#AH!! merlin <3!!< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jjkyaoi]

it’s so funny how they try to portray merlin as this embarrassing loser fool who brings chaos wherever he goes as if he didnt have like. a genuine harem. like all the knights of the round table are so unashamed of how they prefer him over arthur. gwen basically had a brief crush on him. morgana literally said “you’re not like merlin. he’s a lover” everyone who knows him is constantly talking about how pure and brave and selfless he is. lancelot knew he had magic and was js like okay with the idea of constantly lying, placing his own life in danger for him cuz that’s his little buddy. gwaine was LITERALLY in love with him. i don’t know what merwaine had going on but they probably hooked up the night they first met and don’t even get me STARTED on arthur pendragon

[ohhiimweird]

The General's Spouse

It's the Xianzhou generals, except they're married to you and they won't shut up about it Characters: Jing Yuan, Feixiao (separate) Reader Pronouns: they/them (gender neutral) Warnings: none!

Jing Yuan

you're like that sweet old married couple on the ship, except neither of you has wrinkles on your faces

bro never stops talking about you. "my spouse" this and "my spouse" that

Everyone knows who you are and that you're the general's spouse. people wave to you on the streets when you walk by

it's a blessing and a curse. on one hand, some people are quite friendly with you, on the other hand, you're a target for enemies of the xianzhou

because of this, if Jing Yuan can't protect you himself, he sends at least two cloud knights with you to flank both your sides

you also somehow, wake up with his fluffy hair in your mouth every morning while he's laying on top of you

Jing Yuan enjoys playing chess with you and you keep a scoreboard that tracks your wins and losses. whoever loses has to make dinner

You spoil Yanqing rotten and treat him like he's your son

Jing Yuan misses you a lot when he's off on his general duties.

"I miss my spouse, Fu Xuan. I miss them a lot. I'll be back."

Feixiao

ah yes, the Merlin's Claw's precious spouse, you're the talk of the Yaoqing

that's mostly because our general won't stop talking about you <3 it's either very sweet or very annoying, like we get it, your spouse is beautiful, can we please get back to this meeting?

If you're with Feixiao during the 2.4-2.5 story, then you have an entire battalion of cloud knights flanking you, praying to every aeon in the universe that Hoolay doesn't know you exist

she makes an effort to give you a good morning kiss before she leaves for the day

you get along with moze and jiaoqiu since you see them a lot (they're your wife's retainers after all)

you'll even hang out with them without your wife (just keep the alcohol away from her)

if she sees you on the street, feixiao will rush by, kiss you on the cheek, and quickly leave. (i'm picturing how it is in the animated short)

another person that says "I miss my spouse, i miss them a lot, i'll be back" to anyone who will listen

if she's drunk, Feixiao will randomly start crying about where you are so someone is calling you saying "please, come get your wife."

can and will carry you, if asked

Thank you for reading <3

[keitorin3]

Short: Leon (The Long Suffering)

Arthur: I'm gonna mess with this goofy eared kid.

Leon: *Internally thinking* Why do I feel like Arthur just met his match??

Arthur: He's absolutely terrible, the worst Manservant I've ever seen!

Leon: I'm sure with time he will improve, Sire. It's only been the first week.

Arthur: I've already sacked him, but then changed my mind and re-hired him back.

Leon: Ah... I see... Why?

Arthur:... *Internally thinking* Because I liked the way he looked at me when I won.

Arthur: It was difficult to find good help nowadays.

Leon: Right...

Arthur: Can you believe it, Merlin went and accused himself of being a sorcerer! In front of my father during the council meeting!

Leon: He what?! 😨

Arthur: I know! All because a girl gave him a flower. That idiot. I don't know where his head is at.

Leon: Hold on a second sire, he really said that in front of the King and didn't get executed?? 😧

Arthur: *Waves it off* Yeah, I had to explain that it was cause he had a crush on Gwen. *Mutters to himself* Maybe I should get him some flowers? 🤔

Leon: !? ⁉️❕❔

Arthur: My idiot Manservant got sick and I got him flowers so he'd feel better. 💐

Leon: Arthur, he drank poison for you and you went off to find the antidote. 😑

Arthur: So you think he liked it?

Leon: ... *Takes a deep breath* I'm sure he did Sire.

Arthur: 😁 See! I take care of my servants~

Arthur: *Breaks into Leon's room*

Leon: *Jumps in fright* ⁉️

Arthur: I can't believe him!

Leon: What is it? Is there an attack Sire? Something happened with the King?

Arthur: No! It's that insolent brat Merlin. He came back with some guy, singing him praises and wants me to make him a knight?!😤

Leon: *Thinking* Is this really worth barging into my chambers? 😮‍💨

Leon: Really, then what did you do? 😑

Arthur: Ha, had the guy cleaning the stables.

Leon: 🤦🏼‍♂️

Leon: *Watches as Arthur sits with goofy smile and practically hearts in his eyes*

Leon: Sire?

Arthur: Isn't it the loveliest day to go out for a picnic? 🥰

Leon: Yes Sire, it is indeed.

Arthur: *Nods* I had Merlin pack a picnic for me and the lady Sofia. Where gonna go later today.

Leon: *Confused and concerned* But don't you have a meeting with the King today?

Arthur: *Waves it off* It's fine, I have Merlin to cover for me!

Leon: *Thinking* Oh boy...

[LATER]

Merlin: *Coming back from the stocks* I'm gonna kill that cabbagehead! 😠💢

Arthur: *Walks in* Merlin~! 🥰💐🌈

Merlin: 🌩️🔪😠

Leon: *Makes a break for it*

Leon: *Walks by Morgana's room*

Morgana: Please Arthur he just a boy and he's sick! 🥺

Arthur: I'm sorry Morgana, but my father is looking for him and if he were to find out you harboured a druid, you'll not only get into trouble but so would Gwen and Merlin.

Morgana: *Angry* 😠

Merlin: *Steps in* Please Arthur, we can't let the King kill him. 🥺

Arthur: ... *Turns away* I saw nothing, heard nothing. I've got to look for the Druid boy because clearly he isn't here. *Leaves room without noticing Leon*

Morgana: Tsk, of course he'd listen to Merlin.

Gwen: *Giggles*

Merlin: Arthur has a good heart. Of course he'd help. *The face of loyalty and innocence*

Morgana: 😏 He followed his heart alright. I'll remember next time to have you around to convince him for some things.

Merlin: 🤨❔❔ What do you mean?

Leon: *Overhears and follows his princes lead and continues like nothing happened*

Leon: *Witnessed Merlin doing Sorcery, trying to burn the Black Knight and fails*

Leon: ... I saw nothing. Just tired eyes. Yup, nothing here. *Mutters* Not like Arthur would believe it, or even care.

Uther: Where is my son and ward?! 😠

Leon: They've decided on a friendly hunting trip, they'll be gone for several days.

Leon: *Internally* They went after Merlin to his home village to fight bandits alone. And I'm not gonna say anything because

1. You'll blame Merlin and send him away

2. Merlin's a sorcerer who you'll kill if you knew

3. If any of the above happens Arthur might likely kill you and that'll be a worse headache then his pinning.

Uther: Those brats!

Leon: *Thinking* I couldn't agree more.

[LATER]

Arthur: If I ever retire from royalty, I think I'd like to live as a farmer.

Leon: Ah, is that so?

Arthur: Yup. Of course, Merlin would be there to do the work.

Leon: 😓

Arthur: But I'll get him Cows and chickens, maybe even a horse. He has a soft spot for animals.

Arthur: Merlin's mad at me. He started talking politely to me Leon! Politely. As in using my titles instead of insults. Even avoids looking at me in the eyes. 😟

Leon: 😬 Oof, what did you do?

Arthur: He's angry at me after killing the Unicorn. 😟

Leon: ... That would do it.

Arthur: What do I do Leon!

Leon: Try giving him some space for now and maybe flowers, you've said Merlin likes those.

Arthur: Alright!

[LATER]

Arthur: Merlin's not avoiding me anymore. 😊

Leon: Great to hear, what happened?

Arthur: We faced off the sorcerer of the Unicorns and I drank fake poison before Merlin could.

Leon: ... What?! 😱

Arthur: It's fine. Merlin's still mad about that but now he insults me about my intellect being the size of a peanut. ☺️🌈✨

Leon: I'm almost inclined to agree with him Sire.

Leon: *Spots Merlin and follows him to the Isles*

Nimueh: For a life to be saved, another life must be forfeited.

Merlin: He's my friend. I'd gladly give my life for him.

Leon: *Thinking* God these two are cut by the same cloth. I'm gonna go fully grey by 30.

[LATER]

Arthur: 🥰 Merlin said the most weirdest thing. He said he'd serve me for the rest of his life. That he was happy to be with me. ❤️🥰

Leon: *Bore witness to Merlins power and dedication to his loved ones*

Leon: He cares for you Sire. Would hardly leave your side if he didn't need to help Gaius make your cure.

Arthur: ☺️ Don't tell Merlin this, but I think Merlin's my best friend.

Leon: *Internally swears on his honor as a knight to support Merlin however he could and potentially get his prince to be less of an idiot. Hopefully*

Merlin: *Sneezes*

Gaius: You alright my boy?

Merlin: *Sniffs and shurgs* I'm alright.

Gaius: Hmm, some say that when you sneezing abruptly, it's because someone is talking about you at the moment.

Merlin: Ugh, probably Arthur talking about all the chores he has in stored for me. 😮‍💨

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hi! Happy holidays! I have a fic idea I’d like to request. one where Mattheo is winning reader over because he likes her, but despite never letting his feelings known, Theo has been in love with her since second year 🥺 angsty but still with a happy ending perhaps? thank you love! <3

Me or Him

Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty, mentions of drinking and reader being drunk, gender neutral

If someone had told you in your first year that two of your best friends both had feelings for you, you’d have laughed. They were friends, some of your closest friends, nothing more. Right? They were hot, you couldn’t exactly deny that. And they were funny and nice and maybe if you weren’t so close, you might’ve had a crush on them, because you 100% did not have one now. You definitely didn’t notice them growing into their bodies and getting muscles from quidditch. You, for sure, never noticed the way they seemed a bit more touchy with you either and how your body reacted. Totally didn’t notice any of that.

And now, you were at one of the infamous Slytherin parties, just sipping on a drink somewhere among the crowd.

“Ah, there you are. Been looking for you.” A pair of hands grabbed your hips from behind as the voice spoke near your ear just loud enough to hear above the music. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

“Seems like I didn’t hide well enough if you found me.” You said, turning your head enough to look at Mattheo.

“I can always find you. I can feel the beauty and sweetness radiating off of you before I can even see you.” He said with that stupid smile he always wore around you.

You roll your eyes but smile at his words. “That’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?”

“You liked it though, didn’t you? It works, huh?” He said, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. “Come dance with me.” He said as he started leading you over to where everyone else was dancing.

“You’re not even gonna ask nicely?”

“Please, dance with me, (Y/N).” He turned you around to face him now, still leading you as you walked backwards.

“I even got a ‘please’. How cute.” You smiled back at him.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

“Because I didn’t say ‘no’.”

“So, that’s a ‘yes’.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Mattheo said with a small chuckle.

And while all that was happening, Theo was watching this whole interaction not too far away. He couldn’t hear what you two were saying, but he saw the way Mattheo was touching you and the smile on your face and how you let him lead you to dance. Not even mentioning watching you two dance, how your bodies were touching. Merlin, Theo was sick.

He’s had feelings for you since…as long as he could remember. Maybe since he met you. You two just clicked and you were so nice to him and you were so cute. And those feelings only grew over the years. At this point, he could confidently say he was in love with you. The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself, your personality, your jokes and teasing, just you. He loved it all. He was just too scared to say anything. How could he tell the person he’s loved for years that he has feelings and possibly be rejected. He’d rather be by your side as friends than possibly never have you in his life. But that sentiment was quickly dying at every touch and flirt that Mattheo shared with you. 

Why did his best friend have to like you too? He’s heard Mattheo talk about you, talking about how good you looked, how cute you were when you spoke about something you liked, how he enjoyed teasing you. And it took everything in Theo not to hit Mattheo in the face. Because, how would that be fair when Theo never expressed even liking you in the first place?

But now, you were as stunning as always, dancing with his best friend instead of him and he wished it was him. He longed for you to look at him like that, to make you smile like that. He had to fight every urge to go over there and push Mattheo off of you. It wouldn’t be right. You looked happy and that was his best friend.

He just watched as you two danced and laughed for a while before you excused yourself. Theo took notice of how drunk you were as you nearly stumbled as you walked away. He quickly came over to you, wrapping an arm around you to steady you.

“Easy there.” He said, helping you walk.

“Theo! I was wondering where you were.” You said, giving him a bright smile that he adored.

“I’ve been around.” He said, giving you a smile in return. “You’re very drunk, sweetheart.”

“No.” You said, dragging out the word. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should get you back to your dorm.” His smile never dropped, he found you adorable like this, but he was also concerned you were gonna get yourself hurt.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, leaning your head on him.

“Of course.”

“Yay! Maybe we could have a sleepover.” You said cheerfully.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He laughed, guiding you towards your dorm.

You rambled to him about anything as he walked you both to your dorm, little ‘mhm’s and ‘yeah’s leaving his mouth to let you know he’s listening. He got you in your dorm and sat you down on your bed, kneeling down to help you get your shoes off when you suddenly brought Mattheo up.

“And then Mattheo and I danced and it was a lot of fun.” You spoke so happily, not even knowing how annoyed Theo was with Mattheo.

“Yeah, sure sounds like it.” He huffed, pulling one of your shoes off and setting it aside.

“What? Why do you sound annoyed now?” You asked, looking down at him with a small frown.

“I’m not. I’m fine. You had fun with Mattheo, why would that make me mad?” He asked, but was clearly annoyed. Even in your drunken state, you could tell.

“I don’t know. You just sound mad.”

“Well, I’m not.” He said a lot louder than intended as he got the other shoe off and placed it with the other one.

“Theo…”

“It’s fine. I’m-You had a great time with one of our friends. My best friend. It’s fine.”

“Yeah,we just danced and-”

“Do you like him?”

“What?”

“Do you like Mattheo, (Y/N)?” He asked, finally standing up and looking at you.

“I don’t understand, why are you-”

“Please, just answer me.”

“I don’t know.” You said, annoyed with his attitude.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know. Okay? He’s sweet and nice and flirty but I haven’t exactly thought about him in that way.”

“You haven’t?”

“It’s just fun. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth.”

“That is the truth!”

“You can just tell me if you like him.”

“I don’t!”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I love you!” He blurted out. And now it was out in the open. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t try to correct himself. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair, turning his head to avoid looking at you as the silence filled the room. It was a good 10 seconds of silence, but it felt like an hour to Theo, not knowing your response.

“You do?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.” It was all he could manage to say in his embarrassment.

“How long?”

He swallowed, still looking away from you. “A while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was still so quiet and soft.

Theo scoffed, finally looking at you. “Why would I when you and Mattheo were all over each other?”

