#she has just as many heartbreaks as merlin and that fact wounds me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsren · 4 years

Note

👀👀👀

First chapter of a multi-chapter Jamione/but am considering a triad with James/Hermione/Sirius. I apologize for how long this post is, but I can’t put a line break in until I’m on desktop.

At first, there was screaming, the sounds of the killing curse ricocheting around the courtyard of what was her home. Harry had fallen, they said. She’d seen his lifeless body, cradled close to Hagrid’s chest as the giant’s eyes filled with tears. At first, there was heartbreak all around them.

Remus, Tonks, Fred—countless others that she could not begin to name.

There was a thought from the beginning of the war, that if it got bad enough, she would be willing to risk how far they had come. It was what led her into Professor McGonagall’s office at the end of the term, breaking into the older witch’s office, to steal the time turner from her third year. She had carried it in her beaded bag, and now it was a heavy weight around her neck.

Ron’s hand was tight in hers, and he was looking at her as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. “Mione, I—”

She blinked back her tears, swallowing hard, and shaking her head. “Don’t, just tell me when I get back.” Hermione cleared her throat, offering a grim smile. “Tell me when all of this is over and we can look at this place again.”

Of course, he didn’t understand. Ron’s eyes widened as she reached into her collar, pinching the dainty chain between her thumb and index finger and bringing it out. She’d charmed it at the beginning of the war so she could go back to Halloween of 1981. It was the last plan, and at the moment, she wondered if it should have been her first.

His jaw fell slack. “Don’t,” he began.

A shrill voice pierced the air. “The mudblood!” Bellatrix Lestrange shrieked.

The small mechanism of the time turner had been set to decades for months. Two spins and three-quarters of another would do the trick. Ron yelled her name as the killing curse crossed the courtyard. Just as there was a familiar tugging at her navel.

And then there was absolute silence.

oOoOoOoOoOo

She thought she was dead when her back connected with the cobblestone of the courtyard, pain shooting up her spine as she whimpered. Logically, if she was in pain, she was alive. Still, there was no standing on her own; the attempts were futile. Her vine wand was gripped tightly in her right hand, the time turner burning in a spot against her chest.

Hermione was gasping for air, blood pooling in her mouth and that was how she was found.

The voice was male, laced with worry as she heard footsteps pad toward her. “Granger? Merlin’s bollocks, you’re alive?” A figure came into focus as he kneeled over her. “Hey, can you hear me?” There was a soft touch against her bared forearm. Had her jumper ripped? There was a sharp intake of breath as a warm touch hovered just over the cursed wound. “What happened to you?”

She recognized the hair, and her lips twisted into what she hoped was a smile, but she knew it was a grimace. Her body felt as if it were twisted, as if her bones had been reduced to dust. “Harry?” Granted, his eyes weren’t green, but this was only a dream. Lingering between the veil and reality, she was bound to muddy up the details. “Where are your glasses?” she murmured, lifting an arm to brush her fingers against his jawline.

“What? I’ve never worn glasses, Granger. Do you know how many fingers I’m holding up?”

Hermione shook her head, her head falling to the side.

And then her body began to seize.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Hermione was tired of drifting. Everything around her was dark, and she could still hear the voices of those around her. She was a bright witch; she realized she was lingering in her own mind, waiting for her body to comply with her mind. Still, if only she could wake up.

“Mr Potter, I can’t allow you to stay here.” came the stern voice of Madam Pomfrey. Hermione imagined her eyes were drawn together like they always were when she took that tone. “You’ll have to return to the tower until the morning. If you would still like to check on Ms Granger, you’ll receive no arguments from me. Now, off you go.” she dismissed Harry.

The bed below Hermione dipped as the matron fluffed her pillow, and she applied dittany to the cursed wound of her forearm. If she was awake, fully anyway, Hermione would have told her it was no use. She’d tried it while she was on the run with —

The war. Why — how could she be in the Hogwarts hospital wing when there was —

Waking up felt like her soul had been ripped from her body.

oOoOoOoOoOo

She screamed, sitting straight up so quickly that she slammed her forehead against Madam Pomfrey’s. Instantly, Hermione held out her hand and hissed, “Accio wand.” The familiarity of her wand did little to calm her as she stared at her legs, hidden beneath the white linen sheets. “Where are my clothes, Madam Pomfrey?”

This wasn’t right. Pomfrey should have been in thle Great Hall, tending to the ones that were still fighting, still hanging on by what little determination they had left. And Hermione, she was supposed to be in Godric’s Hollow, barreling into Potter Cottage before a snake-faced bastard could tear the world of her best friend apart.

