Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Lumos.” 

The tip of Merlin’s wand glowed a dull yellow, lighting up the sharp, looping script on the parchment he was holding. His eyes scanned the page, taking in the information and silently mouthing the words as he read. 

What played an important part in the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards?

Merlin frowned in concentration, a headache slowly surfacing.  

“You’re going to ruin your eyesight if you keep doing that.”

Merlin glanced up from his stacks of parchment to see his best friend, smiling at him in the dimly lit library. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with long, pale fingers and half-smiling back.

“I’m so behind, Gwen. I can’t afford to slack off now, I've got Charms and Transfiguration homework, a Herbology project to start, I have to go over the Quidditch strategies for tomorrow, and I need to be ready for my exams, and-“ 

“Merlin.”

Guinevere cut him off, and sat down in the chair opposite. “You do know it’s only September, right? Exams are a long way off. You’re starting to sound like a Ravenclaw.” She teased, her kind smile showing, even in the dim light. 

“Well, now you're just being rude.” Merlin stuck out his tongue, teasing back lightly. Sighing, because he was exhausted, and because he knew Gwen was right, he shuffled the stack of notes and books into a slightly neater pile. He stood up and grabbed his pile of work from the wooden table, blinking the impending sleep from his eyes. Gwen smirked, victorious, and led Merlin out of the back of the library, past the scowling librarian, and into the torchlit corridor. 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, no sound except the echoing footsteps in the nearly empty hall, and breathing in the musty smell of parchment that hung in the air, even in the early semester. That was one of the little things Merlin really enjoyed about Hogwarts, it always smelled like parchment and magic and books. Maybe Gwen was right, maybe that was “Ravenclaw” of him, but Merlin didn’t mind. He had long since accepted who he was, clever and confident, sarcastic, and unapologetic for the things he enjoyed and desired. Slytherin, through and through. 

As they got closer to the basements, they made a bit of light conversation, although Gwen could tell Merlin wasn't in the mood. They descended the staircase leading to the Hufflepuff common rooms, and the castle kitchens. They stopped at the stack of barrels that mark the entrance to the common room. Gwen nodded towards the painting of fruit on the opposite wall of the corridor. 

“Are you hungry at all? They elves don’t mind a few of us coming in for a late night snack.” She smiled. Merlin contemplated for a brief moment before shaking his head. 

“No, really Gwen, I’m tired. I’ll just be off. See ya.” He waved at his best friend, and continued down the basement corridor, towards the Slytherin dungeons. One of the upsides of having a best friend in Hufflepuff, was that the two common rooms were extremely close, and Merlin had someone to walk to classes with whenever he needed. Although he didn't always like to admit it, Merlin got quite lonely, and having a friend who was close meant a lot to him. 

 A minute later he was in the common room, his eyes already heavy with sleep. He passed the few fourth-years who were chatting on the dull green sofas in front of the dying hearth. A fellow sixth year nodded approvingly at Merlin as he passed, “Hey Emrys, good luck on the game tomorrow. Knock Pendragon right off his pompous ass!” Merlin half-smiled, covering up the slight intake of air that always accompanied the dreaded name. Pendragon.

A red headed first-year spoke quietly to his friend, eyeing Merlin as he started down the steps to the boys dormitories. 

“That’s ‘im. Our best Chaser. Best in the whole school I’d say, but it’s always a tough game between us and Gryffindor. Bloody Pendragon. I heard from my older brother ‘im and Emrys used to be friends. Can’t say I believe it, the way the run up against each other on the Quidditch pitch. ‘Sides, who would be friends with that arrogant prat?” 

Merlin continued the path to his dormitory, the books and supplies in his hand getting heavier by the moment. Finally, he made it to his dormitory, and flopped down ungallantly on his four-poster bed. Sleep.

As he slipped from consciousness, the first-years words rang through his head. 

“Who would be friends with that arrogant prat?” 

Who, indeed?

*6 Years Ago*

Merlin walked through the forest, enjoying the calm of the nature around him. Every few minutes he turned to look behind him, making sure he wasn’t followed. Once he was confident he was alone, he cupped his hands together and looked hard at them. Concentrating hard, he conjured the image he wanted in his mind. A small red spark appeared, dancing in his palms, then fizzled out after a few seconds. 

Merlin smiled. It was true, his magic was finally showing itself. His father had told him he would start to see bigger signs of it soon.

Almost giddy with the light and powerful feeling, he tried conjuring the sparks again. This  time they came back in full force, and he slowly lifted his hands. The red sparks danced higher and higher, until they floated above his head. He stared up at them and laughed, excited by the magic.

“That was amazing.” 

Merlin spun around, shocked to see two other children behind him. He froze, and felt a rise of panic. 

Muggles. 

“Oh, um. Th-that wasn’t me, uh…”

The girl smiled. “Yes, it was. That was magic!” 

Merlin stood stunned, unsure of what to say. The boy next to the girl seemed to sense his hesitation and fear, and he gave a gentle smile. 

“Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘We aren’t Muggles, we’re wizards. Like you.” 

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. The boy stepped forward. He looked to be around Merlin’s age, if not a year or two older. 

“My name is Arthur Pendragon. Who are you?” 