“Because I’d pick you over him any day.”

That sentence made him speechless and he just stared at you in disbelief.

“I like you. If I’m not making myself clear enough.” You spoke up when he didn’t reply after a moment.

“But Mattheo-”

“Is not you.”

He swallowed again, this was a little overwhelming for him. “Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” He finally got out in a rush and it made you giggle.

“Only if you don’t give me that same attitude from a few minutes ago.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “That’s a fair condition.”

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@delulugirl2000 @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore @sweet-afternoon

@ilovehpb0ys @satosugu4-ever @mattiesgirl @ur-local-wizard

@alwayslatetothefandoms @satosugu4-ever @whydoireadanymore @dustie-faerie

@shaquilles-0atmeal @gillyweeds @pluto-9456

@hereticdance @cindyss @saint-marvel

@simpforromance @yours-truly-5 @kenjikishimotoswifey @fallingblackveils @simpforromance

@strxwberri-s @nickirae @esmerai-artemis @blu3b3rrymuff1ns @yootvi

@roseofsharron438 @abeoavita @rafesba @ter-luer

[moth-time]

THIS THOUGH seizes this chance to ramble about the dragon with both of my grubby little hands

Look, my not-so-pet theory is that the dragon is gleefully lying through his teeth the entire show, not even that well, and that Merlin falls for it hook, line and sinker because he is desperate for guidance and then, at some point, in too deep to go back. I both love it and hate it, because it reframes a LOT of the story drastically and also uuuh doesn't give you much hope for Arthur's return, but also it makes so much sense.

The dragon, over the course of the entire show, paints himself as the mouthpiece of destiny. Destiny, destiny, destiny, that's his whole thing, that Arthur will save Albion and return magic to the land, that Merlin will be his guide and his servant, etc etc. Merlin just has to do… all the things the dragon says, and trust him, and not trust… basically anyone who would have been his friend. He alienates Merlin from people who also have magic, keeps him isolated, feeds his paranoia, and generally guides Merlin down a path of self-destruction and severe dependency on Arthur, who becomes his entire everything but also so great and big and untouchable that Merlin ends up self-sabotaging because he cares more about Arthur than about magic.

Many, many of the things that where 'destined to happen', especially in regards to magic (Uther's death, Morgana's betrayal, Mordred's betrayal) happen because the dragon fed Merlin's paranoia and prevented him from connecting to people. Many of the things the dragon said would happen only happen because he put them in motion. They happen because Merlin knows of them and tries to prevent them.

We don't know what the dragon's actual long-term goal is, and seeing as he is an extremely long-lived magical fae creature we can only guess. Humans are pretty insignificant to him, in the grand scheme of things, though they are fun to play with. He seems quite happy with the outcome, which he had a very active role in, so it seems things went the way he wanted.

It's not the way Merlin wanted. It was never what Merlin wanted. But the dragon doesn't care about that.

(in all fairness, he's not even particularly subtle about it. Merlin is just really desperate for guidance, and put his trust in the wrong lizard.)

the dragon really pulled one last "my job here is done" "but you didn't do anything" here. classic dragon

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Pride ! Something Merlin ? Thanks !

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Merlin walks in to see Arthur arguing with a dark haired, pale woman and he's pretty sure being alone with a girl in his bedroom is breaking some sort of rule of propriety. Although, he is a noble, and supposedly they do that a lot.

"Merlin!" Arthur says, before he can do something smart like backing away slowly. "Tell Morgana she's an idiot."

Ah. He hopes neither of them notice the blood draining from his face.

This is the apprentice that he's been trying so hard to avoid. How well can she sense magic? Does she already know what he is? Is it too late?

"I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot," she says sharply. "Overhauling a border town like that when you know it will incite King Uther-"

"Yes, a border town, meaning it's in our kingdom and not his," Arthur argues. "My father is lord here and if I want to invest in peasants and depleted soil that's my own concern."

"Are you talking about Ealdor?" he asks, the concern enough to push through his fear. "What do you mean incite?"

Morgana says, "It means to anger or enrage-"

"He knows what it means," Arthur interrupts. "Look, we already have poor family relations as it is, considering what happened with my aunt and cousin. Uther has gone to considerable effort to ignore us and some tilling isn't going to change that. And if it does, I'm certainly not going to arm the peasants!"

Merlin really, really wishes he'd been here for the beginning of this fight.

"You'll what?" she sneers. "Lead your knights there to defend them?"

Arthur's eyebrows go to his forehead and he spreads his hands. "Yes? Obviously? I've commanded before."

She's taken aback. "They're just peasants," she says, but cautiously, eyes sharp.

"You forgot an important word there," Arthur says. "They're my peasants. If Uther, or anyone, wants to mess with Ealdor, they're going to have to go through me first."

Oh.

It's just another version of noble greed, Merlin tells himself sternly, but that doesn't stop his eyes from burning.

[saladscream]

Merlin’s legs are ludicrous.

Bewildering.

Improbable.

They do not function the way legs should. Arthur is adamant about that. Merlin’s legs are long and lanky and laughable. They lend him a sort of fearless, thoughtless, coltish gait that is uniquely Merlin.

They’re also bendy in a manner that simply doesn’t belong on a full-grown, self-respecting adult. The way the man crouches at the campfire or sits in the grand staircase or curls up in a window seat is decidedly childlike and artless. And yet there’s something about it all, some impossible, raw grace that makes Arthur’s throat feel just a little warm and tight when he sees the long, lithe limbs folded into unlikely (and some might be tempted to say unseemly) positions.

Not that he could hold anything against Merlin’s legs, for these are good legs, however classically inelegant they might be. They’re indefatigable legs, for one thing. Arthur will candidly admit that Merlin can run like a rabbit when properly motivated. A rabbit that would sometimes trip up over roots or tufts of grass, of course. But still, the man can run fast and for a long time, which is always an appreciable skill.

The other thing about them… Well, there is no other thing, really. Arthur has never seen them bare, contrary to the manservant’s other body parts that he feels free to pass a judgement on. He has never caught the long limbs outside of their ever-tired trousers, so he cannot pronounce himself further than to say that they’re strange legs. Long strange legs.

Long strange legs that seem rather hardy.

And flexible.

As Merlin sits idly on a low wall while the knights horse around, Arthur cannot take his eyes off of the man’s posture: the soles of his shapeless boots are pressed flat on the side of the wall, spread thighs jutting out and knees wide apart. There’s something almost indecent to it. Something obscenely inviting. It makes Arthur’s breath feel a little raspy and his middle… coiled for action. The perfect height of that wall is what makes the tempting pose so compelling, probably. Arthur can actually see himself slotting perfectly into place, his hands first landing on the knees and then slowly riding up the outer thighs until they find their rightful place on those narrow hips. That would lead him to being closer to Merlin than he’s ever been in all the years they’re lived and breathed and fought together. Messily enmeshed. Terribly entangled. Ideally entwined. Sometimes…

Arthur is jolted out of his criminal musings when a passing Gwaine thwaps the waterskin out of Merlin’s inattentive hands. It splashes into a nearby stone trough, much to the knight’s amusement. Merlin tsks, shakes his head at the immaturity and murmurs something unflattering – then rolls up one of his sleeves to fish the thing out of the water.

Ah yes, Arthur thinks as the usual guilty tingle flutters down his spine.

The forearms.

Tagged: @miyriu @neptunesyellowsands @dollopole @shuukichan @merlininthedogpark @kintsugikid-moonysversion @toomanyfanficsbruh

1 - Merlin's eyes

2 - Merlin's lips

3 - Merlin's hands

4 - Merlin's throat

5 - Merlin's hair

6 - Merlin's ears

7 - Merlin's legs

8 - Merlin's forearms

9 - Merlin's chest

10 - Merlin's penis

11 - Merlin's arse

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Been thinking about this for a while, but how about a scenario where reader is a muggle-born from a wealthy family who care much about their public perception. They ask her to bring Sebastian over for dinner because they wanted to meet the guy she keeps mentioning in her letters (she may not say it outright but they get the idea they’re dating) only to find out that he is in fact, poor, an orphan, and potentially not to the gentlemanly standard they expected for their daughter. (he tried this time to act good. He swears) How this ends can go one of many ways.

I don’t know if this is too complicated or fully formed as an idea but I think the drama could be fun

Enough | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I've never written anything quite like this but AH the drama was chef's kiss! I hope you love it <3

Words: ~10,400

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama, Fluff, Romance

The morning started the way most mornings did—early. The Great Hall was awash with the usual clatter of silverware and the soft hum of conversation, students huddling over their breakfasts, discussing the latest Quidditch scores, impending exams, or whatever gossip had surfaced overnight. You had been sipping on tea, a half-buttered slice of toast on your plate as you flipped absentmindedly through a letter from home, the familiar script of your mother’s handwriting blurring before your eyes.

That is, until you hit the second paragraph.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And then you reread it, hoping you had misunderstood.

"We were intrigued by this young man you’ve been spending time with, darling. You’ve mentioned him in nearly every letter for months now, and it sounds like he’s been quite an influence on you. Your father and I agree it’s high time we meet him properly—this Sebastian fellow. What a charming name! Please invite him to dinner over Easter holiday. We’re so looking forward to putting a face to the name and getting to know the young man you’re so fond of."

Your heart stopped. Your stomach lurched.

Sebastian.

You’d written about him often, sure. He was your best friend, wasn’t he? Or, at least, that’s what you told yourself to avoid admitting the truth. And yes, you’d spoken of him in glowing terms—how could you not? But your parents had interpreted it all so horribly wrong.

Courting? Meeting him? Easter dinner?

The idea of parading Sebastian in front of your parents, of them scrutinizing him, made your hands tremble. Not because you thought poorly of him—Merlin, no. You thought the world of him, had thought the world of him since the fifth year. It was your parents. Their expectations. Their... standards.

You could hear their voices already: "He doesn’t come from a respectable family. What are his prospects? What on earth does he think he could offer you?"

The clatter of a fork on the floor startled you back to the present. You hastily folded the letter and shoved it into your bag, breathing deeply as you tried to collect yourself. Panic simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

You glanced across the Hall to the Slytherin table, where Sebastian sat, as he often did, leaning back with an infuriating sort of confidence that only he could pull off. He was laughing at something Garreth Weasley said, his grin sharp, his dark hair a mess that somehow still suited him perfectly. You felt your chest tighten, both with fondness and sheer, unbridled terror.

You were in love with him, of course, but that hardly mattered now. You and Sebastian weren’t courting. You weren’t even close to broaching that topic. He had no idea how you felt, and you certainly weren’t about to admit it under these circumstances.

And yet, the prospect of defying your parents—ignoring their request—felt equally impossible. Their disapproval carried a weight you’d been trying to outrun your entire life, and the idea of disappointing them made your stomach churn.

You were trapped. Caught between an impossible expectation and a boy who didn’t even know he held your heart. And now, you had to somehow tell him about this invitation—a dinner he’d have no real reason to accept.

You made your way over to the Slytherin table, your palms sweaty as you clenched the strap of your bag. Sebastian caught sight of you before you even reached him, his grin widening as he straightened in his seat. His brown eyes narrowed on you—your nerves must have been written all over your face.

“What’s got you looking like that?” he asked, scooting over to make room for you as if he expected you to sit. He took a bite of his toast, completely at ease, while you hovered awkwardly beside him.

“I need to talk to you,” you blurted, your voice a little too high-pitched for your liking. “Alone.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but didn’t push. “Alright.” He stood, brushing crumbs from his hands, and slung his bag over one shoulder before nodding toward the doors. "Ladies first."

The two of you walked out of the Great Hall in silence, the weight of your impending confession settling heavily in your chest. Sebastian matched your pace, his usual confidence softened by curiosity as he shot occasional glances your way.

Once you reached the empty corridor just outside, you stopped, turning to face him. He leaned casually against the stone wall, his arms crossed, waiting for you to speak.

“Well?” he prompted, his tone light. “What’s this about?"

You inhaled sharply, clutching the strap of your bag as if it might ground you. “I got a letter from my parents this morning.”

“Ah,” he said knowingly, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Let me guess—another lecture about how you’re tarnishing the family name by being at Hogwarts instead of some fancy Muggle school?”

You frowned. “No, not this time. This is... different.”

That seemed to catch his attention. His smirk faded, replaced by a slight furrow of concern. “Alright, what’s it this time?”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. How were you supposed to explain this? It felt ridiculous, mortifying, and yet you couldn’t avoid it. You had to tell him.

“They...” You exhaled shakily. “They want to meet you.”

Sebastian blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” You looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “They think we’re... courting.”

For a moment, there was only silence. You risked a glance at him and found him staring at you, his mouth slightly open as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“They what?” he finally managed, his voice rising just slightly.

“They think we’re courting!” you repeated, your face burning. “I didn’t say we were! I just... I mentioned you in my letters—your name might’ve come up a few times—and apparently, they got the wrong idea.”

Sebastian stared at you for another second before his lips twitched. Then, to your horror, he burst out laughing.

“This isn’t funny!” you hissed, glaring at him. “Sebastian, they’ve invited you to dinner over Easter holiday. They want to meet you, and they’re going to expect you to—” You cut yourself off, your heart pounding as you tried to gather your thoughts. “They’ll expect you to act a certain way, to be someone you’re not.”

“Why? Would they think I’m not up to snuff for their perfect daughter?” he asked, his grin still infuriatingly wide. “You make me sound like some street rat.”

“Because to them, you might as well be!” you snapped, then immediately regretted your words. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, your voice softening. “It’s just... they’re very particular. They have high standards, and they’ll be looking for reasons to disapprove of you.”

Sebastian’s grin faltered, his expression hardening just a fraction. “So, what? You don’t want me to go?”

“It's not that," you insisted, shaking your head. "I just… I don’t want to put you in that position.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. Then, to your surprise, he shrugged. “Alright.”

Your eyes widened. “Alright what?”

“I’ll go,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sebastian, you don’t understand,” you said desperately. “This isn’t some casual dinner. They’ll judge everything about you—your clothes, your manners, your background. And if they don’t think you’re good enough—”

“They’ll what? Disown you?” He smirked, though his tone was softer than usual. “Come on, I’ve faced cursed tombs and Dark wizards. I think I can handle a couple of uptight Muggles.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all—or maybe he was, in his own strange way.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” you said weakly.

“Well, lucky for you, I do,” he said, his confidence unwavering. “Tell your parents I’ll be there. And don’t worry—I’ll even wear my best shirt.”

You sighed, and Sebastian opened his mouth to say something else, probably another snarky remark, but you grabbed his wrist and tugged him along before he could. “Come on. We're going to the library."

He resisted slightly, his boots scuffing against the stone floor as he dragged his feet. “The library? Now? I wasn’t even finished with breakfast!”

“You’ll survive,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder to see him smirking again.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, letting you lead him anyway. “I was in the middle of a very important debate with Garreth about whether treacle tart or cauldron cakes are the superior dessert.”

You huffed, ignoring him as you hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time. The sooner you found Ominis, the sooner you could start sorting out the absolute mess that was your life.