“My dear,” she began quietly, her eyes wide and her brows nearly shooting into her hairline. “You need to lay down.”

Hermione’s hand shot out, her wand digging into the throat of the familiar face from over the years. “Where are my clothes?” she repeated not in kind. Surely, she was in an amount of pain that she could not feel at the moment, not with the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

“Miss Granger, I am not the witch you want to hold a wand to.”

It wasn’t like her, not at all, but Hermione laughed low under her breath. “I assure you that I am not the witch you should test, Madam Pomfrey. There is a war, and I need to,” she broke off, her head aching. Hermione leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I need — I need to go right now.” Hermione gasped.

“My dear, you need to rest.” her kind voice was quiet as she brushed hair over Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s clear that you need to rest, Hermione. You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal.”

Hermione stared around the room, her shoulders trembling as she took in the bottles of potions, the iron caging over the windows. The castle was familiar, but something was terribly off. “What’s the date?’ she asked, letting her wand fall to the bed. She laced her fingers together so she wouldn’t have to watch her fingers tremble.

She wasn’t afraid. There was too much left to be done.

“It’s December 15th, 1998.”

Hermione stared at her, her lips parting before she schooled her features. “Who is the headmaster?” she croaked, feeling her pulse quicken as she pressed two fingers to her wrist.

She didn’t have to wait long for a response. The door swung open, and as fed up as she was with fainting, what was one to do when their murdered headmaster appeared before them?

Madam Pomfrey took one last glance at the girl who was tucked beneath the covers before closing the curtain around her. Leaving her wand to rest on the table beside the bed, Poppy quietly motioned the headmaster into her office. “Albus..” she trailed off, casting a dark look toward the door. “She’s been tortured.”

He nodded, running his fingers through his beard. “No doubt at the hands of whoever took her at the beginning of the term.” Dumbledore murmured. “Mr Potter flew into my office after shouting every password it could possibly be. It was fizzing whizbees, by the way.”

“Unregretfully, I don’t care, Albus.” she replied dryly, sinking into her chair. “She’s not out of her mind. Make no mistake, she was subjected to the Cruciatus, but it didn’t scramble her mind. To your knowledge, was Miss Granger skilled in Occulmency?”

He shook his head. “Not to my knowledge, but she’s always furthered herself with independent study. Word gets around, she did spend a lot of time in a study group with Mr Snape, Miss Evans, and Mr Lupin. It’s possible they learned it together.”

Poppy frowned. There would be no need for Mr Lupin to learn the skill; lycanthropy prevented anyone from breaking into his mind, they would be unable to get past the wolf. From the looks of it, Albus didn’t believe his own theory. “Well,” she sighed, dusting her skirt. “I think you should track the three of them down so you can learn if that is the case. As it is, when I tried to view her mind, she fought back. It was unlike anything a student should be able to master already.”

“Miss Granger has always been exceptionally bright.”

She waved her hand, half tempted to shoot him a vulgar motion instead. “That’s utter hogwash. When James Potter carried her in, I thought she was already dead. Nearly every bone was broken, Albus. I can heal her physical wounds, but her mind...we have no way of discovering the damage until she wakes.”

He dipped his head. “I will wake her study group then, but I fear she has more secrets locked up in her head now that we will need.”

She gritted her teeth, not that he could see it. “Albus, I have respected you a great deal for many years, so I do not say this lightly. She is not a pawn in your war; don’t treat her like one.”

oOoOoOoOoOo

Hermione was sitting in the bed when Madam Pomfrey checked on her the next morning. “Good morning.” Hermione greeted quietly, leaning forward as the matron lifted her left arm. “There is no healing it. I’ve tried already; don’t worry yourself with trying again. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s permanent.”

Pomfrey’s face fell and she gave a curt nod. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Hermione’s face scrunched in pain as she attempted to move her leg. “Like I fell off a broom stick without a cushioning charm.”

Pomfrey nodded. “Well, that would be consistent with your injuries. Clearly you remember Hogwarts, and myself, is there anything you would like to tell me?”

Hermione glanced at her, and she picked up each leg and moved it so the matron would have a place to sit. “I don’t remember ever being here,” she said weakly. “I can’t explain everything to you, but I don’t want to tell Headmaster Dumbledore. I can’t tell you why.” It was true. All she knew was that there had been a shiver running up her spine when she saw him.

She probably hadn’t forgiven him for not giving Harry the entire truth the first time around.

“Then don’t tell him.” Madam Pomfrey said, the bed dipping below her. “I know. I shouldn’t be telling you to hide anything, but you’re a conundrum, and I’m not sure he needs to know everything that happened.” she paused. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Hermione lifted her chin. “Would you like to tell me?”

