forcefully tells Arthur:

“Hold him down, he’s in no sort of mental state for me to treat him awake, so I need to get this down him and he won’t... appreciate it.”

The King notices the vial of foul-smelling liquid in Gaius’ hands, and quickly moves around to stand behind Merlin’s shivering form.

He presses one hand down onto his uninjured shoulder, and bends over, leaning his other forearm across his chest, trying desperately to avoid aggravating the dagger still imbedded in his shoulder.

Once he’s secure, Gaius pinches Merlin’s nose, and pours the liquid into his mouth, quickly dropping the vial onto the table beside him, and massaging his throat to help it go down.

Merlin spasms for a few seconds and kicks out, but Arthur just about manages to hold him steady before he finally goes limp, his eyes rolling back, and his hands hanging off the side of the cot.

Arthur steps back, and collapses in a chair at Merlin’s side, before looking up at Gaius. The King watches the Physician bring over a pair of scissors and cut Merlin’s blood soaked tunic away, before examining the wound, and carefully removing the dagger.

Arthur tries to calm his heart rate, and takes deep breaths as he watches Gaius work, knowing that the injury, though bloody, was not life threatening.

At some point during the process of the wound being cleaned, stitched, and dressed, the guard from earlier had re-entered the chambers to say:

“The assassin was found and taken to the dungeons, sire. The castle is on high alert, and patrols are looking for any accomplices, though currently it appears the man was working alone. Two guards have been found dead, one at the castle gate, and one at the main entrance to the building.”

Arthur vaguely remembers nodding, and dismissing the guard; telling him to keep him updated, before focusing back on Merlin.

When Gaius finally slumps into the chair opposite Arthur, on Merlin’s other side, The King takes a deep breath, before asking quietly:

“What’s wrong with him, Gaius? I mean besides the obvious? George said-”

Before Arthur can finish, three thunderous pairs of feet burst through the door.

The King looks up to see Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon enter the room in a hurry. Gwen answers his questioning gaze with:

“The three of us were together when a guard told us what happened. Will he be alright?”

Gaius gives them a comforting, but strained smile, as they move towards the cot:

“He’ll be fine my dear, with time.”

Gwen moves quickly to stand by Arthur’s side, and takes one of Merlin’s limp hands in her own as she blinks away tears, her other hand covering her mouth. Gwaine rushes to the end of the cot, looking down at his best friend with a pained expression, and resting a hand on his leg. Leon steps into place above Merlin’s head, stroking a gentle hand through his hair, before focusing his concerned expression on Arthur in question.

Arthur huffs, but pays them no mind as he looks back at Gaius:

“Like I was saying, what’s wrong with him? George said he was acting oddly, and he seemed... almost sickly the last time I saw him. Then all the way here he was trying to get away from me, he just kept muttering about time, and saying he had things to do.”

Gwaine growls, and before Gaius can reply, he snarls out:

“You’ve been bloody overworking him, that’s what’s wrong. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

Arthur looks up, annoyed:

“That’s exactly why I’ve been giving him fewer chores, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t give him anything specific to do today, and when I told him he would have some time off on the way here, he freaked. Pulled away, I dropped him, and he just began muttering about not having time, having too much to do.”

Gwen clears her throat before timidly saying:

“He has been acting a bit strange. He seemed a little stressed after the first outbreak, but I figured that was normal for this time of year and let him be. Then he got back so late last night, and every time I saw him today he just seemed... more and more panicked. I tried to stop him a few times but he ignored me, like his mind was completely elsewhere.”

Arthur frowns at that, and Leon speaks next, his hand still absentmindedly carding through Merlin’s hair:

“Hmm. He’s been looking unwell; swaying on his feet, leaning on walls. I saw him in the market earlier today and he looked about ready to feint, but I was pulled away by a few guards. When I looked back again, he was stumbling away in the opposite direction. He looked in a rush, so like Gwen, I let him be. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well?”

Gaius looks grim, and nods:

“I heard him moving about all through last night. I got up to offer him a sleeping draught but he refused, saying he had things to do. I got the impression this morning that he didn’t sleep a wink. And I remember what the yearly flu excursions were like, I doubt he slept any better whilst he was treating people in the lower-town.”

The three of them look troubled. How had they let it get this far? Merlin was clearly some sort of sick, and no one had noticed until he was ignoring stab wounds and clawing at his own skin.

Leon tilted Merlin’s head, frown deepening as he spots the purple bruise over his cheek, now also stretching up into his temple and into his hairline. His voice came out a mumble, as if he were speaking to himself:

“What happened here?”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he replied lowly:

“Lord Anselm. I informed him to leave my kingdom and told him not to come back until he could refrain from beating my staff.”

Leon nodded, face angry, and Gwaine replied:

“Bet he didn’t like that, the bastard.”

Arthur looked up at Gaius, and cleared his throat before asking:

“What do you suggest, Gaius? He’s clearly not... ok.”

Gaius sighed once more, looking down at the man who had become his son, before saying quietly:

“I imagine all three of us are right, in a way. He’s overworked, stressed, and lacking sleep. That mixed with a punch hard enough to give him a mild concussion, and the fact he likely hasn’t eaten very well over the last few weeks, led to a... miniature break down, of sorts.-”

He looks up at Arthur, who is struggling to hide how distraught he is, with grim determination:

“-He will need time off to recover. More than a few days, likely. And support. He has learnt to rely on no one but himself in recent years. Dealing with a workload that multiple people would struggle with all on his own, was almost certainly what led to his obsession with time, time running out. You will need to reassure him that any tasks he is worried about are being completed just fine without him, otherwise he’ll panic.”

Arthur nods before replying, his voice thick:

“Of course. Whatever he needs. He mentioned... a leak? And flowers, Gwaine’s sword. He mumbled a few other things as well, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something about Annabeth?”

Gaius rubs his eyes as he nods slowly:

“Yes, George bought Annabeth by earlier. Lord Anselm had hurt her and Merlin sent the two of them here before he went to deal with the Lord.-”

He looked up to see Arthur sporting a vicious frown, and continues:

“-She’s fine now, just a little shaken, her injuries will heal in a week or so. The other things he mentioned to you though...”

Arthur sighs, but Gwen speaks up, still clutching Merlin’s hand, before he can say anything:

“I overheard some of the stable-hands worrying about a leak in the stable, knowing Merlin, he probably offered to help them. And the flowers... well there was supposed to be a delivery today, for the feast decorations, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine swallows, looking a little guilty, before saying:

“He ran my spare sword to the blacksmith about a week ago, for repairs. I told him there was no rush, but he must’ve got in a panic about it.”

Arthur nods, but raises his eyes to Gwen in confusion:

“Ok, the sword and the leak I understand, but the flowers? Why would a castle delivery be any concern of his??”

Gwen widens her eyes in surprise, and Leon makes a disbelieving noise, before saying:

“Sire, with all due respect, Merlin is the King’s Personal Manservant. Of course it concerns him.”

At the growing confusion on Arthur’s face, Leon sighs. He drags a chair forward, and sits in his place behind Merlin’s head as he continues to absent-mindedly run his fingers through the man’s hair:

“My Lord, everything that has anything to do with you, gets run by Merlin first. Pretty much every non-political decision not directly made by you, is made by Merlin. I always thought it was rather hilarious that he didn’t seem to realise how much power he has within the castle.”

Arthur widens his eyes in realisation, and slumps back in his seat:

“I had no idea... no wonder he’s so exhausted all the time. He’s practically running the castle behind my back.”

Gwen nods sympathetically, but Gwaine still looks a little annoyed as he grinds out:

“Honestly princess. How did you think it was that the visitors you liked least were always housed in the chambers furthest away from yours? Or how the castle kitchen is always stocked up on your personal favourites? Or perhaps how council meetings always seem to be at a time most convenient for you, despite you never rearranging your own schedule? When we all joke about how you wouldn’t last a day without Merlin... we mean it. He doesn’t just dress you and feed you and sing you to sleep, he runs your whole life, mate.”

Leon and Gwen nod, and Arthur sighs, and the room goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise being Merlin’s ragged breathing.

Arthur finally straightens up, and nods to himself slightly:

“Right. Merlin gets every Monday off, no matter what, including his physician duties where possible. George is going to be reassigned as an... assistant of sorts; Merlin will hate it but I don’t care, he needs the help. He’s also going to get a bloody great big pay rise, and new chambers with a big desk. And that’s just to start with.”

Gaius raises his infamous eyebrow, but Arthur ignores it, he can see the hint of pride in his eyes. Gwen and Leon smile and nod, and Gwaine huffs before muttering:

“Yeah, that better be just to start with. Kid deserves the world.”

Arthur stands from his chair and begins pacing, before looking back to the others in a hurry:

“Ok, Gwen, can you go find the Housekeeper, inform her that I want a few more servants to be hired, on a permanent basis. The castle is obviously understaffed if Merlin is the only one fixing everyone else’s problems. Take Gwaine with you, a guard informed me the assassin had been caught and was likely working alone, but just in case.-”

With that, Gwen nods and leaves, closely followed by Gwaine, who stops only to give Arthur a short, assessing gaze, before giving him a nod and leaving.

“-Leon, find the Steward, and George if you can. Find a set of chambers that can be reassigned to Merlin, and tell them to begin the process immediately. Not too big, he’d complain and refuse to use them but... oh you know what he’s like, I trust you’ll pick something to his... tastes.”

Leon gives Arthur another smile, before heading towards the door. Just before he can leave, Arthur calls out for him again:

“And if you could have a plate of food sent here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s eaten all day and we’ll need to get something down him when he wakes up.”

Leon nods, and leaves without another word. Arthur collapses back into his chair before looking at Gaius, and blushing at the fond smile on the older man’s face:

“What?”

Gaius just shakes his head as his smile grows:

“Nothing, my boy. I’m just glad you’re finally realising at least a little of what Merlin sacrifices for you.”

Arthur frowns and tilts his head:

“You mean there’s more he’s giving up than sleep, food, and any and all free time he has?”

Gaius drops his smile fractionally, but covers it quickly (not quick enough that Arthur didn’t notice however) :

“Hmm. Nothing that you need to worry yourself over, My Lord.”

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Well now I’m just going to worry about it even more. What is it Gaius? If you won’t tell me what the problem is, at least tell me the solution.”

Gaius settles a heavy, pensive gaze on Arthur, and stays silent for a few moments before answering slowly and quietly:

“A long time a go, I gave Merlin some... difficult, advice, pertaining to which secrets he should keep to himself. Perhaps when he wakes I shall rescind said advice. But ultimately, whether he tells you the true extent of his... well, truth, or not, is up to him. I advise you not to push him.”

Arthur huffs:

“So he’s hiding something from me?”

Gaius gives The King a sympathetic smile:

“He’s hiding a multitude of things from a multitude of people. There are very few people who know Merlin fully. His life has been... difficult, from birth, to such an extent that not even I’m aware of what’s going through his mind, the pain he suffers, and I live with him.-”

Gaius stops hesitantly, but Arthur nods for him to continue. He looks deeply troubled, before saying:

“All I can request Sire, is that, if he does decide that he trusts you enough to reveal himself fully, let him finish the story in it’s entirety before you start forming conclusions, and remember, that everything he does, he does for Camelot, for you.”

Arthur’s face shows slight confusion, but he nods firmly. He may not fully understand what on earth Gaius is talking about, but he has a feeling he’ll know it when he sees it. Plus, Merlin means a great deal to him, and the man obviously does a lot for him, the least Arthur can do in return is sit patiently and wait for Merlin to come to him with whatever truth Gaius thinks is so worrying.

It was late in the night when Merlin started to stir, only a few hours until sunrise.

Arthur and Gaius had both fallen asleep after checking over Merlin’s bandages. Gaius had settled in a cot in the corner of the room, and Arthur was curled up in his seat, Merlin’s hand clutched in his.

Arthur woke slowly at first, and then all at once, when he realised that Merlin’s hand was twitching in his own. He leaned forward on his seat, frowning, as he stroked Merlin’s forehead gently with his other hand.

Merlin’s eyes blinked open, as he muttered Arthur’s name. The King smiled gently, placing a comforting hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest, and squeezing his hand slightly:

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Merlin frowns slightly, before he gasps with wide eyes and tries to sit up. Arthur pushes back gently against his chest, and Merlin is far too weak to do anything about it as Arthur speaks quietly:

“No no no, you stay right there. You need to get better before you start rushing around again.”

Merlin frowns and begins to breath deeply:

“No, I don’t have the time Arthur, there’s too much I gotta do.”

He tries to sit up again, but Arthur holds him down, struggling to think of what to say to calm his manservant down before he did more damage to himself:

“No there isn’t. You can’t do anything when you’re sick and injured, alright?-”

At Merlin’s panicked expression, Arthur hurries to continue:

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Gwen spoke to the housekeeper about hiring some new servants to help. I’m going to get Percival to fix the leak in the stable later, Gwaine doesn’t need his sword for at least a few days, and to be perfectly honest, he can get it himself. The housekeeper will deal with the flowers, and Annabeth is fine, Gaius saw her earlier and sent her home for the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, ok?”

Merlin frowns, and blinks blearily, clearly beginning to lose his lucidity:

“Are you ok? The... assassin... looked pretty... pretty... serious...”

He trails off, but refuses to close his eyes, and lifts a shivering hand to loosely clasp Arthur’s wrist as Arthur replies:

“You haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, you’ve been smacked around and stabbed, and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

At Merlin’s once again panicked expression, Arthur sighs:

“Yes Merlin, I am one hundred percent ok, and so is everyone else. The assassin was caught, everyone is safe, and there’s nothing that you need to think about right now. Let go, get some sleep.”

Merlin frowns indignantly, and murmurs:

“I’ve already... slept too... long... gotta-”

Arthur huffs before interrupting him:

“Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. Go to sleep Merlin. I promise, I will wake you up if you are needed in any way... do... do you trust me?”

Merlin looks at him oddly, before his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp. Arthur just about hears the muttered-

“More that anyone.”

-before Merlin passes out once again, and after waiting a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t faking it (definitely something Merlin would do), he collapses back in his chair.

Merlin really was sick.

Arthur huffs with annoyance at himself, how had he not noticed this sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed it when he came to collect the laundry? Why hadn’t he given Merlin a day off when he got back from the lower-town? Though, knowing Merlin, he probably would’ve spent all day working anyway, even if it wasn’t directly for Arthur.

Arthur’s thoughts are racing so much that he knows he isn’t going to get back to sleep, but it was far too early in the day for anything official to get done; the city was asleep. And besides, even if there was something to be done, Arthur found himself exceedingly unwilling to let go of Merlin’s hand.

So sitting here and thinking was his only option it seemed.

Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon had come back around an hour after he had sent them away, and he was more than pleased with what they had to report.

The housekeeper had drafted up notices asking for permanent, paid, help in the castle, to be distributed in the lower-town tomorrow (or... later today).

Leon and the Steward had found a suitable set of chambers for Merlin, about halfway between Arthur’s and Gaius’, small compared to Arthur’s rooms, but still bigger than the footprint of Merlin’s house back in Ealdor.

Arthur hadn’t managed to get any food in Merlin when he briefly woke up, but the plate that Leon had sent up still sat their waiting, and it would be ready when Merlin was lucid enough to eat.

Arthur was still very worried about the man he had grown to trust more than even himself, but he also trusted Gaius, and if Gaius wasn’t freaking out, then neither would Arthur.

The next few days were... difficult, to say the least.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Merlin to stay in bed, and even a few sleeping draughts slipped into his tea, courtesy of Gaius.

Merlin was also getting increasingly annoyed at all of his friends visiting him, and treating him like he was made of glass.

He was getting desperate to leave the Physician’s chambers and get some work done, and Gaius was not best pleased when he caught the man trying to sneak out.

Gaius sternly told him to sit down and shut up for a minute whilst he explained why exactly he can’t get out of bed yet, and Merlin reluctantly sat back down, nodding at Gaius to start talking:

“Merlin, you hadn’t slept at all in at least seventy-two hours. You hadn’t slept well for the several weeks before that. You hadn’t eaten all day, and I imagine that you hadn’t eaten properly, again, for the several weeks before. You had a mild concussion and fractured collarbone, courtesy of Lord Anselm. Bruises on your hands from gods know what. Balance and dizziness issues caused by being medically exhausted. You are stressed far beyond levels that are even vaguely healthy. All of this, before you sustained a serious stab wound. Merlin, you had a panic attack, yesterday, over not being able to fix a leak. You can not keep working like this, or you will burn yourself out again, and then where will we be? You are of no use to anyone if you drop dead. So will you please, just trust that Arthur has things handled just fine without you.”

Merlin had the decency to look a little ashamed at first, but rolls his eyes when Gaius mentions Arthur:

“That man never has anything handled. Gods know how he’s even managed to get dressed the last few days.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, an obvious “I dare you to argue with me right now” look if Merlin has ever seen one.

Merlin huffs before climbing fully back into his bed (still in the Physician’s chambers. Gaius advised against telling Merlin of all the changes that were happening until after he was better, otherwise he would... simply put, he would freak) and looking to his lap, frowning.

Gaius sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s least-injured shoulder:

“Be patient, Merlin. You fail to realise how many people care about you, and how much. We would be devastated to lose you, it’s hard enough to see you suffer like this. So let yourself heal fully, if not for yourself, then for us.”

Merlin looks up at him tiredly (everything seems to tire him out at the moment) with tears in his eyes and Gaius leans forward to gather the boy in a hug.

Merlin falls into it easily, and buries his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck as the older man runs a hand through his hair. He sniffles slightly, before mumbling:

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius smiles sadly, not that Merlin can see it, before replying quietly:

“No need to apologise my boy, just get some sleep. I believe that Guinevere will be joining us for dinner later.”

Merlin nods before removing himself from Gaius’ arms, and settling back under the covers. He shifts until he’s comfortable, and whispers a soft goodnight (I mean... it’s the middle of the afternoon but he’s sleeping the nights and days away at the moment), before drifting off.

Gaius sighs once more, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

They had a long way to go. Physically, Merlin was well on his way to healing, but emotionally... well. He had a father-figure physician, a fellow servant, five boisterous but loving knights, and a King who may or may not be in love with him.

He’d get there. He just needed a little more time.

THE END

Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I had fun writing it! It kept getting longer and longer and I almost split it into two, but I just decided to go for it in the end.

I hope y’all enjoy! Same as always, you wanna write it up with proper paragraphs and extend it and everything, go for it, credit and tag me :)

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular!

502 notes · View notes

kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

lights, camera, action (m)

Draco Malfoy x Reader

requested: (anon) Draco wants to make a sextape request

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, filmed sex, oral (fem receiving), edging, praise kink, dirty talk, biting (? idk if it counts tbh)

summary: Draco persuades you into filming you both during sex

a/n: damn, did i really write this? i put so many descriptions for everything, it's like i'm an actual erotica novelist. they take a whole page to describe ONE vein. whew chile, anyways. here's this lmao

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

Draco laid on your bed, the orange sunlight illuminating your room as he played with your new camera. He never expected you to take interest in the muggle photography school, but he fully supported you going into it.

This new camera given to you was an anniversary gift from Draco. When he gave you the camera that you initially started saving money for, you jumped in excitement. It had wide, changeable scopes and had a professional microphone attached to it. It became your favorite toy as you took it to classes everyday and with every trip you went on with your blond boyfriend.

Right now, you were sitting on your desk looking over all the photos you took on the streets for an upcoming assignment through your laptop. They were pictures in sepia of people walking and doing everyday normal things, but in Draco’s eyes, it was pure art.

As he was going through the gallery on the camera, he came across a couple videos. They were from a trip to Italy last spring and mostly consisted of you walking behind him and focusing the lens on him walking. The next video was sweet; it was you holding the camera to film both of you together in the hotel room laughing together.

While the memory was a lovely one and brought a smile to his face, a peculiar thought flashed across his mind. He placed the camera on your night stand before getting off the bed and stood behind you seated in your chair. His slender hands came up to rub your shoulders and smiled – no, smirked – when you sighed in content.

“Darling, are you almost done?” You didn't hear the way his voice became octaves lower.

“Almost. Just a couple more edits and I'll be all done,” you told him. You stretched your neck out to the side to crack the stiffness in your bones from sitting in the same position for so long. While the relief felt nice, you didn't expect to feel Draco’s mouth to attach to the exposed flesh.

His lips were smooth, always cared for and never became chapped. As he placed wet kisses on you, your homework was left forgotten. It's not due for another few days anyway.

All you could focus were the wet kisses and little nibbles on your neck. You tilted your neck a bit further for Draco to access the dip of your neck and shoulder, biting harshly to leave a mark. When he pulled away, you turned your rolling chair around and stood up to kiss your boyfriend.

The kiss was hot, sensual and breath-taking. His hands were tangled in your hair as you held his waist, hands grasping at his shirt. His tongue easily slipped in your mouth when you gasped from one of his hands tugging at the hair on the base of your neck.

No matter how many times you've kissed your boyfriend, he never failed to send an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. It felt like the first time every time.

His legs guided you to your bed and he let you fall onto it. You were about to pull your sweatshirt off before he stopped you. You watched as he picked up your camera and opened the display screen. “Love, mind if I make a suggestion?” You nodded at his question, getting excited.

The red recording light lit up and Draco looked at you through the screen, “Just want something to remember this by for later.” There was an electric feeling making its course through your veins. If you were honest with yourself, you’ve wanted to do this for a long time but didn't know how to bring it up.

You sat up and lifted your sweatshirt over your head, gently tossing it to the side. Your subconscious cursed at you for not wearing a cuter bra, but it’s not like it mattered anyway since it was eventually going to come off. Draco licked his bottom lip as he watched you through the camera. He could feel himself getting hard in his jeans. His eyes looked around where to place the camera down and landed on the dresser across from your bed. He angled it to have a perfect view of the two of you without it being too far or too close. Once set, he grabbed his shirt from the back and threw it over in a rush and unbuttoned his jeans. He crawled on top of you and immediately started peppering kisses in the valley of your neck causing you to giggle.