“I’m Merlin.” 

Arthur nodded, “This is my sister, Morgana.” He gestured to the girl beside him. 

If Arthur hadn’t mentioned it, Merlin never would’ve guessed the two were related. Arthur had straight blond hair, warm tanned skin, and a fairly defined jawline, considering his age. Morgana was pale, her face a soft white, with long, wavy raven-black hair. The only similarity that the siblings shared was the small half-smile, and the same look of authority in their bright eyes, Arthur’s a bright blue, his sisters green. 

“I’m the older one though,” Morgana said, crossing her arms and smiling with the confidence of someone who knew she was in charge. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Only by a couple of months, Morgana. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, we’re both going to Hogwarts in September.” 

“I’m going next year!” Merlin smiled. “I don’t know much about it, but my uncle is a professor there. It will be nice knowing some other students.” The Pendragon children smiled back at him. 

“Do you want to come back to the house with us?” Morgana offered excitedly, “We’ll tell you everything we know about Hogwarts.”

Merlin hesitated. His mother would be worried if he didn’t come back home soon. But, since his mother was a Muggle herself, she didn’t have much knowledge of the Wizarding world. And Balinor, his father, didn’t see Merlin often, which made it hard for Merlin to ask any questions he had. 

“Come on,’ Morgana insisted. “I won’t take no for an answer.” 

The temptation to find out more about his father’s world was too great. He had never even met other wizard children. Merlin made his choice, and nodded shyly. Morgana turned around and started back the way her and Arthur had come. Merlin looked beside him to catch Arthur staring at him. 

“She seems determined.” Merlin laughed, awkwardly, watching Morgana far ahead of them,  who was turning back and gesturing for them to hurry up. Arthur smiled, and the bright blue of his eyes shone as him and Merlin made eye contact.

Merlin gave a shy smile back. “What?” 

Arthur shook his head, a puzzled look on his face. 

“There’s something about you Merlin…’ He paused, trying to find words for what he was thinking. He seemed to find it, and put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I think you and I are going to be great friends.” 

Merlin smiled to himself. He truly hoped so.

Chapter Text

Merlin woke up on Saturday morning with a headache. Drowsy, he rubbed his eyes and sighed. 

He had been dreaming about him. The memories of his childhood had been playing through his dreams all night. 

Bloody perfect. Having happy memories of Pendragon circling in his head right before an important Quidditch match was the last thing he needed. 

He forced himself to sit up and stretch. The other boys in his dormitory room were still asleep, so he quietly got dressed in his long green Quidditch robes. He slipped out the door, clutching his Cleansweep Seven, and headed up through the Slytherin common room. On his way out he ran into Mordred, the Seeker for their team. 

Mordred greeted him with a smile. Though he was only a fourth year, he was very talented, and had a generous and friendly spirit. He was also fairly humble, a characteristic not found in many of their Slytherin peers. 

“You ready?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred nodded, a look of determination and confidence in his bright blue eyes. Together they headed up to the first floor and met up with Gwen, who was waiting for them. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite father and son.” she smirked, winning an eye-roll from Merlin. It was often said that Mordred was Merlin’s mini-me. With messy black hair, pale skin, noticeable blue eyes, and a strong knack for Quidditch, they could easily have been related. 

“Good morning, Gwen.” Mordred answered politely.

“Hmm, who are you supporting today Gwen?” Merlin said sarcastically, pointing out her clothes. Her casual outfit was adorned with green and red accents, including a long banner that was draped around her shoulders. On one side of the banner the Gryffindor lion stalked around, occasionally roaring, mirroring the Slytherin snake on the opposite side. 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I’m excited, alright? It’s going to be a good match, I know it.”

Merlin almost laughed. Every Quidditch match was a good one for Gwen. She was determined to always be supportive, and with an older brother in Gryffindor, a best friend in Slytherin, and a boyfriend in Ravenclaw, Gwen had a lot of practice sharing her loyalty. So she was always happy with the result of the game. 

Eventually they all found themselves in the Great Hall, where the smell of scrambled eggs and fried sausages filled the air, and instantly made Merlin’s stomach growl. 

“I’m going to go wish Elyan luck. See you out there” Gwen gave Merlin a quick hug, and left the two boys to see her brother at the Gryffindor table. Merlin and Mordred made their way to the Slytherin table and eagerly dug into breakfast. The energy in the Great Hall was high, and the morning chatter was louder than usual. 

Just then, the majority of the Gryffindor team entered, loud and obnoxious as ever. Pendragon and his friends raced each other to their house table, playfully shoving and yelling, as if already celebrating their victory. Merlin scowled as he stared at the lot of them, the pure arrogance reaching him from the far side of the Great Hall.

Mordred made a noise of irritation. “And they say Slytherins are arrogant.”

Merlin laughed. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Nimueh, their team captain.

“You boys ready?”

“Yes.” Mordred responded instantly, looking down at his breakfast. Nimueh was a girl of extreme confidence and authority, and Merlin suspected Mordred feared her just as much as he respected her. 

‘Good.’ She responded in a soothing tone, her piercing blue eyes flashing. ‘I’ll be counting on you both today, we need this win against Gryffindor if we’re going to start off on the right foot this season.’