It was as close as she could get to saying she had no idea, and luckily, the woman caught onto it. She winked as the doors swung open. “Never fear, Miss Granger, I’m quite bright myself.” Madam Pomfrey rose from the bed, smoothing her clothes. “Mr Potter. I thought you would be by. I must inform you though, that Miss Granger is experiencing a terrible case of amnesia. She won’t remember you.”

Hermione took a good look at the boy who wasn’t her best friend at all. There was a cocky look about him, a sharp jawline that she remembered - with flushed cheeks - that she’d traced the night earlier. He slid his hands into his denims, a muggle pair from the looks of it, and tilted his head to the side. “You’ve forgotten me, Granger? Here I thought I had left you with an impression.”

She blinked as he neared the bed, a Defense Against the Dark Arts book in his hand and he took a seat beside her. “You scared the shite out of me.”

No, this wasn’t her best friend. This was his father.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, crossing her legs beneath the blanket. “Why did you bring that?” Hermione nodded to the book in his hands, flipped open partway. “I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name?” It could be a coincidence, she reminded herself, but she had to know.

If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “James,” he replied. “I don’t mean to sound arrogant by saying this, but I’m surprised you don’t remember me because I frequently annoyed you.”

She snorted. “Well, amnesia is a tricky thing. I remember when you found me last night. Thank you.”

He nodded, dark strands of hair slipping into his face. “I thought you were dead.”

Hermione bunched the sheets in her hands. “I did too.” Her voice fell flat as he stared at her, hands curling into fists. “What?” Over his shoulder, Madam Pomfrey disappeared into her office with a short wave over her shoulder.

“How can you talk about it as if it’s nothing? Granger, you were twisted like..” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re talking about how you were found as if you expected it, as if it was nothing. What the fuck happened while you were missing?”

If it were possible for her heart to stop in her chest, she was positive that’s what the useless organ would have done. “I was missing?” She swayed and his hand shot out to steady her. “I apologize, really, but I can’t remember.”

His gaze dropped to her forearm that was now covered with bandages. “You’ve been missing since Halloween,” James muttered, setting the textbook on the bed beside her feet. “We were patrolling Hogsmeade together, and I —”

The guilt-stricken look that flitted over his face was recognizable. It was the same one Harry often wore. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t your fault.” Hermione shrugged. “Knowing me, I got myself in over my head. I saw something I shouldn’t have most likely. I’ve never been able to keep out of anyone’s business.”

Fondly, she was reminded of the Firebolt that was a gift from Sirius Black before they learned he wasn’t a mad man. Yet this was different. Whoever had taken the Hermione Granger that had been here landed much higher on the spectrum of dangerous.

“You were a terror that night,” James said. “We were meant to be patrolling Hogsmeade, fellow Heads, and I fucked everything up.”

She reached for his hand, hooking her finger through the space between his as it was all she could do with the strain on her lower back. “Hey, I’m telling you not to feel guilty.” she whispered.

“That’s easy for you to say, you don’t even remember it. I left you to flirt with Evans, and I knew some of the Slytherins had been watching you. When I saw your arm, after I left here, I went straight to the head dorm to vomit.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her eyes beginning to water. Wanting nothing more than to tell him he had no bearing on her wounds, she changed the subject before she could do just that. “Did it work?”

“What?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You said you left me to flirt with Evans. Did it work at least?” she asked, twirling her wand between her fingers. “You’ve fancied her a long while, haven’t you?” Surely even though she had ended up somewhere that wasn’t home, that was still true.

“Is this a joke to you?” he growled, eyes narrowing. “I’m attempting to apologize to you, and you’re —”

“Don’t yell at me,” Hermione said, her voice flat, and her wand now poised steadily in her fingers. “If you feel the need to apologize to me, you were already forgiven because you didn’t cause anything to happen to me.”

James didn’t spare her another look before leaving the hospital wing.

She heaved a sigh, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She needed a library.

#sneak peek #james potter #hermione granger #not your typical time travel fic #mrsren

15 notes · View notes

tymedfire · 7 years

Text

No Requiem

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12267528

Arthur doesn’t plan what happens; he just reacts. He hadn’t been expecting the old sorcerer, Dragoon, to show up, to use magic. He hadn’t been expecting the feeling of rage that shocked through him when the old man locked eyes with him. He hadn’t expected his body to move before his mind processed what was happening. He hadn’t expected his sword to suddenly be in the old sorcerers gut.

He hadn’t expected the look of complete shock on the old man’s face as his gaze swept from Arthur’s face to his sword and back again.