Draco’s hand roamed to your back and fumbled with the bra clasps. You could feel that he was struggling with it so you lifted yourself up a little bit to make it easier. Once it was torn off, he looked into your eyes as he lowered himself into your breasts and gave them soft, teasing kisses before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You used one of your free hands to massage the one that was free as Draco used one of his to sneak inside your leggings.

His fingers were playing with your clit over your panties, rubbing it in slow circles. A soft moan fell out of your mouth when Draco bit on your nipple. He could feel you dampening beneath his touch, “Let’s take these off.” Draco lifted himself up to hook your leggings and panties together and take them off in one go. Almost forgetting about the camera, he looked in both adoration and primal lust at the image of your sprawled out with your legs open for him. He palmed himself before getting down on his knees and pulled you closer to the edge of your bed. His fingers played with your slit to feel how soaked you had become, “You look so pretty like this, princess.”

You said a soft ‘thank you’ and blushed. “‘M gonna make you feel good,” were his last words before he leaned in and licked a long stripe on your lips. Your hands rested gingerly on the top of his head and your hips moved on their own against him.

Every now and then, he would open his eyes and stare at you, loving the way your lips quivered and eyebrows knotted in pleasure. He moaned into your pussy, the vibration adding to your arousal. Unexpectedly, Draco softly bit the skin above your cunt, causing you to arch your back up. He used this moment to smoothly enter two of his ring-clad fingers into your heat. The fingers worked to stretch you out for what was to come soon.

Your breathy moans flowed around the room as Draco's slender fingers scissors your sleek walls, “How does that feel, baby?” You tried to come up with a response, but all you could muster were needy whimpers. You were becoming addicted to the feeling of his rings brushing against a sensitive spot inside, the warm silver adding more pressure.

Draco stretched his thumb across to draw the number eight on your swelling clit. He leaned closer to spit on your pussy and used the fingers of his free hand to spread the lubricant around.

Your legs were shifting around and the telltale sign of your hips stuttering told Draco that you were close to your orgasm. He pumped his fingers faster, building the knotting feeling in your abdomen until you felt nothing at all.

Draco chuckled deeply as you glared up at him. “That’s not funny, Draco,” you scolded. He lowered his jeans to the floor and kicked them off, returning to his spot on top of you. Draco grabbed one of your hands and used it to palm himself. He was semi-hard, and you took it upon yourself to guide your hand and start jerking him off over the cotton fabric. You looked up at your boyfriend feigning innocence, knowing that it drove him crazy to watch you with doe eyes as you pretended you weren’t doing the dirtiest acts.

After a few minutes of teasing, he became frustrated and nearly ripped his boxers off. He manhandled your hand onto his bare dick again, jerking himself off at this point. You would give him little squeezes and use your unoccupied hand to massage his balls. Like he did with you earlier, you bent down to spit on the tip of his cock which had become fully hard now.

“Draco,” you moaned, “I want you in me.” He groaned at your request, pushing you down on your back and positioned himself to lie comfortably, grabbing your legs and guiding them over his hips.

Your boyfriend rubbed his tip up and down your lips, spitting once again and spread it around his dick before he slowly entered your pussy. He didn't need it, though. You were already so wet from him devouring you and from watching him work on his own dick with your hand.

Your pussy welcomed his cock, embracing how it perfectly stretched you from the inside. His hips started rocking back and forth and you moved your hips to match his set rhythm.

Draco leaned down and marked more hickeys all over your neck. His ears picked up on your groans, whimpers and moans. Sounds that were hotter than that of a porn star. You held a bunch of the soft blond hair and tugged on them to get a sound from him.

“Oh my Merlin, you feel so – o-oh! – you feel so good inside me, Dray,” you encouraged him. Your legs wrapped around his waist and pulled his body closer for him to thrust deeper into you. His thrusts became rougher and faster.

“Is that right, baby? Is my cock making you feel good?”

“Yes! Oh, Merlin, yes,” tears were threatening to spill. The familiar tightness was building up inside you. You tightened yourself around Draco, gaining a delicious groan from him. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m–” once again, this bastard edged you on. Draco had quickly pulled himself off and not only denied you of an orgasm, but laughed at the tears of frustration and possibly also anger on your face.

You slapped his biceps and tried guiding him back inside you. He quit the torture tactics and pushed himself back into your cunt with a harsh snap of the hips, jolting your body up. You let out a scream as he started his fast pace, pistoning in and out with only the tip ever staying in. The only words that left your mouth was ‘Fuck’ and ‘Draco’.

Draco held his head up to watch you unravel on him, proud of himself to see you in such a state because of him. As if his ego wasn't big enough.

The blond changed his slouched position into one of him sitting up on his knees and grabbed your legs and draped them over his shoulders. The stretch stung a little, making you drown in madness from all the sensations of some pain, but all pleasure.

If at all possible, you felt him even deeper in this position he had you in. Your own hands worked by themselves, one holding a leg closer to you, and the other slithering down to flick harshly on your clit.

The sight was pure erotica. Draco was breathing heavily, sweat thick on his skin and so close to his climax but he found the strength in him to keep going and get you to yours first at least.

“Dray, I’m gonna… I'm–”

“Go ahead, darling. Cum on my cock,” Draco told you between breaths. As if on command, your orgasm hit you hard with a scream of his name, a result from the denied ones earlier. Your legs twitched and your hips were moving sporadically with Draco’s.

As you were coming down from your high, Draco kept thrusting until he rushed out and spilled himself all over your chest. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to catch some of his spurts of cum. The warm, slightly salty taste running down your throat.

Nearly exhausted, Draco fell on top of you. You both kept trying to gather your breaths back to normal. Once you did, your boyfriend raised himself off to grab some tissues to wipe his seeds off of both your chests. He then threw his boxers off and walked over to the camera on the dresser.

You had actually forgotten all about it, too caught up in the moment.

Draco joined you back on the bed and went through the gallery of the camera, trying to find the video he just filmed. And when he found it, he smirked at the time-stamp.

18:39

—

requests open!

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #requested #requests open #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco imagine #draco smut #draco x reader #draco x you #draco x y/n

365 notes · View notes

lxngbottom · 3 years

Note

Can we get a part 2 to pretty flower? my soul depends on it

Pretty Flower | N.L. (Part 2)

in which neville finds himself being absolutely attached to the reader after their time together.

warnings: nsfw, light clit play, mentions of sex, but nev being adorable

my soul depends on this too don’t worry

—

ever since that night with neville, everything seemed to be blurring together and changing for you. it had only been a couple of weeks, and you made no attempt to even speak to him. you were so embarrassed at what happened, and even more ashamed at the fact that you enjoyed it. after neville pleaded with you to stay, you just walked out on him, giving him no rhyme or reason.

after everything, neville felt so guilty. did he over step? oh god... what if you didn’t really want that to happen? what if he was too invasive? he wasn’t too sure, but it made him burn with sadness every time he saw you, hiding your face from him in the halls.

you definitely weren’t angry with him, you just were too shy. you felt like you had committed some sort of unforgivable act.

when you told ginny, she almost flipped the whole table over in the great hall. she wasn’t shocked at the fact that it had happened, as she assumed that neville had always fancied you, but all at the same time... you had actually agreed to it. you were no longer “innocent”. and that on its own was what got to ginny. maybe the ginger was just... baffled?

“down there?” hermione asked, skimming the row of seats in the quidditch pitch. you nodded you head as people filled in the rows.

you were at a quidditch game, more than ready to support ginny in her first real match of the year. hermione and luna had escorted you, as you were terrified to get in trouble for not sitting in your house placement. when you admitted that fact, hermione just giggled and said, “and they say i’m afraid to break the rules...”

as you three settled into the stands, you saw a familiar figure walking in your direction. your body tensed, and you quickly turned your head hoping that he wouldn’t notice you.

but of course, he did notice you. he always noticed you.

“you guys saving these seats for anyone else?” neville asked politely. hermione shook her head, and he adjusted his scarf as he glanced over at you, just simply waiting for you to look back. but unfortunately, you couldn’t.

you were too ashamed.

—

the quidditch match had gone great. gryffindor had taken a victory, and for some god awful reason, you had agreed to let hermione to sneak you into the gryffindor common room to celebrate.

unusual things had happened as people cheered ron on, including lavendar brown practically forcing her tongue down the ginger’s throat. this elicited a terrible reaction from hermione, and you watched as she exited the common room with teary eyes, harry following behind her. you wanted to go check on her, but honestly, you knew that harry could probably make her feel better than you could. after all, you weren’t great with handling people’s emotions.

for merlin’s sake, you couldn’t even figure out your own emotions.

here you were now, awkwardly standing in the front as students cheered lavendar and ron on for snogging. luckily, they exited soon, probably trying to find some privacy you assumed.

you knew how that went.

you gulped as the whole time you could feel neville’s lingering presence beside you, and you could hear the sound of his voice every time seamus spoke a word to him beside you.

“want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

“i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

the statements came back in flashbacks every single time you heard his voice. it made your hands shake, and your thighs press together.

“y/n?”

the voice snapped you back to reality, and you looked over to see seamus with furrowed eyebrows looking over at you,

“are you alright?”

you nodded your head awkwardly, feeling neville’s chest slightly pressing up against your back from how packed it was in the common room at the moment.

“yes... um—sorry... what did you say?”

oh god. this was so embarrassing.

“i asked if you placed your bet on weasley, today... if you didn’t, you’re probably regretting that now, huh?” he teased, shooting a playful grin your way. you laughed awkwardly, as you could still feel neville right behind you.

then, you heard dean and ginny called seamus’s name, and he shot them a questioning look.

“oi! leave y/n alone, finnigan!” ginny demanded, walking over towards you, “dean needs a word with you, seamus...”

he rolled his eyes and walked over to his best friend, and patted your shoulder as she returned to the boys.

you were now alone again, and people started to spread out in the common room, chatter of triumph still occurring. but, that feeling behind you still hadn’t faded.

“meet me in my dorm...” you heard in your ear, and you jumped slightly from the voice. he sounded so... angelic. “bunny...”

your thighs clenched from the nickname, and the fact that you could feel neville’s breath against your neck. but you didn’t dare to look back, even when his finger grazed the back of your thigh slightly. and suddenly, he was gone.

for a moment, you panicked thinking about what you should do. you still felt utterly embarrassed due to what happened just a couple weeks prior, but, you couldn’t ignore that familiar fluttery sensation in your stomach as you thought about it.

fuck it.

you waited for a few minutes before walking away, and ginny shot you a wink as you went towards the boy’s dormitory.

“just stay calm... it’s fine—it’s just neville...” you kept telling yourself as you walked up the stairs, also hoping that no one was following you.

the trip to the dorm was unfortunately much shorter than you hoped it would be, and you trembled as you knocked on the door. neville opened it automatically, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. you yelped at this, and he slammed the door behind you. he let go of you, and you awkwardly stood in the middle of the room.

he loomed over your figure as he approached slowly, looking you up and down.

“hi, petal...” he whispered, sending a shock through your spine,

“hi...” you replied shyly, gulping a bit. he couldn’t help but smile hearing your fragile voice again, as he had missed the simple sound of it these past two weeks.

he noticed your nervousness, and let his fingertip graze across your cheek in an attempt to soothe you, “i’ve missed you...” he cooed, “you left with no reason, darling. i’ve been worried. you haven’t spoken to me, either...”

you felt guilty at his words, but even more guilty for the reasoning.

“s-s-sorry...” you stuttered out, already knowing that he was about to ask you why, “e-embarrassed...”

embarrassed? why?

“why are you embarrassed, love?”

you didn’t know if you should exactly tell him, but you knew he deserved some sort of explanation. you could tell that he was pleading for one just by the look in his eyes.

“what—what we did...”

he frowned a bit at your reply,

“why is that embarrassing?”

you shrugged your shoulders, honestly not understanding the shame.

“it—it was bad...” you muttered, but noticed the shift in neville’s facial features, “not—not bad like that... just—i—well... i don’t know...”

he couldn’t help but to let out a small chuckle from you innocence, as it was somehow still in tact.

“well... is there anything i could do to make you feel less embarrassed? cause—there’s no reason to be, petal. you did—amazing.” he paused before he continued, letting his hand trail down your hip, rubbing small circles into it. “there’s nothing to be ashamed of, petal.”

you looked up at him finally, your sparkling, shy eyes burning into his. your cheeks were on fire from his touch, and you knew that he knew that he had an affect on him.

“i-i-i’m sorry... i’ve just been scared to—bring it up, i suppose. d-d-don’t want to—embarrass you in front of your friends...”

neville didn’t even respond, he simply placed a small kiss on your forehead, and he sent you a small smile.

“you could never do that, petal... you’re too sweet.”

his words made you somehow blush even more, and it was getting to the point where you broke out in a sweat from how heated you were.

“but... i couldn’t help but notice that you were clenching those pretty little thighs of yours together in the common room, earlier...” now, his eyes were dark once more, that sweet boy gone within an instant, “what were you thinking about, bunny?” that’s when those same fingers that rested on your hips came trailing down, and were going up your skirt, making your breath hitch.

“y-y-you...” you responded sheepishly, only wanting to be honest with him. he chuckled, and finally, he pressed his finger up against your clothed bundle of nerves.

you gasped as he did so, “bunny... you’re soaked... how long have you been like this?” he asked teasingly, but the tone in his voice came off as if he was just pitying you.

“i-i’ve been thinking about—you... a lot... ever since—you know...” he hummed in response, letting you know that he wanted you to keep speaking, “i—i tried to—t-t-touch myself the other day... but—i don’t know. it felt... weird...”

even after everything, you were still so innocent. it drove neville absolutely mad.

“petal... you should’ve just came to me. you know i’ll take care of you.” he stated with a smirk etched across his face. his fingers kept rubbing small circles into your panties, making your breath turn shaky and uneven. “do you know how much i’ve missed you?”

you whimpered as moved your panties aside, and ran his finger through your slit,

“please...”

“please what, bunny?”

you were tired of the teasing. you had missed him so fucking much, and you just wanted him to make you feel good again. plus, you simply missed just being around him.

“touch me again. please.”

he kissed your lips softly, but still only continued to tease your pussy with his fingers.

“be patient, petal. i want you to be mine before i make you feel good again...” he admitted, stroking your cheek with his free hand. “would you want that?”

you looked up at him, and could see the pure honestly and adoration in his green eyes. you had never had a boyfriend before, but you didn’t even have to give it a second thought before you nodded your head.

he sent you a genuine smile,

“good. now you’re mine and i can make you feel good whenever you want...”

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville x you #neville longbottom fluff #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville smut

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Grade A Business//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief semi-nudity, slight language, two suggestive comments, y/n drools on fred but like in a cute way

Summary: As one businessman makes a trip across the ocean to talk to new investors, he meets his new partner, someone a lot more familiar than he was expecting.

Prompts: Only One Bed with dialogue prompts “if we get caught, I’m blaming you” and “I don't want to be alone”

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Day 2 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

Fred had never gotten used to traveling on Muggle airplanes. He never had a need to before, not with everything being a train ride, floo network, or apparition away. But as he and George progressed into adulthood, and the businessman life no less, they found themselves constantly on the move and needing a fast and easy way to travel without drawing suspicion. Except for the one time that Fred’s magical briefcase set off every airport security system imaginable, but he’d learned from that mistake.

He was relieved to be exiting the JFK airport in New York City, clutching his luggage and thanking Merlin that his feet could now touch solid ground. Being in one of those huge steel contraptions was nothing like flying in a broom. He had no control over anything and it drove him absolutely insane. Luckily, he was safe now, and one step closer to being done with this awful business trip.

At the beginning of their business endeavors, Fred and George would travel together, trying to pick up business at other locations for Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. But as the shop grew and the locations became more and more foreign (so far having shops in Paris, Cairo, and Madrid) the brothers realized that the operations would have to be solo missions to allow for the other to run the shop for longer periods of time. Usually Fred didn’t mind taking the trips by himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed the alone time and flexibility in schedule. But this meeting was supposed to be a big one, and he was feeling quite nervous about having to tackle it himself.

Big investors located in the states were meeting with him to discuss opening a joint operation in New York City, combining his shop with another renowned wizard business that they deemed would be most profitable. Fred groaned internally just thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to share this new shop with anyone, no matter what the new investors thought. What if the other co-owner was a horrible person? Or worse, what if they had no sense of humor? They’d ruin the Weasley reputation and make it some boring book store. Or puzzle shop? Honestly Fred didn’t know much about the other business, just that he already didn’t like it.

Hailing a cab, a trick his sister-in-law Hermione had shown him years ago, Fred lugged all of his prototypes--skillfully hidden from Muggle eyes and detection systems by layers of spells--into the trunk before hopping in, giving the address of the hotel the investors had booked for him. He was about to shut the door when a panting scream startled him enough to make him stop.

“Wait! Hold the cab!”

Doing as he was told, Fred kept the door open and allowed the stranger to climb in, suitcase and all.

“Thanks,” you said, Fred noting your distinct British accent and strikingly familiar features. “I really need to get to my hotel, I appreciate it--”

“Y/N?”

Shocked, you finally looked at your ride partner’s face for the first time. Soft brown eyes. Freckled face. Bright ginger hair.

“Fred?! Fred Weasley?” You knew for a fact you weren’t mistaken, this was definitely the Fred you remembered. Or maybe it could have been George? It had been so long since you had seen either of them. Since Hogwarts, in fact.

Luckily, Fred nodded, confirming your belief that this was the older Weasley twin and saving yourself from heaps of embarrassment. “Y/N L/N, what are you doing here?”

Fred and you both wore matching grins, stretching from ear to ear. What an insane coincidence. What were the chances that you two would be in the same cab, in the same city, in the same foreign country?

“I’m actually here for business,” you said. “After Hogwarts I opened my own shop--”

“Excuse me,” the cab driver interrupted, wasting no time with politeness nor formalities. “But I have cars lined up behind me and I don’t know where you wanna go little lady. So let’s get on with it, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah of course. It’s, umm, oh shit which hotel was it? It’s on 53rd and 10th, I know that…” You trailed off, trying to remember what your hotel was called. You dug around in your purse, hoping to find a piece of paper with the name on it. “I think it was called--”

“Lotus Hotel.”

It was Fred who had interrupted you, once again, and once again you were just as bewildered as before.

“That’s right,” you said after a few seconds of confused silence. “Yes, yes the Lotus Hotel please,” you told the driver with confidence. Turning back to Fred you tried in earnest to understand what was happening.

“So same location?” the driver asked, to which Fred confirmed before you were speeding off down the crowded streets of the city.

“Oh, I get it,” you said in understanding. “Same hotel as me?”

“That is correct, love. What are the odds?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a half suggestive half just plain goofy manner, awkwardly shuffling so that his long legs had room amongst your many bags.

“That is quite a coincidence,” you agreed. “Funny thing is, I didn’t even choose the location. I have a business meeting in the morning with possible investors and they set everything up for the stay.”

Fred’s mouth practically dropped open at what you had said. “You’re kidding. These investors don’t happen to be Robbie Goldstein and Rachel McMillan, do they?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” you said, officially freaked. “That’s the third time you’ve predicted something and it’s starting to creep me out. You never were very good at legilimency.”

He hushed you quickly, hoping the cab driver hadn’t caught onto the magical term you just used. Thankfully, he was too focused on the roads to notice.

“Ok, Y/N, one last question.”

“And then you’ll explain how you know all this?”

Fred ignored your question and continued with his own. “You said you opened a business. Are you perhaps meeting with another business owner to discuss a collaboration on a new store opening in the city?”

“Yes!” you said, eager to know how Fred could have known that. Was this another one of his pranks? Did he have hidden cameras in the cab somewhere? “How do you know all this?”

He only laughed, a joyous and very relieved grin overtaking his face. Sticking out his right hand, he grabbed yours and shook it eagerly. “Well, Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be reacquainted. I’m Frederick Weasley, your new potential partner.”

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

“You know, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh thank Godric, I was worried you’d think I was grown up and mature now.”

You laughed heartily as you dragged your bags out of the cab, thanking the driver before he grunted annoyedly and drove off. Your drive from the airport had gone faster than expected, mostly due to the fact that you and Fred had so much to catch up on.

After he and George had left Hogwarts in their grand exit, they’d created the shop they’d always dreamed of, parking it right in the middle of Diagon Alley. You, on the other hand, went about creating your success in a much more conventional way. After finishing your last year of school, you started working full time at Zonko’s at Hogsmeade, trying to save up enough money to start your own business.

Many long hours and tiring days later, you opened up your little place, a toy store and puzzle shop. It was a similar setup to what the Weasleys did, but as you described it, “my toys don’t blow up in the user's face.”

You were now very excited for tomorrow’s meeting, the one you had been dreading beforehand. Your business was much smaller than Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and this would be your first international location. You were afraid that the owner you would be forced to work with would be some stuck up rich big whig who wouldn’t allow you to keep any of your small business charm in the new location. But learning that you would be working with Fred, well that was a relief for many reasons.

Fred rang the hotel desk bell, chatting happily about ideas for the shared shop and new products that fit with what both of you wanted to do.

“Hello there,” said the hotel receptionist, coming around the corner. “What can I do for you today?”

“Two night stay for Frederick Weasley,” said Fred. “Should’ve been booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

The young man typed quickly into his computer before offering Fred a hotel key card. “Here you are Mr. Weasley, room 504. We serve complimentary breakfast from 6 to 9 every morning down in our west hall. If you need anything don’t be afraid to call down and we’ll assist you in any way we can.”

Fred nodded at the man. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave before you grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back.

“Wait for me,” you said. “I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Fred smiled and waited behind you as you took your turn at the desk.

“Y/N L/N, also booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

He clicked away again but paused for a few seconds, seemingly confused. “You said Y/N L/N?”

Starting to get nervous, you nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Is the reservation not there?” You didn’t want to think about having to find somewhere else to stay, especially because it was getting so late.