“Why the library?” Sebastian asked after a moment, though he didn’t sound all that curious. He was just enjoying making you squirm. “If this is about your parents, shouldn’t you be writing them a letter to tell them how incredibly lucky they are to have me gracing their dinner table?”

You ignored that, your face burning. “We need Ominis.”

“Of course we do,” Sebastian said dryly. “Can’t have a proper crisis without Ominis.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed open the library doors. The room was mostly empty this early in the morning, the usual quiet amplified by the faint rustle of pages turning in the far corner. Ominis was easy to spot—or rather, his familiar posture was. He was seated at his usual table near the enchanted globe, his wand resting lightly in his hand as he read.

“Ominis,” you called softly, leading Sebastian toward him. “We need your help.”

The blonde lifted his head at the sound of your voice, his expression calm but curious. “And good morning to you, too,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “What sort of trouble are we in this time?”

Sebastian dropped into the chair across from him, looking far too relaxed for someone about to be dragged into a week of preparations. “Her parents think we’re courting,” he said bluntly, leaning back in his chair with a smirk.

Ominis’ brow furrowed. “They what?”

“They think we’re courting,” you repeated, sitting beside him and burying your face in your hands. “And they’ve invited him to dinner to... meet him.”

Ominis turned his attention to Sebastian, who looked far too relaxed given the situation. “And you agreed to this? Willingly?”

Sebastian shrugged, smirking. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

“And here I thought I’d be spending my week in peace,” Ominis muttered. “Fine. I’ll help you prepare. But don’t expect miracles.”

As expected, the days that followed were, quite frankly, exhausting. Between classes, Quidditch practice, and your usual routines, you and Ominis dedicated every spare moment to preparing Sebastian for the upcoming dinner.

It started with the basics. Ominis took the lead on etiquette lessons, drilling Sebastian on everything from proper table manners to the art of polite conversation. He even went as far as to mimic the kind of snide remarks Sebastian might encounter, forcing him to practice responding without sarcasm—a monumental task, to say the least.

“Let’s try again,” Ominis said one evening in the Undercroft, his tone patient but firm. “I’ll be her father, and you’ll be... well, you. He asks, ‘What are your intentions with my daughter?’ Go.”

Sebastian groaned, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “We’ve done this a hundred times, Ominis.”

“And we’ll do it a hundred more if that’s what it takes,” Ominis replied sharply, tapping his wand against his palm. “Now, try again.”

Meanwhile, you took charge of teaching him about Muggle traditions and customs, including the subtle differences he might not have noticed otherwise. You explained everything from the layout of a formal dinner to the kind of small talk he could expect. It was tedious work, but Sebastian humored you, though he often did so with a grin that suggested he found the whole ordeal amusing.

The real challenge came when Ominis insisted on taking Sebastian to Hogsmeade to purchase a proper suit.

“This is ridiculous,” Sebastian grumbled as Ominis guided him through racks of tailored jackets and waistcoats. “I already have clothes.”

“Your duelling robes aren’t enough,” Ominis replied, his tone brooking no argument. “You need to look the part. Now hold still.”

You stood nearby, hiding a smile as Ominis measured Sebastian with his wand, his expression the epitome of focus. Despite Sebastian’s complaints, the results were worth it. When he stepped out of the fitting room in a sleek black suit with a crisp white shirt, you were momentarily stunned.

“Well?” he asked, spreading his arms and spinning once for effect. “Do I pass inspection?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “You’ll do.”

Ominis smirked knowingly. “You look presentable. Let’s hope your behavior matches.”

By the end of the week, Sebastian had begrudgingly mastered the basics. He could navigate a formal dinner, hold polite conversation, and even manage a few compliments without sounding insincere. Whether or not it would be enough to win over your parents remained to be seen, but for now, it was the best you could hope for.

On the evening of the dinner, you stood in your dormitory, staring at your reflection in the mirror with growing unease. Your usual confidence felt oddly absent as you adjusted the neckline of your dress; a light blue gown from Gladrags, soft and elegant, flowing like water down to your ankles, the color reminiscent of a clear spring sky.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands down the front of your skirt, grabbed your shawl, and headed out. The castle felt oddly quiet as you made your way to the appointed meeting place near the Floo. 5:30 sharp. You were certain you’d be the first to arrive—Sebastian had a habit of being fashionably late, after all—but as you turned the corner, you stopped short.

He was already there.

He stood near the fireplace, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his dark hair neatly combed for once. He wore the suit Ominis had picked out for him—black with a crisp white shirt—and his tie, much to your surprise, was light blue, perfectly matching your gown. The sight of it made your breath hitch.

For a moment, you just stared, taking in the way the tailored jacket fit him, the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He looked... different. Polished. But there was still something so unmistakably Sebastian about him, from the way his brow furrowed slightly in thought to the nervous energy in his movements.

...Nervous?

Sebastian Sallow, the boy who faced cursed tombs and duels with a smirk, who thrived in chaos and relished a challenge, was pacing slightly as he waited for you. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, and he glanced at the clock above the fireplace every few seconds.

The sight made your chest ache and your heart flutter all at once.

“You were early,” you said softly, stepping closer.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his brown eyes widening slightly as he took you in. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze sweeping over your gown, your carefully chosen jewelry, and finally settling on your face.

“And you're right on time” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “You look—” He stopped, his words catching. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that wasn’t teasing or cocky but genuine. “You look beautiful.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, and you clasped your hands together to keep from fidgeting. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He grinned at that, some of his usual confidence returning. “Well, if I’m going to face the gauntlet, I might as well dress the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the soft crackle of the torches filling the silence. There was a weight to the air between you, a sense of anticipation that neither of you seemed quite willing to break.

Finally, Sebastian stepped closer, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You hesitated for only a second before slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow. His warmth was steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as the nerves in your chest threatened to bubble over.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said with a weak smile.

Sebastian smirked, though the slight tightness in his jaw told you he wasn’t as calm as he was pretending to be. “Don’t worry,” he said as he reached for the Floo powder. “I’ve got this.”

He grabbed an adequate amount, and with one last glance your way, Sebastian guided you both into the Floo.

The swirling green flames spat you out onto the gravel drive of your family’s manor, the grand estate standing tall against the backdrop of the darkening sky. The familiar sight made your stomach churn with nerves.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, glancing up at the imposing structure. “So, this is home, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, half-defensive, half-curious.

He shrugged, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. “It suits you. Polished. Impressive. Maybe a little intimidating.”

You snorted softly. “Intimidating, really?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a grin. “You should see yourself when you’re angry."

You rolled your eyes, but his playful banter did little to ease your nerves. The thought of what waited inside—your parents, their judgment, the impossible expectations—made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

Sebastian must have noticed, because his grin softened, and he stepped closer, his voice low. “Hey. You’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll behave. Promise.”

You gave him a weak smile, wishing you could believe him. “You’ll need to do more than behave.”

“Then I’ll dazzle them,” he said with a wink, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his own unease. “Shall we?”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart pounding as you stared up at the towering manor. Then you took a deep breath, slipped your hand into the crook of his arm, and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, you climbed the stone steps to the front door, the sound of your heels echoing in the stillness. Sebastian reached for the brass knocker but paused, glancing at you one last time. “Ready?”

No. Not even close. But you nodded anyway.

The knocker fell with a heavy thud, and within seconds, the door swung open. A butler stood in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral as he looked the two of you over. “Welcome home, Miss,” he said with a slight bow before stepping aside. “Your parents are expecting you in the drawing room.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, stepping inside with Sebastian at your side.

The manor was just as you remembered it—pristine and impossibly grand, every detail designed to impress. The faint hum of conversation drifted from the drawing room, mingling with the crackle of a fire. Your nerves tightened with each step, but Sebastian walked confidently beside you, his arm steady under your hand.

As you approached the drawing room door, your mother’s voice carried through, clear and sharp as she spoke to your father. “Do try to make a good impression, darling.”

You froze for a split second, glancing at Sebastian. He caught your eye, offering a small smile that was more reassuring than cocky this time.

With one last breath, you stepped into the room, the weight of the evening settling firmly on your shoulders.

This was it.

The drawing room was as stately as ever, bathed in the warm glow of a crystal chandelier and the flicker of firelight dancing across polished wood paneling. Your parents sat on the velvet settee near the hearth, the picture of poise and elegance. Your mother, ever the perfectionist, smoothed invisible creases from her gown as she glanced up. Your father, a tall man with a commanding presence, stood as you entered, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with quiet scrutiny.

“Darling,” your mother greeted, her tone light but laced with expectation. She rose gracefully, her gaze flickering to Sebastian. “And this must be Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian straightened, his easy confidence slipping into something more formal as he stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly, his movements smooth and deliberate. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he said, his voice steady and polite. "And please, call me Sebastian."

Your mother’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The pleasure is ours,” she said, her tone cool but courteous. “Do come in and sit.”

Sebastian glanced at you, waiting for you to move first. You gave him a slight nod, releasing his arm as you both crossed the room. The chairs arranged across from your parents suddenly felt much too far apart, but Sebastian didn’t hesitate. He sat with perfect posture, his hands resting loosely on his knees, his expression calm.

You took the seat beside him, wishing you could shrink into it. Your mother’s sharp gaze swept over Sebastian, taking in every detail of his appearance—his perfectly tailored suit, his neatly combed hair, the faintest hint of tension in his jaw.

She folded her hands in her lap, her poised smile never faltering. "So, Sebastian," she began, her tone deceptively pleasant. "Tell us. How did the two of you meet?"

Sebastian turned to you with an easy smile. "We met during Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said. "My fifth year at Hogwarts—her first. Professor Hecat paired us for a duel."

Your father arched a brow. "A duel?"

Sebastian’s smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "Yes, sir. I was confident I’d win."

"And?" your mother prompted, her eyes glinting with curiosity.

Sebastian glanced at you, and though his expression was perfectly neutral, you caught the amusement dancing behind his eyes. "I lost," he admitted, the words coming smoothly, without a hint of shame. "Rather spectacularly, if I’m being honest."

Your mother’s lips pressed together, but she nodded as if accepting the explanation. "I see. And tell me, Sebastian, what do you do in your spare time?"

Sebastian exhaled lightly, as if considering his words carefully. "I enjoy dueling. I still train regularly—it keeps me sharp. I also read quite a bit, mostly historical accounts of magical warfare, defensive strategy, things of that nature."

"Interesting." Your mother tilted her head. “And tell us, Sebastian, where is your family from?”

You adjusted in your seat, hands smoothing over your dress in a futile attempt to steady yourself. This was exactly what you had expected—no lighthearted conversation, no genuine warmth, just the relentless, calculated prodding of your parents. Every question, though cloaked in civility, was a test. A careful dissection. They weren’t getting to know Sebastian; they were measuring him, scrutinizing every word, every movement, silently deciding whether he was worthy of the world they had so meticulously crafted.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t so much as flinch. His expression remained composed, though you didn’t miss the way his fingers curled slightly against his knee before relaxing again.

“I grew up in the Scottish Highlands, not far from Iverness,” he said smoothly. “My family lived there for generations.”

Your father leaned forward slightly, his expression still unreadable. “And what do your parents do?”

The air grew heavier. This was one question you’d been dreading, the one that no amount of preparation could soften. You risked a glance at Sebastian, your heart hammering in your chest.

“They were Professors, however my parents passed away when I was young,” Sebastian said, his voice steady. “It’s just my sister and I now."

There was a brief pause, the kind that stretched just long enough to be uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” your mother said at last, though the words felt hollow.

Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He was holding his own, but this wasn’t a conversation—it was an examination. And it was only going to get worse.

You could feel Sebastian’s gaze flick toward you, just for a moment, as if checking in. Making sure you were okay.

You weren’t.

Your father continued on, clearly not ready to let the conversation drift into safer waters. “And your sister?” he asked, his tone polite but probing. “What does she do?”

“Anne’s focus has been on her health in recent years,” Sebastian said carefully. “She’s unwell.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, the weight of them sinking into the polished wood and embroidered silk of the drawing room. You knew your parents well enough to recognize the flicker of calculation behind your father’s eyes, the way your mother’s fingers twitched as she reached for her teacup, as if trying to mask the direction of her thoughts.

No parents. An ill sister. No meaningful connections to high society.

To them, it meant one thing: nothing to offer.

You clenched your hands in your lap, nails pressing into your palms as you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. It was maddening, sitting here while they dissected him like this, peeling him apart with careful, polite words, as they decided whether he was worth your time. As if he hadn’t already proven himself a hundred times over to you.

“Sebastian,” your mother said, breaking the brief silence, “our daughter speaks very highly of you. She’s mentioned your... intelligence and resourcefulness.”

Sebastian turned his gaze to your mother, his expression unreadable. He didn’t preen under the supposed compliment, nor did he flinch at the underlying weight of her words. Instead, he simply waited, letting her continue, as if he knew there was more to it.

Your mother took a delicate sip of her tea, the fine china barely making a sound as she set it back on the saucer. “I do hope she’s not exaggerating.”

Sebastian smiled—just a flicker of one, polite but unreadable. “I suppose that depends on what she’s said," he glanced at you briefly before continuing. “But if I’ve earned even half the praise she’s given me, I’d say I’m doing quite well.”

Your mother tilted her head, her smile tightening. “And what are your ambitions, Mr. Sallow? What do you hope to achieve?”

The question made your stomach tighten. They weren’t interested in him as a person. They were interested in whether he was worth investing in.

Sebastian, however, didn’t so much as blink. He exhaled softly, as if considering his words, then tilted his head slightly.

"I’ve always been drawn to subjects that require critical thinking—Defense Against the Dark Arts, for example," he said, his voice calm but deliberate. "My main considerations have been Cursebreaking or perhaps training to become an Auror."

Your father cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “Cursebreaking and… Auror?” His tone was polite but clipped, as though he was carefully parsing the unfamiliar terms. "What would such professions look like?"

“Yes, sir,” Sebastian replied carefully. “Cursebreaking involves uncovering and disarming magical traps, often tied to ancient artifacts or ruins. Akin to... archeology. And Aurors are... the magical equivalent of a detective, sir."

Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, her hands folding neatly in her lap. “Quite dangerous,” she said, her tone clipped as her sharp gaze flicked toward you for a moment before returning to Sebastian. “Do you find yourself drawn to danger, Mr. Sallow?”

“Not for its own sake, no,” he replied smoothly.

His response almost had you laughing—because if there was one thing Sebastian Sallow was drawn to, it was danger. You pressed your lips together tightly, trying to stifle the smile threatening to break through, but it was too late. Your amusement must have flickered across your face because your mother’s sharp eyes immediately snapped to you.

“And what, may I ask, is so amusing, darling?” she said, her tone as smooth as silk but edged with curiosity. Her gaze pinned you to your seat like a hawk spotting prey, and you froze, your mind scrambling for an excuse.

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to you, and for a brief second, you caught the faintest glimmer of a amusement in his eyes. But before you could respond, a knock at the drawing room door broke the tension.

The butler stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Dinner is served, everyone.”