The sound Dragoon makes is what shocks him into moving, roughly yanking the sword out of his body with a resounding squelch. Arthur stares at the man as he takes an involuntary, staggering step back, hand going to the hole in his stomach. He makes another pitiful sound before dropping to the ground. He stays sitting up, to the surprise of Arthur and his Knights. There are tears in his eyes as he whispers, “Arthur.”

Oh. He knows that voice.

Horror fills Arthur as Dragoons face melts away, replaced by the pale, heartbroken face of his manservant. His friend. He just mortally wounded his best friend.

A strangled cry leaves Arthur of its own volition and he surges to his friends side. He doesn’t even hear the cries of the Knights as they process what had just happened and the fact that none of them had even noticed Merlin leave. He’s too busy staring at the blood spilling from his best friend.

He’s too shocked to even process anything. Not all his Knights except Gwaine stepping back, while Gwaine rushes to Merlin’s other side. Not Gwen, foregoing queenly decorum and dropping to the dirty ground to pull Merlin’s head into her lap.

Arthur can’t think. He feels like he’s outside of his own body. His hands go to Merlin’s stomach, pressing down on the wound, but he doesn’t remember telling them to. He thinks he’s speaking, crying, but everything feels muted and muffled. He’s vaguely aware of people running behind him, but nothing else in the world matters to him outside the circle he, Gwaine, and Gwen have made. Nothing else matters except Merlin.

Merlin, who is bleeding beneath his hands. Merlin, who is bleeding by his hands. Merlin, who is staring at him with heartbreak in his eyes. Merlin, his first friend, his best friend, his confidante, his little brother, is on the ground, bleeding, because of him, and suddenly Arthur forgets to act like a king, like a prince. He forgets to be stoic and impassive and strong. He forgets to close himself off, to keep his emotions in check.

He forgets and he cries. Because Merlin is pushing his hands away and whispering, “stop” and “don’t” and “please”. And he deserves it. He deserves to be rejected by his friend, because he’s just killed him in cold blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Merlin, please. I need to stop the bleeding, please, you can’t die. Please. Please!” But Merlin, pale and weak Merlin, doesn’t relent. He pushes Arthur's hands away. He pushes Arthur away.

Arthur isn’t quite sure how many times his heart has broken in the past few minutes, but, no matter how hard he begs, he doesn’t stop trying to hold it together.

Beside him, Gwen is sobbing, her hand running through Merlin’s hair and over his face. She’s begging, too, begging her best friend to stay with her, to not leave because he’s not allowed and who would gossip with her every day and make snide comments in her ear during council meetings while filling their cups and who would keep her sane if he left? As she begs she leans her head down, her arms around Merlin’s body, and presses her lips to his forehead.

Gwaine is silent, but his eyes and his hands beg for him. He’s crying, and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gwaine cry. His tear-filled eyes stare at Merlin, begging, pleading for him to hold on. His hands press down over Arthurs, telling Merlin that he will hold on if Gwaine has any say in it. He’s gasping like he’s trying to hold back sobs, but he doesn’t speak, and his eyes never leave Merlin’s face.

Arthur wonders how he never noticed how many people love Merlin, how many people call him their “best friend”. He knows that Gwaine came to Camelot for Merlin. He’d never liked Arthur at the beginning, and even though Arthur knows they’re friends now, he also knows that his loyalty belongs to Merlin, and that if Merlin left or died, so would Gwaine.

He knows that Gwen was Merlin’s first friend in Camelot, and that, once she became queen, Merlin was the only one that didn’t treat her differently. There were times, at the beginning of their marriage, when she would disappear for a few hours at a time. He knew she got overwhelmed, but he never had any idea how to help her. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to. He’d always been secretly grateful to Merlin for being there for his wife when he couldn’t, and if his punishments for disappearing when Gwen did were much less severe than normal, nobody commented on it. He hadn’t always been grateful, of course. He’d been jealous, at first, and a little suspicious, but those feelings disappeared when he found them both one day in Gwen’s old house, drunker than Gwaine after a victory. He’d walked in to find Merlin standing, holding his shirt, which was on fire, with a pout on his face, and Gwen laughing harder and more carefree than he’d seen in a long time. Neither of them had noticed him. He never complained about their excursions again.

His rash, anger driven actions had just taken their best friend from them.

Suddenly, he’s pushed to the side, and his hands are ripped away from Merlin’s body. He starts to yell at the person who dared to pull him away, until he sees that it’s Gaius. If possible, he feels even worse. Gaius looks stricken and his face is filled with terror. He pushes Gwaine’s hands away when he tries to reach back for Merlin. Gaius’s eyes dart from the wound, to Merlin’s face, to Gwaine, to Arthur, before landing on Excalibur. He practically snarls, “Get that out of here,” and Arthur doesn’t think he’s ever heard Gaius sound so vicious.