“Oh no,” the man replied. “It’s here all right.” Ignoring the confused looks you and Fred were giving each other, the receptionist handed you a hotel key card and gestured to the elevator. “Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You’ll be staying for two nights in room 504. Don’t forget to enjoy our complimentary breakfast from 6--”

“I’m sorry,” Fred interrupted. “But that’s my room. You did say 504, right?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, not bothering to try to understand the predicament. “Mr. Goldstein booked one room for the both of you.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Fred, silently asking him to help you figure this out. But instead, Fred just broke out laughing, having to brace himself on the front desk.

“I guess that’s what you expect when you let two investors who specialize in pranking shops make the room accommodations.”

“This isn’t funny Fred,” you said, although you had to give Robbie and Rachel credit for this joke. Turning to the receptionist, you sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “There’s at least two separate beds, right?”

He glanced down at his computer screen before looking back up at you with a guilty smile. “Well, about that…”

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

“Alright, I’ll take the couch, I’m sure it’s a pullout, it has to be.”

Fred stood in the doorway watching you mumble mostly to yourself. As tired as he was and as much as he wanted to just lie down and sleep, somehow watching you freak out about the sleeping arrangements was a much better use of his time.

He watched as you threw the pillows and cushions off of the couch and felt around for a lever, something, anything that would allow you a place to rest. Your face lit up as you felt a small impression and yanked with all your might, only causing you to thump backwards onto your butt on the hotel room floor.

Kicking off his shoes, Fred jumped onto the bed, sighing as he let his body relax. “Come on in darling, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

He opened one eye slightly, just enough to see your reaction. You were trying again to make the couch open, although you both knew that it wasn’t a pullout. Nevertheless, you kept pulling at every spot you thought could make a difference.

It reminded Fred of the good old days, back at Hogwarts when you two were so close. You were always so stubborn, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed having you in his life. He always wondered what happened to you after he and George left, but with the shop opening up and the war around the corner, he never had the thought to write you or track you down. He hoped this time after you two parted ways you would still remain in touch.

You groaned loudly, slapping the couch with one of the pillows you had thrown earlier. Nothing was going as planned and you couldn’t be more annoyed.

“Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, no need for a pullout.” You stomped over to the bed and angrily pulled the blanket from off of him.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab it back but you were too quick. “That’s not fair, it’s cold!”

“If you get the bed,” you said, wrapping yourself up, “then I get to stay warm. Now go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He couldn’t help but giggle at the small bundle of you wrapped up in the hotel quilt, looking like an angry little burrito. Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the corner, followed next by his undershirt before he unbuckled his belt. He turned to face you slowly, feeling your eyes on him as they peeked out of your wrapping.

You quickly turned your gaze and glared at the floor. “What are you doing?” you said, hoping Fred didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. He did.

He continued to undress, leaving him only in a pair of red boxers that left little to the imagination. “Going to bed, as you said,” he replied nonchalantly. He grabbed a toothbrush from his suitcase and made his way to the bathroom, making sure to walk extra slowly and give you a longer show.

“This is so unprofessional!” you yelled after him.

“We’re not business partners until tomorrow, love,” Fred said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “As far as I see it we can do anything we want tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you shed the large blanket and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your bag, hoping you’d be able to change before Fred finished in the bathroom. As he emerged, he saw the tail end of you throwing the shirt on, flashing your thighs and part of your panties for half a second. He averted his eyes out of respect, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running away with what he just saw.

You shuffled past him, taking your turn in the bathroom. How in the world had this happened? How had a nice catch-up with a friend turned into an awkward back and forth the night before the most important business meeting of your life?

All you wanted to do was fall asleep, go through with whatever tomorrow brought you, and pretend like this never happened. But as you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Fred had taken the blanket back, leaving you with nothing except your t-shirt and an uncomfortable couch.

“Fred, let me have it,” you said, trying to yank it from his grip.

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled by one of the many pillows he was cuddled with.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, give me the blanket now or so help me…”

Instead of responding, he just reached out and patted you on the top of your head before rolling over and pretending to snore. He was infuriating.

You sulked back to the couch, accepting your defeat. You pulled out all of the clothes in your bag, hoping they could form as some sort of makeshift blanket. But after a few minutes of shivering and curling into the smallest ball possible, you realized that you’d never manage to sleep like this. Fred was staring at you, partially amused and partially concerned. You looked away.

“You can always share with me, you know,” he said, patting the bed next to him.

You scoffed and turned away. “Like I said, Fred, we’re soon-to-be business partners. Imagine how that would look! I’m fine right here, thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence you snuck another look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and was instead looking more concerned than before. “You’re going to freeze to death over there.”

“Well maybe that’s because someone stole my blanket.”

“The blanket comes with the bed, and the bed comes with me. Take it or leave it.”

It took everything in you not to scream. You wanted that warm, soft, comfortable bed more than anything at the moment. You needed it. Oh but it would send such a bad message if anyone ever found out…

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” you relented, trudging over to the bed and crawling underneath the covers, ripping the blanket from a very amused Fred.

“Who’s gonna catch us, Robbie and Rachel? They’re the ones that set this up! Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.”

“It better not,” you said. “And make sure you stay on your side of the bed, I mean it! No touching.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Fred said, rolling slightly closer to you. “You act as if we’ve never done this before. We’ve slept with each other dozens of times.”

Your face went red at his words, wishing he would have phrased it a different way.

“You know what I mean,” he said quickly, hearing how his words came across. “But the amount of times we’ve cuddled up in the Gryffindor common room or up stargazing in the astronomy tower. It’s just me, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We were also 17 and a lot closer back then,” you retorted, remembering the fond memories you had from your high school days.

Fred huffed and returned to his side. “I’m not saying we weren’t. I just wish you weren’t acting so different now. It’s like we’re barely friends anymore…” His voice drifted off, wishing that he could go back and change the past. It had been 8 years since he last saw you. 8 whole years. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had tried to stay in touch. You’d never even visited his shop in those 8 years, never seen everything he was so proud of. He was stupid to think that one reunion was going to bring back a friendship that was practically already dead. He was even more stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him one last chance to shoot his shot, close to a decade later. What a right idiot he was.

On the other side of the bed, less than a meter away, similar thoughts raced through your mind. 8 years. Why hadn’t you, in 8 years, made one trip to visit their shop. Sure, there was a war going on and you were busy starting your own shop, but things had been fairly calm the last few years. Why had you never reached out? Almost subconsciously, you reached out physically for Fred. Your hand brushed up against his back before you tensed and drew back. You both stilled for a few moments, before Fred rolled over, facing you.

The two of you just stared at each other, both playing mental images of what your lives could have looked like the last 8 years if just one of you had done something.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Fred asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head. He moved closer.

“Are you?” you asked. He shook his head. You moved closer.

Your faces were now about a foot apart. You moved your hand to rest it between your face and the pillow. Fred copied your actions. You laughed softly, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall into your face.

Fred reached his hand out to move it before hesitating. “Can I?” His voice was so soft, so full of care. His hand hesitated in the air for a second before you nodded. He brushed the strands behind your ear, fingertips so gentle that you got chills up and down your spine. He let his hand linger before it moved to cup your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you too, Freddie.”

His hand left your face and moved down to your waist, eyes not leaving yours in case you ever grew uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him just like you used to do all those years ago. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and hummed contently, before both of you slowly drifted off to sleep.

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

“Freddie, Y/N! How are ya!”

Robbie Goldstein, a plump man with fading hair ran up to greet you and Fred in the lobby of his and his partner’s office, shaking both of your hands fervently.

“Hey Robbie,” said Fred, slapping the man on the back. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Same with me,” you said, glad you could finally meet the man with whom you’d been discussing business through letters in person.

Robbie looked between the two of you, sly grin on his face. “Ah, so I see you’ve already met them. Wouldn’t happen to be because of a little mishap at the hotel last night, would it?”

You groaned internally, hating that someone else knew about the previous night, but Fred only laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“A great prank, I must admit, but Y/N and I actually go way back. I’ve known her since I was 11 years old, so nice try. I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve gone if we were complete strangers.”

Robbie’s face fell a little before he shrugged and nodded his head in defeat. “Well, what are the odds of that?”

“Astronomical,” you said, giving Fred a subtle tap with your foot.

Robbie gestured for the two of you to follow him into the conference room where discussions about the new business would commence. “Well, I’m glad that you two seem to get along then, this is going to make things a lot easier. Oh, and don’t worry about arrangements tonight, I’ve decided not to let my joke stretch on and I booked another room for one of you for your last night in town.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, and stepped into the conference room. “Thanks Robbie, that makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” said Fred hesitantly, “thanks for that.”

He shut the door behind you and straightened up. There was no place for personal feelings in this business negotiation. He needed to do what was best for his company and yours, no distractions. No thoughts of crushed hope that suddenly plagued his mind.

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

Fred hated the bed he was sleeping on. Granted, it was the same bed as the night before, but this time it felt different. It felt like it was mocking him. You had been the one to offer to change rooms and it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there and to your own bedroom, free of any Weasleys. It made Fred sick to think about.

He had just gotten used to the idea of something happening between the two of you. Last night, it all seemed perfect. You had cuddled the same way you had before, talked like nothing had changed. Hell, he even woke up with you lying sprawled out on top of him, a little trickle of drool falling onto his chest. He didn’t mind.

But now, everything that happened the night before seemed like a dream.

Fred knew he’d at least get to see you sporadically from now on. Your business negotiations with Robbie and Rachel went great, and the two of you, three counting George, were going to be combining forces and opening a joke and toy shop in the city sometime within the next year. It went exactly how Fred had wanted it to go, and yet so horribly wrong at the same time.

He didn’t want to only interact with you as a business partner and casual friend. He wanted so much more than you were willing to give him, and having to see you and write you and work with you was going to be torture for him. He buried his face in the pillows, gripping the large blanket to his chest, wishing it was you instead. Stupid Robbie and his stupid pranks and stupid business and--

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred lifted his head to check the clock. It was 2 in the morning. Who in the world would be knocking this late at night? Fred slowly got out of bed, too tired to bother putting anything more decent on. He looked through the peephole of the door but his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. Groaning, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Standing in front of him, clothed in the oversized t-shirt from last night and a pair of booty shorts, was you, looking nervous and embarrassed. Fred hadn’t noticed the previous day, but the shirt you had been wearing was one of his old Quidditch practice jerseys, all beat up and way too huge on you. He remembered the day he gave that to you, or rather when you stole it from him because you complained about it being too cold. Fred had to hold back a laugh at the irony.

“I, umm,” you started, not knowing what to say to him. How were you supposed to explain that you missed him so much that spending one night away from him was too much for you to bear? How last night had been the best sleep you had in years because of how content and at peace he made you feel. How could you convey all of your feelings to him at this very moment?

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fred wasted no time in picking you up, laughing as you screamed and kicked your legs around. “Fred Weasley, you put me down!”

He did as he was told and threw you onto the bed before jumping, arms and legs spread out, and landing straight on top of you. “I’m so glad you're here,” he said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He pushed himself up, scanning your face to make sure what he did was ok, but you grabbed his face in your cheeks and pulled him down into a long kiss. Fred smiled through the kiss, almost laughing at how everything was working out. Maybe fate did have something to do with it after all.

Fred pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “So,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes, “how about we put this bed to good use?”

Tag List: @famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fredweasleyfluff #only one bed

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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

Note

Hi, if you are still taking prompts; A magically powerful Harry not noticing that his magic does things to make Draco happy. This can be pre-relationship or established relationship. Like it starts of with his tea being exactly as he likes and always the right temperature. Then evolves to rooms changing colour or weather changing or people being unable to invade Draco’s personal space due to an invisible barrier or something ridiculous. Btw Draco doesn’t notice as well.

anon.....you really killed me w this one. i’ve been so emo over this wyugeahrwiw might end up writing smth longer tbh bc this concept is literally the only thing that matters to me!!!!!!! i hope u enjoy i had so much fun with it ❤️❤️❤️

“Harry, you do it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“We’re fucking watching something, Draco!”

“So just pause it!”

Harry grabs the pillow on his lap and slams it onto the sofa next to him. Hermione can see dust rise in its wake. He pauses the telly.

“Are you doing it?” Draco asks hopefully. Harry scowls at him.

“Well you won’t shut up until I do, will you?”

“Definitely not.”

Harry disappears into the kitchen and Draco sits there looking smug.

“It’s kind of sick how you get off on bossing him around,” says Ron, his tone one of simple observation. His fingers are idly playing with Hermione’s hair, but she doesn’t think he notices he’s doing it.

“If I’m not mean to him a few times a week I break out in a rash, Weasley,” Draco says blithely. “Besides, he makes it perfectly. I don’t know how he does it, it’s always exactly the right temperature and sweetness and all that. I s’pose his years as a house-elf for those Muggles gave him plenty of time to perfect the art.”

“You’re a twat,” says Ron. “And my mum makes tea better than him.”

“Well you’re just a pitiful little mummy’s boy, aren’t you, Weasley? We can hardly trust your opinion.”

“Hark who the hell’s talking,” Ron scoffs. “Least I’m not twenty-three and still calling my mum ‘mummy’ like the world’s biggest bloody ponce.”

Draco splutters but before he can retort Harry’s coming back into the room hovering four cups of tea that float placidly to each of them. Draco looks exactly like a satisfied cat as he takes his and Harry drops back down onto the sofa next to him. Not too close, but certainly not too far, either.

“Literally exquisite,” Draco declares after he’s taken a sip. Ron rolls his eyes.

“It’s just tea, Draco,” says Harry, and he grabs for the remote to turn the film back on. “You’re such a demanding little brat. Merlin’s fucking tits.”

But Draco looks happy and Harry looks suspiciously content as well. Ron turns to her and makes a silent gagging face. Hermione snorts and puts a finger to her lips. They’ve decided not to say anything yet.

“Wasn’t this place a lot … uglier last time?”

“What?” Harry says absently. He’s not listening — he’s got all his attention zeroed in on a stack of parchment he’s holding. They’d only barely dragged him along to lunch; earlier the captain of the English National Team had apparently owled him a great number of brand-new Quidditch plays and required Harry’s extensive thoughts and notes before their next practise, which was tomorrow morning.

“Uglier,” Draco says emphatically, and Ron mutters something she doesn’t catch. “Remember? The walls were that tragic egg-yolk colour.” He shivers. Hermione thinks it might have been an honest-to-god shiver of revulsion. She also thinks she knows what’s happened, even though the extent of it surprises her.

“Maybe someone heard you whingeing and changed it,” Ron apparently can’t stop himself from saying with a snigger. Hermione elbows him hard and he shoots her a glare, mouthing, he doesn’t know!

Harry would usually be the one to take the lead and get them a table when all four of them go out to eat together but today he’s too wrapped up in his Quidditch plays, so Ron steps forward and does it, which makes Hermione’s chest flutter pleasantly. He’d blush down to his bones if she ever said it aloud but he’s quite capable of being a leader in Harry’s absences.

“Whatever happened,” says Draco pointedly as they’re led to their table, “it’s a great bloody blessing, I was genuinely unsure I’d have the mental fortitude to survive another assault like that on my delicate senses. And, I mean, this —” he gestures to the walls, which are now an admittedly pleasing dark teal above a white trim “— is stunning. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Is it? So weird they picked your favourite colour completely by coincidence,” Ron says, and Hermione elbows him again. Draco notices nothing and neither does Harry, although he does finally set the plays aside once they’re seated at the table.

“Are you complaining about the wall colour again?” he asks drily. They would both be extremely displeased to know they sound like an old married couple. Draco snatches haughtily at the paper napkin on the table and unfolds it to place over his lap. The first time he’d ever done this at a regular, decidedly not upscale restaurant Ron had taken it upon himself to spend the entire meal adopting a posh accent to match Draco’s and saying things to the waiter like “Don’t you have crystal?” while holding up a glass cup full of Pepsi and then commenting “These aren’t real silver, you know” after making a show of inspecting the titanium utensils.

“I can complain about hideous design choices if I want to,” Draco tells Harry with his nose in the air. “Thankfully they’ve rectified it this time.”

On the other side of the restaurant, Hermione sees two employees talking, one of them gesturing at the wall with utter bewilderment. She doesn’t point it out.

“Twelve o’clock,” says Ron, nodding past Draco’s shoulder. “Some bloke staring you down hard, Malfoy.”

Draco looks excitedly behind him, but what Hermione takes more notice of is the way Harry’s face falls a little. She can’t help but wonder if he even realises it’s happened. She’s almost certain he’s aware of his feelings for Draco even though he still hasn’t said anything to her (and she’s been waiting months now, the effort of holding her tongue growing only more difficult by the day, and she knows Ron’s always seconds away from shouting at him) but she doesn’t think he knows how obvious he is. Draco doesn’t seem to know either, but she thinks that’s because Draco feels exactly the same way. She’d have called them morons, but she remembers too well how long it had taken her and Ron.

“What the fuck, Weasley,” Draco hisses, turning back around with a scowl that makes Ron laugh and Harry perk up again a little bit. “He looks like he hasn’t washed his hair in weeks.”

“Now, now,” says Ron, “mustn’t judge books by their greasy covers.”

“Then you go shag him if you think he’s so fit.”

“Maybe I will,” Ron says airily, as if he really is considering it, and Hermione can’t help chuckling and kissing his cheek. Then his expression changes to one of wicked amusement, which makes all of them look round to see the bloke coming their way. Hermione glances at Harry to find that — oh yes, he looks flustered and vaguely upset.

“Hullo,” says the greasy bloke to Draco as he comes up beside him at their table. He’s really not terrible-looking, but if she’s learned anything about Draco in the last couple years it’s that his standards amount to models and Harry Potter, so this man has almost no chance.

“Hello,” Draco drawls, reminding her fiercely of his younger self at Hogwarts. “I’m not interested.”

“Right little narcissistic bugger, aren’t you?” the man says. And now, finally, he’s begun to look as revolting to Hermione as he’d done initially to Draco — a repellent personality can do that. “Maybe I just wanted to come and have a chat.”

“Then why aren’t you looking at any of the rest of us?” Ron asks, sounding halfway between amused still and a little put off.

“Can you leave, please?” Draco interjects, cringing away from the man encroaching slowly on his personal space. And suddenly, as he looks on the verge of antagonising Draco further, he shifts his feet and slips, landing right on his bum with a yell of surprise. All four of them get to their feet to see, but there doesn’t seem to be any liquid or even slimy food for him to have tripped on.

“The fuck ...?” the man says, getting back to his feet. But when he moved towards Draco, he only slips again, on absolutely nothing at all. Something clicks and Hermione looks at Harry: he seems as confused as anyone else (if obviously pleased).

She looks at Ron then, who catches her eye and lifts his brows like he’s thinking the same thing.

Draco’s suitor gets up once more and steadies himself, looking a bit dazed. Some deep animal instinct seems to tell him to stop trying, and with a wary glance at Draco he finally leaves.

“Well that was a bit of a fucking scene,” says Harry. Draco, coming out of his own startled daze, laughs.

“Yeah,” Ron says sarcastically, “wonder what could’ve possibly happened.”

“I really thought it was going to rain,” Draco mopes where he’s standing at the window. It’s grey outside but it definitely doesn’t look like rain and Draco appears so upset about it that Hermione actually feels badly, even though she’s quite glad for the clear weather.

“Just shut the curtains,” Ron suggests from his place on the floor. He’s sorting through Harry’s collection of VHS tapes, trying to decide on a good Halloween movie. Not that he’s ever seen any of them, and Hermione suspects he’ll end up choosing whichever cover he likes best.

“It’s not the same!” Draco wails. “The thunder and lightning is all part of it, you uncultured pillock! The atmosphere is all wrong.”

“It’ll be just as good when we shut off all the lights and draw the curtains,” she assures him, but it doesn’t remove the look of disappointment from his face. It’s a pouty sort of thing that echoes the brattiness of his youth; she imagines a five-or-six-year-old Draco giving his parents similar looks when he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

At that moment the front door opens and Harry walks in carrying two grocery bags, one of which contains alcohol, which Hermione can tell by the way the plastic is bulging around the cans.

“The fuck are you all doing here?” he says by way of greeting.

“You said eight o’clock, fuckhead,” Ron tells him without looking up. “But it’s fine, I’ve had time to pick a film and Malfoy’s had time to moan about the weather.”

“What’s wrong with the weather?”

“I wanted a storm!”

At that exact moment, a flash of lightning lights up the sky behind Harry where he hasn’t even closed the door yet. Seconds later a downpour begins, and then there’s a rolling crash of thunder.

Hermione’s eyes widen and once more she finds Ron’s gaze, who looks about as shocked as she feels. Draco, meanwhile, has his hands over his mouth and looks like a child on Christmas morning.

For the first time since his magic had begun picking up on Draco’s wishes and granting them of seemingly its own accord, Hermione sees Harry look suspicious. He peers behind him at the storm suddenly raging outside his house before slowly closing the door. When he turns back he looks directly at Hermione, who looks away quickly.

They set up the food Harry had gotten — all kinds of Halloween-themed sweets — and once everyone has their drinks (“Make mine,” Draco tells Harry, “you do it best”) and is comfortable on the two sofas in the room (Harry and Draco are, as usual, as close to each other as they can get without actually touching) they start the movie: The Thing, which Harry swears is one of the greatest horror films of all time.

Funny thing is, an hour and a half into it she looks over and, with a jolt, realises the two of them are kissing half-covered beneath a blanket. She elbows Ron, who positively beams when he notices.

“Fucking finally, dear sweet Merlin,” he whispers, the sound muffled by the continued rain and thunder. “I nearly hit him upside the head when he made it rain, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Shh!” Hermione hisses, though she’s smiling. “They’ll hear you. We’ll rag him about it tomorrow.”

A soft sound of laughter comes from the other sofa that Hermione identifies as Draco’s, and when she risks another peek after a moment she sees that Harry has a hand on Draco’s jaw, and that he’s smiling.