Relief flooded through you so quickly you nearly sagged in your chair. Your mother nodded gracefully, rising from her seat with all the elegance of a queen. “Shall we?” she said, gesturing toward the dining room.

You wasted no time in standing, brushing down your dress as you avoided your mother’s lingering gaze. Sebastian rose smoothly beside you, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he offered his arm again. You hesitated for only a moment before taking it, his steady warmth grounding you as you followed your parents out of the room.

As you walked, you leaned in slightly, keeping your voice low. "It's unnerving how talented you are at lying."

Sebastian glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Who says I lied?"

You snorted softly. "You’d dive headfirst into a cursed tomb if someone dared you.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice barely audible as he replied, “Not if it’s a boring tomb.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh as the two of you entered the dining room. It was grand, of course—your family didn’t do anything halfway. The long table was set with gleaming silverware and crystal glasses, a centerpiece of fresh flowers and candles casting a soft glow over the room.

Your father took his seat at the head of the table, your mother settling in beside him with a practiced grace. You and Sebastian were directed to the seats opposite them, the distance between you making the table feel even more intimidating.

The first course—a delicate arrangement of roasted quail and glazed vegetables—was placed before you, the table settling into a brief silence as your parents inspected the presentation with the same scrutiny they applied to everything else. You glanced at Sebastian, your heart sinking slightly as you noticed the slightest flicker of uncertainty in his movements.

He picked up a fork, pausing for just a moment too long as he seemed to second-guess whether it was the correct one. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. He began to cut into the dish with the smaller dessert fork, and while it wasn’t glaringly obvious, it was enough to catch your mother’s sharp eyes.

“Not quite that one, Sebastian,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet but laced with condescension. “The proper fork for the main course is the one on your left.”

Sebastian froze for the briefest moment before smoothly setting the fork down and picking up the correct one. “Thank you for the clarification,” he said evenly.

Your mother smiled thinly, her eyes gleaming with something that made your stomach turn. “It can be so difficult to keep track of these things when one isn’t accustomed to formal settings.”

You stiffened, your grip on your own fork tightening as a surge of indignation rose in your chest. You wanted to say something, to defend him, but before you could, Sebastian beat you to it.

“Quite right,” he said, his tone still calm but now carrying a subtle edge. “It’s not a habit I’ve had the opportunity to form. I suppose that’s what makes learning new things so valuable.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or impressed by his response. “Indeed,” she said finally, her tone cool.

The meal carried on in uneasy silence, each bite weighed down by the lingering tension that clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. The clink of silverware against porcelain was the only sound, punctuating the unspoken challenge that had passed between Sebastian and your parents. Though the conversation had momentarily stalled, the scrutiny had not. It lingered, sharp and assessing, filling every quiet second with a pressure that made it harder to swallow.

Sebastian remained composed, his expression carefully neutral, but you could feel the way his fingers occasionally curled around the stem of his glass, the subtle flick of his gaze toward you—a silent check-in, a quiet assurance.

But it wasn’t him they turned their focus to next.

“Darling,” your mother began, setting down her fork with an air of practiced grace, “how are your studies progressing this term? I trust you’re excelling?”

You swallowed, already feeling the familiar prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. “They’re going well, Mother,” you said carefully. “I’ve been—”

“Well?” she interrupted, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. “Is that the best you can say? I sent a letter to Professor Garlick who indicated to me that you've been struggling in Herbology. I’m sure you could apply yourself more diligently.”

You clenched your jaw, your grip tightening on your knife. “It’s not my strongest subject, but I’m doing my best.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, a clear sign that your answer wasn’t satisfactory. “I see,” she said coolly. “And what about that... brutish sport you insist on playing? What’s it called again? Quilt... ditch?”

“Quidditch,” you corrected quietly.

“Yes, that,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I fail to see how spending your time chasing after a ball does anything to further your education.”

Your father chimed in, his tone gruff but no less pointed. “I suppose it’s her way of rebelling.”

You focused intently on cutting your food, willing yourself to remain calm. This wasn’t new; you’d endured countless dinners like this before. But tonight, with Sebastian sitting beside you, the sting of their words felt sharper.

Sebastian, to his credit, didn’t outwardly react at all. You were impressed by his restraint. His eyes stayed fixed on his plate, though you knew him well enough to see the occasional twitch of his jaw, the subtle shift in his posture.

Your mother’s next comment was the tipping point.

“And another thing, darling,” your mother said, her tone saccharine and laced with something sharp. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve put on a bit of weight since the summer. I do hope you haven’t been neglecting your studies in favor of… indulgences.”

The words sliced through the air like a knife, precise and deliberate, meant to wound in a way that could be brushed off as concern.

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck as every childhood insecurity came rushing back all at once. You knew better than to react—she wanted a reaction—but the sting of it lodged deep in your chest anyway.

You swallowed, unsure if you even wanted to look at Sebastian, afraid of what you might see—awkwardness, pity, maybe even silent agreement.

But when you did glance at him, what you found wasn’t hesitation.

It was fury.

Not loud, not dramatic, but cold—sharp enough to cut.

Sebastian’s hand had stilled around his fork, his knuckles just barely white with the force of his grip. His jaw was tight, his brown eyes dark with something unreadable as he stared at your mother.

When he finally set his fork down, it was deliberate, the soft clink against the plate somehow louder than any shouting could have been.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, his voice deceptively calm, "your daughter is one of the most capable, brilliant, and resilient people I have ever known. And if she carries any unnecessary weight, it’s the burden of expectations placed on her by others.”

The room fell silent, your parents frozen mid-bite as they turned to look at him. You felt your heart leap into your throat, a mix of shock and gratitude and anxiety rendering you momentarily speechless.

“I understand you have high standards,” Sebastian continued, his tone polite but firm, “but I can assure you that whatever expectations you’ve set, she’s already surpassed them.”

Your mother’s expression barely flickered, but you knew her well enough to sense the barely concealed offense in the stiffening of her posture. “How very passionate of you, Mr. Sallow,” she said, setting down her fork with quiet precision. “I suppose you believe you know her better than her own family does?”

Sebastian didn’t so much as blink. “I believe I see her clearly,” he said. “Which is more than I can say for most.”

It was a direct hit. You could see it in the way your mother’s shoulders tensed, in the way your father exhaled slowly, setting his silverware down with a pointed clink.

Your father leaned back, fixing Sebastian with a cold, assessing look. “It is quite bold to assume you have any right to comment on such personal matter," your father said, his tone sharp, “Perhaps you’d care to elaborate further on what exactly your role is in her life?”

The shift in their focus was immediate and ruthless, their pointed gazes turning back to Sebastian like predators zeroing in on prey.

"I’m simply someone who sees her for who she is, not who she’s expected to be.” Sebastian replied, a flicker of something dangerously close to amusement crossing his face. “And I have to say, sir, that seems to be a rare thing in this house.”

The air turned brittle, thick with unspoken tension.

Your father’s fingers tapped once against the table, his expression cool but unreadable. Your mother inhaled slowly, exhaling through her nose as she reached for her wine glass, taking a measured sip.

You braced yourself.

"How very poetic," your father finally said, tone devoid of any real warmth. “And yet, poetry has never paid the bills, nor built anything of lasting worth."

Sebastian’s expression remained calm, though you could see the tension building in his jaw.

“With all due respect, sir,” he said smoothly, “neither has cruelty.”

Your mother’s grip on her wine glass tightened ever so slightly. Your father’s expression remained impassive, but the temperature in the room dropped like a sudden frost. The moment stretched taut, every unspoken rule of decorum cracking under the weight of Sebastian’s words.

“Clever,” your father mused, his tone devoid of amusement. “But clever words don’t change the reality of things, Sebastian. You may think you understand our daughter, but understanding is hardly the same as providing for her.”

Your mother hummed in agreement, tilting her head as she studied Sebastian like he was an unfortunate stain on her pristine tablecloth. “Yes, and you do come from rather humble beginnings,” she said smoothly, reaching for her wine. “It's tragic, truly. No parents. A sick sister. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you, growing up without proper guidance.”

Sebastian didn’t react, but you saw the barely perceptible flex of his fingers where they rested against the table. His posture remained relaxed—perhaps too relaxed—but there was a sharpness in his eyes, a quiet fury coiling beneath the surface.

“I imagine it taught me resilience,” he said evenly. “Self-sufficiency. Things I suspect not everyone in this room has had the opportunity to learn.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, something cold flickering in her expression while your father leaned forward slightly, hands threading together.

“You speak boldly for a man with nothing to offer," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "No wealth. No status. No respectable lineage. And yet, you seem to believe you deserve our daughter. How naïve.”

You clenched your fists beneath the table, your stomach twisting with anger.

Sebastian tilted his head, and though his expression remained perfectly polite, something flickered behind his gaze—something sharp, knowing. “And you speak as though she needs something from me,” he said smoothly. “As though she isn’t already more than capable of carving her own path.” He let the words settle before adding, “She doesn’t need anyone to provide for her, least of all me. But I imagine what she does need is support. Respect.” He smiled, a slow, deliberate thing. “I have no issue giving her both. I can’t say the same for others.”

The jab landed. You saw it in the way your father’s mouth pressed into a thin line, in the way your mother’s fingers twitched slightly before she masked it with a sip of wine. Her gaze flickered toward you, and in that moment, you saw it—annoyance, disappointment, maybe even frustration that you had allowed someone like him into this house. Into your life.

Your father recovered first. He inhaled slowly, his voice quiet, cold. “Let me explain something to you,” he said, his tone shifting from condescension to something far sharper. “This—” he gestured vaguely between you and Sebastian, “—is temporary. She’ll tire of whatever… fantasy you’ve spun for her soon enough.”

Your heart clenched. You opened your mouth, but before you could even form a response, Sebastian did.

He smiled. Not a soft smile. Not a kind one.

A sharp, knowing smirk. “Funny,” he said, tilting his head, “I was just about to say the same thing about your influence over her.”

Your mother inhaled sharply. Your father’s expression darkened. “You insolent scum,” he sneered, the veneer of civility finally cracking. “Do you honestly believe you can stand there and challenge me? In my home?” He leaned forward, his eyes cold, voice laced with something cruel. “You are nothing. A nobody. A street rat with no family, no future. Do you think some clever words and a polished suit change that?”

Your mother sighed, setting down her wine glass with an air of exhausted patience. “It’s pathetic, really,” she murmured, eyes sliding over Sebastian with a look of detached pity. “You must think yourself so noble, playing protector. So righteous.” Her lips curved into something resembling a smile, but there was nothing kind about it. “But it doesn’t change what you are. A boy who clawed his way out of the dirt, only to find himself desperately reaching for something beyond his station.”

Sebastian’s shoulders stiffened, his fingers curling subtly against the edge of the table. His expression didn’t waver—his mask of practiced ease was still firmly in place—but something about him changed.

Your mother took another slow sip of her wine, setting the glass down with a soft clink before turning her attention to you. “I trust this little performance has run its course?” she asked lightly. “Or shall we continue entertaining the delusion that this—” she gestured at Sebastian with a dismissive flick of her fingers, “—is anything more than a childish infatuation?”

The words hung in the air, sharp and gleaming, waiting to cut.

Your mother’s gaze was expectant, coldly patient, as if she were merely waiting for you to confirm what she already believed—that this was just another phase, another mistake she would soon correct. Your father, too, sat with the quiet confidence of a man who had never once considered that he wouldn’t be obeyed. That you wouldn’t bend to their will.

You looked at Sebastian.

The amusement that had once danced behind his eyes was gone. The sharp, confident smirk had faded. And for the first time that night, you saw it.

Hurt.

It was gone as soon as it came, so fleeting you might have missed it if you weren’t looking. But you were looking.

A sick sort of guilt coiled in your stomach, pressing against your ribs. Because Sebastian didn’t have to be here. He hadn’t asked for this. You had invited him—not because you wanted him subjected to your parents’ scrutiny, not because you thought he owed you anything, but because you had been too afraid to defy them. Too afraid to tell them no.

You had brought him into this house, sat him at this table, knowing exactly how it would go. Knowing exactly how they would look at him, dissect him, tear him down with a thousand polished, cutting words.

And yet... and yet he had fought. Not just for himself, but for you. For your dignity, your choices, your right to be more than just a perfectly groomed extension of them.

He had sat at this table, met their every challenge, endured every cutting remark. He had taken the blows meant for you, over and over, without hesitation.

Because that’s who he was.

And that’s why you loved him. Why you always had.

You inhaled slowly, then with careful, deliberate movements, you pushed your chair back. The legs scraped against the polished floor, slicing through the silence like a blade.

Your mother’s expression flickered, just slightly—her perfectly trained poise faltering for the briefest second. Your father’s gaze sharpened.

You stood.

Sebastian's head turned toward you, something wary in his expression. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just waited. Because despite everything, despite all the words that had been thrown between them, this moment wasn’t his.

It was yours.

You lifted your chin, meeting your mother’s gaze first. “Enough.”

A single word. Final. Absolute.

Your father scoffed. “Sit down.”

“No.” You turned to face him fully, voice unwavering. “You don’t get to speak to him that way. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

Your mother let out a breathy laugh, reaching for her wine. “Darling—”

“I love him.”

The words left your lips before you could second-guess them.

Your mother froze, her glass hovering just above the table. Your father’s expression turned to stone, his mouth pressing into a thin line. But it was Sebastian’s reaction that mattered most.

He went completely still.

You turned to look at him fully now, heart pounding, searching his face, because you’d never said it before. Not out loud.

But it was the truth.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

“I love him,” you repeated, each syllable firm, unshaken. “And I won’t, for one more second, listen to your condescension, your cruelty, your endless judgment, not towards him.”

Your father scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous.”

You snapped your attention back to him. “No, I’m done being ridiculous,” you said, voice firm. “I’m done playing this game. Done pretending that what you want for me is what I want.” You exhaled, steadying yourself. “I just won’t sit here and pretend that what you’re doing isn’t vile. I won’t sit at this bloody table and let you look down on someone who is worth ten of any society man you’d rather have me with. And I’m done letting you dictate my life.”

Silence.

Then your mother’s voice, quiet but cutting. “You would choose him over your family?”

Your throat tightened.

“If you won't accept my choice, then yes. I would. And I will.”

The finality of it rang through the room.

Your mother’s lips pressed together, her shoulders going rigid. Your father simply let out a slow breath through his nose.

And Sebastian.

Sebastian, who had spent the evening enduring the worst of them, who had sat through every cruel, veiled insult and outright attack, who had stood his ground even when it hurt—

Sebastian looked at you like you were something impossible.

Like you had just rewritten the laws of the universe before his very eyes.

Like he had braced himself for battle and, instead, you had stepped in front of him and ended the war with nothing but your voice.

Your father made a low sound, something between exasperation and disgust. “You’re making a mistake.”

You exhaled slowly. “Then it’s mine to make.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “You’ll regret this.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. I won’t.”

You lifted your chin, offering Sebastian your hand. “Let’s go,” you said, voice steady, unwavering.