It’s only when Percival moves to pick Excalibur up that Arthur notices the other Knights. Percival, big, strong, quiet Percival, has tears streaming down his face. He picks Arthur’s sword up, walks to a side hallway, and flings the weapon so hard Arthur is surprised it doesn’t stick in the stone wall. He dimly thinks that he should be angry about his people treating his sword like it’s something evil, but he can’t bring himself to care. Percival comes back and stands next to Leon, who stares at Merlin with wide eyes. He’s breathing hard and Arthur assumes he’s the one who ran to get Gaius. Elyan stands slightly apart from them. Every few seconds he starts to step forward, his hand reaching out, but he always decides against it and pulls back, then repeats. He looks like he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. Arthur can relate. Most notably, Arthur sees George standing in the shadows. Arthur’s fairly sure he hadn’t been there when the actual events transpired, so he must have come in with Gaius and Leon. The usually composed and professional servant looks like he’s about to faint. His hands shake by his side and his mouth hangs slightly open. His eyes flit between Merlin and Arthur, and he looks terrified. Terrified of me, Arthur realizes. Good, he thinks. Arthur’s pretty terrified of himself right now.

Unable to bear the look of fear on the servant’s face, Arthur forces himself to look back at Merlin. He looks even paler than before and his eyes flutter as if he was trying not to fall asleep. Panic renews itself in Arthur. Merlin can’t go to sleep. He can’t die. He can’t. Gaius has his hands pressed to Merlin’s wound. His eyes are closed and he seems to whispering. Magic, Arthur realizes. He’s using magic. A hysterical laugh bubbles it’s way up Arthur’s throat, but he bites it down. Gwaine, whose hands had been pushed aside just like Arthur’s, now holds Merlin’s hand in his own, pulled to his chest. He’s speaking now, but Arthur can’t hear what he’s saying.

Suddenly, Merlin jerks and cries out in pain. Gaius also snatches his hands back as if he’d been burned, and Arthur notices that the wound looks no different.

“Merlin, I need your help. I know you’re tired, I know it hurts, but I can’t heal you enough on my own. I need your help, please.” Gaius grabs Merlin’s hands and presses them beneath his own on the wound.

“Gaius,” Merlin whispers.

“I know, my boy. Please try.” Gaius’s voice breaks on the last word. Slowly, Merlin nods. Gaius starts chanting words, louder this time, and after a second Merlin joins in, though his voice is considerably quieter.

Arthur thinks he’s more shaken than he should be when Merlin’s eyes glow gold.

Their chanting continues for a few seconds before Merlin’s back arches off the ground and he screams. Gaius persists for a few more seconds, ignoring the panicked cries from Gwen and Gwaine. Finally, he pulls his hands away, and Merlin falls limp to the ground, eyes closed. The wound looks only slightly healed, and Arthur’s own panic grows.

“He’s not healed.”

Gaius’s head whips around to face him. He doesn’t look angry anymore, only sad, and that scares Arthur more than anything. “No. Excalibur is not a mortal blade. It was forged in a dragon’s breath. I cannot heal him.”

“So… he’s going to die?” Gwen asks.

Gaius looks at her for a second before turning back to Arthur. “Maybe not. There are two beings in this world capable of healing a wound like this.” Before he can continue, Gwaine interrupts with a desperate,

“Who are they? Where are they?”

“One of them is Merlin.” Arthur can’t help but shrink away from Gaius’s piercing eyes, guilt eating him alive. “The other is the dragon who made the sword.”

“The Great Dragon was the last dragon, and he’s dead. There is no hope.” Leon sinks to the ground as he speaks, face betraying his despair. Gwen lets out a harsh breath.

“There is.” All eyes whip to Gaius. “The Great Dragon is the one who made Excalibur, and he is not dead.”

“How do you know?” Arthur asks, barely daring to hope that he could right his wrong.

“Because Merlin is the one who made Excalibur for you, Arthur. And he is the one who sent Kilgarrah away that day, because he is the last Dragonlord, and the dragon cannot disobey him. As his Dragonlord, Kilgarrah is most likely already aware of Merlin’s condition, and on his way here. I’ve healed him enough for a short journey to the clearing where Merlin usually meets with him. You must take him there. Now.”

Arthur sits, unmoving, for a few seconds, trying to process this outpouring of information. It’s Gaius’s sharp “Now!” that shakes him out of it.

“Ready the horses,” he orders. Elyan and Leon both take off running at top speed almost before he’s finished speaking. Arthur tries to stand, but suddenly pain blooms from his cheek and he’s on the ground. Gwaine punches him once, twice, three times, before Percival pulls him back. Gwaine is glaring at him so hard, he’s surprised he hasn’t combusted.