“We know.” said Merlin, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice. 

‘I’ll see you boys out there, then.’ She slowly and delicately traced her fingers across the back of Merlin’s neck, making him shiver. 

‘Especially you, Merlin.” She spoke just above a whisper, then winked and walked away. Merlin exhaled loudly, much to the amusement of Mordred. 

“She still trying to seduce you, then?” He laughed.

Merlin nervously scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. It’s getting harder to say no if I’m being honest.” 

Nimueh was hard to resist. She was gorgeous, with intense blue eyes and long black hair. She was a very skilled witch, and an incredible Quidditch player. She was also a huge flirt, and never took no for an answer.

“Remind me again why you keep saying no?” Mordred stood up from the long table, and put his broomstick on his shoulder. The two boys walked along the Slytherin table, past their fellow students who were still enjoying breakfast. 

Merlin shrugged. “I just… don’t want to get involved, I guess. I mean, yeah, she’s beautiful. But Nimueh uses people, I’ve seen it before. She always gets what she wants, and she doesn’t care who she hurts. And I just… can’t let others have power over me. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.” 

“No, I think I know what you’re getting at.” Mordred replied. He seemed to understand Merlin didn’t want to keep talking about it, so he stayed silent as they neared the Quidditch grounds. 

 Merlin watched Nimueh in the distance, reaching the pitch and talking with the rest of their teammates. 

“Besides,’ he added. ‘I feel like it could get complicated, playing on the same Quidditch team with someone you’re involved with.” 

“Hey, Tristan and Isolde manage to do it.” Mordred pointed out. Merlin nodded in agreement. 

‘It’s different though. They've been together for years, and Isolde definitely isn’t as controlling as Nimueh.’

‘Still, I imagine it’s easier than competing against each other.’ Mordred shrugged. 

Merlin smirked. ‘Yeah. I know I couldn’t do it.”

They found themselves on the Quidditch pitch, meeting the rest of the Slytherin team. Nimueh stood with her hand on her hip, and her Firebolt over her shoulder. 

“I am not going to repeat myself, so listen up. We need to be bloody fast today. Gryffindor prides themselves on being the strongest, but we can fly circles around those prats. Mordred, do not hesitate to pretend you’ve seen the Snitch, and keep their Seeker on your tail. Sophia, Merlin, watch out for those Bludgers. Gryffindor has two new Beaters, Percival and Gwaine, and they are as strong as they are stupid, particularly Percival. They will constantly be hitting the Bludgers towards us. Avoid them. Alright. Everyone understand? Yes? Good. Let’s do this.” 

Fifteen minutes later they had all mounted their brooms and soared into the air, practicing flying as the rest of the school slowly took their seats in the stands. Merlin watched the Gryffindor team arrive on the field, and he caught a glimpse of Pendragon, strutting alongside his arrogant friends. He felt the familiar sensation of his heart racing, and he used it to focus himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of the autumn air. He concentrated on the magic that surrounded the pitch, that flowed through him and all of the other students and professors. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at Pendragon, who was flying around his side of the pitch. 

It was time to win this match. 

***

It had been nearly two months since Merlin Emrys had met Arthur and Morgana Pendragon. Merlin couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had been happier. They knew so much about the Wizarding World, and Merlin was grateful for all he had learned from them. 

He went to his bedroom window and stared out at the rolling fields. Merlin lived in a small Muggle town called Ealdor, which was settled on the outskirts of the English countryside. His mother, Hunith, was a Muggle herself, but Merlin had always known of his magical heritage. He had old memories of his father Balinor showing off his magic, entertaining Merlin and his mother. For the past few years, however, Balinor was constantly busy, and traveled for work. Merlin sometimes found it hard to live in the town, surrounded by normal people, having to keep his magic secret, and never getting any answers to his questions about the Wizarding World. He had to live among Muggles, always knowing there was a bigger, more important part of his existence.

Since meeting the Pendragons, however, Merlin had someone from his own world to talk to. The day that Merlin met the Pendragon children was the very day his magic really started to show. His mother was working, so he had gone to the woods that lay behind his house, away from any prying Muggle eyes. After he had met them, and followed them back through the other side of the trees, they led him to a cozy cottage; where they happened to be staying for a couple weeks that summer. 

Merlin couldn't believe his luck that two wizard children were now in his boring Muggle town. From that day on they would all play together, meeting in the woods and trying to cast spells and practice magic. They would tell Merlin about all sorts of magical creatures, and they would run around among the trees, pretending to chase such beasts. Both Morgana and Arthur clearly had magical abilities, but it was clear that Merlin was more skilled than they were, despite him being younger and ignorant of most of the magical world. Merlin would ask Morgana about wizard history and different spells she knew of. Arthur would go on about a wizard sport called Quidditch, and about the Ministry of Magic where their father worked. They made an unlikely, but pleasant trio. 

Even when they left to go back to London, Merlin still got letters from them, particularly Arthur. He looked forward to Arthur’s letters, which always came by owl, and told of some new adventure he was going on. Arthur was a natural born leader, and Merlin couldn’t help but admire him. He was already quite tall, considering he was only eleven, and he walked in a self-confident, almost regal way. His confidence and sense of fun was irresistible, and Merlin found himself wanting to be just like Arthur. 