Sebastian didn’t move for a heartbeat. His fingers twitched at his side, his gaze flicking from your hand to your face, searching—really searching—for any sign of hesitation, of regret.

He found none.

And that was when he took your hand.

Warm. Solid.

Your mother let out a quiet breath through her nose, something unreadable passing over her face before she schooled her features back into perfect neutrality. Your father, however, wasn’t as composed.

“I will not be made a fool of in my own home,” he said sharply, his voice carrying an edge of finality, of command. “You walk out that door, you do not walk back in.”

The weight of his words settled in the space between you, heavy and suffocating. A lifetime of expectations, of obligations, of control—all crumbling with a single choice.

Your mother folded her hands neatly in her lap, watching you with a cool, detached expression. “Well, darling?” she said, tilting her head. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Sebastian stiffened beside you, like he was ready for you to turn around and stay. Like he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

But there was no decision to be made. Even if Sebastian didn't love you back, even if you weren't actually courting, even if he never felt the same, even if this all ended tomorrow, you wouldn’t regret standing here, choosing yourself for the first time in your life.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And with that, you turned.

You didn’t wait for another word, another cruel remark, another attempt to claw you back into the cage they had built for you. You simply walked away.

Outside the manor, the gravel drive crunched beneath your feet, the only sound in the otherwise still night. You didn’t speak. Neither did Sebastian. The weight of the evening hung between you, thick and suffocating, stretching into the quiet as you made your way down the long path.

When you reached the gates, Sebastian finally let go, of your hand, stepping forward to unlatch them. The metal groaned slightly as it swung open, and you hesitated only briefly before stepping through, leaving your childhood behind with the soft click of the latch snapping shut behind you.

The Floo loomed in front of you, smelling of ash and magic, thick with the weight of old decisions and new ones yet to be made.

Sebastian stepped forward first, tossing a handful of Floo Powder before vanishing into the green.

You inhaled, steadying yourself. Then you followed.

The second your feet touched the cool stone floor of the castle, the weight of it all, of everything that had just happened, crashed into you.

It was sudden, overwhelming—like the entire evening had been held at bay by sheer force of will, and now, with no more battles to fight, no more words left to say, it all came rushing in at once.

Your breath hitched. Then another. Then another.

You were breaking.

The grief, the exhaustion, the anger—it clawed up your throat all at once, twisting into something ragged and uncontrollable. You gasped, pressing the heel of your hand against your chest, as if you could physically hold yourself together.

And then you were crying.

Sobbing, really.

Not the quiet, dignified tears of someone mourning something small, but the raw, wrecked kind.

It was too much. The fight, the way they had looked at him, the way they had looked at you. The finality of it all. The loss. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Walking away meant you had lost something, even if you had never really wanted it in the first place.

But you had gained something too. You knew that.

And yet, it still hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper, barely holding itself together. “I—I shouldn’t have taken you there. I shouldn’t have—” Your breath shuddered violently as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your body shaking. “I knew what they’d do. I knew. And I still—”

Sebastian moved before you could finish.

Warm hands found your shoulders, solid and grounding. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “Look at me.”

You did.

His gaze wasn’t full of pity. Not anger. Not resentment.

Just… Sebastian.

Soft. Steady. There.

And that was worse somehow, because it made you sob harder.

“I just—I don’t know what I was thinking,” you choked out. “I just wanted to get through it, to—”

“To satisfy them,” Sebastian murmured.

You nodded, another sob breaking free. “And I did. For years, I did. But I can’t anymore.” You exhaled sharply. "And now, now I've lost them, and I know it was right but—"

“It still hurts,” Sebastian finished for you, his voice softer now. "They're still your parents."

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, your nod barely perceptible.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

“...Do you really love me?”

His voice was quiet. Almost hoarse.

You stiffened, your breath catching. Slowly, you lifted your head, looking up at him.

Sebastian's expression was unreadable, his shoulders tense like he was bracing himself for the answer. His fingers flexed at his sides, but his eyes—his eyes were wide, dark, filled with something you couldn’t place.

You had never seen him like this.

Never seen him afraid. Not of a fight. Not of a curse. But of this.

Of you.

“Do you?” he asked again, softer this time. “Or was it just—was it just something you said to get them to stop?”

You blinked, your breath still shaky, your cheeks still wet. And yet, somehow, the weight in your chest lifted just slightly, just enough for you to see through the grief, the exhaustion, the fear.

And the truth was still there, waiting for you, steady and undeniable.

You reached for him, fingers trembling, pressing against his arm first—then his jaw, his cheek, the way you had always wanted to but hadn’t dared.

His breath stuttered.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Sebastian didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

He just stared at you, eyes wide, lips parted like he was trying to process the words—like he had heard them, understood them, but didn’t believe them.

“You—” His voice broke. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t have to say that just because—”

“I mean it, Sebastian.”

His whole body tensed.

“I didn’t say it for them. I didn’t say it to make a point. I didn’t say it to win.” Your voice was raw, stripped bare, nothing left to hide behind. “I said it because it’s true. It's been true for years."

Sebastian’s eyes flickered, something breaking apart behind them. His lips parted slightly, his breath uneven, and for a single, fragile moment, he looked lost.

And then he crashed into you, his arms wrapping around you with such force that it knocked the breath from your lungs. His grip was tight—almost desperate—like he had been waiting for this his entire life and still couldn’t believe it was real.

You barely had time to react before you were sinking into him, your fingers fisting into the back of his jacket, your face pressing into the warm, solid plane of his chest.

Then, his voice. Barely a whisper. Barely holding itself together.

"I love you, too."

You froze.

Sebastian only held you tighter.

His fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, gripping it like he needed something solid, something to keep him standing. His forehead pressed into your hair, and his breath was warm against your temple, coming in unsteady bursts, as if the words had taken everything out of him. Like they had been clawing their way out of him for years.

You turned your face deeper into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut as your arms wound tighter around him, your fingers pressing into the muscles of his back, warm, solid, real, yours.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his whole body shaking. "You don’t—” His breath caught, like he couldn’t quite get the words out. “You don’t understand. I’ve wanted—I never—” He let out something between a laugh and a choked breath, his hands smoothing up your back, then gripping you tighter again, like he couldn’t decide if he should hold you gently or keep you locked against him forever.

“I thought—” He swallowed hard. “I never thought—" Another breath, another exhale, another shudder running through him.

"I never thought I was enough."

You pulled back just enough to see him, to look into his face, to make him see you. His eyes were wild with emotion, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. You reached up, cupping his jaw, thumbs tracing the sharp planes of his cheekbones.

“Then you’re an idiot,” you murmured teasingly, voice thick with emotion, “because you’ve always been enough.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. He searched your face, as if he was still trying to make sense of this, as if some part of him was waiting for you to take it back, to wake up from whatever dream this must have been.

But then—slowly, carefully—he let himself believe it.

And that was when he kissed you.

Slow, deep, desperate—in ways that only years of restraint could make it. In ways that made it feel inevitable, like the two of you had been pulled toward this moment by some unseen force long before either of you had the courage to acknowledge it.

Sebastian kissed you like he was starving for you, like he had been holding himself back for so long that now, given even the slightest permission, he couldn’t stop himself. His fingers splayed against your back, pressing you flush against him, as if the space between you was unbearable, as if he needed to feel you to believe this was real. His other hand slid up, cradling your face with a reverence that made your chest ache, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone.

You melted into him, into the heat of him, into the way his lips moved against yours like he was memorizing you, like he needed to commit every touch, every sigh, every trembling breath to memory so he could keep it locked inside himself forever. He kissed you with years of unspoken words, years of buried longing, years of wanting but never allowing himself to have.

You weren’t sure which of you was trembling more.

And then, slowly, like he was dragging himself away from the very thing keeping him alive, Sebastian pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, raw in ways you had never heard before.

Your fingers loosened their grip, moving up, tracing along his jaw, mapping out every curve, every freckle, every part of him that you had never allowed yourself to touch before.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

His throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening, a smile splitting his face in two.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, soft but steady. He turned his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reverent.

Something inside you—something that had been wound tight for years—unraveled.

You had spent so long living the life that had been laid out for you, bending beneath expectations that had never truly been yours. You had spent so long trying to be what they wanted, waiting, waiting, for the moment you would finally be free.

And now—standing here, wrapped in his arms, his heartbeat thrumming against your own—you realized that freedom had never been something waiting for you on the horizon.

It had been yours to take all along.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @stalesaltinecracker cause he asked for more, and @an-entity-i-think since she made a valid question

ENLACES A LAS OTRAS PARTES DE ESTE AU AQUÍ: PARTE 1 , PARTE 2 , PARTE 3 , PARTE 4 (estás aquí), PARTE 5

In "Valiant"

Arthur: (Impacient and worried cause Merlin hasn't told him about Valiant's echanted shield yet) Is there something you want to tell me?

Merlin: (who decided to not tell Arthur about the shield this time around so he won't embarrased him again) No.

Arthur: I know something is bothering you.

Merlin: Nothing is bothering me.

Arthur: (hurt) Don't you trust me? (thinking) Have I not been worth of your trust again?

Merlin: Of course I trust you! Arthur, I trust you with my life!

Arthur: Then tell me what's wrong! Why were you sneaking out of Valiant's chambers yesterday?

Merlin:(cursing internally that this Arthur somehow is more observant, but still says nothing)...

Arthur: Merlin, please.

Merlin: (puzzled and touched Arthur is saying "please" to him and he finally sighs, giving up cause he always hated lying to Arthur anyway) Valiant's been cheating, he has a magic shield.

Arthur: (hiding his relief Merlin finally told him) Why do you think that?

Merlin: I saw it. The snakes coming out of his shield. Gaius thinks Valiant used them to posioned Sir Ewan. But I don't have any proof, I get if you don't believ-

Arthur: I believe you.

Merlin: ... really? But I'm just a servant, I'm not-

Arthur: (fondly, holding Merlin's hands) Don't ever say that again. You're more than a servant to me. Always.

Merlin: (getting lost into his eyes, blushing)

Merlin: (snapping out of it) Ahmm... Then what will you do?

Arthur: There's not point in bothering my father with this without proof. Now that I know what I'm getting into, I'll know what to look out for.

Merlin: (smiling confident, cause he has the spell to expose Valiant prepared) I'm sure you'll beat him up easily.

In "The Mark of Nimueh"

Merlin: (going to the cavern alone to fight the Afanc himself, a torch in hand) Arthur?

Arthur: (doing the very same thing, a torch in hand as well) Merlin?

Merlin: What are you doing here?

Arthur: I was... strolling.

Merlin: In the vaults underneath the castle?

Arthur: It's my castle. What are YOU doing here?

Merlin: I was... taking samples.

Arthur: Taking samples.

Merlin: Yeah, apparently the sickness is spreading through water. So I was taking samples to find out with Gaius what's causing it.

Arthur: The well is several meters behind, Merlin.

Merlin: Ah... I got lost.

Arthur: (rolling his eyes) Only you, Merlin. (taking Merlin by the wrist) It's not safe for you here. I'm getting you out. (starts walking)

Merlin: (trying to free from his grip) What? No! I need to-

The Afanc roars, making its appareance.

Arthur and Merlin: Shit...

In "The Gates of Avalon"

Both Morgana and Merlin looking Sophia from afar.

Morgana: Who is that?

Merlin: (kind of mad he couldn't prevent the sidhes from entering the castle again, but hiding his discontent) Sophia Tirmawr. Arthur rescued her in the woods.

Morgana: She can't stay here.

Merlin: Well, she and her father are guests in the castle now.(seeing his chance) You had a nightmare about her?

Morgana: (surprised) How do you know about my nightmares?!

Merlin: Gaius.

Morgana: Right... (sighs) You must think I'm crazy.

Merlin: I don't. I also have a bad feeling about her.

Morgana: Really?

Merlin: It just seems pretty convenient. Escaping from raiders in Tír-Mòr? A kingdom too far away to corroborate any of that story? I don't believe she is who she claims to be.

Morgana: (opening up, feeling safe and understood by Merlin) In my dream she drowned Arthur in a lake. I'm scared, Merlin. My nightmares always come true. Always!

Merlin: I already warned Arthur about her. He gave her the chambers far away from his. But I think you should talk to him about this.

Morgana: (laughs dryly) No, he won't believe me. He'll laugh at my face for sure. (thinking) And he's been too cold to me lately for some reason.

Merlin: There's no harm in trying. He might surprised you. (thinking) If this Arthur is nicer to me, he'll defenitely be nicer to her.

Morgana: Alright, I'll try.

...

Morgana: Arthur, I need to speak with you. It's about Sophia.

Arthur: (Who spied on her when she threatened Sophia in the hallway and still doesn't know how to feel about it) You're starting to sound like Merlin. Do you have a bad feeling about her too?

Morgana: She isn't what she seems.

Arthur: Why? What makes you say that?

Morgana: I just... have a feeling. It's difficult to describe.

Arthur: Try me.

Morgana: I had a dream. A nightmare. She drowned you in a lake. She killed you, Arthur.

Arthur: And why would that be a bad thing?

Morgana: (confused)... what?

Arthur: Don't you want me dead, Morgana?

Morgana: (horrified) No! Of course not! Why would you say that?

Arthur: (shakes his head) Nothing. Forget I said anything.

Morgana: (firmly) No. Arthur, listen to me. (holds his face and Arthur forces himself not to flinch) I don't know what's happening in that head of yours, but let me get this straight. I love you and I care for you. You're like a brother to me. I would cut all my limbs before letting anything happen to you!

Arthur: (with teary eyes, but forcing himself not to cry) You're just saying that.

Morgana: It's the truth.

Arthur: (his voice almost breaking) So you don't hate me?

Morgana: What made you think-(opens her eyes wide in fury) It was her, wasn't she? She put that idea in your head! (starts stomping out of the chambers)

Arthur: (stops her) Hey! Where are you going?

Morgana: I'm going to kill her! No, first I'm going to drag her by the hair through all the castle to let her know what happens when you mess with people's minds!

Arthur: (Shocked for a second at Morgana's thirst for blood and revenge not being drawn at him, but for him. And then he laughs, laughs and laughs)

Morgana: Why are you laughing? (starts to question his sanity, worried) Are you Okay?

Arthur: (stops laughing and smiles) Yes, I am now. Thank you.

[cherryslyce]

By NEWTS & Nott | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The stress from studying for your NEWT level classes has you spiraling into confusion from burnout, and perhaps, simultaneously inspiring a certain slytherin to approach you. But it was all a coincidence, right?

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Gryffindor!Reader

Notes: Cursing, Affection (oh my goodness). I love Theo. Like my mind is constantly just <3 Theo <3.

The gloom that permeated through the air was unusually suffocating. The grey clouds that scattered across the almost equally dull sky left little room for enthusiasm to float about. Many students were beginning to fall into the pattern of procrastinating on their essays, the notorious wave of burnout that swept through the student body every year was at its most unforgiving. 