“If he dies,” he begins shakily. He jabs a finger at Arthur, his other arm being held tightly by Percival. “If he dies, Arthur, I’m going to finish that. I don’t care if it gets me executed. If he dies… If he dies, you are going to wish you were with him.”

“Gwaine!” Gwen cries in surprise. Arthur thinks that Gwaine doesn’t know how true that statement is.

“If he dies, I am gone.” Gwaine yanks his arm away from Percival and walks over to Merlin. With infinite tenderness, he slips his arms under Merlin’s legs and back and lifts him up. Percival tries to take Merlin from him, but Gwaine refuses. They both leave, George following close behind, leaving only Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius.

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius and Gwen both look at him with sad eyes.

“You didn’t know it was him. That doesn’t excuse what has happened, but… you didn’t know. You would never hurt Merlin. I know that. He knows that. Just… fix it. Fix it and learn.” As Gaius walks out, Arthur notices how old he looks. His shoulders sag and the wrinkles on his face look more prominent than usual.

“Let’s go.” Gwen takes his hand and pulls him toward the door. He’s suddenly so grateful to have a wife who is so forgiving and kind and compassionate. He knows she hasn’t forgiven him yet, but he also knows that she won’t leave him for what he’s done, like Gwaine.

Dimly, he thinks he should probably try to make Gwen stay, but he knows the attempt would be futile, and probably painful for him, so he just follows his wife and prays that he won’t lose the only other person he loves as much as he loves her.

The clearing is empty when they reach it.

Gwaine and Percival immediately set to getting Merlin off the horse. Oddly enough, it was George, who had insisted on coming, that demanded Merlin ride with him. He said that Merlin’s horse, whom they were riding, was used to large loads, and that, as a servant, he possessed the most delicate touch and Merlin would be more comfortable. To everyone’s surprise, after a few seconds of staring George down, Gwaine had agreed, though he kept his horse right next to them the entire journey.

Arthur looked around the clearing while the others tended to Merlin, as if the dragon was hiding and they just couldn’t see him yet.

There was no dragon.

“Where is he?” Gwen asks fearfully, once again sitting with Merlin’s head in her lap. “Where’s the dragon?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur whispers. “I don’t know.” Suddenly, Arthur can’t keep quiet anymore. He feels everything acutely, all at once, and he can’t keep quiet. He screams at the sky. “Kilgarrah! Kilgarrah!”

“Silence, Pendragon!” A voice roars. The wind picks up around them and the sound of flapping wings is deafening. Arthur takes a few stumbling steps backwards out of the dragons way before righting himself. The dragon regards him coolly before turning his gaze to Merlin. The dragon’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before he turns back to Arthur. “What have you done to my lord?”

Before Arthur can answer the sound of flapping wings is heard again. These, however, sound small, and are accompanied by a wail filled with grief. A small white dragon barrels toward the group, landing just in front of Arthur before bounding over to Merlin. The entire group watches, stunned and uneasy, as the white dragon nudges Merlin’s foot with its nose. When Merlin doesn’t respond, it lets out a soft mewl and moves to his side. Gwen leans away fearfully, but her hold on Merlin tightens. The dragon nudges Merlin’s side once before opening its mouth and breathing on him. The air before its mouth shimmers and Merlin’s breath hitches, but nothing else happens. After a second, the little dragon looks at the Great Dragon and lets out another anguished wail before wrapping its tail around Merlin’s legs and resting its head on Merlin’s hip, just below the sword wound.

Kilgarrah’s voice pulls Arthurs gaze away from Merlin and the dragon. “What did you do to Merlin?”

Arthur tries to respond but he finds he can’t speak. He takes a moment to compose himself, clears his throat, and says, “I made a mistake.”

“Clearly. I can sense my own magic within him. More than is usual.”

“I…” Arthur doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to say it. “I stabbed him. With my sword. With Excalibur. I didn’t… but that doesn’t matter. I acted in anger and I made a mistake and Merlin does not deserve to pay for my mistakes. Can you save him?”

Kilgarrah regards him for a few moments. “Yes, you certainly did make a mistake. Remember this, King Arthur. Remember this feeling, and use it to guide you. My young friend does much for you, and he will forgive you, for that is the type of person he is, and one cannot hate that which makes it whole, as you two do. But you must remember this, and accept what he is and what he has done for you. You must protect him as he protects you, because Camelot, and this realm, will fall if either of you do. You must do this.”

“I… I will. I swear it. I will do anything, just save him.”