Today, Merlin was watching from his window, waiting for the moment where he would see Arthur emerge from the woods. In his latest letter, Arthur had promised that his father had last minute business back in Ealdor; and they would be back for the last week of summer and that he had something very exciting to show Merlin. Barely able to contain his excitement at the prospect of seeing his friend again, Merlin spent most of his day waiting and watching from his small bedroom. 

Finally, he saw Arthur approaching, waving enthusiastically and holding something behind his back. Merlin ran down the stairs and out of his house so fast he felt like he was flying. Arthur greeted him with a wide smile, and showed Merlin the object he had been hiding. 

“My father got this for me last week, isn’t it incredible?” 

Merlin was speechless. It was a beautiful broomstick, with a long mahogany handle, and a tail full of straight, light brown twigs. 

“It’s a Nimbus Two Thousand, Father thinks I should start practicing now with my own broom if I’m to make the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” Arthur proudly said. 

“Arthur it’s… beautiful. Have you ridden it yet?” Merlin asked excitedly. 

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, it’s amazing. I don’t suppose you want to have a go on it, do you?” He smirked. Merlin’s eyes widened. 

“Seriously?” He asked, staring up at Arthur. 

“Of course, you clotpole, that’s why I brought it.” Arthur laughed, holding the beautiful broomstick out for Merlin. Merlin reached out and took it, admiring the lovely craftsmanship. It was the first racing broomstick Merlin had ever held, and he was not disappointed. 

“Well, get on.” Arthur pressed, taking a small step back to give Merlin space. Merlin hesitated, realizing he had no idea what he was doing. Awkwardly, he mounted the broom, surprised by how light and airy it felt. 

“Now just kick off the ground.” Arthur instructed, eyes shining. 

Merlin took a deep breath, and grasped the broom handle tightly. Then, after an encouraging look from Arthur, he kicked off the grass and into the air. 

It was unlike anything Merlin had experienced before. The wind gently blew past him as he effortlessly glided through the air. He felt the broomstick as an extension of himself, he barely needed to guide where he wanted to go. He kept lower to the ground, vaguely aware that Muggles could be watching. He breathed in and out, noticing his heart felt light. He smiled, a feeling of pure joy as he sped through the air. 

After circling around Arthur a few times, he slowed down, and landed roughly. Arthur ran over to him and laughed, putting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Merlin, you surprise me. You’re a natural!” 

“Really? You think so?” Merlin beamed at Arthur, passing the broomstick back to him. 

“Really! I can’t wait until we’re on the Quidditch team together. We’ll make Gryffindor proud.” Arthur declared. 

Merlin shook his head, laughing a little. “Oh, I don’t think so. I can’t imagine being good enough for any team, let alone Gryffindor.” 

“First lesson of flying Merlin: practice.’ Arthur teased. He offered the broomstick out to Merlin again. 

Merlin smiled. 

Chapter Text

The whistle blew as the Quaffle was released into the air, and Merlin swiftly scooped it up, pushing past the row of Gryffindors in front of him. He threw it to Sophia, one of the other Chasers on his team. They sped towards the Gryffindor goalposts, where their Keeper, Leon, was standing guard. Merlin glanced behind him, seeing the red streak of the Gryffindor Chasers close behind. Sophia passed the Quaffle back to Merlin, and he set his sights on the tallest hoop. 

The sky quickly darkened as rain clouds made their way towards the pitch. Merlin breathed in the scent of approaching rain, and felt the energy around him. This is what Merlin loved to do. The feeling of the wind rushing through his hair, the cheers of the crowd in the stands. Never did he feel more house pride than when he was on the Quidditch pitch, the passion and drive shared among him and his friends, all of them bright green blurs in the sky. 

Merlin dodged a Bludger that was shot towards him by one of the Gryffindor Beaters. Nimueh flew over his head, navigating around the left side, getting closer and closer to the Gryffindor goalposts. Merlin launched the deep red Quaffle at Nimueh, who caught it neatly and fired it into the tallest hoop. A cheer erupted from the crowd, particularly the Slytherin side. Merlin smiled as he heard the announcer say: “Ten points to Slytherin!”, and he caught a glimpse of Gwen cheering from the stands. 

The ball was put back into play and he sped around the pitch. Gryffindor took possession quickly, and Merlin followed the Chaser who held the Quaffle, Elyan, Gwen’s brother. Elyan’s broomstick was a newer model than Merlin’s, so he quickly pulled ahead. Elyan aimed at Slytherin’s right hoop and shot the Quaffle hard at it. Merlin cheered as Slytherin’s Keeper, Tristan, caught it fast. Tristan sent it back towards Merlin, and Merlin raised his arm, ready to receive it. 

A red blur shot in front of him, intercepting the Quaffle and shooting it back at the goalposts. The crowd yelled as Gryffindor gained ten points. Pendragon circled the posts, celebrating his success. Merlin felt a rise of irritation and anger in his chest. He used it to fuel his energy as he fixed his gaze onto Pendragon. 