#anna writes #this prompt rly sent me into a tailspin of emotion #Anonymous

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botanicallyinclinednerd · 3 years

Text

Moments that highlight Merlin and Gwaine’s dynamic:

3x04: Gwaine's first words directly to Merlin are "pass the jug" which Merlin does and he just stares as Gwaine drinks from it and punches a guy in the face with no problem.

3x04: Gwaine flirting asking Merlin for his name and introducing himself to Merlin in the middle of a bar fight (that he threw the first punch of because he saw Arthur and Merlin had gotten themselves into a predicament). Merlin is completely baffled by this man that bashed someone over the head with a pitcher of alcohol, commented on the waste of alcohol, and threw himself back into the thick of the fight with a flip of his hair

3x04: Merlin has no idea how to react to Gwaine and his attitude towards nobles or his reason for helping them in the tavern being due to their slim odds of winning

3x04: Merlin’s stunned exasperation at Gwaine’s bar tab

3x04: Drunk Gwaine telling Merlin as he helps him up the stairs to his bed, "You're the best friend I've ever had" and Merlin replying "you seem to have quite a few" and laughing at Gwaine’s drunken laughter. They then exchange bits of their tragic backstories. Gwaines laughter at hitting his head against the wall sets Merlin off again, laughing at Gwaine’s antics.

3x04: the conversation about fathers while cleaning the boots. If I'm not mistaken, Gwaine is the only person, Gaius aside, that Merlin ever talked to about Balinor after having briefly met him.

3x04: Gwaine getting concerned when Merlin doesn't come back quickly and going to find him. Gwaine asking Merlin if he's okay and upon getting a "no" from Merlin, readily fighting the two "knights" to protect Merlin

3x04: Merlin apologizing for Gwaine getting banished and when Gwaine brushes it off and says "People get sick of me too quickly" Merlin quickly replies "I didn't" and Gwaine seems surprised by this: "After the trouble I caused?" And he laughs at Merlins response "you livened the place up." Gwaine gives Merlin a pat on the shoulder and a smile/nod in farewell.

3x04: Merlin grinning as he recognizes Gwaine’s disarming maneuver on one if the thug knights.

3x04: Merlin expressing concern at Gwaine saying he might go to Mercia. Merlin proceeds to try to convince Gwaine to stay. Like the first time in the episode Gwaine says good bye, Gwaine claps Merlin on the shoulder and gives him a nod and a smile. It also looks like he winks at Merlin as well this time.

3x08: Merlin grinning when he greets Gwaine when he finds him in a bar brawl. Gwaine looks and sounds delighted to see Merlin, grinning back. Ignores the fight to greet Merlin, the shot changing to show Gwaine with his arm around Merlin shoulders

3x08:The whole escape scene is amazing, the music adding to the hilarity. Gwaine, like any good friend, shrugging and pushing Merlin off the wall into the hay bellow

3x08: Them laughing over Merlin searching every tavern in Angard for Gwaine and Gwaine replying he'd be in all of them

3x08: Campfire scene in the Perilous lands. Merlin asks Gwaine why he wants to help and Gwaine responds "Same reason as you. To help a friend," and when Merlin says "Arthur is lucky to have us" Gwaine replies "Not Arthur," while looking at merlin with this look on his face and giving Merlin a tiny smile. Merlin responds "I'd do the same for you," "I'd hope so. You're the only friend I've got." Merlin raises his eyebrows at that "I'm not surprised" and they both laugh

3x08: Gwaine pushing Merlin into the room out of the way of the descending stone wall

3x08: Gwaine pulling Merlin into a hug when they find Merlin unharmed in the room. Its a very bro-y hug with back slaps

3x08: Merlin smiles at Gwaine and thanks him for his help as they part ways at the border.

3x12: Gwaine started moving towards Merlin and Arthur after he heard Merlin’s voice, meaning he recognized it. Merlin is delighted to see Gwaine, grinning widely. Gwaine calls Merlin "old friend" and puts his hands on Merlin's shoulders

3x12: Merlin telling Gwaine what their quest is and Arthur getting annoyed because it was a secret and Merlins response is "Its Gwaine!"

3x12: The fire wood bit where Gwaine messes with Merlin and Merlin doesn't realize it. "Merlin, don't you know when someone's joking with you?" Merlin laughs. Gwaine then makes a quip about his reputation and winks at Merlin

3x13: Gwaine asks Merlin if he's alright, comments that it looked like Merlin had seen a ghost

4x01: when Merlin spots Gwaine and Percival chicken fishing from the grate, Gwaine puts a finger to his lips with a grin. Merlin is amused by their antics

4x02: Gwaine gives Merlin a hug when he rejoins them before the Isle of the Blessed

4x04: Gwaine compliments Merlin on the stew and thanks him while putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder

4x04: the poisoned stew scene, Gwaine obnoxiously eats over Merlin shoulder and pats Merlin on the shoulder while Merlin is probably plotting his revenge against all 5 of them

4x06: Gwaine goes with Arthur to find Merlin and he talks up Merlin to Arthur. Can be inferred that Gwaine is indirectly telling Arthur to praise Merlin more. Gwaine can be seen grinning in the background when he and Arthur find Merlin

4x06: Gwaine calls Merlin "bog man" and looks hurt when Merlin refuses to let him snag any of the food and snaps at him.

4x06: Old man Merlin antagonizing Gwaine, alluding to his nobility without actually saying it. Merlin’s motivations behind this taunt are unclear

4x07: Gwaine is waiting for Merlin in Gaius’s chambers to check on him. Merlin is not happy to see him and is at first rather snappy. Gwaine seems a bit hurt by Merlin's dismissal, but he still lets Merlin know he's there to help him. Gwaine goes with Merlin to find Gaius

4x07 deleted scene: Gwaine and Merlin stop to eat around a fire. Gwaine assures Merlin that they will find Gaius and Merlin thanks him for the help. Merlin promises to return the favor one day and Gwaine makes a joke about Merlin maybe regretting that considering all the trouble he gets into. They laugh and then have a short heart to heart about fathers. (This scene can be found on YouTube under Merlin "4x07 deleted scenes")

4x07: when Gwaine is knocked to the ground by his opponent, Merlin used magic to knock him off his feet and he ended up landing on Gwaine. Gwaine is staring up at Merlin with wide eyes. Merlin helps Gwaine to his feet

4x07: Gwaine looks very displeased when Merlin tells Gwaine not to wait for him if he finds Gaius. Gwaine ends up trying to go looking for Merlin anyways but is talked out of it by Agravaine (btw Gwaine looks like he wants so badly to stab Agravaine in that scene on multiple occasions and I think its a shame that he didn't)

4x08: The fishing pole interaction in the night. The light banter

4x08: if you watch Gwaine in the background of the scene where Leon goes off on Merlin and calls him "nothing but a servant" you can see Gwaine looking livid and a muscle jumps in his jaw. The next scene when he shoves into Leon he asks Leon "why don’t you mind your damn tongue?" Which doesn't connect to Leon telling Gwaine to mind where he's going. It does however connect to Leon yelling at Merlin.

4x10: Gwaine scaring Merlin in the shrine by suddenly grabbing his shoulder and whispering "boo"

4x10: Gwaine giving Merlin a pouch of salt as protection against spirits and telling him if it didn't work, gaius could use it as seasoning. Merlin isn't amused by that

4x12: Gwaine pulls Merlin back and tells him they had no time to argue, Merlin needed to go.

5x02: Merlin smiles when he sees Gwaine alive

5x04: Gwaine is concerned for Merlin when he’s found unconscious, helping Percival lay him down and sitting by Merlin's head with his hands on Merlin's shoulders. He expresses concern to Gaius when Merlin takes too long to wake up

5x04: Gwaine is delighted to see Merlin awake and definitely goes in for a hug which Merlin derails by putting his hands on Gwaine’s shoulders and moving away before Gwaine can hug him. In the background Gwaine does a little smirk and head shake and Merlin back to his normal self

5x04: Before Merlin goes off to find Arthur, Gwaine stops him with a hand on his shoulder, wishing him luck

5x07: Merlin’s conversation with Gwaine about his suspicion that Arthur was not safe in Camelot. Gwaine promises Merlin that he will stick close to Arthur to protect him. He gives merlin his word.

5x07: connecting to the point above: Gwaine goes to check on Gwen when they lost the "intruder" if you really over analyze this scene and the scene in the courtyard, you could come to the conclusion that Gwaine is aware Merlin is in the room. His eyes keep darting to the corner where Merlin is and in fact its Gwaine looking in that direction that tips Gaius off to Merlin in that corner. When the previous point is taken into account, it is doubtful that Gwaine would have left Arthur unless he had reason to believe he was in more danger if he stayed than if he went with Gwen. But this is conjecture on my part and just what I took away from these scenes.

5x07: Gwaine smiles kindly at Merlin when he’s let out of the cells

5x11: Gwaine chuckling and commenting that Merlin had caught something on the hunting trip too (a cold)

5x11: Gwaine asking Merlin what was wrong after he and Leon encounter Mordred threatening Merlin in the hallway. Gwaine looks slightly concerned, especially after Merlin brushes it off and claims it was nothing.

5x12: Gwaine’s confidence in Merlins healing ability: "don't worry, Merlin knows what he’s doing"

5x12: Gwaine going with "my friend Merlin" to the crystal caves. That Merlin chose Gwaine speaks to his trust in him, and that he agreed readily speaks to Gwaine’s friendship to Merlin

5x12: Gwaine thanking Merlin for helping Eria, Merlin implying that Gwaine likes her, light teasing

5x12: Merlin lying defenseless on the ground and screaming for Gwaine, sounding absolutely petrified. Gwaine was already moving to Merlin before he yelled, as he noticed when Merlin went down. Gwaine asks him if he's okay and holds a hand out to help Merlin to his feet. Merlin thanks him and Gwaine replies, while clapping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder "No need to thank me Merlin. It was the least I could do."

5x12: Gwaine is taken aback when Merlin tells him that he will go the rest of the way on his own. Gwaine is concerned for Merlin’s safety. When Gwaine asks what Merlin is looking for, Merlin has a conflicted look on his face before he ultimately replies "I can't tell you that Gwaine. You'll just have to trust me" and Gwaine obviously does, as he does not push or protest and he gives a tiny nod of understanding.

5x12: Gwaine tells Merlin "Look after yourself Merlin" and gives Merlin his sword, making a joke about Merlin knowing how to use the sharp end that makes them both chuckle. When the shot shows Gwaine again, his eyes are filling with tears. They firmly grasp each other's arm in farewell

5x12: Gwaine tells Merlin "I hope you find what you're looking for" to which Merlin grins broadly at Gwaine and Gwaine smiles back, though it quickly fades as the tears in his eyes get more prominent and he actively looks like he's trying not to cry. Gwaine looks like he doesn't expect to see Merlin again. And he's right. "I hope you find what you're looking for" are Gwaine’s last words to Merlin.

Also: for the fucking record, the music playing in their final scene makes it so much more heart breaking. It starts off quieter and slow and at the end, at their goodbye, it swells and just has a feeling of finality to it without there being a proper ending.

#merlin #bbc merlin #sir gwaine #gwaine #character dynamics #merwaine #platonic or romantic however you choose to interpret it #as predicted i cried during diamond of the day which i got over with first #long post #i dont usually include deleted scenes but this was one that stuck with me and i liked it so i included it #liv talks merlin

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Stars Aligned Chapter 3

(Please do not ask when the next chapter will be, I do not know. Links to AO3/FFN will be included in reblog.)

Here’s the thing. The very, very, stupid thing. Despite all his planning for this trip, Danny had no idea what his birth family looked like. Presumably, they also had no idea what he looked like.

As much as Danny would like to blame this on a wizardly aversion to the internet and photographs, he couldn’t. Danny could have sent them a picture of himself through the mail at any time. Even if wizard mail involved owls for some unexplained reason. But he didn’t. Because he was dumb.

And his equally dumb wizard family had also failed to send any pictures.

What were they thinking? Did they assume they’d somehow recognize each other on sight? Was that a wizard thing? Did they expect to spontaneously develop blood-relative telepathy? Was that a thing?

Danny did not know what to expect. He honestly didn’t know enough about wizards.

The end result was that Danny was standing in the middle of the wizarding world’s equivalent of an airport, which involved way more open fires than could possibly be safe, and people stepping into those open fires, which, again, could not possibly be safe. Of course, Danny had done it, as uncomfortable as it was for his core, and anything that used internal combustion was technically also using fire as a means of transportation, so Danny might have been a bit of a hypocrite, but still.

But, back to his dilemma. He, a dumb teenager, could be expected to do dumb, thoughtless things and make easily avoidable mistakes. It was basically a requirement. His actual family, who probably could have realized the error, didn’t want him to go and could be forgiven for any oversight. But dumb wizard birth family had at least one semi-competent adult in it. Supposedly.

Despite himself, his desire to kidnap his brother increased. Even though it would most likely cause an international incident.

He sighed. Maybe he should just follow the crowd and see if anyone stopped him. After all wizards might have magic blood-relative detection something or other.

He trudged along, pulling his trundle suitcase behind him. Silver lining was that whatever happened, he didn’t have to spend hours in a metal tube breathing recycled air. Silver lining. Silver lining. Silver—

Ah. Hm.

Danny blinked at his name written in large letters on a square of poster paper. His first and middle names, that is, and his bio-family’s last name.

He was highlytempted to turn around and go back home, but there was his twin, holding the card and looking fragile and hopeful, standing next to a tall woman with greying black hair.

He sighed. He was doing this, then.

“Hi,” he said, “you must be Draco. I’m Danny. And, uh, you must be Narcissa Malfoy?” He sort of held his hand out, feeling awkward.

“You can call me mother, Deneb,” said Narcissa. She sounded slightly tearful.

“It good to meet you, Deneb. Er. Danny.” Draco’s eyes flitted up to his mother.

“Yeah, um. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Malfoy, but I don’t actually know you. And I’ve got a mom.”

“Yet,” interjected Draco. “You don’t know mother yet. That’s what this visit is about, right?”

“Right,” said Danny. “I’m… really looking forward to it.”

Draco looked relieved. “Excellent. Well, then, Looky can get your luggage and we can floo home.”

A very small, rather wizened person stepped out from behind Draco’s legs.

Okay. Danny had questions.

Danny did not particularly care for the answers to his questions.

Draco didn’t know why his twin had stopped talking to him before they’d even gotten home. He had, to some degree, expected rough spots. Merlin knew his family didn’t get along perfectly. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t hoped he and his twin would have a special connection. That they would mesh.

That… wasn’t happening. In fact, this was rather… awkward. Painful, almost.

He thought back to what they had been talking about. He didn’t think he’d said anything particularly objectionable. Had he hit on some chip on the shoulder those squibs had inculcated in him? Well, he thought, rather shamefacedly, he shouldn’t think of them like that. They hadn’t been the ones to abandon Deneb – Danny – just for not being immediately magical.

“Right,” he said, as Danny stepped (jumped, looking slightly disturbed) out of the fire. “Let me show you your room. We’ve had the house elves clean it out.”

Something on Danny’s face went dark, but he visibly controlled himself. “Thank you,” he said. “And, um, thank you, Looky. For your help.”

Draco frowned. He was confused, and he didn’t like feeling confused. He knew muggles didn’t have house elves, of course, but still. The concept wasn’t that hard to understand, was it? Although, it was possible Danny had never come across house elves at all, even second or third hand.

He supposed they might be unsettling if they were the first magical creature one came across. Ugh. He’d never tried to put himself in the position of someone learning about magic for the first time. Why would he? That was mudblood business, and he’d never associate with one of those.

But Danny was in that position, just about.

That meant it was Draco’s job to help Danny understand.

Danny was hoping he was misunderstanding something and that wizards did not, in fact, practice slavery.

This seemed to be a forlorn hope.

“So,” said Draco clasping his hands behind his back in the doorway of ‘Danny’s’ room, “er, house elves. You’ve probably not seen them before.”

“Can’t really say so, no.”

“Probably the first magical creatures you’ve seen.”

“Um,” said Danny. “Also no. I did have to go get a wand and stuff, and you’ve got to go to a wizard town to do that. I saw a bunch of different stuff there.” He didn’t really want to explain the ghosts, but… “Also, my parents study ghosts.”

“You mean, your adopted parents.”

“My parents, yes.”

“I didn’t know squibs could see ghosts. Well, they never seemed to have any trouble with it, so…” He shrugged.

“I… see.”

Danny doubted it, somehow. “But you were saying? About house elves?” Benefit of the doubt, he reminded himself.

“They’re servants,” said Draco. “Magically bound to serve certain families.”

“Magically bound,” repeated Danny, liking this less and less.

“Yes, it’s very old magic. An ancient agreement between our race and theirs, and the individual families and the house elves in question.”

“They can’t, like, opt out or anything?”

“That would defeat the point.”

“Okay,” said Danny. “So… Do they get, you know, paid at all?”

“Of course not,” said Draco.

Danny closed his eyes. “Okay. Um. Draco.” How to put this in a way that wouldn’t immediately alienate him. “Isn’t that slavery?”

“No,” said Draco, immediately. “They want to serve.”

“Well, they might say that to you, but human slaves used to say the same thing, because they’d get in trouble if they didn’t.”

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, confidently, “It isn’t like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“They aren’t human. They want to do this.”

Danny was no stranger to dealing with inhuman mindsets (but he most definitely did not have one himself). Even so…

“I think my point still stands. Like, are there very many house elves in this situation?”

“I don’t know,” said Draco. “I suppose so. Most families of substance and breeding have at least one.”

“Okay. Ah. Look. I’m not even sure where to start with this. Slavery is bad, right? We can agree on that.”

An annoyed expression passed over Draco’s face. “Yes, we can. That’s a given. But that’s for humans—"

“Great. Let’s start there. It’s bad for any human, right? Even, like, no-majs, or stupid humans, or—”

“Muggles,” corrected Draco. “No-maj is the American term.”

“When in Rome, I guess, sure. Muggles, then.”

“Yeah,” said Draco, uncomfortably crossing his arms.

Oh, Ancients, there was something there. Which Danny should have expected, given his birth father, whom he had yet to meet, threw him out of the house literally at birth.

Wizard supremacist weirdos corrupting his poor twin brother.

“Then what makes house elves so different?”

“Like I said, they want to do this. It’s in their nature. You wouldn’t, I don’t know, decide a dog was unhealthy because it barked instead of meowed, would you?” He spread his hands in frustration.

“I’ll give you that, but Looky looked actively afraid of you. And what was she even dressed in? That can’t be comfortable.”

“Giving them real clothes would free them – only if it’s their master, which in this case is Father.” He shifted slightly. “Except for Looky, I suppose, who is technicallymine. Great Aunt—Oh, you won’t know her. Why do you even care?”

“Why do I care about other people suffering? But otherthan that, what’s the difference between a house elf and a human servant? Like, would you treat a human servant like that? If you were a servant, wouldn’t you want to be treated with respect, even if being a servant was all you’d ever wanted?”

“But I’m not a servant.”

“But if you were. Can’t you just try to imagine it? A little? Please?”

“I… fine. But don’t bring this up to Mother and Father. They wouldn’t be pleased.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“Deal,” agreed Draco. “So. Do you like your room?”

Danny looked around. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice. Bit different from what I have at home, but, yeah. Good, um. Good floors. And wallpaper. And, um. Do all wizard paintings move like that?” He genuinely hadn’t noticed until just now, intent on the house elf problem.

“Yeah,” said Draco, seemingly relieved at the more normal topic. “It’s an enchantment on the canvas and paint.”

“Seems like it’d be hard to work with,” observed Danny.

“Well, the spell isn’t finished until after the actual painting part is done. At least, that’s my understanding.”

“I see, that would be easier.”

Silence.

“Would you like to see the peacocks?”

“Sure, why not?”

It took a bit of time to get bundled up in coats (cloaks in Draco’s case) because it was cold outside, but once they did…

“Wow. They’re albino peacocks.”

“Yes.”

“Wild.”

“No, they’re quite tame.”

“Oh, it’s, um, it’s an idiom. Like cool. Or wicked, I guess? Do British people use that?”

“I’ve heard some people use it. But Mother and Father are… not particularly enamored of slang.”

“Right,” said Danny. “I’ll remember that.”

They continued walking through the garden, towards the pond. Danny tried not to dwell on how much labor it would take to keep the grounds here so pristine.

“What do you do for fun in America?” asked Draco, out of nowhere.

Danny blinked. “Different people do different things,” he said. “Uh, a lot of things I usually do won’t work here because of the whole magic and electricity not getting along well thing. Have you ever heard about video games?”

“No,” said Draco. “Is it anything like quidditch?”

“I have only the loosest of understandings of what that is. It’s that broom sport, right? The one where you fly?”

Draco looked scandalized. “… Yes,” he said, finally. “I’m going to have to teach you how to use a broom before you have to go back to America.”

“The flying type of broom?” asked Danny, teasingly. Sure, he already could fly, but whatever.

“Merlin, yes.” Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m part of my house’s quidditch team. Letting you leave without some understanding of the rules would be a crime.”

“Draco, are you a jock?” asked Danny. “What is this world coming to. Related to a jock.” He shook his head dramatically. “I’ll never live it down.”

Draco nudged him slightly. “I’m not a meathead beater, at least,” he said. “I’m the team seeker.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Draco’s smile slowly slid off his face.

“What?” said Danny.

“It’s just… you should. You should have grown up here, with family, as part of this world.”

“I did grow up with family,” said Danny. “Just not direct blood relatives. It kind of sucks that we didn’t get the chance to grow up together, but, like, I’m not really impressedby your parents so far.”

“Mother was very upset when she heard what Father did.”

“Sure, but she also kind of ditched us as soon as we got back here.”

“She has a delicate constitution? I’m sure she’s just trying to decide how to act… giving you space to make you feel more comfortable?”

Danny shrugged. “Well, we’ll see what happens. I’m going to be here until the end of the break, after all.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Hogwarts, just for the rest of the school year? I’m sure they’ll be better than any alternative in America, when it comes to catching you up. Father has friends on the board of governors and the Ministry Department of Educational Oversight. It would be easy for you to go.”