“Aithusa,” the Great Dragon calls, and the little dragon, apparently called Aithusa, lifts its head and moves to stand under Kilgarrah. The dragon then starts speaking in a language that��s not quite what Gaius and Merlin had been speaking when they had healed Merlin. He speaks for a few seconds before saying two words Arthur definitely recognizes. “Merlin Emrys,” he says before breathing magic onto Merlin.

Everybody watches Merlin with bated breath. At first, nothing happens and Arthur feels his heart sink and tears sting his eyes. Merlin’s wound closes, but he doesn’t move and he doesn’t wake up. Suddenly, everybody jumps as the little dragon, Aithusa, lets out a delighted screech and charges at Merlin. Gwen squeaks and her hands come up to shield her face as the dragon jumps on Merlin with its front paws. Merlin shoots up, gasping, his arms automatically moving to circle the weight on his chest. Aithusa happily pushes him back to the ground as the entire clearing lets out a breath of relief.

“Aithusa!” Merlin gasps. Aithusa screeches happily and nuzzles Merlin. “Aithusa, sweetheart, get off, please.” Aithusa screeches again and bounds away from Merlin and around Kilgarrah’s legs. Merlin sits up shakily and looks around at the group.

“Hi. I definitely don’t know these dragons.” The ridiculousness of this statement sends the entire group into hysterics. Gwen wraps her arms around Merlin from behind, burying her face in his neck and crying in relief. Gwaine lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, grabs Merlin’s face, and plants a big kiss on his cheek. Merlin looks completely confused when George comes up and shakes his hand enthusiastically.

“Kilgarrah?” Merlin asks. To Arthur, he still looks far too pale and tired. At Merlin’s voice Aithusa can’t contain itself anymore, and the little dragon runs back to Merlin and curls itself around him, making Gwen pull back. Merlin glances at the dragon in his lap with a small smile and absentmindedly pats its head. “Kilgarrah?” He repeats.

“You are healed, young warlock, though not completely. You will be sore for a while and you have exhausted your magic quite a bit. I wouldn’t try anything for at least a week. In the meantime, I believe you and your King have much to discuss.” At his last sentence, Merlin pales considerably and his eyes dart to Arthur. Slowly, cautiously, Merlin turns to face Arthur with a guarded look on his face that cuts Arthur straight through.

“Merlin…” Arthur starts, not sure what to say. Everybody moves slightly away to give them some semblance of privacy, but they all remain clearly in earshot. He lowers his voice. “Merlin, I’m… I don’t even know what to say that would be enough. I’m so sorry. I… I acted in anger, like I swore to myself that I would never do, and you paid the price and you… God, you almost died. I almost killed you!”

“You thought I killed your father. You didn’t know.” Merlin says quietly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“No.” Arthur says so forcefully Merlin flinches. Arthur walks over to Merlin and sits down on his knees in front of him and dips his head to get into Merlin’s line of sight. “I knew that Dragoon, that you, didn’t kill my father. You tried to save him. I knew that and I still did what I did. There is no excuse. I… I’m so, so sorry.” His voice breaks.

He’s unaware that he’s crying until Merlin tentatively reaches up and wipes his cheek. Finally, Merlin meets his eyes. “I have magic.”

“I know.” Arthur reaches a slow hand toward his friend, ready to pull it back at the slightest hint of discomfort from him. “I know, and I don’t really understand, but… I’ll listen, if you’ll tell me. Everything I’ve ever known pretty much just got turned upside down. I mean… God, Merlin. How could magic possibly be evil if you have it?”

Merlin lets out a little gasp of breath and surges forward, grabbing Arthur in a hug. Aithusa darts out from in between them. Arthur’s breath of relief turns into a sob and he wraps his arms around his best friend and squeezes him as if his life depends on it. He’s distantly aware of some of the others crying and laughing, but right now nothing matters to Arthur except the hug that Arthur knows, as surely as he knows Merlin, is forgiveness.

#my writing #merlin #merlin fanfiction #arthur pendragon #gwaine #elyan #gaius #gwen #queen guinevere #king arthur #leon #percival #aithusa #knights of the round table

21 notes · View notes

oldassfuck · 7 years

Text

Healed

Pairing: Young!Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: fluff

Request: Hi at first I love your writing you are really good and second: can I ask you for Sirius x reader? Maybe after school? Both fluffy and smut? the time of the first war and she is a healer… or sth like that?