Twenty minutes later Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at 60 points. The dark clouds had finally settled over the pitch and the rain was falling fast and cold. Merlin felt tired and sore but he kept pushing. Slytherin needed him, and nothing made him more powerful than wiping the smug look off Pendragon’s face whenever he lost in Quidditch. 

Merlin saw Mordred flying close to the ground, the Gryffindor Seeker close behind him. Merlin watched Mordred with pride; while he wasn’t the team captain, he had still taught Mordred a lot about Quidditch, and couldn’t help but feel like a proud older brother when watching Mordred succeed. 

Merlin focused again on the action around him. He didn’t need to worry about Mordred getting the Snitch first; Mordred was quick and resourceful. All Merlin needed to do was make sure Slytherin stayed in the lead. He flew wide, gesturing to Sophia that he was open for the Quaffle. She tossed it to him with a force that contradicted her soft and light appearance. Nimueh shot through a line of Gryffindors, heading straight for their end. She signalled for one of their familiar strategies. Merlin threw her the Quaffle, then dove, flying directly behind her. She flew straight towards Leon, and he hovered in front of the tallest hoop, maintaining strong eye contact with Nimueh. She gently tossed the Quaffle behind her, right into Merlin’s waiting arms. With impressive speed, she ducked out of the way, and Merlin fired the ball into the left hoop, earning a cheer from the crowd. He flew back around the pitch, passing his teammates in celebration. Merlin circled the pitch and made it back to the Slytherin end, meeting up with Tristan.

Gazing into the middle of the action, he saw a Gryffindor take possession of the Quaffle. Though the rain was heavy, he could easily tell who it was. He knew Pendragon’s flight skills anywhere. 

Pendragon was barrelling towards the Slytherin side, Quaffle tucked firmly in his grasp. Merlin felt a burst of determination and energy, and shot forward. Pendragon and him were speeding towards each other, directly opposite. Pendragon made no motion to get out of the way, and maintained eye contact with Merlin. 

Merlin smirked. So this prat was determined to be the best and bravest, typical Gryffindor arrogance. Well, Merlin thought, He wants to prove he’s the bravest, he’s going to have to fight for it. 

He sped up on his Cleansweep, staring straight ahead. Pendragon maintained his precise line towards Merlin, and Merlin almost laughed out loud. First one to move was the coward. He would gladly play this game. The cheer of the crowd seemed to slowly die away, and Merlin heard nothing but the heavy rain, and the quick beating of his heart. The game, the crowd, the other players on the pitch faded away. It was just him and Pendragon. They inched closer, still gaining speed. Pendragon’s look of arrogance shifted to intense purpose. Merlin didn’t flinch as they were within metres of each other. 

At the last moment, Pendragon ducked down, Quaffle still in hand. Merlin didn’t have time to silently celebrate. The Bludger that had been closely trailing Pendragon rushed at Merlin, hitting him hard in the side of the head with a loud crack. 

Merlin’s felt his fingers slip from his broomstick, as he quickly faded from consciousness. Blurs of grey, green and red surrounded him as he fell, fast and violent. He felt the darkness swallow him, and the last thing he heard was someone calling him from very far away.

Merlin! Merlin.

Merlin…

Chapter Text

“Merlin, I’m going to miss you.” 

Merlin and Arthur lay in the grass, gazing up at the blue sky. It was late August, the sun was bright and shining. They had just spent hours flying on Arthur’s broomstick, having fun and pretending to be playing Quidditch, Gryffindor Chasers against imaginary Slytherins. They had flopped down, exhausted, and just breathed in the sweet summer air, silently appreciating the presence of one another. They had remained that way for several minutes until Arthur had spoken. 

Merlin turned his head to look at his friend. Arthur was still facing the sky, but his eyes were shut, forehead pulled into a slight frown. 

Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat. These past several weeks had been amazing. His friendship with Arthur was so easy and comfortable, they had bonded over a knack for Quidditch, and the feeling of an absent father. Arthur's father worked at the ministry in a very high position, and from what Arthur and Morgana had said, he took his role at the Ministry a lot more seriously than his role as a father. 

Merlin sighed, trying to keep the overwhelming emotion at bay. 

"I wish I was going to Hogwarts with you. I can't believe I have to wait a whole year." 

Arthur opened his eyes. "I wish you were coming too." He sat up, starting to pick at the bright grass at his feet. 

Merlin sensed Arthur was emotional himself, and Merlin was immediately filled with a need to protect him. It wasn't Arthur's problem that Merlin was a year younger, and had to wait his turn. Arthur should not have to feel upset just because Merlin was in pain. 

"I'll be fine though." Merlin brushed it off, sitting up. "You can write me every week, and-and you can tell me all about Gryffindor, and the classes, and the Quidditch games, you HAVE to tell me about Quidditch!" 

This seemed to cheer Arthur up slightly, and he grinned. 

"You're right Merlin. You have to write back though, you promise?" 

Merlin nodded and smiled back. 

"Thank you Merlin, you're a loyal friend." Arthur remarked. 

Merlin felt his face getting red. He always felt this way whenever Arthur complimented him. At age eleven, Arthur was already a strong, smart and skillful leader, and it surprised Merlin greatly when Arthur thought he was impressive in some way. When they had first started flying practice on Arthur's broomstick, Arthur had constantly complimented Merlins natural abilities. After years of being the shy, lonely kid in the corner, someone who was truly worthy of admiration thought Merlin was worthy too. 