“My friends are all back home,” said Danny, “and magic or not, what I really want to do with my life is become an astronaut, and I need ‘muggle’ grades and school for that.”

“A what now?”

“An astronaut?”

Surely, Draco had just misheard him.

“Is that some sort of muggle thing, then?”

“I- Do you not know what an astronaut is?” asked Danny, flabbergasted. “Really?”

Draco’s eyebrows were furrowed. “No, I don’t.”

“How about cosmonauts? Do you know about them?”

“No,” said Draco. “Is this related to the Argonauts, somehow? That Greek thing?”

“No,” said Danny. “I mean, the root word – But no. Not the same thing at all. How do I even… Do you know what outer space is?”

“Astronomy is a class at Hogwarts.”

“Not a very good one,” said Danny, “if you don’t know what an astronaut is. I think I’d die.”

“It’s a very good class. Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in Europe. And I know what outer space is. It’s the space up above the atmosphere, where the planets and stars are, and stuff.”

“Okay. I mean. I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything,” reassured Danny, sensing that he had ruffled some feathers. “I’m just… an astronomy class should teach about astronauts. Astronauts are people who’ve been to space. Outer space.”

“That’s rubbish,” said Draco. “You can’t go to space.”

Danny refrained from informing Draco that he had, in fact, been to space. “Well, I want to go to space,” said Danny, “and other people have been there.”

“No one’s been to space,” said Draco. “Unless maybe someone apparated there by mistake, but how would you even do that?”

“I don’t know what apparating is,” said Danny. “Some kind of teleportation?”

Both of them stared at each other, each one probably at a loss for words regarding the other’s ignorance of things they themselves considered common knowledge.

“Yeah, more or less,” said Draco, finally. “But you can’t get to space. It’s impossible.”

“It isn’t. There are people up there right now,” said Danny. “On the International Space Station. Which is… it’s sort of a little house. In space.”

“There’s no air up there.”

“They bring the air with them.”

“Wouldn’t it explode?”

“They figured out how to make it so it wouldn’t explode. It’s very, um. Sturdy. Rigid. The space station is airtight.”

“And you’re saying that there are muggles in it. In space. Outer space. Right now.”

“As we speak. I mean, I guess some of them could be secret wizards, but considering your reaction, I’m doubting it.”

“Muggles. In space.”

“Yeah. We made it to the moon, too. But that was—”

“The moon?”

“Yeah?”

“In the sky?”

“That, uh.” He looked up, as if expecting to see the moon despite the thick cloud cover. “Yeah. The moon.”

“You’re telling me,” said Draco, in a hushed voice, “that there are muggles on the moon. Right now. As we speak.”

“No, that was before we were born,” said Danny.

“What.”

“Yeah, some people went, but it was really expensive, so they haven’t been back. Which I think is silly, because can you imagine the scientific advancements we could have made? The resources we could have brought back?”

“The moon.”

“You seem really hung up on this. Are you okay?”

“You- That- The moon. And muggles in space?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you see why I need to go back. I’m sure Hogwarts is great and all, but I really want to be an astronaut.”

“Can you see them through a telescope?”

“See what?”

“The muggles in space.”

“On a clear night, sure, if you know where to look.” Before the Accident (the Big One, the Unaliving, the Green Flash, the Knockoff Origin Story), Danny usually checked the internet for the times the ISS passed overhead. But he’d developed a ghost power that gave him a pretty good sense of where anything in the sky was, so long as he concentrated for a few minutes. “It orbits the Earth every ninety minutes or so, although it doesn’t always catch the light enough to see properly. You can actually see a lot of satellites.”

“There are more of these things?” hissed Draco.

“Not with people on them.”

“I’m getting my telescope,” declared Draco, starting to stride back to the house.

“We won’t be able to see anything now,” said Danny.

“It’s enchanted to see through cloud cover and ignore non-reflected sunlight. It’s top of the line.”

Danny had never wanted a physical object so much in his entire life.

“What? What? Magic can do that?”

#danny phantom #stars aligned #dp/hp crossover #dp/hp twin au #fic #fanfic #inspired by ladylynse

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theleftovertaco · 3 years

Text

You Were Maid For This

There is an increasing amount of boys on tiktok in maid costumes, and when someone dressed up as Malfoy in a maid outfit, I had to write this (if you want the video just send an ask and I’ll send you the link). Here we have Fred, George, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco. Just a heads up, some of the details are purposefully vague so that the reader can be interpreted as being from any house, in any year, and of any gender, if i trip up or you think there is a way i could improve, please let me know since i finally have asks and submissions enabled

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Whoever decided this was a good idea.... was absolutely fucking correct

It was you, you decided it was a good idea

You darted into the great hall, sat down, and told Colin Creevey to set up his camera and to not be a snitch, and then you waited.

Fred and George came first, and to an onslaught of laughter and a little bit of applause.

Because low and behold, they came in wearing matching maid outfits.

Pink. Frilly. Fucking. Maid. Outfits.

“We wanna know”, George said as he plopped down on your right, “who thought it would be funny to take all our clothes in the middle of the night and leave us with only THESE!” You stifled laughter by shoving a piece of scrambled egg in your mouth.

Fred tilted his head your way from the other side of you. “You think this is funny, do you love?”

“I find it to be the purest form of comedy.”

“Ugh” came the simultaneous replies, “This has to the fluffiest thing I have ever worn.”

“I don’t know”, laughed Harry, “the cat ears just bring out your eyes so well!”

He got identical middle fingers in response.

“Maybe you should just work with it, not against it” , Hermione interjected her two sickles into the conversation, “try to rock it.”

“Rock it?” They both titled their heads a little to the left.

“It’s a muggle expression, when a person tries to make a style work even if they’re not fond of it.”

“Ah.” Came the reply from your left.

“Maybe we should try to, uhh, rock it.”

You giggled and turned to Colin, “You two have fun with that, in the meantime, would you mind taking a picture, I’d like it for blackmail material.”

“Colin, you take that picture and I smash your camera.” Fred’s threat fell on deaf ears and after the image was pointed out on Colin’s new Polaroid you took the image, fanning it as you slipped 5 knuts into the small boys hand.

In McGonagall’s class, the boys flounced into class and immediately began flirting with the other boys in class.

“Weasley and Weasley, sit down before I turn the dress green!”

“Professor, that would clash with our hair.” A stern look silenced George pretty quick and they both sat down, though after they did McGonagall had to turn around to hide a smile.

Professor Sprout let out a booming laugh when they entered greenhouse four and simply shooed them to their stations. The Dittany plants they had planted into the plant beds saw that the white of their costumes were freckled with brown, but a quick scourgify from Sprout and they were good as new.

She sent them on their way with a comment that they, “look adorable!”

Flitwick couldn’t say much, he fell off his book stack laughing when they walked in and stayed on the floor for half and hour.

Charms class was excused for the rest of the day since their professor couldn’t calm down.

They reconvened with you for study hall in the courtyard looking a little too pleased with themselves.

“I take it people liked them?” You shouted across the yard.

“Yeah, Flitwick couldn’t stay on his stack.” Fred grinned.

“Well, I really must say, you both look very pretty.” They both laughed but you didn’t miss the way their cheeks flushed at this very different compliment.

“Yes, they look very pretty, don’t they”, Malfoy sauntered across the courtyard, “It’s such a manly look for them. Very fitting, since you two are too stupid to get any job outside of being janitorial staff.”

Fred nearly growled and you and George had to pull him to sit back down on the fountain ledge.

“Don’t worry, he’s next on the list.” You whispered. Identical mops of red hair whipped towards you.

“It was you!” came the in unison exclamations.

“Of course it was me, who else would it be!”

“Y/N!” Fred bemoaned.

“How could you betray us like this?” George was howling like he’d just been stabbed.

“I wouldn’t call it betrayal, just a bit of fun.”

“How did you even get up to the common room?” Fred was incredulous.

“You should know by now that I know how to get past those charms.”

“Ok, we’ll admit that was pretty funny.” George replied.

“Thank you, I try. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone else yet.”

“Of course. So, where are our clothes?”

“You’ll get them back when I’m finished with the prank. Bye you two.”

You got identical “NOOOOO”s as you left the courtyard.

2 down. 4 to go.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Creevey! Same drill as yesterday.” Colin nodded and whipped out his camera to get it ready.

“You might wanna hide for this one, I doubt Malfoy would appreciate you taking his picture in this state.” He promptly ducked under the table until just the lens peeked out above the table.

Draco stomped into the Great Hall, sat over at the Slytherin table, and huffed as most of Gryffindor let out thunderous laughter.

“Whoever did this will be on the very unpleasant end of an unforgivable when I find them!” You could barely hear him above the giggles.

“Mr. Malfoy, I know I did not just hear a threat from you?” McGonagall walked past the table and let out an affronted sound.

“Er-...of course not professor.” She hmphed and walked off.

“I don’t know Malfoy, maybe this could be good for you. This is what you get for making fun of the twins.” Fred and George nodded next to you, still in their outfits from the other day.

“Shut it, Y/Ln. If this was you I swear to Merlin.”

“I will admit to no such thing.”

Draco, unlike the twins, very much did not rock the maid outfit. Flitwick had finally gotten over his laughter and could teach as normal, but Professor Sinestra couldn’t help but let out a chuckle when a very grumpy Malfoy stepped up the astronomy tower with a few Gryffindor students trailing after him, making some rather inappropriate jokes about his backside.

Snape merely grumbled that his costume better not interfere with the lesson and moved on.

“Ok.” Malfoy finally sat down at your table in the library, “I concede, now please give me my clothes back.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You said with a sinister grin.

“Y/Ln!!!!” he groaned.

“It's not that big of a deal. So you wear a dress. Guys can wear dresses.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to!” he yelled, before being shushed by Pince.

“You know”, you began to speculate, “I think you’re arguing to deflect because you don’t want to admit that you actually like wearing a dress, even if it’s just a little bit.”

There was only silence in return and you smirked.

“You get your clothes back when I’m done with my prank.”

“Thank you. One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you change my outfit to be green? Pink is not my color.”

“I disagree, but fine.”

Halfway done.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

By day three, many of the boys at Hogwarts held the mild fear that they would be next to have their clothing swapped.

Creevey had also picked up on the drill at this point.

Ron and Harry were next.

You knew Harry would at least try to be a good sport. Ron, on the other hand, was a bit more of a wild card and you were a little nervous for his reaction.

“What. The. FUCK!” He whisper shouted when he got to Breakfast, slamming his hands down on the table. Harry chuckled and sat down next to him.

“So we were the next victims, hm.” Fred and George must have told Harry it was you, since he looked you way and playfully glared and stuck his tongue out at you, which you happily returned.

“Mature, Y/N.”

“You started it- wait no, ok now I hear it.”

“I swear to Godric Colin if you take my picture in this I will end you.” Ron snapped as the kid squeaked and ducked down, but the click of the lens appeared nonetheless.

Harry and Ron went about their classes trying to attract as little attention as possible. Flitwick was used to the skirts at this point and merely smirked and asked the boys to sit down while commenting they should be careful with the lace collar since it was delicate.

During quidditch practice, Harry and the Twins did have a bit of trouble flying with the dress, since some of the other players and onlookers made comments from below.

“Oi! Stop peeking!” Fred shouted at a third year girl who giggled and scurried off.

Professor Trelawney stared at the two before claiming that the fates told her to advise them to wear a blue dress the next time.

“Harry told me it was you.” Ron huffed as he slumped down in the grass by the lake near you. Harry sat down shortly after.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Honestly, I think you look cute in it.” Ron blushed at the compliment but didn’t say anything more.

“I’m guessing we won’t be getting our clothes back for a while?”

“You’re catching on. Only one more day. The last person is tomorrow and then you get your Friday off from wearing it.”

“Oh thank Merlin.” You heard Ron sigh in relief.

1 more person left.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

If we’re being honest you were most worried about Neville. That’s why you wanted him last, so he would only have to deal with it for a day in case it backfired. Also so that Malfoy couldn’t say anything because he would also be wearing his.

Neville kinda just shuffled into the Great Hall, and then darted over to the table where he wolfed down his beans on toast before rushing back out to hide until his next class.

“Neville!” Harry and Ron ran after him, dresses jumping back and forth as they left.

It was doubtful you woulf see anything from them directly, you didn’t share any classes with Neville on thursdays.

Ron and Harry would have to catch you up afterwards.

You met back up with them at dinner.

“You ok, Neville?” He offered a sheepish smile and nodded.

“Harry and Ron said I’d be ok and that no one else could really say anything.”

“Snape just said not to be ‘any more of a nuisance than usual’”, Harry interrupted with a shitty impression, “ Binns was too interested in his fucking textbook to make a comment, McGonagall called the three of us ‘adorable’ and Dean and Seamus keep playing with our ears!” He batted away Seamus’ hand for what probably was the 40th time that day.

“Well, Neville, what did you think?” Eyes turned towards him and he blushed bright red.

“I”, he paused for a second, “it was fun, I guess. It was kind of funny seeing Malfoy in them.”

There was a slight pause, and then.

“I guess I’d do it again. Not the outfit but the dress or skirt. Maybe even the headband. Just not as fuzzy.” Neville looked down and kinda whispered the last part.

“I would too.” Ron, surprisingly was the next to admit it and from there came a round of agreements at Gryffindor table.

“Well if we’re being honest I think that George and I did indeed rock it.” Fred said as he dug into his pot roast

“That you did. If you lot want, we could go to a shop next Hogsmeade weekend, take a look around for some other skirts?”

You got a round of “yes”s and the conversation turned elsewhere.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Hey,” Malfoy dropped into the seat next to you during study hall, “ how are you.”

You squinted at him.

“Fine? Why are you being so weird? You’re never nice.”

“Er, well, I mean I was hoping...that maybe... perhaps...”

“Spit it out Malfoy!”

“Could you take me to get a skirt?”

What?

“It’s just, after the first day, I kinda liked the skirt.”

You glared at him for a second.

“Yeah, ok, meet me at Hogsmeade entrance next month and we’ll go. Everyone else is going so play nice.”

He thanked you and left quickly.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“Well, you all look beautiful if I do say so myself.” You said as they each stepped out of the changing room wearing their skirts. Fred and George twirled around, Harry and Ron did a little dance, Neville jumped around a little bit, and Draco shifted his weight from foot to foot.’

“Well thank you love.” Fred skipped over to you in a plaid circle skirt, “I will say I prefer this skirt to the poofy one in the maid outfit.”

“You like the skirt, huh? You could even say you were maid for it.” You offered with a sly grin

“Why are you like this?”

“Nooo!”

“Shittiest pun ever.”

“Whyyyyy!”

“Please never speak again.”

“I literally hate you right now.”

Well, you win some, you lose some.

Tag list:

@omg-imatotalmess

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miraculouswolf99 · 3 years

Text

Forest Wolf Academy Idea

I formed this idea after I read a Miraculous fanfiction where Marinette transferred to a school for magic along with Chloe, Nathaniel, Marc, and her brother. At the school already is Felix and the Quad kids. The magic schools are actually for those that are members of witch covens and you must be a member of the coven to join the school. Luke and Juleka are also witches but in a different cousin. Marinette and the other transfer because of Lila. Adrien soon joins them at the school as well. I also got inspiration from the anime Fairy Tail.

I loved the concept of it so much that it gave me my own idea. My idea if an Adrien-focused story since he is my favorite character and always will be.

My idea started after Miracle Queen. Because of Chloe working with Hawkmoth and because Lila had turned so many of Marinette's friends against her, her parents transferred her to an art school so that she can focus on her designing. The only ones that stayed her friends were Adrien, Nathaniel, Kim, Alix, and Juleka. Outside of the class, she had a lot more friends, but her parents wanted her away from Chloe and Lila.

Adrien's dad still makes him model with Lila despite how Adrien and the staff are always telling him that she is the worst model ever. She never shuts up with her lies, never poses as she is told to do, and is basically also sexually harassing Adrien as well. She drives them all crazy.

But then one day during another photoshoot, Adrien hears some music and is drawn toward it. The music is like a siren song that he does not notice that only he can hear. When he arrives at the source of the song, he finds an old friend of his, Lyon Garden. Lyon and his twin sister Vallia are friends of his that he met in Greece when their family hosted a charity fashion show at their family's nature and animal sanctuary. Adrien had gone there with his parents a year before his mom vanished and he kept in contact with them the entire time.

Lyon and Adrien are happy to see each other, Adrien spilling his guts about everything bad going on. Especially all the things with Lila and Chloe. And Lyon gives him an extraordinary opportunity. The reason why Adrien was able to hear his magical song was because he was magical as well. A fellow witch. So, he was able to offer him a place at his school, Forest Wolf Academy.

The two of them went to Gabriel and he actually let Adrien go to the magic school. It turns out that Adrien's mom had also been a witch and that was why he was allowing Adrien to go so easily. Adrien is more than happy to accept the offer.

When Adrien goes to Forest Wolf Academy, he is amazed to see such an incredible school. Forest Wolf is not the only magic school in the world. Each school is hidden in a pocket dimension where they can be entered in any place in the world through the use of a magical key. But each school still has a main magical doorway in the home of the founder of each school. Forest Wolf's main door is in Athens, Greece.

Adrien only lets his real friends know that he is transferring. He would have told Nino, but he no longer considered him his best friend since he turned against Marinette. But given that magical people can hear Lyon's magical song, there are more teen witches in Paris than Adrien knew about. So, even after he transfers, he is actually soon joined by a lot of his true friends. Luka, Kagami, Nathaniel, Marc, Juleka, Kim, and Alix. And each of them would have their own powers that Lyon and Vallia help them learn to control.

Lyon has siren song magic. He is a real-life siren with the added abilities to control sound and music, not just being able to use his voice as a weapon. Vallia has rainbow aura magic. She is also to surround herself with different color light auras that give her other abilities like how sky blue gives her flight and ruby red helps her shoot fire like a dragon.

Adrien would find out that he has light magic, being able to control all forms of light and even be able to change into it like a human shooting star. Luka would have enchanted instrument magic, being able to do all types of things by playing different instruments while still having his natural ability to hear a person's inner song. Juleka would have a similar ability called music spirit magic, where she is able to turn into magical creature spirits that are hybrids with music like harp playing fairies or werewolf drummers. Kagami would have Requip magic, where she is able to store weapons and armor in a separate dimension that only she can access. Nathaniel would have art-to-reality magic where he is able to bring his drawings to life no matter what they are. Marc would have Fairy Tale magic where he could read from a magical storybook that he has and summon any legendary or mythical creature from it. Kim would have were-beast magic where he is able to turn into any were-creature version of any animal like a werewolf or cat creature. And Alix would have time magic, where she would be able to manipulate time around her while also being able to travel through time on her own.

All of them actually have a great time at Forest Wolf Academy and learn to appreciate and covet their magical lives even if Hawkmoth is still a problem. But he would actually have become less active lately as if he is losing motivation for trying to gain the miraculous.

Vallia would actually gain a crush on Kim and the two of them would eventually start dating. The same would go for Juleka and Alix as well as Luka and Kagami. Nathaniel and Marc would be an already established couple since they are too adorable to break up. Adrien would also find himself gaining a crush on Lyon, something he never expected to have on his old friend.

But, as per all good things, their peace had to come to an end. Magic itself was not hidden, just the people that used it. It was why heroes and villains like Ladybug, Cat Noir, and Hawkmoth all had masks when they used the miraculous.

But, the schools have come under some fire with people thinking that they were secret evil cults that wanted to take over the world. So, they all had to open their doors to people. To politicians, school field trips, and even some tours of powerful world leaders just to show that they were all perfectly normal schools that just happen to teach magic to their witch students.

Only, one of the schools that request to tour Forest Wolf Academy is Dupont High, which puts the new students on edge. Especially Adrien and Juleka because of Lila and Rose. It did not help that Lyon and Alix were very protective of their partners and would hurt anyone that tries to hurt them.

But since they have to keep up appearances as a "normal" magical school, they have to accept the field trip request. Luckily, it is the whole school and not just Bustier's class. So, there are still good students like Aurore, Mireille, and Zoé. It is only Bustier's class that believes Lila, anyway.

Adrien and the others do their best to avoid Lila and her attack dogs. They have their jobs to stop the more temperamental students from attacking the annoying group with how they obviously bully almost everyone around them. Not to mention all of the lies that keep coming out of Lila's mouth that she is related to so many powerful witches, how she is a descendant of Merlin, how her grandparents run the best magic school in the world.

There are a lot of students that wanted her head. Especially since it was known through Adrien and Lyon that she had not heard Lyon's magical song, meaning that she had no magic at all. And since magic was passed down from parent to child, that also meant that no one in her family had magic either. Not unless they were one of those families that had been stripped of their magic for crimes against the magical world.

And if it wasn't Lila causing problems with her lies, Chloe was causing problems with her attitude. And how she kept trying to force the students to do as she says and make them her slaves. Like she would go to those with ice magic and demand that they get her a cold drink. Or she would go to the students with gem and crystal magic and demand that they give her the biggest diamond that they can make.

Once the former Dupont students are found by the group is when things really go downhill. There is a lot of yelling about how they abandoned their friends, that they should not be so jealous of Lila's accomplishments, how they needed to get over themselves, how they needed to stop being bullies. And the group fires back that they can not abandon friends that abandoned them first, that they can not be jealous of accomplishments that never happened, and that they never talk to Lila let alone bully her.

Meanwhile, Adrien is trying hard not to be seen by Lila or Chloe since he does not want either of them hanging off his arm like they usually do. But, Lila soon locks her eyes on him and down try and latch onto him, crying her crocodile tears about how much she missed him and how she wanted him back since he "promised to date her."

That is where Lyon steps in and would be so close to using his sonic scream on the annoying liar. Adrien uses his powers to turn into light and get back to Lyon's side. That is when the two of them go into a big "why Lila sucks" speech and reveals that the two of them were dating and that Adrien would never EVER date Lila.

She is not exposed, but a new demonstration of the more dangerous powers from the students, low key threats against the annoying class, makes them never come back after they leave.