Word count: 938 (I know it’s small I’m sorry)

A/N

Thank you so much <3 ! I love your request, but I don’t really do smut since I’m 14 years old and I don’t really feel comfortable. I did put some hints in there though, so, I hope you like it! Also, Ignore the title because I completely suck at those :P

@elisemockingbird

xoxo,

Fay

-~-~-

NO POV

They had been fighting for what seemed like hours, and it probably was. Voldemort’s followers, the Death-eaters, had invaded Diagon Alley, that because of the fact that it was so close to the start of term, was filled with children and parents, and it was the Order’s business to keep as many of them they could, safe.

“Sirius! Watch out!” yelled James

Sirius spun around only to find Lucius Malfoy, his cousin’s husband, charging towards him.

“Conjunctivis” he yelled, but Sirius managed to cast a protection charm

“Petrificus Totalus!” fired back Sirius

“Using first year curses on me now, Black? I expected better, even from you…”

“Sectumsepra!”

“Repello” Lucius chuckled darkly “SECTUSEMPRA”

Long, deep slashes appeared on Sirius’s skin, that only multiplies as Malfoy repeated the spell. He tried to call for Remus or James, but the pain was too much to call for help, let alone pick up his wand again and fight. The last thing he saw before drifting into the darkness, was Remus running over to him.

“Sirius! Sirius! Stay with us…” said Remus “JAMES WE NEED TO TAKE HIM TO ST. MUNGO’S”

And so they did, they grabbed him and side-apparated to the hospital.

“Help him, please, he has lost a lot of blood and…” James was nearly in tears, the possibility of loosing his brother wasn’t something he would just accept.

“It’s fine… It’s fine.. we’ll do anything and everything we can” said (Y/N), one of the healers in St. Mungo’s “Hey, you’re James Potter right? An you’re Remus Lupin?”

“Yeah, and… oh my Godric! (Y/N)?” asked Remus

“Yeah, but, where’s Sirius?” she asked

Their silence was answer enough. The blood covered, bruised patient in from of her was the infamous Sirius Black heartbreaker of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Well, let’s get him fixed up then!”

And she began, first, she cleaned his body to get a good view of the damage, and it was a lot. Long slashes covered his body, and blood wouldn’t stop gushing from the wounds. (Y/N) kicked the boys out of the room, because she couldn’t exactly concentrate with James on top of her, asking if Sirius was going to be fine.

“Remus, if he dies..” said James

“he’s not, okay? Not only is he way to stubborn to so, but (Y/N) is a great healer! She’s not just going to let him go like that!” Remus tried to comfort his friend

Back in the room where Sirius was being treated, things were starting to look better. (Y/N) had managed to close the wounds, but he was still unconscious, and she had to wake him up soon, in order for him to drink the blood-replenishing potion, since he had lost way to much blood. She tried multiple methods, but none of them seemed to work.

“(Y/N)? I-Is that you?” she heard a hoarse voice behind her

“Sirius! How are you feeling? Here uh, drink this!”

“What happened? How did I end up here?”

“You were fighting some death-eaters up in Diagon Alley, the mission went sideways..”

“and I ended up half dead in the hospital” he finished your sentence

“Yeah, pretty much…” she said, he looked at her with those grey eyes that seemed to look directly into her soul, her heart and could read exactly what she was thinking and feeling, because, in fact, she had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were “I should uh, I should call James and Remus, they are nearly scared to death out there..”

“No, leave them” he said, she didn’t quite get where he was going, and then, he added under his breath “man you’ve gotten pretty over the years”

“What was that?” she asked

“N-Nothing… but, hey, I get to see those two idiots every day, whereas I haven’t seen you in years…”

“Yeah, we haven’t seen each other since graduation..”

“Heh, I remember the Graduation dance, you looked way to good to be true there” he said, causing you to blush “yeah, too bad you were dancing with Williams though…What happened to him anyway?”

“We uh- broke up, he cheated on me with Wilson”

“well he’s stupid, I mean, loosing this for Wilson?”

“I uh- yeah, he is an idiot… Hey, you gotta drink the whole bottle!” she said, blushing and moving over to give him the rest of the potion!

But Sirius Black had other plans, the moment she gave him the potion, he grabbed her hand and kissed her. (Y/N) was shocked at first, but kissed him back nonetheless. It must’ve lasted only five seconds, but it was magical. It was gentle, and filled with love, their lips moved with perfect since on each other, and it sent electric jolts down her spine.

“We can come by later or…” they heard James’s voice from the door

Sirius just chuckled deeply and (Y/N) flushed a deep red.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re back to normal, but if you ever-ever scare us like this again, I swear to Merlin I’ll kill you myself” said Remus

#hary potter #marauders era #sirius x reader #sirius x reader imagine #young!sirius x reader #young!sirius x reader imagine #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader imagine #young!sirius black x reader #young!sirius black x reader imagine

144 notes · View notes