Arthur stood up from the soft grass, and offered Merlin a hand to help him up as well. 

"Don't forget,' Merlin smirked. "You'll still have Morgana." 

Arthur laughed. "That is true. Though she does have a bad habit of getting on my nerves, and also of getting her way."

"Do you think she'll get into Gryffindor too?" Merlin asked, suddenly creating an image in his mind of the three of them, laughing and talking, roaming the corridors of Hogwarts on their way to class. The thought made him smile. 

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "It's very likely. She's one of the most headstrong people I know, and she could easily fit into a house of natural born leaders." 

Merlin nodded in agreement. 

"Although, ' Arthur continued, 'Morgana's mum was a Ravenclaw, so she might end up there." 

Merlin nodded again. Sometimes he forgot that Arthur and Morgana were half-siblings, though it made perfect sense that they only shared a father. They didn't look much alike, and they were only born a few months apart. 

Suddenly, the reality of what Arthur had just said hit him. Merlins eyes widened. 

"Does it really make a difference? Which house your parents came from?" 

Arthur laughed, as if amused by Merlin's naivety. 

"Of course Merlin, don't be a dollop head. Think about it. The values a wizard has usually comes from their families, not to mention their natural magical abilities. Both of my parents were in Gryffindor, and most of the Pendragons before my father. And I have been raised to be a great leader, just like him."

Merlin's heart started to sink. His mother, being a Muggle, never belonged to a Hogwarts house, and he hardly knew anything about his father, let alone which house he was in at school. 

“What if-what if I’m not in Gryffindor next year?” Merlin replied quietly, the fear creeping into his words. 

Arthur gave Merlin his usual half-smile. “Trust me Merlin, you will be.” Arthur assured him with such confidence and calm authority that Merlin believed him.

Almost.

That night, after Arthur and him had said their farewells, and Arthur left to London, Merlin sat at his desk. By the light of his lamp, he took out a pen and paper, silently wishing it was a parchment and quill. Merlin started to write:

‘Dear Father, I hope you are doing well, and that work is good. I know I have not heard from you in a few months, but I was wondering if you could tell me which Hogwarts house you were in. I’ve heard all about Hogwarts from some friends I’ve-‘

Merlin stopped writing. He wondered if this letter was good enough. He had never had a normal father-son relationship, how could he expect to bother his father about something so silly, just to reassure himself? 

Besides, Merlin thought. He didn’t have an owl, and his mum wouldn’t know how to get in touch with Balinor, unless he had sent a letter himself, or called her on the telephone. 

It was useless to write the letter if he didn’t know where to send it. Merlin sighed, folding up the paper and tossing it into the bottom desk drawer. 

It didn’t matter. Not really, anyway. 

Just as long as his father had not walked the Hogwarts corridors as a Slytherin.

Chapter Text

“I’m just so worried about him, you saw how hard that Bludger hit him!”

“Gwen, I know. But he’s going to be fine, I promise. Merlin is one of the strongest people I know.”

“Lancelot is right, Gwen, if anyone can pull through, it’s Merlin.”

Merlin very slowly opened his eyes, becoming aware of the pounding headache in the side of his head. He blinked several times, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes in front of him. He moaned loudly, voicing the pain and discomfort flowing through his body. 

The blurry shapes turned to look at him. Slowly they became less distorted, and Merlin recognized the people standing around his hospital wing bed. Gwen, Lancelot, Mordred, Nimueh, and his Uncle Gaius were all staring at him with concerned, but relieved looks. 

Gwen leaned forward, gently touching Merlin’s arm.

“Merlin, how are you feeling?”

The kindness and genuine concern in her brown eyes made Merlin smile, despite being in pain.

“I’m fine Gwen, really.” He started to sit up and Gwen dove into action, helping him shift upwards and adjusting his pillows. 

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “You’re fine, are you? That’s awfully miraculous, considering you have a serious concussion, a broken arm, and a few broken ribs.” 

Merlin looked away from Gaius’s gaze. He knew Merlin too well, it was nearly impossible to hide anything from Gaius. 

“Alright, I will be fine. They’ll have me fixed up in no time, don’t worry Gaius.” 

Gaius narrowed his eyes, but spoke with slight amusement. “That’s Professor Gaius to you, Mr Emrys.”

Merlin started to laugh, then stopped when he realized how much it hurt. 

“What happened, anyway?” He frowned, trying to make sense of the rainy blurs in his memory. 

“Bloody Pendragon. He knew that Bludger was trailing him and he led it straight to you.” Nimueh scowled, leaning on her broomstick. Merlin noticed that her and Mordred were still in their green Quidditch robes. 

“You fell from your broomstick pretty hard.” Mordred added. 

“How long have I been out?” Merlin asked, noticing the dim sky through the clear windows. 

“A few hours.” Gwen replied. 

“And the rest of the match?”

“Cancelled.” said Lancelot. “Sorry, mate.” 

The hospital wing matron came over, checking over Merlin now that he was conscious. She passed him a bright purple potion, and Merlin downed it in one gulp, trying not to taste it. 