This year seemed almost worse than last year’s and you were sure it has already done a number on you. Hermione, ever the scholar, was amongst the very few who were managing fairly well for the most part. Your frizzy-haired friend was currently sitting across from you in the library, face buried in a book as she mumbled quietly, albeit furiously, about Harry’s sudden overwhelming success in Potions.

You yourself were quite impressed at Harry’s new penchant for the subject and you weren’t sure if his newfound success had anything to do with having a Potions professor who didn’t seem to loathe his existence or if he was suddenly gifted by mother magic with a potions mastery. 

NEWT level classes were definitely proving to be a challenge for you, and your head was pounding from trying to make sense of the Runes assignment in front of you. You weren’t Hermione by any means, but you would consider yourself to be another top student in your year, having a particular talent for Transfiguration. 

“‘Mione, maybe Harry just studied a little bit extra or something. Besides, it’s a great thing that he’s thriving, especially in potions. Merlin knows this spurn of success was needed given his previous record.” 

The girl’s head shoots up at your words, eyebrows drawn in frustration, “But Y/N, it just doesn’t make any sense! I followed the instructions exactly! Harry said he did as well, so why are all of my potions off?” 

Ah, ever the perfectionist. 

As she continued her tangent, her voice began to slowly rise in volume before her last words were bouncing around the bookshelves and causing other students to turn towards you. 

“Mione, please speak a little lower! And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the top student in a lot of the other classes anyway. Besides, Slughorn is still impressed with your work regardless, that Slug Club invitation is proof of it.” Your hushed whispers seemed to quell her and she nodded along, seeming to accept your encouragement. As if suddenly feeling the burning gazes being shot at the two of you, she quickly turned and apologized silently to everyone she disturbed. 

As she turned back to the book in front of her, you slowly looked around to rest your eyes. As your gaze flitted to the table next to yours, your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a familiar slytherin. 

Of course, it just happened to be him of all people. 

Theodore Nott happened to be one of the very few students in your year who could match Hermione’s academic prowess. You remembered starkly him beating out Draco and Hermione in Charms and Runes last year, shocking your friend group immensely– Hermione most of all. He was often seen walking with Draco and Daphne Greengrass, but he kept to himself for the most part. Despite his quieter disposition, you heard his name whispered often by girls who were longing to gain his attention and affection. 

And from the way he carried himself, it was obvious that Theodore Nott was an impressive wizard. 

He also just so happened to be staring at you at the current moment, no doubt having been disturbed by Hermione moments earlier. 

Slapping on an apologetic smile, you nod to him before turning back to your Runes assignment. 

Nope. Not awkward at all.

Your heart was beating furiously in your chest and you were beginning to fear that its quickened pace would either cause you to pass out or be loud enough for him to hear. You had never really talked to the boy, only being able to recall moments of fleeting nods and awkward eye contact between the two of you. 

Of course, that didn’t stop you from admiring his talents and his admittedly, above-average looks. You also appreciated his tendency to ignore people rather than berate and bully them like other slytherins in your year. 

You were sure that he at least knew of you, if not due to your involvement in Harry’s circle, then due to your consistent residency at the top of the academic hierarchy.

And a little part of you did hope that he took notice of you, not that you’d ever admit it aloud. 

–

The bags under your eyes could probably carry the weight of the troll you accidentally concussed in your first year, the unforgiving curriculum chipping away at the amount of rest you got every night. 

The library was unusually empty that evening, allowing you to peacefully sigh and slam your head into your books without looking like a complete maniac. Moving your head from side to side to try and relieve the tension in your neck, you move to slap your hands over your cheeks. 

After you were done waking yourself up, you drew your eyebrows together and began to tackle the large chunks of small text. 

‘Often mistaken for each other, the words ehwaz and eihwaz have different meanings, partnership and defense, respectively.’ 

You were definitely not making much progress with your Ancient Runes work, and you were growing increasingly anxious about the upcoming exam as you could slowly feel yourself slipping in the class. 

Feeling a prickle on your forehead, you shoot your gaze upwards and suppress a startled gasp as you lock eyes with an amused Theodore. 

When did he get here? Wait, did you get here after him? If so, how did you not notice him until now?

Perhaps, your sleep deprivation was beginning to interfere with how you function. Your lapses in memory were concerning enough for you to think of reining in your hours of daily study. As you slowly close the textbook in front of you, you watch as Theodore’s eyes dart to observe your sluggish movements. 

Clearly taking pity on your hunched form, he observes you for a few more moments before sliding over a sheet of parchment. Feeling your fingers twitch in suspicion, you carefully eye him before deciding that he wouldn’t try to blow you up or anything to that degree. 

As you read through the paper, you feel your mouth part in shock as you realize that it was an organized chart of notes on the words you were struggling with. Theodore Nott had just given you his notes like it was the most casual thing in the world–and they were his nice notes too. 

Feeling a smile pull at your lips, you shoot your head up to thank the boy, only to find the chair across from you vacant. Looking around your table, you’re only met with endless rows of bookshelves. You were left to your lonesome again, the paper in your hand being the only assurance that you hadn’t hallucinated your interaction with the quiet slytherin. 

Quickly packing up your notes and books, you carefully slide Theodore’s notes into your folder as you exit the library, parting with a quick farewell to Madam Pince. 

Briskly walking back to the Gryffindor common room, you shake off the strange interaction in favor of contemplating what a disaster your next Potions lesson is going to be. It was pretty formulaic by now with Harry finishing flawlessly, Hermione wandering out of the class with a lost look, Ron flying by the seat of his pants, and your constant thoughts of giving up and laying your head down. 

Potions had transformed from a tense, strict environment to one of the most entertaining in a matter of just a single year. You respected Snape’s intellect and proclivity in Potions, but his prejudices diminished any inkling of passion you had for the subject. 

–

You were correct in your assumption that the class would go exactly how it always went. Currently, Ron’s cauldron was smoking up a cloud that put Seamus’ usual catastrophes to shame. As you ran your finger along the list of directions for the umpteenth time, you realized that you were missing a stem of Baneberries. 

How you missed it, you could only ponder at another time. You were bustling about frantically, running on a couple hours of sleep, and feeling beside yourself. 

Eyeing your cauldron, you estimated that you could probably run to the storage closet and nick the stem quickly without causing too much havoc by leaving it unattended. Moving from around your table, you quickly weaved around frustrated Gryffindors and confused Slytherins and towards the high shelves of glass jars in the back of the room. 

You were getting dizzy from scanning the identical towers of jars, all the labels suddenly merging together. 

Baneberries would be near the top since all the ingredients were sorted alphabetically. Looking around for the ladder, you jump out of your skin as you nearly bump into a sturdy figure behind you. 

Holding your chest from the scare, you peer at the person only to be met with a familiar pair of amused eyes. 

Sucking in a short breath at your luck, you shoot a sheepish smile at the boy, “Nott. Hello. I didn’t notice you there. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, I forgot one of my ingredients.” 

Theodore raises an eyebrow at you before partially sidestepping you, reaching up towards a shelf behind you. You gaped as you realized he was crowding you against him and the shelf, unable to wiggle around the small gap he left. 

Just as quickly as the awkward moment began, it ended, and Theodore was backing up and gingerly pushing a small stem of red and white berry clusters towards you. 

Eyes widening in shock, you carefully grab the thin stem, accidentally pinching his cold fingers in the process, “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry. Er…but thank you, Nott. I should really go though, I think my cauldron might explode if I delay any further.” 

Practically bouncing on the spot, you don’t wait to hear his response before you’re maneuvering around his figure and scurrying back to your table. Luckily, your potion was still boiling away and even looked salvageable. 

“It’s perfect! That bright pink is spot on, very good Harry, my boy.” Slughorn’s jubilant voice carries around the classroom and you could see many students suppressing their groans at Harry finishing first and flawlessly, once again. 

You purse your lips to contain your laughter as you see Hermione look more than mildly distressed before schooling her expression, shooting a small congratulatory smile at Harry. 

What a proper mess. 

Snorting quietly, you remove the stem from your berries and slowly add a few at a time, stirring the concoction three times counterclockwise. Unlike Harry’s tart pink potion, yours begins to melt into a magenta color, and you have half the mind to step back just as it gives a little rumble, a small puff of smoke shrouding over the circumference of the cauldron. 

Safe to say, that is not what’s meant to happen.

Unsure whether to mourn your failed potion (once again) or not take it too seriously, you opt to just do both, and drop your chin into your hands, laughing dryly at your fate. 

Quickly cleaning up around your work station, you risk a glance across the room and make eye contact with Theodore who looks vaguely entertained at your failed  potion. 

Later, Harry’s bottled potion is being presented by Slughorn at the front of the class, everybody gathering around in a semi-circle to see the result. As you shuffle from leg to leg, you feel a firm chest press lightly against your back. Before you could spin around on your heel, you sense their head moving towards your ear.  

“You forgot to turn down your flame and add the stem of your Angel’s Trumpet.” Theodore’s whisper sends shivers down your spine and you have to cross your arms in order to stop yourself from physically reacting. 

Turning your head slightly towards his face, you huff out in exasperation, “I’m not surprised, I was pretty much running around like a headless hippogriff.” 

You wryly smile, becoming accustomed to classroom failures. Luckily, it seemed that the wave of burnout was finally letting up for a few weeks before your NEWTS, so you could catch up on sleep beforehand. 

A breathy laugh leaves Theodore’s lips imperceptibly and you have to fight back the pleased grin threatening to pull at your face. 

Soon, Slughorn was dismissing class and you were all free to head to the dining hall for lunch. Spinning to head back to grab your book bag, you shoot a small smile at Theodore, “Nice chat, Nott. Thanks again.” 

Before you’re able to brush past him, he mutters a simple correction to you, “Theo.”

“Theo. See you around.”

– 

Your little exchange in potions doesn’t go unnoticed and before you could even stack up some potatoes on your plate, Hermione is dropping herself down next to you with a curious glint shining in her eyes. 

Raising an eyebrow at her enthused expression, you’re unsure if you’re walking into a trap as you respond, “What’s up, ‘Mione?”

Hermione leans a little towards you before quietly whispering to you as if she was sharing a heartfelt secret, “You know what. I saw you and Nott during Potions.” 

Craning your head back to look at her, you suppress the groan itching at your throat as you realize she had her mind set on getting information out of you. 

“It’s nothing of that sort, ‘Mione. He was just giving me tips on my brew is all, apparently I forgot a key ingredient. I’m a proper mess and it seems to be catching the attention of other houses.” You breathe out quietly, beginning to push your food around on your plate. 

Hermione grins like she knows something you don’t and replies with finality before scooping food onto her plate, “Well, he’s seated rather far away from us, don’t you agree? I wonder how he knew what you did wrong.” 

Her words have you pausing as you straighten up in your seat, shooting your wide eyes to her satisfied face. 

Sweet Merlin, she wasn’t called the brightest witch of your age for a half-hearted reason. In a way, you wanted to smack yourself for not realizing sooner despite how glaringly obvious it seems in hindsight. 

How did he know what you did wrong?

– 

It’s been a week since your potion incident with Theo, and you’ve been actively avoiding looking in his direction since that day. You absolutely would not focus on the boy, you couldn’t afford a crush, especially not one on one of the most eligible bachelors of your year. 

Plus, a crush would be detrimental to your grades, and you had barely just recovered from your chronic sleep deprivation. 

Unfortunately, your active avoidance of the boy only made him drift through your head more often. You even caught yourself writing his name mid-sentence while you were doing your Transfiguration essay. 

At the current moment, you were sitting with your friends in the common room, listening to Harry rant about Draco, once again. It was entertaining, but you could feel Hermione shooting small glances at you from time to time, still remembering your incident with Theodore. 

Crossing your arms, you finally speak up as Harry stops to catch his breath, “Harry, are you sure you’re not just interested in Malfoy? No one pays this much attention to someone without having a crush on them, I mean seriously, how do you even know how Draco likes his apples?” 

Harry gapes at your words, fishing around for a logical rebuttal, but you can see how his eyes widen in realization. Ron seems plenty amused by Harry’s flailing and leans back like a satisfied wingman, even though you were the one who did all the mental gymnastics for Harry. 

Hermione raises her eyebrows at your words, turning to face you before echoing your words quietly, “Yeah, no one pays that much attention to someone without it involving a crush.” 

Shaking your head, you dismiss her insinuation, “It was one lesson, ‘Mione. I doubt he’s looking to court me or anything.” 

Your words grab Harry and Ron’s attention and they suddenly lean over to you for an explanation. Raising your eyebrows in challenge, you successfully harden your resolve despite their puppy eyes. 

Realizing that you were going to remain tight-lipped, Hermione decides to enlighten them, “A certain slytherin has taken interest in Y/N.” 

“Oh please ‘Mione, I’m telling you that he’s just really observant and really good at potions.” Your last words catch a little in your throat. 

Hermione grins like cheshire cat, having successfully roped you in, “Sure, and him giving you his nice notes was just a casual ordeal as well.”

Ron and Harry swing their heads back and forth between the two of you, eyes brimming with anticipation. 

Ron seems to have reached the end of his patience and grabs hold of your forearms, shaking you playfully before exclaiming, “Well don’t just keep fighting, tell us who!” 

Huffing in defeat, you dart your attention to the fireplace as you satiate their curiosity, “Theodore Nott.” 

Harry falls back on the floor and releases a noise of surprise while Ron’s hands rip away from your arms and fly to his face. 

“What? Is it that surprising?” Honestly, you were mildly insulted.

Harry is the first to speak, shaking his head reassuringly, “No, no, it’s just, you’re not considering it are you?” 

Tilting your head, you’re quick to reply, “What do you mean? I mean I don’t consider it as a possibility, but what’s so wrong with Theo?” 

Ron gapes in shock, “Theo?” 

Hermione looks at the both of them sternly before turning to you, “I think what they’re trying to say is, Theodore might be bad news. I haven’t the faintest clue why they’d feel that way though.” 

Shaking your head firmly, you shoot down their apprehension, “No way, he’s probably the most tame out of that friend group.” 

The boys don’t look convinced, but Harry concedes with a quiet, “If you’re sure.” 

Tired of the conversation, you stand up from the sofa and stretch your arms above your head, “Enough about me, it’s about time for dinner. Let’s head to the dining hall and talk about Harry’s crush on Draco.” 

“It’s not a crush!” 

—

It’s the very next morning after your conversation in the common room when something bizarre happens to you again. You had successfully evaded Theodore for a little over a week, and sometimes you could feel a pointed stare aimed at you. 

As you’re pouring orange juice for yourself during breakfast, a letter drops in front of your plate as everyone gets their post. Confused by the envelope, you cast a charm to make sure it hasn’t been tampered with before picking it up. 

There wasn’t a sender address on the envelope, but as you neatly tear it open and unfold the paper inside, you realize that you knew exactly who it was from. 

The words were neatly written on the paper, and even without the letter’s content, you already recognized the penmanship. 

Meet me after dinner tonight? Astronomy Tower. 

Don’t worry, you’ll be back before curfew. 

P.S. Do you need my notes again?