Lila hopes to be akumatized over her rage about not being able to lie her way into dating Adrien, but she does not know that Gabriel gave Marinette the butterfly miraculous and the peacock miraculous already. He gave up once he saw how truly happy his son was and did not want the wish to change his son into any other version of him that would never be this happy. It also helps that a few witches from the school that could heal offered to help him restore his wife.

#i hate lila rossi #lila salt #miraculous ladybug #i love salt #alya salt #nino salt #chloe salt #i hate chloe #original character #magic #original mythology #magic school #adrien agreste #adrien x oc #adrien deserves better

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

A rogue Druid’s “please join us” speech to Merlin triggers a few things:

Gwaine tries to commit regicide, Leon confronts his (understandable) fear of Dragons, and Merlin has a full on mental breakdown.

The knights are left to pick up the pieces and all of them consider following Gwaine’s lead.

ANGSTY ANGSTY

TW: Blood, death, nightmares. Physical and verbal abuse. A very brief implication of potential suicide/self harm.

Everyone notices the sudden changes within the group, it would be hard not to notice.

No one has any clue what happened though.

One day, everything is fine. If they think back, they realise Merlin had seemed a little... nervous? Maybe? But other than that, everything was fine, normal.

But the next day? From then until now, a month later? Everything was different.

Arthur seemed much angrier. He flew off the handle over the smallest mistakes, he worked the knights so hard in training that at least three of them had to go to Gaius for treatment everyday, and he didn’t seem like he planned on letting up any time soon. He snapped at everyone, even Gwen and Gaius, which was unheard of.

Merlin seemed... quieter. The knights, Gwen, and Gaius barely saw him, but when they did, he flinched at even the slightest noise; his eyes constantly darted around, looking for a way to escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

They were worried, but Arthur was so constantly furious that no one dared bring it up with him, and the one time they tried to ask Merlin, he came up with some ridiculous excuse and ran away. They thought they had barely seen him before, but after that they didn’t see him at all for at least four days.

They also noticed how both of their worrying moods seemed ten times worse when they were with each other. Even just being in the same room, made Arthur angrier, and Merlin... they didn’t want to think it but... more scared.

After three weeks of this, they gathered together, and put into place their emergency plan. Leon would speak directly to Arthur, and Lancelot would speak directly to Merlin.

Of all of them, they were the most trusted by each target, and were the most likely to get answers, and the least likely to get a bad reaction if answers were refused.

They were... pretty wrong. Merlin reacted in the same way as he had to the group two and a half weeks ago. Which is odd, because he normally tells Lancelot everything, and not only did he not tell him, he lied and came up with excuses.

Leon was much worse for wear. He showed up a while after Lancelot, pale and miserable. Arthur had just yelled at him a bunch and assigned him extra patrols.

A few days later, they were all still struggling with what to do when Arthur informed them of a quest that was to be undertaken. They were... nervous, to say the least. Going on any sort of dangerous trip with Arthur in this state was bound to go badly, but they could hardly refuse, and they definitely couldn’t bring up the issue again.

So they resigned themselves to it. Gwen wished them luck, and made sure to give Merlin an extra tight hug before they left, and Gaius slipped a few extra medical supplies in each of the knights packs, just in case.

Apparently, patrols of Camelot Knights kept going missing. Whole groups of soldiers, in one very specific area near the border, were just not coming back.

Arthur could hardly justify sending more patrols out, so despite his foul mood, and his desperation to stay away from everyone, he took himself, his five best knights, and his manservant.

Elyan could’ve sworn he heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of “As if I’d leave you here unsupervised.”, to Merlin, the tone far less jesting that it might’ve been a month ago, but he kept it to himself. They were travelling and camping together, there would hardly be an opportunity to share without Arthur and Merlin there.

And like they were all expecting, the trip was hell.

Awkward silences that not even Gwaine could fill, Merlin looking close to tears the whole time, and Arthur constantly looking like he’s considering extreme violence.

Merlin even rides at the back of the group (unheard of), doesn’t complain even once about anything (even more unheard of), and the few times he does speak, he addresses all of them by their titles (down-right panic inducing).

They, of course, realise it had been a trap far too late, and before they even had time to shout and draw their swords, the camp fades around them.

When they wake an indiscernible amount of time later, they have been stripped of armour and weapons, and have been shackled.

They appear to be in a circular, one-room hut, the knights spaced equally and chained to the wall. Their cloaks remain, but any chainmail or armour they had been equipped with was gone, leaving them in the thin clothes they wore underneath, completely unprotected.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, looking very confused. Once he noticed the knights stirring, he tried to take a step towards them, but frowned when he realised he couldn’t get within a arm’s reach of them.

Once the knights came around fully, they realised that whilst Merlin couldn’t move all that much, they couldn’t speak.

Arthur looks to Merlin with fury written all over his face, and pulls violently on his chains. Merlin flinches back and gasps out:

“This has nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Before the rest of the knights have time to change their expressions to one of confusion, a man walks through the door. Everyone’s gazes turn to him quickly, and they take in his appearance.

He looked like a Druid... but not quite right, like he hadn’t actually been to a camp in a while. He wore neutral colours, browns and greens, but despite his calm demeanour and gentle face, he looked a little crazed.

Where Druids stand calmly and walk softly, this man rushed in and fiddled with his hands, eyes darting around the room at everyone’s faces.

When Merlin goes to demand he introduce himself, the Druid holds a hand up, silencing him (no magic, just a gesture), and begins to speak:

“Who I am, does not matter. But I do know who you are, Emrys. I shall explain it your friends first, so they don’t get too lost.-”

The Druid smiles sadly, and turns to the knights, all of whom (apart from Lancelot) stare on in confusion at the melancholy resignation on the Druid’s face, and the dread on Merlin’s. Still unable to speak, and with very limited movement, they reluctantly resign themselves to listening to whatever speech the villain of the week had come up with.

“-Emrys has been being seen in prophetic visions for centuries. Whilst Uther Pendragon was destined to start the purge, Emrys, or as you know him: Merlin, is destined to stop it. He is said to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past present and future. He can bend the very elements of the world, bring down armies, turn cities to ash with a flick of his wrist. But destiny also foretold of The Once and Future King. Most have accepted that Arthur Pendragon, is said king.-”

Merlin was stiff but panicky during the Druid’s explanation, having realised that for whatever reason, he didn’t have access to his magic right now.

He could feel it buzzing under his skin, but every time he tried to pull it forward, it abandoned him, burrowing deep into his soul and hiding.

Merlin was tense and angry, angry that the chance to tell his friends the truth himself had been taken away, but his statue-like stillness is broken as he frowns and flinches slightly at the thinly veiled disgust in the sorcerer’s voice as he says Arthur’s name.

The Knights look confused, and very much shocked, their gazes flickering between the Druid and Merlin, but he refuses to meet their eyes.

“-Together, Emrys and the Forever King are destined to bring harmony and peace to the world, to restore magic’s place alongside the non magic, to inspire compassion, and stop the unjust genocide that Uther started.-”

Arthur and Leon shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of the late King and his sins, but are more focused on the other shocking revelations. The other knights (again, bar Lancelot, who is staring at Merlin apologetically) seem invested in the story, though they’re clearly confused.

Arthur was made aware of Merlin’s magic a few weeks ago, but despite Merlin’s choice to tell him willingly, he had reacted badly, and in his rage, hadn’t allowed Merlin to explain himself. The other knights were, of course, unaware of this, though they quickly put two and two together.

Despite Merlin’s best efforts, Arthur had stayed in the dark about the whole Emrys-prophecy-destiny thing.

The Druid gives each knight a short assessing gaze, seemingly to make sure they were paying attention.

He turns his attention back to Merlin, who is trying very hard to keep his expression blank (and failing) as he listens:

-”And how long have you waited, my friend, for Arthur to play his part in destiny. Ten years, of having the prophecies shoved down your throat by idealists, being told that you have no choice but to serve a man who would see your head on a spike should he know who you truly are. Ten years in the service of a man who has caused you nothing but pain, given you nothing but nightmares.-”

Merlin flinches and looks away. Every magic user in, or even near Camelot shares the same nightmares, all caused by the Pendragon Reign. There’s no need for a discussion about it, no need for a denial.

“-His father ripped your family apart. He himself stood at the grave of your best friend and told you he was evil, he himself killed the woman you loved-”

Arthur frowns in confusion at this. Merlin had never been in love. But he quickly doubts himself when he hears Merlin gasp quietly, and looks to him to see a tear slip down his cheek.

Fury flashes quickly across Lancelot’s face, obviously knowing the story, but he covers it quickly, and no one is the wiser to the anger slowly growing in his chest at what this so-called Druid was putting his friend through.

The Druid speaks his next words quietly, though still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as he lifts a soft hand and gently wipes away Merlin’s tear:

“-I know what you see when you close your eyes. I know why you are so exhausted. But do they? Have you told them?-”

The Druid nods his head in the direction of the knights, but doesn’t break eye contact with Merlin, who sniffles slightly before looking to the floor in shame.

“-Of the smoke and flames that you choke on when you sleep? You dream of pyres built just for you, built by the people you care most about. Even when you are awake, every second you have your eyes closed, every time you blink, you are forced to picture your so-called King with a sword at your throat, as if the scene were painted onto the back of your eyelids.-”

His voice had risen as he spoke and he had begun to pace, anger growing at the pain his Lord had gone through. He practically spits the word “King”, like just saying it disgusts him.

Merlin remains quiet, but he has a steady stream of tears down his face as he looks back at the Druid with despair. The knights watch on in anguish as they see the way he is suffering.

Arthur stops feeling angry and confused, and starts to feel a little guilty. Not that he would let it show; he stares on blankly.

Everyone wanted desperately to believe that the Druid was lying, manipulating them, that Merlin would deny it. But he didn’t. And that told them all they needed to know.

The Druid stopped his pacing, coming to a stand still in front of Merlin and cupping one of his cheeks softly with his hand. The knights pretend not to see Merlin lean into it slightly as his tears continue to fall.

The Druid begins again, speaking softly once more:

“-Were those fears unfounded? Were those nightmares irrational? I see the terror in your eyes. I see how petrified of your King you are.-”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath and glances quickly to Arthur, before looking back at the man in front of him.

The King is taken aback, and the knights are furious at the flash of fear on Merlin’s face when his gaze had momentarily met Arthur’s.

“-What did he do, when he found out? When you bared your soul and gave him nothing but honesty, and undeserved apologies. What did he do?-”

Merlin lets out his first audible sob, and the Knights pull at their chains slightly, desperate to comfort their friend. Arthur slumps back, remembering his actions as if they were mere hours ago.

One of Merlin’s hands lifted to cover his mouth as he chokes back a second sob, but the other lifts subconsciously to tug at the scarf around his neck.

The Druid lets a single tear escape his eye as he waves his hand gently, the scarf disappearing with the gentle golden glow of his eyes.

Merlin seems too distraught to notice; and moves both hands to clamp tightly over his mouth as tears stream down his face. His shoulders hunch, but not enough for any of the knights to miss what the Druid had clearly been trying to expose; a thin, barely healed scar along the base of his throat. As if a sword had been pressed there.

The Druid’s eyes lose focus slightly and he frowns as he ghosts a finger over the scar, seemingly asking the next question to himself:

“-Nightmares on the back of your eyelids, or visions of the future, hmm?-”

His eyes refocus, and he cards a hand through Merlin’s hair, trying to calm the man’s heartache as the knights stare on in horror.

Arthur resists the urge to look towards his knights, not wanting to see the disgusted glares he knows they’re sending his way.

The Druid pauses for a moment in his speech, waiting for Merlin to calm slightly before he quietly continued:

“-And what has he done since then? Has he allowed explanation? Has he seen the error of his ways and tried to understand? Or has he called you a liar, and a traitor. Has he called you a monster, whilst demanding that you continue to serve him?-”

Merlin’s breathing grows deeper as he struggles to control his sobs. He lowers his hands to be clenched at his sides, shaking, as the Druid softly places his hands on his shoulders.

His next words are spoken even quieter, though the knights can still hear him and the deadly anger that’s barely concealed in the man’s tone:

“-Has he laid hands on you, and called you a beast, while you cowered in fear, knowing that if you defended yourself he would see himself proven right?-”

Merlin let’s out loud, gasping sobs once more as the Druid’s hands travel softly down, from his shoulders to his wrists. There, he looks down, sorrow on his face as he carefully lifts Merlin’s sleeves, bunching them around his elbows.

The knights decide then and there they are going to protect Merlin no matter what, no matter from whom, as they each see the handprint shaped bruises littering Merlin’s arms.

“-He has hurt you, over and over and over-”

As he speaks, the Druid hovers his hands over the bruises, his eyes glowing softly golden as they heal.

“-And you despair, believing yourself worthless-”

Merlin flinches, and his sobbing grows more intense as his face is taken in soft hands.

“-waiting on a Golden Age that he refuses to bring. He is cruel, and unjust, how many more times must he hurt you? How many more of our people will the Pendragon line slaughter, out of misguided hatred? How much more sleep must you lose? How many more nightmares must you endure? You have stood loyally by his side for a decade, and had to stand and watch as he continued his father’s legacy, forced to believe it was destiny.-”

The Druid says “destiny” as if he hates the taste of the word in his mouth, the bloodshed of the past almost thirty years clearly having made him lose faith in the prophecies.

Merlin’s breathing has calmed slightly, and the knights aren’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened, as the Druid desperately continues, clutching Merlin’s hands in his own:

“-Too many lives have been lost, too much innocent blood spilt. Haven’t you yourself been forced to kill your own people to protect this False King from the consequences of his own actions?-”

The knights think too soon as Merlin’s breathing and sobs grow erratic once more. The manservant almost falls to the floor, his eyes clenched desperately shut, and only the Druids hands on his shoulders keeping him upright:

“-I was young, and naïve once. I too, believed in Arthur Pendragon, I believed in the prophecies, I believed he would a great king and a good man-”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s as he gently says:

“-but he is not. He has failed you, and failed our people.-”

The Druid steps back, but still holds Merlin’s shoulder tightly as he gives him a pleading look.

The knights know what’s coming before it is said, and with the anguish and desperation and grief on their friend’s face? After they learned what their benevolent King had done? Well... they wouldn’t have blamed Merlin for saying yes.

“-I ask you to join me, Emrys. I know it’s difficult, to give up on a man you gave so much of yourself to, but there is too much Uther in him. It’s time, and you know this, to rewrite destiny. Dig your own path, liberate your own people, bring magic and compassion and harmony back to the world yourself.-”

Merlin, though distraught, still looks doubtful, and the knights hold their breath as the Druid continues, becoming more and more furious at their inability to speak.

All of them have tears in their eyes, if not falling already, even Arthur, though he has remained still and blank through the tears.

“-I know the flames you fear, the sword’s edge, the gallows’ drop, the axe’s fall. Do not let our kin continue to fear those things, do not stand by, waiting for the Pendragon tyrant to change, and allowing sacrifices to be made in the mean time.-”

Merlin’s sobbing begins again, and the Druid kisses him softly on the forehead before kneeling to the floor, gripping Merlin’s hands and looking up at him desperately:

"-You are Emrys, Lord of the Druids, and Conduit for all magic of this world. Not some servant that an entitled brat can toss around and treat lesser than the dirt he walks on. You are my King, our King. Not him.-”

He stands again and grips Merlin’s arms tightly, most likely leaving more bruises in place of the ones he had healed.

Merlin doesn’t notice the pain, but shakes his head stutteringly, still crying.

“-Do not let your people lose you to Arthur, as Arthur lost himself to Uther. To give up on him is painful, but the screams of your kin, burning for their gifts, echoing in your skull day and night?-”

The Druid’s hands move up to grip the sides of Merlin’s head, and he shakes him ever so slightly, his tone frantic and pleading:

“-That is worse. That is pain he will never understand, and certainly never care for. Join me, please my Lord I beg you, for our people.”

One of the Druid’s hands slides lower, to softly cup Merlin’s cheek again, but the other drops entirely.

The knights have never resented being magically gagged more than in this moment. They could do nothing but watch on in horror as the man summons a dagger behind his back.

The Druid is clearly waiting on his response, and Merlin is too distraught to notice the consequences of a wrong answer, tears flowing quickly down his face and ugly sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

Arthur watches in terror, knowing that this was his fault, that every shitty, selfish decision he had ever made had to led to this point. And the knights knew it too.

All they can do is pray to every deity they know the name of, that Arthur has done enough damage for Merlin to say yes. And oh, what a terrible thing to pray for.

The Druid softly strokes Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb as the Warlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up, meeting the gaze of the man opposite him before croaking:

“I... I can’t. Arthur is a good man, I have faith that he will-”

Before he can finish his sentence, the dagger is thrust up into his chest, his words stuttering to a stop and his red-rimmed eyes growing wide at the sudden, agonising pain spreading throughout his body.

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights pulling roughly at their chains, but he pays them no mind as blood gurgles up his throat and he frowns, struggling to hear what the Druid was whispering in his ear:

“Then you have forsaken your people, and so I shall forsake you. Traitor.”

With that, Merlin is dropped roughly to the floor, dagger still imbedded in his chest as he lands on his side. Blood spills from both his mouth and the wound, eyes unfocused but heavy as the tears continue to overflow.

The knights are silently screaming, thrashing against their chains as their friend chokes, but Merlin ignores them in favour of smiling gently at the soft feeling of nothing, growing outwards from his chest.

He frowns once more, as though remembering something, and his eyes go glassy as two words escape from his mouth, barely a whisper:

“I’m... sorry...”

An apology to whom, no one knows, but with those last words his body goes completely still, the pool of blood still expanding beneath him, and his eyes unseeingly staring just to the left of The King.

No one in the room can tear their eyes from Merlin’s pale corpse, face now a mess of tears and blood.

The Druid looks down at him with an odd mix of contempt, and genuine sorrow. He had obviously waited long enough that his resentment of Arthur had bled into his feelings for his so-called saviour, but still grieved for what could have been.

The Knights look at him in horror, all understanding that they had never been lucky, they had just had Merlin. He had never asked for thanks, or recognition, or reward. He had kept them all safe, at great expense to himself, and now he was dead.

Lancelot seems the... calmest, though he still cries like the rest of them. He had, in theory, known of the pain Merlin was in, but had he known it was plaguing him to this extent... well perhaps he wouldn’t have been so loyal to Arthur.

Arthur himself stares at Merlin with nothing but terror and agonising grief. He had done this. If he had just let Merlin explain, if he had just given him five minutes, instead of bruises and nightmares and fear, then he would still be alive.

If he hadn’t been so selfish and cruel, perhaps hundreds of people, just like Merlin, just as scared and innocent as Merlin, would also be alive.

Merlin had spent his entire time in Camelot trying to convince Arthur that he wasn’t his father... and Arthur had gone and proven him wrong at every turn. And even then Merlin still had faith, still called him a good man.

The silencing spell still has hold over the knights, so they cry and scream and thrash soundlessly as the Druid finally rips his gaze from the body at his feet.

He steps carefully around Merlin to stand in front of Arthur. The sorrow clears from his face, leaving only contempt and rage left to be directed at the man in front of him. Arthur does not look up, keeping his tear stained face focused on the floor, even as the Druid begins to speak:

“You see what you have done, Arthur Pendragon? You think magic is the thing that corrupts, but it is not. It is you. Emrys was meant to be a saviour, a God, a guiding light to help our people to safety, but you tainted him, reduced him to nothing more than a sad, scared boy, and then reduced him further, to a corpse. My hands are clean of blood Pendragon, but yours?? Oh, yours are drenched in it.”

Arthur slowly lifts his distraught gaze to the Druid, but quickly widens his eyes at what he sees.

Merlin stands behind the Druid, eyes glowing golden, tears once more streaming down his face as he grips the handle of the dagger, still buried in his chest.

The bloodstains grow even larger as he grimaces slightly and pulls it free, before wordlessly forcing it through the Druid’s back.

The man lets out a sudden gasp, and looks down to see just the tip of the blade poking out where his heart should be. He gargles something, words that no one can make out, before Merlin pulls the dagger out again, and his body crumples to the floor.

The knights and Arthur can feel the silencing spell release them, but none of them make even a noise as they stare in shock at their tormented, but very much alive, friend.

Merlin drops the dagger from his hand and it lands with a splash in the mixing puddles of blood, before he himself falls harshly to his knees.

The others finally break out of their stupor, once again pulling towards their friend. Their cries and shouts of his name can be heard by everyone but him as he leans forward, placing his forehead against that of the lifeless Druid.

His cries grow erratic again as he whispers apology after apology, and every heart breaks even more at the sight before them.

They know why he apologises, they know why he grieves, even over a man who had tried to... had succeeded in killing him. The death of yet another of his own kind who was sick of waiting, who was rightfully angry, was not something to be celebrated.

They had thought, at the beginning of this, that they would get through whatever the Druid threw at them, they always did. But this, the brokenness of one of their dearest friends, was not something that looks fixable.

Merlin finally sits up again and he sobs louder, still deaf and blind to those around him. Lancelot has just enough time to yell at the others to cover their eyes, as a gut-wrenching scream escapes the Warlock.

They’re almost blinded, even with their eyes tightly shut and their arms thrown up. The scream is the loudest, and most anguished they’ve ever heard, and the force in which Merlin releases his magic completely eviscerates the hut they had been chained in.

Each of them is thrown violently backwards, and their chains crumble to the floor with the rest of the building as they try to find purchase on the ground. None of them are hurt too badly, and they’re grateful for the fact that even in this state, Merlin’s magic seems incapable of really causing them any damage.

The scream ends, and the knights look up to see Merlin sat in the middle of the crater he had created, staring blankly into the middle distance. Tears still stream down his face, but he doesn’t move and he makes no sound, just kneels there with his blood soaked hands on his lap, palms towards the sky.

It takes a few moments for the knights to regain their senses, but once they do, all hell breaks loose.