“We should leave you to rest.” Gaius said softly. Merlin was about to argue that they didn’t have to go, but the potion was already taking effect. He started to feel lighter and heavier at the same time, and the concept of sleep seemed irresistible. 

Mordred gently put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and gave a quick nod of respect and kindness. “Feel better Merlin.” 

Nimueh leant forward, pushing past Mordred with such elegance it was almost unnoticed.  She stroked Merlin’s pale arm with her long red nails. “Get some rest, we need you in top condition for the next match.” She winked and confidently strode out of the hospital wing. 

Gwen sighed. “Does she ever turn it off?” 

Mordred laughed. “Not when it comes to Merlin.”

Merlin smiled awkwardly, making Lancelot chuckle. “Merlin, you’re a brave man.” He stood up, putting his arm around Gwen’s shoulders.

“You sure you’ll be all right?” Gwen asked, bending down and giving Merlin a gentle hug. 

“Don’t worry about me, Gwen. I can take care of myself.” 

Merlin’s last comment earned a disbelieving snort and eye-roll from Gaius. Merlin ignored him and stared up at his friends and favourite professor, his eyes already heavy with sleep. He lifted his arm up with great effort and waved at them. 

They all walked toward the door, Mordred muttering to Gwen and Lancelot. “I’ve got half a mind to curse that damned Pendragon.”

“I better not have heard that.” Gaius warned Mordred, turning back and smiling at Merlin. 

Merlin laughed to himself as he watched his friends go. The pain in his head and body was subsiding now, and he felt warm, safe and content as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

Merlin woke a few hours later. The sky outside was dark, and the hospital wing was dim, save for a few lit torches. 

He struggled to sit up, still in pain, though not as intense as before. Merlin looked into the shadows of the large room, starting to get the sense that he wasn’t alone. He squinted, trying to make sense of the dark shape. He reached over to his bedside table, and grabbed his wand, pointing it towards the dark corner.

“Who’s there?” 

He received no answer, although he could hear a soft breathing. Merlin gripped his wand tighter. 

“I’m warning you, prat.” 

After a few moments, the figure slowly stepped into the dim light. 

Tall, and wearing a dark red jumper that outlined his defined chest, the blonde boy made eye contact with Merlin, lifting his hands slightly in a mock surrender. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Merlin sat up straighter, raising his wand a little, ignoring the pain in his body. Arthur Pendragon stepped closer, a look on his face that Merlin could only describe as embarrassment. It quickly turned to a look of irritation. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I woke you, I-“

“Came to finish the job?’ Merlin cut him off, scowling. ‘Or maybe you just came to gloat.” 

“Shut up, would you?” Pendragon snapped. “I just came to apologize. I swear I didn’t know that Bludger would hit your head, and, well… people were saying things. Rumours that you’d almost died.” Although he tried to keep his face emotionless, Merlin recognized concern in Pendragon’s blue eyes. Merlin frowned, not just in anger, but in confusion.  

There was almost a vulnerability in Pendragon’s face but Merlin quickly dismissed it. 

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you bought into some stupid rumour.’ Merlin’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘As you can see, I’m fine. No thanks to you.”

“Listen, Emrys,’ Pendragon continued. ‘What I did on the pitch today was...unfair. And shameful.” 

“Two words that describe a  Slytherin, wouldn’t you say?”  Merlin spat.

Pendragon sighed. “I didn’t say that.” 

“You implied it.” Merlin said, not quite sure where the aggression inside him was coming from. Pendragon was visibly angry now.

“Listen, I’m just trying to do the honourable thing here.” Pendragon crossed his arms, making his already broad stature more intimidating. 

“Oh, well that should be easy for you, being a faultless Gryffindor and all.”

Merlin stood up now, still in pain but with anger and adrenaline coursing through him. 

“I don’t need your pity, Pendragon, and I certainly don’t need to be responsible for making you feel like a perfect prince again.” 

Merlin kept his wand fixed on Pendragon. Pendragon had pulled his wand out too, but kept it pointed at the ground.

“You should go. Wouldn’t want to be seen consorting with a Slytherin, now would you?” Merlin snapped, his words full of the sarcasm he was so practiced in.

“Fine.” Pendragon spat, tucking his wand back into his pocket and storming out of the hospital wing, not looking back.

Merlin stood there for a minute, staring into the shadowed corridor that Pendragon disappeared into. His breathing slowed and he was left standing in disbelief and pain, now that the adrenaline and anger had subsided. He sighed and shuffled back to his bed, laying down with groans of pain. 

Merlin found it hard to go back to sleep, his mind was racing for several minutes. The absolute nerve of Pendragon. Not a damn word spoken between them for over five years, and he just bursts into his room in the middle of the night, full of regret? Playing the part of the honourable prince, the humble hero? 

Just what was Pendragon trying to prove?

'Well,' Merlin thought, 'I’m not playing along. I don’t owe him anything. 

He turned uncomfortably onto his side, and hours later was still trying to wrap his head around the confusing visit from his childhood friend.

Even more confusing though, was the small part of him that kept replaying the look of concern in Pendragon’s eyes, and the way it made him feel inside his chest. Warm, familiar, and safe.