Unable to stop yourself, your head shoots up and towards the direction of Draco’s friend group. Immediately, your eyes lock with Theodore’s and he sends you a small smile, tilting his head subtly to ask for your answer. 

Slowly nodding, you feel warmth flood your face as he breaks into a pleased grin and his eyes twinkle in victory. His expression catches the attention of his friends as they all immediately stop their conversation and follow Theodore’s gaze. 

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your face as you’re suddenly under the scrutiny of the slytherin circle. Surprisingly, Draco doesn’t jeer at you but rather smirks at you ominously, but surprisingly not with malice. Blaise and Pansy look back at Theodore and whisper furiously, their words seemingly so obscene that it tears Theo’s gaze from you and to his smiling friends. 

You weren’t sure if you should be worried. Swallowing down your nervousness, you carefully fold the letter back up and tuck it away into your book bag, keeping your head down for the rest of the meal. 

– 

Your day seems to pass by in a blur, and soon enough you’re rising out of your seat during dinner, eyes trailing to glance at Theo, whose attention darts to your rising form. 

Harry raises his head to look at you in confusion, “You’re done eating already?” 

Nodding quickly, you plaster on a reassuring smile to settle your nerves, “Yeah, I’m just going to go take a walk. I’ll meet you guys in the common room before curfew.” 

Your friends bid you farewell and you pace out of the hall, seeing Theodore push his plate back out of the corner of your eye. Not ready to face him quite yet, you pick up the pace as you head towards the Astronomy Tower, head filled with racing thoughts. 

As you enter the top tier of the tower, you walk towards the ledge to look at the sky, deciding to just leave the door open for Theo. 

A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approaching you, your shoulders tensing in anticipation. 

Theodore slowly makes his way to stand next to you, resting one arm on the stone ledge and maneuvering his body to face you. Unable to face him just yet, you opt to break the silence first, “So, why did you want to meet with me?” 

“I thought you would have figured it out by now. After all, you’re quite brilliant.” Amusement colors his tone, and you were sure he was smiling at you right now.

Feeling your brain lag at the sudden compliment, you turn your head and survey him with questioning eyes before finding your voice, “It’s not like you to do all this.” 

His lips tug a little at your attention, “Like what?” 

Turning your body to face him fully, you’re keenly aware of the warmth emanating from his body, “Like approaching people you’re unfamiliar with and giving them your notes. Asking them to meet up with you at night. Helping them with their potions. You’re not possessed are you?”

Theodore’s nose wrinkles in amusement as his smile seems to grow impossibly wider, “So you watch me too. But no, I’m not possessed. I think we both know what the deal is though.” 

Dropping your shoulders as your nerves seem to turn to jelly, you release a shaky sigh, “Then, you like me too?” 

Your eyes flit across his face quickly, watching his eyes widen slowly. Smiling at you in fondness, he carefully brings up his hand to cup your face, his cool rings soothing your burning cheek. 

His thumb slowly brushes across your cheek and he steps closer to your figure, leaning to close the distance between your faces, but leaving just enough room to have you wanting more. 

His gaze flickers between your lips and eyes, finally breaking through the silence that settled between the two of you, “Yes, I like you too. Have for a while.” 

You can’t fight your smile, and Theodore seems to be unable to wait any longer, ducking his head further towards yours, “Tell me to stop if you’re not ready.” 

Laughing breathlessly at his words, you bring your hands to rest behind his neck, tugging him closer to close the faint gap between your bodies, “Not a chance in hell.” 

Theodore brings a hand to wrap around your body, quickly connecting your lips. His firm grip on you has you melting against him, and you’re sure that the world completely stopped in that moment, nerves running like fireworks in your body. 

You both break apart for air, donning identical grins of bliss. Unwilling to let you stray too far, Theodore doesn’t loosen his hold and opts to softly nuzzle his nose against yours, occasionally planting kisses on your cheeks. 

Rubbing circles on the back of his neck, you softly laugh as you suddenly remember something, “Hermione was actually the one who helped me realize that you liked me.” 

Humming at your words, Theo only pauses briefly from kissing your face to answer, “Remind me to thank her.”

Smiling softly at his clinginess, you pull your head back to get a good look at him, “Didn’t realize you were the affectionate type.” 

His eyes are hazy from bliss, and he cranes his head forward to try and bring you back to him before answering, “Hm, well the last week has been rough with you avoiding me. ‘M making up for it.” 

Your laugh echoes around the room, urging Theodore to lean over to nip at your ear, “What’s so funny?” 

Carding your fingers through his soft lock, you have a fleeting thought about curfew before you brush it aside to answer him, “Nothing much. Just didn’t think you would get pouty about it.” 

Reeling back at your words, his mouth parts in playful shock, “I don’t pout, baby.” 

“That’s good since we should get going before the prefects head out.” Your words are met with a loud groan and Theodore does the exact opposite of your suggestion, deciding to instead bury his face in your neck and cling onto you. 

– 

“Oh bugger off! He was being the biggest baby of the century all week long, ‘I don’t pout’, my arse.” Draco’s crude words have you dropping your mouth into your hands to muffle your laughter as Theo was left to gape at his friend’s words. 

Pansy nods in agreement and grabs your free hand like a relieved mother, “Trust me, I don’t know what you see in him, but I’m so glad you’re here now.” 

You beam brightly at the girl, coming to realize that your previous anxiety about meeting Theo’s friends was just a waste of energy–they were nothing like your presumptions. 

“Happy to be here. I was honestly driving myself mad all week trying to avoid Theo.” You don’t miss the wounded look the boy throws at you as he begins to tug on your elbow to try and drag you away from his friends. 

“Theo? I remember when I tried to call him that once in third year and he nearly incinerated me.” Blaise raises his eyebrows teasingly at your deflated boyfriend, unable to resist poking fun at his usually stoic friend. 

Huffing a small laugh, you interlace your fingers with Theo’s before stepping back, “Dating privileges, Zabini. Now, it was nice talking with you guys, but Theo might die from embarrassment if we linger around.” 

You barely manage to say your farewells to the group, before Theo is steering you away by your shoulders, muttering up a storm about his friends. 

“Don’t be lax just yet, dear. You still have to talk with my friends, remember?” Your reminder has the boy straightening his posture, evidently unsure with how to approach making conversation with your capricious group.

“They’ll like me, right?” You nearly melt into a puddle at his words. 

“Hermione? Yes. Harry? Maybe. Ron? Not a chance. But I like you, and that’s all that matters. Besides, Ron is too scared to incur Hermione’s wrath to threaten you, so he won’t try to hex you or anything.” Patting his chest reassuringly, you begin to drag him through the castle, set on finding your friends. 

Smiling to yourself, you were sure that your sudden relationship with the slytherin would encourage your friends to confront their own crushes. 

“Oh, I think I see them! Theo, you can’t get out of this with your puppy eyes, now come on!” 

masterlist

[1shadowhole]

I'd like to join in on the "_ fell first, _ fell harder" debate because I have been seeing many posts which argue that Merlin fell first and Arthur fell harder and... Ah ah ah ah. No. No that is not what happened.

Arthur fell the moment this twink with an attitude came to him and called his ass out. No one aside from Morgana has ever dared SASS him in his life and it made him find out some things about himself. Whereas Merlin saw an asshole and said: "What a bitch" and tried to punch him. Arthur liked that. Merlin didn't like Arthur sending him to the dungeons.

In the first episodes, Merlin is keeping him safe because of destiny, while Arthur is willing to trust him (ep. 2) save his life after a magic confession (ep. 3), and give his life (ep.4).

Arthur fell first.

By the time season five arrives Merlin is lost. He hasn't just fallen for Arthur. He has dug himself a hole so deep he can't see the bottom just that he can fall that much harder. He is quite simply obsessed with keeping Arthur safe and happy. Not for his destiny (which he has by now completely forgotten) but for Arthur.

There is no one else in his mind but his King, so much so that in the first episode of the last season he would not think twice before leaving all his knight friends to die, if it meant bringing Arthur to Camelot safe and away for Morgana. He gives up his and thousands of people's life and freedom for Arthur. This guy is completely gone for Arthur and can't think about anyone else.

On the other hand, Arthur CAN and does think about others... Gwen, his knights, and his people, even if he values Merlin "above all others".

So Arthur fell first. But Merlin fell harder.

Dat's how I see it anyway, feel free to disagree 💪

[achillesuwu]

Some day I will stop getting ideas in the middle of fic that are UNFUCKING RELATED TO THE IDEA WHY—

ANYWAY

Au where Merlin left (magic reveal under Uther reign for exemple) but then years later he comes back (for whatever reason) and (crack no angst) Merthur get to be batshit insane about each other like before but like… People of Camelot :

1. Kinda forgot about that Manservant Arthur had long ago

2. They totally forgot how much Merthur… well act like merthur lol

3. Some weren’t even in camelot when they met

So it’s just like

Arthur, the king, *screaming in the corridor*: MERLIN

Servant number 1 : ???

Arthur : WHERE IS THAT DOLLEPHEAD ? MERLIN !

Merlin from the other side of the castle using magic : FUCK OFF YOU PRAT I’M SLEEPING

The whole castle : ?!??

Arthur : GET YOUR ASS HERE

Leon : ah. Nostalgia

Merthur : *screaming at each other*

Knight 7 : isn’t this treason

Leon : nan That’s just Merlin

[nottswitch]

is it too on the nose to request some fluff 78 and 133 with sirius black? (i'm a basic bitch obviously) ❤️

aww no cause this is so cliché in the best way possible and cute at the same time 😭 always up for some siri as padfoot fluff <3

78. "the dog’s cuter." 133. "that’s your nickname?!"

warnings: just fluff

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; sirius m.list ; prompts (closed)

"where are we going?"

"babe, for the millionth time – not telling!"

"sirius, i swear to merlin…"

you sighed after another failed attempt to pry your boyfriend’s hands from your eyes in order to see where you were and where he was leading you. the boy sometimes had the craziest ideas, and you still haven’t forgotten that one time he decided to push you into the lake for some ‘lighthearted fun’, as he so graciously put it…

"here we are, love," sirius said after a couple more minutes of walking. "keep your eyes closed."

you groaned in annoyance, because you were still blissfully unaware of what was waiting for you once you’d finally be able to see, and crossed your arms on your chest, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. sirius was absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be, and he seemed to be basking in this state.

you heard him taking a few steps back and then, silence.

"sirius black, if you don’t tell me to open my eyes in three, two-"

your angry rant was interrupted by something – or someone – bumping into your leg. or, better said, bumping your leg on purpose. you flinched, startled by the unexpected turn of events, and your frown deepened. you opened your eyes despite not getting verbal permission and they immediately widened when you saw that – a big black dog sitting at your feet and looking up at you with a cute tilt to its head.

"hi…" you hesitantly murmured, stretching your hand out to pat the dog’s head. it seemed to be friendly, leaning into the touch and not trying to instantly maul you, which was a nice thing to know. "have you seen my idiot of a boyfriend, by chance?" you asked the dog absentmindedly, obviously not really expecting any real answer. you turned your head to the side, then to the other one. no sirius in sight.

"looking for something, love?"

you practically yelled when you heard his voice suddenly coming from behind you while you weren’t looking. you glared at your boyfriend, who was currently snickering at your bewildered facial expression.

"where were you?! and where’s the pup?"

"the pup? oh you mean–"

right in front of your widened eyes, sirius turned into the big black dog you had seen just a minute ago, and then back into a human. your mouth was agape, because as much as you expected from him, it wasn’t that. wasn’t that at all.

"you mean this pup?" sirius finished, mischief lighting up his eyes.

"you’re an animagus?!"

"yeah," sirius answered nonchalantly, looking at his nails, like an illegal animagus was a perfectly normal thing to be. "padfoot, at your service."

"that’s your nickname?! what does that even mean?"

"ah, don’t worry about it, love." sirius waved you off, which was very annoying, because how could he just spring this on you without any explanation?

"the dog’s cuter anyway," you said with a huff, crossing your arms on her chest and rolling your eyes to emphasize the way you were offended by his actions. sirius just barked out a laugh and stepped closer, wrapping his arms loosely around your form.

"alright, alright, i’ll tell you. but you might want to sit down for this one, love. it’s quite a long story."

[oneknightstand-if]

Percy Soulmate Comments

All right, here are all the comments from the Percy Soulmate help post found here. Too many to do the normal screencap thing. Hopefully this will help for all those seeking to become Percy's soulmate (or declare they are) at first sight!

Thanks to everyone who commented.

unhell-of-the-unwise

You must be more than a cuckoo, you also need other required stats, such as pure (atleast 3), will (atleast 7), and as far as I recall, you must have 100% Sweet either on the personality you showcase outside or the one you hide.

unhell-of-the-unwise

-The pure stat can be gained by choosing “innocent” actions, if I’m right. Options can be when having a crush (obvious or hidden) on Adrian and choosing the song options in the Apocalypse topic when you talk with him during club time. One song option will have romantic lyrics, you must choose the innocent option to gain purity. Another option can be when asking Merlin in the latest update if they need to feed during the drive at the abandoned warehouse. Avoid potty mouthed responses and lustful choices, or the Lust sin. -Will is mostly options that oppose Denial, such as “I’ve always wanted to go on a apocalyptic trip!”, it also helps that some of these options also raise cuckoo levels. -The Sweet stat is easier to mesure, given that it’s visible. Obviously, choose positive responses so that it’s 100%, or if you fail to do so, choose 100% Sweet as your hidden persona.

Basically, the PC must be some sort of modern Percival. Forgot to mention, but you also must not be corrupted/possessed, the whole “pure” thing, you know.

unhell-of-the-unwise

Oh, and don’t be a coward, it’s tied to Will options so I won’t further elaborate.

unhell-of-the-unwise

According to the code, there is a hero stat, so I suppose picking the most..positive option when having the react to your backstory helps.

unhell-of-the-unwise

I bid thee farewell as I cease my mindless rambling.

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise Some corrections as I've 'ctrl+f'd through the code and you're mostly right. Pure is gained by: OBVIOUS SPOILERS INCOMING: Never swearing. This should actually score you enough points for the soulmate flag on its own, so long as you don't lose points. However, if you still want to curse in every language known to man, as swearing does not subtract points on its own, there are just enough points to scrounge up to still trigger the flag. In the polo route, you have to Instinctively save Pippa, and not back down even if you fail. In the the fencing route, you can get a point for giving the panhandler your spare change and by not saving Zain but by then applying pressure to the wound. After club, if you are not a Greed MC or panicking, you must go back to Help Merlin after they first appear. Next point appears during 20 questions; when the topic of God and Angels come up, you have to Believe (do not pray). If you are kidnapped by the call, trying to help your burning apartment building is another point. (There's another point opportunity sandwiched in here, but it's by vowing off all swearing, but swearing is fun!) If you don't go into the gas station, questioning whether Merlin paid for everything is a point; if you do go in, simply not taking anything is a point. If you have three points, you have enough. It's lost by being a filthy, self-centered blackguard! No stealing (names are okay)! No harming people to get ahead (don't even think about it) and 1000 poxes on you murderers out there!