Gwaine immediately gets to his feet and makes a rush towards Arthur, fully intending on throttling him, screaming obscenities as he went, but Percival and Elyan jump forward, grabbing an arm each and dragging him away as he curses the King and the Sky and the Gods.

As much as Percival and Elyan were not impartial to killing Arthur right now, Merlin was the priority, and as much as he may have deserved it, Merlin would never forgive them if they hurt the King.

Arthur seems to be unaware of the attempt on his life made by one of his most trusted knights, and just stares blankly at an equally blank Merlin.

Lancelot and Leon make a bee-line for the Warlock, but stop just short of touching him, not knowing how he would react.

Leon nods gently at Lancelot, clearly having picked up that this knight had already known at least part of the story. Lancelot returns his nod, before moving forward slowly. The body of the Druid lays untouched at Merlin’s knees, and the knight removes his cloak, laying it over him, before reaching a slow hand towards Merlin’s shoulder.

He finally makes contact after a little hesitation, whispering his name as gently and as comfortingly as he is able with tears still leaking from his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t react at all to Lancelot’s touch, not even when he takes his bloody hand, or shakes his shoulder slightly; just sits and stares and cries.

Leon gulps before reaching forward himself. He grabs the dagger from besides Merlin and tosses it behind him (he didn’t like to think about that action too much. He has no idea what state his friend is in right now, best to not have any sharp instruments within his reach when he came to.) before lifting his hand to wipe away the man’s tears.

Arthur stares upon all of this in horror from his position sprawled on the floor a few metres away.

Elyan and Percival have just about managed to calm Gwaine, and they begin making their way to Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin, but before they get even halfway there, Arthur finally speaks.

His voice breaks, and is barely audible, but everyone hears him nonetheless as he murmurs:

“I did this...”

Gwaine makes another run at him, regaining his anger, and Percival and Elyan just about manage to grab him before he commits regicide.

Lancelot and Leon look up at him sharply, but when Lancelot lowers his gaze and continues to try and rouse Merlin, Leon holds the King’s gaze, and says strongly:

“Yes. Yes you did, My Lord.”

Arthur’s face crumbles even more, and Leon glares at him with venom for a few more seconds, before giving Lancelot a soft pat on the back, and walking towards the other three.

He mumbles a few harsh things that only Gwaine can hear, who responds at first with more anger, but then resignation. The First Knight gives the man a pat on the back and nods knowingly at Elyan and Percival. No one, not even Gwaine, pretends to miss the meaning of “be ready to catch him again” in the gesture.

Arthur stays in his position on the floor as the four of them walk softly towards Merlin and Lancelot, but before they get there, everyone’s gazes are drawn to the shadow in the sky, getting closer and closer.

It moves with an alarming place, and their anger at Arthur is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles up and screams:

“DRAGON!!”

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Arthur rush forward to stand between the beast and the other three. They have no armour or weapons, but like hell were they just going to let it get to them.

Lancelot looks up to see the white, horse sized beast land heavily in front of The King, his eyes widen and he jumps up, rushing forward to push between the others.

Leon moves to hold a still unresponsive Merlin behind his back protectively, but frowns in confusion when Lancelot yells at Arthur (who had been about to run at the beast):

“NO! No don’t hurt her! She’s Merlin’s, don’t hurt her!”

Everyone looks at him in confusion and fear as he slowly approaches the Dragon, she had been growling lowly at first, but seemed to perk up when she saw Lancelot.

Lancelot gives her a small smile, and holds his hand out, allowing her to come to him, before quietly saying:

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Aithusa. Merlin is over here.”

He turns back towards the others, and calmly, but forcefully says:

“Move. She needs to see him.”

Gwaine nods after a moment, trusting Lancelot, and moves out of the way. Arthur goes to argue, but Elyan and Percival roughly shove him to the side, clearing a path to Merlin and Leon for Lancelot and the new, slightly terrifying, arrival.

Leon looks up fearfully, still in front of Merlin protectively. He stares at the Dragon for a few moments, breathing deeply, before looking up at Lancelot. Lancelot gives him a weak smile, and a nod before saying quietly:

“He’s a Dragon-Lord. She can help him, it’s ok.”

Leon gulps, before nodding, and stepping out of the way. He doesn’t move too far, obviously still affected by his last encounter with a Dragon, and watches with unconcealed suspicion as Aithusa prances around Lancelot at his nod.

The others crowd closer as well, looking on in confusion, awe, suspicion, as Aithusa slowly approaches Merlin.

She lays down at his side, gently pressing her head onto Merlin’s hands, still in his lap. Her mouth opens and Leon gasps as she blows a gentle mist up into his face. Merlin’s back straightens and the knights can see his eyes come back into focus as he blinks.

They all stare with bated breath as he gulps, and begins to notice his surroundings; looking in fear at the crater around him.

Merlin is broken from his growing panic as Aithusa chirps softly from his lap, and his head whips down, only now noticing her.

The knights let out a collective breath as he smiles, very slightly and very briefly, but still; after what they had just seen him go through they would take anything. He leans his head down, and wraps his arms around the creature. She chirps once again, louder this time, as she uses her tail to push away the forgotten Druid’s corpse.

She curls her body around Merlin protectively, and he collapses even further into the semi-embrace she’s giving him. The knights smile slightly, relieved that Merlin seems responsive, and safe, before they take slow steps towards the two of them.

She whips her head up quickly and growls at them, digging her front claws into the ground. They take in sudden breaths and stop moving, wary, but she stops growling when she looks to Lancelot.

The others stare on in shock and confusion as she tilts her head slightly, and Lancelot nods as he quietly says:

“They’re friends, it’s ok.”

The creature seems to nod, and the others follow behind Lancelot as he begins moving towards Merlin again.

He crouches down, and gives Aithusa a well-received scratch on the chin, before he gently places a hand between Merlin’s shoulder-blades.

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and finally Leon follow suit, sitting carefully next to the Dragon, but unlike Lancelot, they don’t touch her, or Merlin. She may seem safe and loving and on their side, but she was still a Dragon.

Arthur moves a little slower, not sure if he’s welcome (he’s not) but when he gets within five feet of the group huddled on the floor, Aithusa lifts her head and growls again.

Elyan and Percival are shocked at the sudden movement, but Gwaine smirks, and Leon nods his head approvingly (though he’s still understandably... nervous). Lancelot looks back at a shocked and still tear-stricken Arthur, and speaks. His voice is quiet, but his tone is vicious:

“They have a mental link; she sees what he sees. It might be best, Your Majesty, for you to stay away.”

He doesn’t bother to watch Arthur’s reaction; he turns back and begins carding a soft hand through Merlin’s hair. He flinches only slightly before relaxing under the soft ministrations, and Aithusa gives Lancelot an affectionate lick on the arm.

The other knights do see the way that Arthur flinches, before he gives a shaky nod and takes a few steps back. He goes to say something, but the tears in his eyes overflow, and he turns to walk away.

Gwaine’s smirk grows slightly before he drops it entirely and turns back to the others, no longer caring what Arthur got up to. He is the first of the knights, other than Lancelot, to be brave enough to reach a hand forward and stroke Aithusa gently.

Elyan and Percival hesitatingly follow his lead, and Aithusa chirps happily at the attention. Leon’s gaze follows Arthur as he walks towards the horses.

They were far away, well out of the way of Merlin’s blast, but even with the distance Leon could see they were shaken. Thankfully they had been tied to the trees, otherwise he’s certain they would have bolted.

Leon finds it only slightly surprising that he feels no sympathy for the King. There’s only so much you can forgive a man for. When Arthur finally reaches the horses and begins untacking them, he looks away, back to Aithusa and Merlin.

Everyone can tell that Camelot’s First Knight is still rather shaken at the presence of the Dragon, but when Merlin looks up slightly to see him still sat there, unwilling to leave him, his heart swells a little.

Leon meets his gaze and gulps, but returns Merlin’s shaky smile.

The other knights smile as well, glad that Merlin was feeling at least a little better, and Percival speaks quietly, not wanting to spook him (or the Dragon):

“Hey, there’s our lucky charm.”

The other knights give him questioning looks but Merlin just chuckles slightly, before sitting up properly, and focusing his attention on running his fingers over Aithusa’s scales, picking out grass and mud.

Percival looks indignant before replying, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:

“What? You honestly thought that tree branches only fell if there was a fight happening, and then only fell on the enemies?? The rock-falls? The fires even when it was pouring with rain?? The miraculous solutions to end-of-the-world type problems?? Come on, guys.”

The others look taken aback at that, but Lancelot just smiles knowingly. They all look to Merlin, who has managed to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he just shrugs slightly.

The rest of them, bar Leon, let out small huffs of laughter, and continue to stroke Aithusa, knowing that Merlin almost certainly isn’t ready for an actual conversation yet.

Merlin looks at Leon’s pale form assessingly, before a look of realisation crosses his face. The knight is tense, and staring at Aithusa’s sharp teeth with worry, but his gaze is quickly drawn to Merlin when he reaches a shaky hand towards him.

Merlin gives him an understanding smile, and crooks his fingers, encouraging the curly-haired knight to take his hand. Leon does so, and his breath hitches as Merlin lowers their intertwined hand to rest on the top of Aithusa’s head.

Leon lets out a slow breath as he feels Elyan’s supportive hand on his back, but relaxes fully when he sees the sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. Anything to make their Warlock happy in this moment. And forever, probably.

Gwaine looks at Leon out of the corner of his eye, and says lowly:

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to try and kill him if I look at him again, so what’s the King up to?”

Merlin tenses slightly, but Leon squeezes his hand and he relaxes again. Lancelot raises and eyebrow and before Leon can reply, he says:

“What, no princess?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes before gruffly saying:

“Princess was an affectionate nickname, and I’m not feeling all that affectionate towards him right now.”

The others nod knowingly, turning their attention back to Merlin and Aithusa. Leon leaves his hand in Merlin’s, but looks at Gwaine before saying lowly:

“He went to deal with the horses. Now we know we no longer need a quick get-away, they need untacking and feeding and watering. They were pretty spooked by... they were pretty spooked.”

Leon looks back at Merlin when his hand gets squeezed, to see him frowning slightly. Leon catches his eye and gives him a small smile, but Merlin just gets teary-eyed again, before sniffing and muttering:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to I just... I’m sorry.”

Only a single tear has time to fall before Lancelot has his hand on Merlin’s shoulder again (comfortingly), and Elyan has his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder (forcefully). Leon shakes his head softly, and responds in a gentle voice:

“You don’t have anything to apologise for Merlin, we are the ones who should be sorry, for not being able to protect you.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and he goes to retort, but Gwaine beats him to it, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice:

“From the so-called Druid and from him. We should have done better.”

Leon can feel Merlin’s hand begin to shake, so he squeezes it once more as Merlin shakes his head and speaks, his voice sounding stronger already:

“It’s not his fault. He was just shaken and scared and I should have-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw, struggling to keep control of his rage, but Elyan grips his shoulder tighter in warning, and replies in his stead, interrupting Merlin:

“There’s no excuse Merlin. All of us have been attacked by magic, but equally, all of us have been attacked by swords. I mean look at Leon, giving Dragons a second chance after what happened. I would perhaps understand brief anger, but there is no way to justify laying his hands on you in such a way that leaves bruises, and certainly no justification for putting a blade to your throat.”

Merlin frowns, and looks like he wants to argue, but once again, a knight beats him to it, Lancelot this time:

“No, Merls. We know how much he means to you. But what he did was wrong, there’s no rationalisation. We all know that you’ve already forgiven him, and that’s why we can’t yet. Probably not for a while.”

Merlin sighs, looking pained, and Leon uses his other hand to tilt his chin up:

“Not to say that we won’t ever forgive him. But someone has to be angry at him for what he’s done, and Lord knows you aren’t gonna do it. Consider us your stand-ins.”

Merlin smiles slightly, and Leon considers that a win, returning the smile and nodding slightly to himself, before looking back down at the Dragon, now seemingly asleep, and purring, on Merlin’s lap.

Elyan releases the death grip on Gwaine’s shoulder, when the now much calmer knight, with a smile on his face, says:

“So... you have a Dragon??”

Merlin chuckles fondly, before looking to him and saying quietly:

“Yeah. Her name is Aithusa. I’m surprised she came alone, Kilgharrah usually doesn’t like it when she runs off.”

Lancelot winces slightly as the other knights look shocked, before Percival says:

“Kil-what-now? There’s another one??”

Merlin grimaces slightly, before looking to Leon worriedly and tightening the grip on his hand:

“Uhh... yeah. Kilgharrah is the name of the Dragon that... attacked Camelot a few years ago.-”

Leon straightens his back and gulps, but doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s, nodding at him to continue:

“-I didn’t have control over him until right at the end. I told him to leave and never come back, unless I called him-”

Lancelot makes a noise of realisation as he nods, and interrupts Merlin:

“That’s probably why Aithusa came alone. You didn’t call for her, and technically we’re still within Camelot’s borders. He couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Poor sod is probably clomping around at the edge of the border freaking out.”

Merlin looks to Lancelot and nods, satisfied to feel Leon relax a bit, before looking back to the First Knight apologetically:

“-He does feel really bad at that. He just wanted to get back at Uther for the whole... genocide thing I guess. But that’s no excuse. I just didn’t want to be the one to be responsible for killing the last Dragon, even if Kilgharrah personally might’ve deserved it at the time. That was all before Aithusa came along.”

Everyone nods in understanding, before focussing their attention back on Aithusa. She really was like a giant puppy, even if they had to be wary to avoid her claws as she twitched in her sleep.

Merlin sighs, looking forlorn once again as he realises how exhausted he is, knowing that they’re going to have to get up and make camp at some point.

He can cope with an awkward, tense silence between him and Arthur easily enough, that’s what the last few weeks had consisted of. But an awkward and tense silence between everyone? Elyan and Percival inwardly fuming? Gwaine outwardly fuming? Leon and Lancelot being all protective? He’s not sure he can deal with that.

At Merlin’s sigh, Lancelot tilts his head to catch his eye. His brow creases as he says softly:

“What is it, Merls?”

Merlin looks up, still squeezing Leon’s hand, before quietly replying:

“Nothing, I’m just tired. We have to re-make camp at some point and I’m not sure if I can deal with everyone being so...”

He waves his free hand around loosely, and Lancelot huffs out a laugh, before kicking Gwaine, getting everyone’s attention:

“We have to go make camp. But Merlin is exhausted, and doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit tonight, so we’re all going to have to play nice for the time being.”

Gwaine growls, and quickly retorts:

“Like hell am I gonna treat him with-”

Lancelot kicks him again, harder this time, and Elyan replaces the harsh hand on his shoulder before forcefully saying:

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arthur deserves. Merlin needs peace and quiet, and that’s what we’re going to give him.”

Gwaine grumbles, but begrudgingly nods, and Merlin gives him a grateful smile.

The knights all stand up, and Merlin shakes Aithusa awake, giving a small chuckle when she stretches like a cat.

Once she takes her weight off of his lap, Merlin follows the knights to stand, almost falling over at the weakness in his legs. Leon and Lancelot catch an arm each, steadying him as he shuts his eyes tightly, willing the dizziness away.

He feels a hand wipe the hair from his forehead, and opens his eyes slowly to see Percival checking him over with an assessing gaze:

“I’m fine, just tired, a little dizzy.”

Lancelot nods in understanding, humming slightly:

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you haven’t done anything this big in a while, and I doubt you’ve slept well in the last few weeks.”

Merlin gives him a sheepish look as he shakes his head, but it’s Elyan’s questioning gaze that Lancelot responds to:

“I found out by accident when I first met him. Our Warlock isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

He says it with a small smirk as he looks back down to Merlin, who’s looking indignant:

“Hey! I managed to keep everyone else from finding out.”

Gwaine looks guilty as he raises his arm quietly:

“Actually uh... I knew. I mean not about the whole Emrys, prophecy thing. But the magic stuff, yeah.”

Merlin looks at him, shocked. The other knights share his expression for just a moment before they laugh at the look on Merlin’s face:

“How?!”

Gwaine puts his arm down and laughs again:

“Mate... we met in the middle of a tavern fight, in which shit started literally flying about the moment you joined in.-”

He shrugged, before casually continuing:

“-I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. Until then, it wasn’t my secret to know. You also have me to thank for backing you up every time The Prick asked if I saw you at the tavern.”

Merlin laughed and nodded his thanks, before looking over to where said Prick was setting up camp, a few metres beyond the edge of the crater.

His face fell slightly and the others follow his gaze, tensing slightly in anger when they saw what he was looking at. Merlin takes his arms from Leon and Lancelot, finally feeling steady on his feet, before quietly saying:

“Come on, we might as well get this over with. I’m starving, and tired, and Aithusa will get bored if we don’t start entertaining her.”

Everyone turns around to see Aithusa (now she was sure that her Lord was ok), prancing about in the crater; chasing birds and digging holes.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and everyone else chuckles slightly. Gwaine pushes Lancelot out of the way and takes Merlin’s hand, beginning to walk determinedly towards camp. Everyone catches up quickly, Leon taking Merlin’s other hand when the man had reached out to grab his cape.

Gwaine looks down at Merlin, seeing how nervous he is, and says:

“So. How long until she’s big enough to be ridden? I want you to take me flying, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckles, and looks back to see Aithusa happily trailing them:

“Not for a while. Dragons grow slow, so it’ll be another few years at least. Plus she’s got some issues with bone growth that we’re still trying to fix. She’ll be fine in the long run, but her development is taking a lot longer than normal. She still can’t speak.”

Everyone stops at that, and Merlin’s arms get yanked back when he continued walking. He turns to see Leon giving him an incredulous look:

“Dragons can speak?!”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, before laughing and tugging them forwards again:

“Yeah. I forget that Uther basically erased all knowledge on Dragons, but they’re just as intelligent as we are. Kilgharrah would like to think that they’re more intelligent, but he’s always been a cryptic, egotistical bastard.-”

The others follow his pace and nod, but the mood darkens as they almost reach the camp. Merlin continues faintly, but quickly:

“I’ll tell you everything I know when... when we get back.”

Leon squeezes his hand, knowing that he was about to say “if”, assuring him that “when” is the right word.

Arthur looks up at the group and gulps from his place next to the fire. He straightens up, the anxiety showing clearly on his face, but before anyone can say anything, Aithusa jumps in between him.

He falls back at the sudden movement and she begins to growl; he widens his eyes as she stalks slowly towards him.

Gwaine smirks again, the others managing to keep their faces blank, but Merlin looks shocked, before he jumps forward and puts a hand on the Dragon’s back:

“Aithusa no. He’s a... friend. It’s ok, he’s-”

Arthur jumps to his feet and interrupts him:

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll... go... sit over there.”

He gestures behind him, and walks quickly away from the fire, sitting just within the fire’s light, the evening dimming around them.

Aithusa tilts her head, snaps her jaws at him once more before completely changing disposition. She begins bouncing around the fire, chirping happily and playfully trying to catch floating embers in her claws.

Merlin smiles slightly and the other knights (bar Gwaine, who is glaring very pointedly at Arthur) chuckle at her antics, before they all sit in a semi circle on the opposite side of the fire to Arthur, Merlin in the middle.

The Warlock is once again wedged protectively between Leon and Gwaine, and he fiddles softly with Leon’s cape in his lap as he stares fondly at Aithusa.

Elyan moves to the packs, unloading food and water and cooking pots. Merlin gets up to help, but Gwaine pulls him back down by the hand and holds on firmly as he says:

“You’ve been through enough. We can put up with Elyan’s shitty cooking for a couple nights.”

Merlin tries to pull away with a “But I can-” but Leon grabs his other hand, holding him down and interrupting:

“Absolutely not. You said yourself that you’re tired. If Elyan needs help, he can ask one of us.”

Merlin huffs sulkily and Leon laughs, stroking the back of his hand protectively.

Leon had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and whilst they had virtually nothing to do with each other the first few years, they were still friendly acquaintances, even then. Leon knew full well that it was Merlin who would have a hot meal left in his room after a late patrol, and Merlin always appreciated how Leon kept as many weapons in the armoury in as good nick as possible, so Merlin didn’t have to deal with it.

Besides, even before they knew each other’s names, Leon always found Merlin’s reactions to Arthur’s stupidity funny. He could hardly say it out loud, being the Perfect Knight and all, but he always thought it was a good thing that Arthur had someone at his side keeping him humble, and calling him out in ways no one else would.

Of course they had gotten much closer over the years, as did all of the knights, thanks to Merlin. Currently, Leon was feeling just a tinge of regret at being so grateful for Merlin’s presence at Arthur’s side; he had never really thought about how difficult being that man’s babysitter would be, especially now he knew Merlin had magic. And some sort of destiny.

Time passes fairly quickly whilst Elyan cooks, the others taking to heart what Lancelot had said and trying to keep a quiet, but easy conversation going.

They ask Merlin various questions about Aithusa, Kilgharrah, the Druids, the weird name that he had been called. He answered them all easily enough, but they notice the way he hesitates when they ask about his magic specifically or the prophecies, so they steer clear of those topics.

They’ll definitely want to know the whole story eventually, and they’re practically buzzing with desperation to ask Merlin to show them something magical, but they know that now is not the time.

Dinner is finally served, and despite Gwaine’s statement, it wasn’t actually that bad. Mainly because every time Elyan went to add something to the pot, he would look back desperately at Merlin, and took into account the shakes and nods of his head with a grateful smile.

He did struggle to cover the scowl on his face when he delivered Arthur’s bowl to him, replying to The King’s quiet “thank you, Elyan” with an even quieter “don’t mention it” .

Dinner was eaten quickly and in silence. They hadn’t been unconscious for long, and hour or two at most, but they had all worked up an understandable appetite, Merlin especially. He would never ask for seconds, but knowing that, Elyan gave him an extra big serving without a word.

They entertained themselves after dinner by throwing the last scraps of meat to Aithusa, watching her jump and flip and fly about the camp. Merlin had objected at first, but gave in when he saw the small grin on Leon’s face, and heard the way the others were laughing. The City was only a few days ride away, they could always hunt on the way back.