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise u_hero is specifically raised in three points atm, you can commit to saving Pippa (you get the point even if you fail), passing the stat check to save Zain, or standing between Adrian and the hellhound after club. You only need one of these flags.

unhell-of-the-unwise

@unbiquitousloser Ah, I see. Thank you for the corrections.

unbiquitousloser

@unhell-of-the-unwise Happy to help (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

nekoteus

@unhell-of-the-unwise The hero stat seems to be linked to succesfully saving people in club. So either chase down Pippa or knockaway the sword fragments in fencing club

randomguysayshello

Will>=7, cuckoo>=30,no corruption, don't be a coward, 1 or higher hero stat(the easy way is to rescue your clubmate), have 100 sweetness or your inner mind is sweet, have a pure stat greater than 3 (no serial killers, no pottymouths)

Quick purity guide

Polo club:- chase after enchanter moon(+1 purity), but will be removed by choice:-

★Actually, what the hell am I doing? I drop back to a sensible pace and leg Adrian attemp the rescue instead. (-1 purity)

Fence club:- choice:-

★I pause to give my loose change to a panhandler at the next intersection(+1 purity)

★ Remove my bully fencing glove and apply pressure to the area directly below the artery.(+1 purity)

★Remove my glove and clamp my hands around his neck(+1 purity)

Removed by:- ★Still i remain silent (-1 purity)

If you choose to do nothing, specifically:-

★Still I can do nothing more but stare at all this happening, If you are a cop(-1 purity)

Your Ultimate Secret:- ★Serial Killer(-1000 purity)

Hellhound chase:-

★I wonder if I can trip Adrian without slowing too much?(-1 purity)

★"Adrian we need to help M_pronoun" I,ve no idea what's going on, but feathers or not that M_man can't possibly take on that beast by M_pronounself(+1 purity)

The Tentacle Incident:- If you get molested by those disgusting tentacles, ★"Let go and save yourself!"(+1 purity)

Merlin Loredump:- If you ask a question about gods ★Still I want to believe in them (+1 purity)

Kidnapped:- (I think atleast)

★ "Isn't there anything more we can do about helping now?"(+1 purity)

★Atleast I'm not in the building (-1 purity)

★I stand up in detemination, intent on leaving this RV and returning to help at the apartment complex(+1 purity)

★Oh well. At least iw wasn't me(-1 purity)

★Perhaps this is my true nature after all. (-1 purity)

One option for killer but you are already negative purity(-1000) so what's one more

randomguysayshello

·Opinion on Merlin:- (Total -1 purity) First option:- ★My true opinion doesn't matter. Fully intend to take advantage of this situation. (No change, but unlocks the following choice):- ★I will play nice on the surface and try to manipulate Merlin(-1 purity)

·Opinion of Adrian:- (Total -1 purity) First choice:- ★My true opinion of Adrian doesn't matter. In circumstances like this, it's best to play nice to someone's face for one's own benefit.(No change but unlocks following choice):- ★That's right, I fully intend to manipulate Adrian for my own benefit

·Elevator scene(if the magic dance is still active):-

★I MC_motion my MC_weapon and wave it menacingly in the interloper's general direction(-1 purity)

Security guard scene(if magic dance is still active):-

★I MC_motion my MC_weapon and point it straight at the approaching security guard.(-1 purity)

·In the RV:-

★ I shrug and sit back down on the sofa. In the end, it has nothing to do with me.(-1 purity)

«If you haven't cursed and have a zero pothymouth variable you will get +1 purity»

randomguysayshello

@randomguysayshello ·Dream sequence, specifically the fight with Lancelot:- ★Never mind, fair play and the rules of engagement, I charge straight at him before the match has properly begun.(-1 purity, only if you are a lucid dreamer)

·After waking up, you decide what do with cursing in the apocalypse(at gas station):-

♦IF you haven't cursed ever (zero pottymouth):- ★As usual my mind remain pure and free of any swear words that might fit this exact situation.(+2 purity) •Every other option that indicates you will now start to curse more often reduces purity by 1 point

♦ELSE:-

•Trying to not curse entirely increases purity by 1 point.

·If you stay at the RV:-

★One never knows until they try. I attempt to hot-wire the motorhome(-1 purity)

At the end of the gas station, if you didn't go to shop or had too much fear and ran back to the RV:- ★"You paid for all this stuff right?"(+1 purity)

♦Killer option to reduce purity doesn't really matter

♠If you decide to ransack the whole store:- If purity is greater than one, Purity is set to zero, otherwise -1 purity.

♠If you take zero itmes whilst shopping(+1 purity)

♦If the RV has been sabotaged then, You will get a option to visit a shop:-

★I head off into the small attached shop to see if there's anything intresting in there(no change) ♦Pick a item or all items ★No skaes clerk.No security camera.No problem with me walking out the door with this MC_Purchase(-1 purity)

♣There's the guide done♣

randomguysayshello

@randomguysayshello You only need 3 purity points for one of the requirements for being Percy's soulmate, and according to the code you can still be a pottymouth and have atleast 3 purity.

[randomcreator-09]

The Mahoutokoro DADA Professor (Part One)

(Severus Snape x Reader)

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Part one, Part Two

(gif ain't mine > idk I saw it one day and saved it then forgot... But it's not mine :"3)

✨Pure fluff, maybe a lil angst heh dunno XD and a tad full of sarcasm✨

🐧AH! Suddenly had an idea to write a character where she's from an asian country and Snape is just so intrigued and annoyed by her XD. Enjoy my imaginations (didn't use grammarly on this one so it might have some grammar errors pls be kind :"3)

OH also I was inspired to write this with that one shot I dont remembor :"3 please dm me if you whoever wrote this somewhat the same trope sees or reads this, so I can tag you or maybe remove it if you request so🐧

Now enjoy ^^

Part one, Part Two

-----

As Hogwarts came to another start, Severus Snape found himself sitted once again in the great hall with the insufferable children in front of him.

The war has ended, and two years have passed since his close call with death. He wished it had ended that way, though; he really has no clue what faith has put in on him again.

Nothing out of the ordinary has changed in two years, except well the dark lord being defeated and him being awarded the Merlins honor for his sacrifices, along with the Pince riches and manor named after him. He scowled at that house, and he couldn't fathom the idea of living in it, so he stayed in his humble home at the end of Spinners End.

There was a new addition to the staff, though. Professor Y/N/L, you teach the subject he has been eyeing for quite some time now, DADA.

McGonagall hired you last year, with recommendations from Hermoine of course. She has placed good words for you, complimenting how you had helped her with advocating elf rights and how you have helped Harry in defeating scoundrels of the wizarding world as an auror.

There was something unique about you, too. You didn't graduate from Hogwarts like Hermoine or Harry; you graduated from the far east. To be exact you graduated with golden robes from Mahoutokoro Wizarding School Japan.

Everyone was giddy when McGonagall introduced you in the great hall. You were wearing your golden robes, depicting your Mahoutokoro origin. You probably were the same age as Severus (having graduated from Mahoutokoro in 1971, a year early due to your exceptional skills). Severus was the least giddy, though; he despised the fact you took the spot to his dream position.

He took your presence as a challenge, and he cannot wait to embarrass you in front of the students if you ever asked for a sample duel.

And that day did came.

On October 2, 2000, you knocked on his classroom door in the middle of his potions class. You slowly peeked your head at his dungeon door and smiled at him.

Oh, how he despised your bright smile.

"Hello, Professor Snape, " you greeted as you kept your body behind the door.

Severus raised a brow and enveloped himself with his black robe. "Professor Y/L, what a pleasure to have your presence," his voice like a hoarse rumble of thunder. Nagini's bite wasn't too kind to him after the years. It pains him to speak, but he has gotten used to it now.

"Well..." you muttered under your breath as you entered his classroom. The eyes of his students are on you but are back on their cauldrons as soon as Severus slams a notebook to one table.

"Is it alright to ask you to come with me for a sample duel?" the words rolled out your mouth, startled by the sudden burst of noise that echoed throughout room.

Severus smirked slightly. 'It was his time to shine,' he thought as he pulled his sleeves up and crossed his arms. "I suppose after class?"

You nodded with a smile and gave him the details of what time the duel would be held before thanking him as you left.

Severus curtly nods at you, a welcome, I suppose, or more of a thank you. As soon as you left, he swiftly turned around and walked straight to his desk. Severus had a genuine smile plastered on his face, his thoughts running wild on how he could embarrass you infront of your students. He felt victorious even with his thoughts.

Some of his students saw this smile and were terrified by it. He's gone mad.

------ (Duel ends)

Severus was in disbelief. Shocked, totaled, bamboozled, whatever it is you name that depicts a man who just lost his wits AND WAND!

He stood there dumbfounded as you gripped his wand with your hand.

You hit him with a successful expelliarmus at what felt like 2 minutes of exchanging spells!

"Now, children, expelliarmus is a spell you do to take an opponent's wand. Using it wisely, along with other spells exchanged by me and Professor Snape, is one way to win a duel or to pass your OWLS and NEWTS," you exclaimed, walking towards Severus and handing him his wand.

You called out names of students to watch them duel. Severus walked down the duel table, his demeanor unchanged and cold, but his insides were in turmoil. He had just been defeated, infront of her and her students.

You patted his back, which made him even tad furious at how he just lost that duel. How good were you to be able to defeat him? Has he lost his talent in duelling? Is he perhaps aging too fast?

"You did well, professor. Don't be too harsh on yourself, " you said as you watched your students duel.

He glared down at you, only his eyes moving as he scoffed. 'unbelievable,' he thought. He lost to a little midget like you.

He had to do something about this humiliation. With that, he scurried away from you and into the dungeons, preparing himself from the daily torment of the memory of losing from you.

-----(Your POV before he left)

Severus stood beside you as you two stepped down the duel table.

You had caught him at his most unexpected moment and effortlessly defeated him in the duel. You were a gifted dueller, after all.

As you watched your students duel, you looked up to see Severus with his usual cold demeanor. However, as you looked down at his hands, you could see how he gripped his hands. You smiled warmly at the thought of him even thinking about this moment more than once in the future.

"You did well, professor. Don't be too harsh on yourself," you said as you watched your students duel. You hear him scoff at you before twirling dramatically around and leaving.

You smile at that, and as you hear the door close shut, you stop your student's duel and end the class for the day.

A few days have passed since your duel with Severus, and he has been avoiding you since then. You felt it since he was always following you around before, and it's not that you don't like it. You actually do.

You've liked him since the day you arrived; you've always had a thing for dark, dramatic, gothic men, and he was the spite image of that.

You've always tried to start a conversation with him, to which he either scoffs or replies a bit dryly. You don't blame him, that scar in his neck must've hurt.

As you walk the open hallways of Hogwarts, passing by and greeting students, you see his familiar silhouette. He was walking away from you a bit too fast for his normal phase. You smile at this and tried following him to where he was going.

-----(Back to Severus POV)

Severus has been dreaming about you. Silly encantation, you must have placed some sort of spell on him while in duel, he concluded to himself.

His dreams started with you kissing him on his lips at first to you straddling his lap. He'd wake up with beads of sweat all over his body despite the cold temperatures of the dungeons where his chamber was. There was a constant tent on his blanket too! He despised you even more when you've become an apparent dream of his.

It has been almost two months now since the duel. Severus has been avoiding you since, embarrassed from the duel and ashamed of the silly dreams he's been having. He can't believe he's been dreaming of you, LIKE THAT TOO?!

December 15, 2000. He decided to walk Hogwart's open corridors to get some breather. He had to do something with you, scold you for coming to his mind, his dreams, his nightmares, his... His everything.

He shook his head, no way. NO WAY he has feelings for you. NO WAY.

As he turned the corner and walked even faster, he sees you being greeted by students. His body tensing up, as he quickly eyes you head to toe.

It's been days since he last saw you, and you were as marvelous as you looked from the last. Your hair tied up in a messy bun, your golden robe over your dark blue wizard clothes beautifully insinuating your figure, and oh... Your smile. He hated that bright smile, but he blushed every time you gave him that smile.

He quickly turned around and swiftly walked away from you. Walked? He RAN.

He never felt like this, not even with Lily. He felt like a schoolgirl running away from the sight of their crush. Jeez, he really needed to man up sometimes.

"Professor Snape!" he heard you exclaim. He paused in his tracks. Shit.

He turns around to see you walking towards him, with that darn smile again.

"Professor," he mutters, trying to compose himself. Hopefully his not showing much emotions or blushing. His cheeks felt hot though, darn it.

"Would you like to go to Yule Ball with me?" you asked sweetly.

Severus was frozen. He never thought he'd ever be asked to go to Yule Ball. Not even as a professor.

He looks at you with narrowed eyes. "And why would I say yes to that?" his voice sultry and rough.

You smiled again, he's going to have a heart attack anytime soon, he could feel it.

"Well... You could always say no. I wouldn't mind asking Professor Fin-"

"Nonsense, you can never dance with such a tiny man. It'd be best if you dance with me, by practicality ofcourse" he grunts in a way that flowed out of his mouth.

You laughed, which made Severus's heart do cartwheels.

"That's settled then." as you turn around and leave.

Severus was yet again left in shock. Did he just agree to dance with you at the Yule Ball?

He slammed his palm to his forehead. Now he is just being your lap dog. He has no choice now but to actually dance with you.

The woman who defeated him in duel. The woman who took his spot in DADA. The woman from the east who Severus never met before. The woman... He currently has feelings for.

He smiles. Atleast he knows now why faith has kept him alive.

-----

Next>> Part 2 is released!!!! ^^

[shanastoryteller]

Harry and Draco time travel to the past please!! Happy Valentine’s Day! 🩷

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

They've been in the past for months and all Harry has achieved is convincing Ron that he's possessed, which would almost be funny except that it just makes him feel lonely on top of of everything else. Being twelve sucks.

"Say that I am willing to help you," he says, cornering Draco after potions.

He blinks and then rolls his eyes. "Finally. You really can sulk with the best of them, Potter."

They're adults, their current bodies notwithstanding. He's not going to start a fistfight with Draco in the middle of the hall.

"What's going on here?" Blaise demands, looming over Draco's shoulder to glare at him.

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse that he'll believe and ends up going, "Ah," except he drags it out to be several syllables long.

Blaise isn't impressed.

"He's decided to stop wasting his own time - hah - and help us. The horcrux thing is going to go a lot faster, since he took care of them the first time."

For a moment, Harry's convinced that he has to be dreaming, or misheard, or something. Then he remembers this is Draco Malfoy and he really shouldn't put anything past him. "You told him?"

Draco wrinkles his nose while Blaise scowls at him. "Obviously. Pansy too. What, like you didn't tell your little friends?"

Harry presses his lips together and glares. Of course he hadn't told his friends!

Draco seems genuinely taken aback. "Merlin, Harry. You really are a mess."

"I hate you," he says.

Blaise claps him on the shoulder hard enough that he stumbles. He really, really hates being twelve. "Well, it's good to know some things never change."