It didn’t take long for her to tire out and curl up at Merlin’s feet to sleep. Like Merlin had mentioned, Aithusa was developing slowly, and she normally couldn’t fly very far; it must’ve taken a huge amount of energy and effort for her to get all the way here. But like the Knights, she was very protective, and there was no way she could not check on her Lord, after she and Kilgharrah had felt the anguish he was in.

As Kilgharrah once again crosses Merlin’s mind, he sighs, and makes mental note to call him in the morning, when he had more energy.

Merlin is distracted from his thoughts when the camp goes silent all of a sudden, and Gwaine reaches over to squeeze his hand. He looks up in worry, to see that Arthur had stood, and walked a little closer, though he made sure to stay the other side of the fire.

Merlin tenses slightly. He tries not to let it show, but he can knows that he failed when he feels Leon’s hand firmly in the middle of his back. Hidden from the others, but a silent reassurance.

Arthur gulps, obviously nervous, but he meets Merlin’s gaze, flinching at the slight fear in his eyes:

“Merlin, I know nothing I say will-”

He’s interrupted by Gwaine growling and standing suddenly, stepping in front of Merlin protectively, but it’s Lancelot’s harsh words that cut him off fully:

“Not tonight, Arthur. We’re all tired and angry so just... not tonight.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, and blinks away tears before nodding:

“Yes, I... I understand.”

With that, he sniffles slightly before taking a step back. He looks to the floor as he mumbles something about checking the perimeter, before slowly walking away from the camp, into the night.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and relaxes slightly as Leon runs his hand over his back. Gwaine stares after Arthur for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not to follow him (and presumably, kick his ass). Merlin reaching up to take his hand and pull him back down makes his mind up, and he settles back into his seat, Merlin’s small hand clasped between his two larger ones.

Percival speaking up breaks the tense silence:

“It’s late and Lance is right, we’re all tired. If we want to make quick work of the journey home, and have time to hunt, then we should get some sleep.”

Murmurs of agreement float up around the group, and Gwaine, voice still tense and angry, says:

“I’ll take first-”

But he’s quickly interrupted by Elyan, softly laughing:

“Absolutely not, Gwaine. If you’re left alone we’ll all wake to find the King dead in the morning.”

Gwaine raises a challenging eyebrow, not denying anything, and Elyan huffs, Percival muttering:

“Fine. But I’m taking it with you so you don’t get a chance to smother him.”

Gwaine gives a sarcastic looking smile, before ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly and walking towards the fire. He adds another log, grabs his bedroll, and settles down against a tree, Percival sitting at his side.

Everyone else gathers their rolls, and whilst normally they spread out, they all seem rather desperate to stay as close to Merlin as possible.

Normally he would complain, they all snore, and Merlin is definitely expecting nightmares tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to send them away, and to be perfectly honest, he's certain that they would just move back the moment he closed his eyes anyway.

The Warlock finds himself tucked under Lancelot’s arm, with Leon a respectful distance away on his other side, though still within arm’s reach. Elyan settles somewhere below his feet, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin finds himself fully relaxed.

Aithusa sleepily moves from her spot by Merlin’s feet, to curl up with Gwaine and Percival, and Merlin smiles at the thought that she not only trusts his friends in general, but trusts them enough to leave Merlin in their care. Dragons are protective and possessive creatures, and that trust speaks volumes.

Merlin is still a little miserable, and he almost resents himself for still being scared of Arthur despite his obvious regret, but... with all that happened... well. You can’t really blame him.

He’s got a gaggle of very protective knights around him, one of which he can vaguely hear trying to persuade another to commit regicide when no one was looking.

He has time to huff out a small laugh as Lancelot pulls him closer, before he drifts off; much quicker than he thought he would. He was comforted by the warmth behind him, the presence at his feet, the guardians watching over him, and the hand reaching towards him in the dark, just about close enough to lay fingers over Merlin’s heartbeat.

No nightmares plague him that night, and he doesn’t even wake to the warning growls sent Arthur’s way when he eventually returned to camp.

The next few days, hell, the next few months would probably be difficult, but he finds himself not as anxious now he knows he won’t have to face it alone.

THE END

I don’t think I’ll write a part two to this, but if someone wants to extend it, feel free, same as normal: credit and tag me :)

I’ve had the whole speech written out in full in my phone notes for like two months, but only recently got round to actually turning it into anything. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I wanted to write something hella angsty so....

I’m fairly certain whatever I write next will be the dead opposite of this (FLUFF fluff) but honestly who knows.

Let me know if there’s anything specific you want my thoughts on :)

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kerie-prince · 3 years

Text

clumsy

Hermione Granger x fem Slytherin!reader (fluff)

requested: (@chokemepansy) im terrible at requesting because i blank on ideas BUT anything for hermione please <3 take your time ily 💓

warnings: a single curse word, but mainly just soft hours

summary: Hermione has her very first date with you at Hogsmeade (song inspo from Fergie's Clumsy) (pardon my lame ass summary)

a/n: ty for requesting, luv 🥺 hope you like it! i made the reader slytherin just bc of you <3 and yes, i put in an outfit inspo but it's not like the cringy ones from wattpad

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You came to love the smell of parchment and books. The sound of pages being turned, the feeling of a new book in your hands. You loved them because it made you think of Hermione.

Merlin, you were infatuated with everything about her. The excitement in her voice when she talked about her favorite books, the small paper cuts on her fingers from turning the pages – she didn't mind them as it was normal for her – and the look on her face when she received praise from professors.

She was all you thought about and you wanted to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and yell out "I LOVE HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER" for the whole school to hear. And you were positive she felt the same. Hermione would refuse to let go of your hands when you walked together from class and on some occasions, you'd catch her staring at you during study sessions. Just like she was doing now.

"Miss Granger, for the last time, I am asking you what are the contents of polyjuice potion?" Snape was hovered over her desk. Hermione jumped in her seat and turned to face the brooding professor. Your Slytherin housemates who sat at the back of class laughed at her startled state as she named the contents. You looked back and glared at them all. When Snape left your table and continued his lecture, you leaned closer to Hermione and whispered as low as you could, “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted,” you noticed.

“Y-yes, I'm fine,” Hermione stuttered. Snape excused the class and Hermione waited for you to be done packing your things just so she could hold your hand to the Great Hall. “Are we still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” you asked.

“Harry’s got detention with McGonagall for ‘ accidentally’ turning Crabbe into a water goblet in class,” Hermione used her free hand to make air quotations, “and Ron’s busy with Lavender that day.” She had a sad look on her face, thinking that they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade after all. You picked up on it and had an idea. “So, just the two of us then?”

Hermione’s chest became warm, “Okay. It's a date.” Your eyes slightly bulged out and to Hermione, you had an indistinguishable smile, “I mean, not like a date date, but a girls date.” You weren't sure if she meant it like that, but you laughed at her stumbling her words. The always composed girl becoming a cute, blubbering mess for you. Not that you knew for sure it was because for you but you’d given it a lot of thought.

She never held Harry’s hand like she did yours unless he was upset about something and she was comforting him. And she certainly never held Ron’s hand. Nor does she ever hug him knowing Lavender would go ballistic. Not that she’d ever want to. He was her best friend, yeah but she had never gotten used to it. They both had an unspoken thing to not hug.

“Sounds fun,” you chirped, “can’t wait for it.” You gave her a lingering hug before going to your table. You sat in between your best friends Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had a smirk on her lips once you were in her line of sight, “Did you finally tell Granger?” You knew what she was talking about and nudged her arm with your elbow, “Shut it.” The two girls chuckled and gave each other knowing looks. “I might tell her on Saturday,” you disclosed.

They had matching shocked faces; for nearly a year, they’ve watched you pace around their shared dorm debate with yourself whether or not to tell her about how you feel. You’d have a sparkle in your eyes every time you talked about her and nearly spent every day with her. They weren't upset about it. In fact, they couldn't wait to see you two together. But you were unexpectedly insecure by thinking of the worst case scenario in which she’d reject you.

“That’s great, Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you. I know everything will turn out well,” Daphne supported. Pansy nodded and pointed to Daphne as to say ‘Me too’. You grabbed the hands of both girls and held them tightly, “Thanks, girls. I love you guys.” You wrapped an arm around both of them and brought them in for a hug. Daphne returned it while Pansy made a fake coughing sound. “I can’t b-breathe,” she exaggerates. You held on for a couple seconds more before letting go and started eating. “Okay, so how is this happening?” Pansy asked.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday,” you inquired. “So the whole lot is going as well?” Pansy was talking about Harry and Ron of course.

“No, just the two of us alone,” you replied, taking a bite of the chicken on your plate.

“You mean, this is a date?” Daphne exclaimed. “We’re going to help pick an outfit, no questions asked.” She had a stern look that dared you to talk back. As sweet as Daphne is, once her mind is set to something, she doesn't budge. You accepted it and was met with her usual warm smile. Inside, you were ecstatic and couldn't wait for Saturday. Your crush has gone on for too long, and you were tired of waiting.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Your dorm mates got you up at the crack of dawn. And by crack of dawn, it was actually 10 am at most. They made you change into every outfit they picked out which totaled in 8. You appreciated everything they were doing, but some of the outfits were too much for a day in Hogsmeade. Daphne picked out tennis skirts with cropped argyle sweaters. Pansy picked short dresses that stopped at your mid-thigh and black wool turtlenecks to go over them. They had completely different aesthetics which is what probably made them perfect friends.

You settled on something casual; a thick striped long sleeve polo with light blue jeans and white trainers. It was going to be a nice spring day and you didn't want to wear something that would be too short and you get cold later. Daphne did your hair in two French plaits and Pansy did your makeup modestly. Once you were done, it was noon and you rushed to meet Hermione for your ‘girl date’.

She took the air straight from your lungs. She looked more breathtaking than the night of the Yule Ball. You distinctly remember being incredibly jealous of Viktor Krum and beat yourself up for not asking her before he did. But now, if he was here, you were sure that the famous Quidditch athlete would be jealous of you.

Hermione’s usually wild hair was tamed into smooth wavy curls that framed her delicate face. She wore a floral print button up that was definitely new as you’ve never seen it before. Or did she save it just for you? Her navy jeans hugged her ankles and she donned light pink flats. And probably for the first time since the Yule Ball, she had mascara and lipgloss on. Casual, but perfect.

Your face was flushed, and you weren't sure if she was also blushing or if maybe she was just wearing blush. “Shall we?” You reached out to grab her hands – her soft hands – and waited for her response. She didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with yours and started walking on the path to Hogsmeade. Hermione was about to say that you looked pretty when she tripped over a small rock on the pathway. “Are you okay?” you expressed concern. She was still holding onto your hand as she steadied herself up, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

You snorted and had to hold the butterbeer in your mouth, “Ron did what?” Hermione laughed as she told you how Lavender exploded on Ron for forgetting their anniversary and when he tried to make it up by giving her chocolates that he got from his older brothers, Lavender instantly grew a huge chin that drooped over her neck. Ron had gotten so mad at them and in unison, they told him ‘Why’d you think we’d ever give you real ones?’

“So that’s why no one has seen her for a couple days!” you noted. She was nodding as she laughed. You could only imagine what it was like to see it in person. Poor Lav. You went back and forth talking about whatever went on since the last time you were together.

Hermione went on talking about a new book she read about over the winter holiday. The way she expressed her emotions and passion for it made you fall for the Gryffindor girl more. When you hadn't said anything, she stopped and lowered her head, “I’m boring you, aren't I?”

You sat straight in your chair and fumbled your words before reaching out to grab her hand from across the table, “No, no, no, of course not. I could never be bored of you, I love you.” Your eyes widened. You didn't exactly expect to let it slip out like that, but you studied her reaction to see if you could leave it at that or otherwise. She sat still with a poker face. “Y-you’re my best friend, Mione–”

“I love you, too,” she confessed. “Huh?” Please, please, please tell me I heard her right. You didn't get to fully process what she said because after a few seconds, she gathered all her courage and reached over the table to give you a quick peck on your lips. It would've been a sweet moment hadn't she accidentally knocked her glass over in the process. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks had their eyes on you, Hermione’s face beet red and lowered out of embarrassment. You tried cleaning the mess and out of nowhere, Hermione ran out. Fuck this you thought as you ran after her.

“Mione, wait!” She hadn't gone far and luckily for you, she listened. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes averted from yours. “Where are you going? Aren’t we on a date?” Confidence had finally kicked in when you asked her. Hermione’s breath hitched. She couldn't see anything in your face that showed you were joking. Because you weren't. “Yes,” she grabbed your hands and started walking towards the other shops in the small village. Until once again, she nearly fell back when she nearly slipped over another rock on the ground. You supported her back up and giggled, “You’re so clumsy.”

—

requests open!

#hermione granger #hermione granger imagine #requested #requests open #hermione granger fluff #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x fem!reader #hermione granger x slytherin!reader #hermione granger x you #hermione granger x y/n #hermione imagine #hermione fluff #hermione x y/n #hermione x reader #hermione x you #hermione x fem!reader #hermione x slytherin!reader #harry potter imagine

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years

Text

Curious - Draco Malfoy x Reader

*redoing it again because i accidentally deleted the text

requested by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell request: So imagine Draco coming to visit you in your room, but just as he's about to knock on the door, he hears voices inside the room so he realizes you're not alone. You had invited your friends over (let's say Hermione and Ron are there keeping you company). Draco hears that they're both asking you and talking about HIM, so he stays a little bit longer, curious what you have to say. And they ask if Draco is in any way horrible to you, if he's mean to you. But you actually get overly defensive for your boyfriend. You tell them that they will never know him like you do, and that he's extremely sweet, and lovely. That no body really gives him a real chance, that he deserves love and comfort as everyone else... So, time passes and you go out of your room and think about visiting draco, since you haven't seen him all day. You knock on his door, and once he opens it, he just pulls you in for a deep, but soft kiss. And then he pulls over and holds you in his embrace, then he whispers something like "thank you so much, for being in my life... for being by my side, always" fasjfklsmflksfj ;_;

It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Hogwarts. The sun was shining, the air was breezy, it was a sweater weather, and it was a beautiful day for Draco to take you on another date at Hogsmeade.

The two of you officially showed the world that you two were a couple during the first weeks of the current school year. Sparks only started flying during the summer before the school year. His family and yours being close ties with each other decided to travel over the summer together. Being the only teenagers during the whole trip leads you to getting to know each other.

With each quiet walk at night together or sitting together during meal times or trips to destinations, it showed that you started taking an interest in each other and later on fancying each other. It only took that very special night to finally express your love for each other.

During one of those free days your parents had given you during the trip, Draco asked permission from both families if he could take you somewhere else for the day, including the night. During the day, he didn’t schedule any tours or guides for the day - no, he knew you wanted a free day wherein there were no tour guides or following authorities around. He found a nice garden for the two of you to walk around and lay on the grass and talk about literally anything. He opened up so much with you that you realized that he wasn’t exactly the resident bad boy of Hogwarts. He was a kind and loving person just like anyone else. For the night, oh, you were really lucky you wore something formal enough because this man booked two seats at one of the most fanciest places in the city you were visiting. Your table being in a secluded place gave him the privacy to start expressing his love for you, asking if you would like to take the relationship to the next level. Without thinking about it, you nodded, telling him you felt the same way.

Now that school started, you both showed the world that you two were a thing. With holding hands, to small kisses around people, it told them that you, Y/N Y/L/N, were madly in love with Draco Lucius Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, that everyone either despised him or were scared of him.

Of course half the school had the opposite thoughts that you were hoping not to hear. But you didn’t care and neither did Draco. It wasn’t their problem and they couldn’t manage to break you two up. Draco would personally have his father hear about any issues involving his son’s life and his girlfriend’s. You were technically family to the Malfoy’s already so Lucius would be willing to stand up for you.

As it was a beautiful Saturday in Hogwarts, you got dressed up, enhanced your appearance, and began styling your hair. Placing the finishing touches to your appearance, you heard two knocks from the door. Assuming it was Draco picking you up earlier than expected, you started rushing your touches a little bit. “Hold on, Draco, just finishing a few touches to my appearance.”

Expecting to hear Draco come up with a way to compliment you, you were replied with a different voice which stunned you a little bit. “Oh, it’s not Draco,” said a feminine voice, “It’s Hermione.”

“Hermione?” you asked with curiosity.

“Yes, along with Harry and Ron.”

All your final touches came to an end when you started walking up slowly to open the door to three slightly uncomfortable students in your year. The Golden Trio weren’t exactly the closest to you. Sure, you had moments where you’d talk to them, ask them how it’s going, and casually walk with them in Hogsmeade but not close enough to be an honorary member and tag along in their activities. So, it was a little uncomfortable for you to have them in your room as well. Nevertheless, you opened the door wide, and motioned for them to come in.

“Have a seat anywhere.” you welcomed them in.

“Thanks.” they all said in sync.

“You look nice.” Hermione spoke, “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, Hogsmeade, with Draco. But it’s a tad bit early so I’m not leaving yet.”

“Excellent, because we were hoping to talk to you.” Harry said. He stood up from your chair and walked toward you slowly. He looked unsure of his actions but wanted to show you the level of importance of the conversation.

At the same time, Draco was walking towards your door, but quickly enough to hear a familiar voice just speak from your room. Thinking it was coming from the other room, he ignored it, but that voice… it was masculine, and really familiar. He slowly placed his ear on the door and started listening.

On the other side of the door, you started speaking again.

“Oh. Well, what is it Harry?”

Harry? Draco was angrily confused to hear Harry Potter in your room. Thinking it was just him and you alone, he was right about to storm in and scold Harry until another voice spoke.

“It’s about Draco!” Hermione said, rolling her eyes at Harry who took a mere three seconds to say his enemy’s name. “We wanted to talk to you about your relationship with Draco.”

“Oh,” you crossed your arms, “What about him and I?” you started sounding upset as you were quite aware of their standings with him. “I suppose you’re going to tell me how awful it is to be with him and that I should break up with him, don’t you?”

Hermione gave pitiful eyes as she thought you were reading a bit of her mind. She walked towards you and placed her hands on your shoulders and sighed. “We just want to know if he’s any way horrible to you, Y/N. This is Draco we’re talking about, he’s been nothing but vile and cruel to everyone in Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, and we’re just surprised that you wanted to date the most bloody evit git in school. Is it some arranged thing your parents have going on with his? We can help get you out of it.” Ron added.

Hearing all this monstrosity, Draco decided to put your relationship with him to the test and stay, as he was curious to what you would say next. He trusted you of course but he just wanted to hear your comments about this without him being exactly there.

Upset, you threw Hermione’s hands off your shoulders and jumped a step back from her, resulting in her doing the same thing. “Merlin’s beard!” you screamed. “You just never give him a chance, do you?”

“I-I don’t follow, Y/N.” Harry terrifyingly spoke.

“Being with Draco has been the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. You actually don’t know how much of an extremely loving, caring, and sweet person he can actually be because you always throw fights and awful things to him the second you see him. You know, when I first had the chance to interact with him last summer, I wasn’t even hesitant of avoiding him because I actually sensed that underneath his black suit, he was a great person to know more of and I’m lucky that I didn’t treat him the way you guys do because you know, people want to be treated the way they treat people. If I wanted respect, I gave him respect. He deserves love and comfort like anyone else in this entire world and I’m glad to be filling that empty part of his life that he’s been craving for.”

Right after your triumphant speech, Draco quickly rushed all the way to his dorm because as a matter of fact, he was starting to tear up and what better way to hide his softness from the entire school body than run back to his room to hopefully stop crying. But he couldn’t. It was really difficult for him to because throughout his entire life, he has never had somebody like you to defend him as a person. He really couldn’t believe he finally had someone like you in his life. If people knew how soft he was, he could have opened the door and started crying on his knees, telling you how much he loves you. But the stupid golden trio just had to be there, he thought.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, that was a surprise.”

“Yeah, he totally didn’t give her amortentia.” Ron joked, which only resulted in Hermione and you looking at him deadly. “What?” he innocently asked.

“I’m really sorry I had to lash out that way. It’s just-”

“No, we get it,” Hermione said, “I’m really glad he has someone. Maybe he can actually soften up in school. I hope you can keep it that way.” she smiled.

“Believe me, he’s really a soft person. But I think I can foresee him softening up in school, you just have to be around to see it.” you joked.

“Excellent, truly. You have to stay with him, Y/N, we’re counting on you to see a changed Malfoy over the years.” Harry smiled, giving you a small pat on the shoulder.

“Bet he’ll actually call you a friend by the end of our Hogwarts year?” you asked.

“Bloody hell, I’ll definitely keep my grades up in order to see that.” Ron looked at you with a surprise.

“See you around, Y/N.” Hermione said, giving you a small hug, only for you to give a bigger hug as she chuckled.

“Bye.” you said to them as they exited the room.

Well, that was quite a way to start the morning. All that lashing out got you to lay down in bed and actually forget about Hogsmeade for a second only to remember how you dressed up nicely for today. Standing up quickly, you started getting your gloves and ran out to Draco’s room immediately.

When you arrived at his door, you knocked twice, waiting for him to open the door. There was no response. So you tried again and knocked twice.

“Draco, it’s me. Y/N.”

The door immediately swung open as you saw Draco with slightly pink eyes and light bags under his eyes. Without hesitation, he pulled your waist for him to softly kiss you in the lips. As your lips and his were playing around, he wrapped his arms around you tighter, as he was trying not to forget this feeling of true love.

When he pulled back, you cupped his teary-eyed face with carefulness as you wiped a tear off his right eye. “Draco,” you cooed.

Having a hard time containing the emotions he was feeling, he embraced you with a bone-crushing hug, only for you to give him the same. You weren’t exactly sure why he was sobbing but he deserves a giant hug anyways. Giving him all the patience to speak up, he finally did, and it started out with a weak, “T-thank you.”

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For everything.”, he said, “"Thank you so much, for being in my life, and for being by my side, always.”

“Oh, Draco.” you said, rubbing his back, “You and me? This is forever.”

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