Chapter Text

Merlin lay on his small bed, hands folded on his chest and eyes staring mindlessly at the ceiling. It was a full week into September now, and Merlin was anxiously waiting for Arthur’s letter. The first of many, he hoped. 

Merlin turned his gaze to his school bag in the corner. His Muggle bag full of boring Muggle homework from his boring Muggle school. He gave a long sigh, starting to worry that Arthur had forgotten about him, and that his letter was never coming.

Not a full minute later there was a sharp tapping at his window. He got out of bed quickly, and smiled when he saw the source of the tapping. A light brown barn owl with a letter attached to his foot. Merlin slid the window open, and watched in amazement as the owl flew once around his small bedroom, and landed neatly on his desk, the leg with the scrolled up paper lifted towards Merlin. He cautiously reached for the letter, untied it from the patient owl and excitedly unrolled it. He sat down on his bed, deep blue eyes scanning the parchment.

“Merlin, 

You won’t believe how amazing Hogwarts is, I know you would’ve loved the first night. 

Gryffindor is everything I thought it was going to be. Already I have made strong friends, many from families I know, so I know that they are going to be loyal and brave. I met a fellow first year, his name is Leon. Our fathers worked together at the Ministry, and he loves Quidditch too. I think you would like him too. 

Morgana got into Ravenclaw, but she still seems happy about it. I’m sure she can’t wait to be smarter than me so she can best me in our arguments.

The classes are nothing like the games you and Morgana and I played. They are serious and hard and my father is already pressuring me to have great marks. He’s also told me to stay away from any Slytherins, and I can see why he says that. They all seem awful and arrogant, and Leon told me that they cheat in Quidditch. 

I’m sorry this letter is so short, but I haven’t had much time to myself. I really wish you were here with Morgana and I, you’re better at magic than a lot of my classmates. 

I’ll write to you soon,

Arthur Pendragon”

*** 

It had been two weeks since Pendragon had visited Merlin in the dead of night, and Merlin was no closer to figuring out why he had. Merlin was trying hard to dismiss what happened, but he found himself replaying those few minutes in the dim hospital wing.

The morning after his first night in hospital, Gwen and Lancelot came to visit. Merlin wanted to tell Gwen of the interaction he had with the Gryffindor, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say it. 

Today was a Saturday, and he was in the library with Gwen and Lancelot, poring over parchments and books. It had been relatively quiet, save for the few flirty jokes made between the couple. After a while, Gwen broke the silence.

“Merlin, you know my friend Freya, right?”

“Not really.” 

“She’s a 5th year, Hufflepuff. Dark hair, kind of shy?”

Merlin tried to picture the girl Gwen had been describing but found it difficult. He had, after all, been busy thinking about Pendragon. Gwen noticed Merlin was lost inside his head and she waved a hand in front of his face, to the amusement of Lancelot. 

“Anyway, Freya and I were chatting in the common room yesterday, and I’m pretty sure she fancies you.” She gave a smile, her brown eyes shining. 

“And?” Merlin sighed, scratching notes with his quill. 

“Oh, come on.’ Gwen shoved Merlin’s arm playfully and rolled her eyes. ‘You’ll like her. She’s smart and sweet, and you could just see where it goes.” 

“I don’t know.”

“You shouldn’t pressure him, Gwen. Besides, he’s still got Nimueh to deal with.” Lancelot smirked, trying to stifle a laugh. 

“It’s not like that with her. I’m not interested.” Merlin looked up from his parchments to give his friend a disapproving look. 

“Great. So then you’re free to see Freya.” Gwen said, matching her boyfriend’s smirk. 

Merlin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help admiring Gwen’s insistence. “I’ll think about it, okay?” 

Satisfied, Gwen went back to her notes, and Lancelot and Merlin shared a look. Merlin leaned back in his chair and stretched his long arms, surprising himself with a yawn. 

“I’m gonna head back to my common room.’ He stood up, starting to gather his books.

“You sure?” Lancelot asked.

“Yeah,’ Merlin yawned again. ‘If I’m going to be well enough to start Quidditch again next week, I’ll need to catch up on my sleep.” 

“Get some rest then.” Gwen nodded. 

“See you at dinner.” Merlin gave a half smile and wandered out of the library, passing  several Ravenclaw girls, who were sitting cross-legged in a circle, sharing notes and passing around Liquorice Wands. 

The mid-afternoon sun was shining brightly, streaming in from the high glass windows along the corridor. There were lots of students hanging about, most of them in casual clothes. The surprisingly warm September air was making Merlin drowsy, and he felt his mind wandering as he slowly walked along, holding his few books. 

He entered a stretch of corridor that was deserted, except for the statues of armour along the wall. Enjoying the brief solitude, he started to hum a song, an old tune from his childhood. He then turned a corner and bumped straight into something solid, dropping his books. 

“Sorry, that was my fault, I-“ Merlin stopped in the middle of bending down to grab his books, looking up to see the person he had bumped into. He made eye contact with Arthur Pendragon and straightened up, books left on the floor.

Pendragon seemed just as surprised as Merlin did that they had collided. Merlin frowned, irritated.  

“Never mind. Accio.” Merlin pulled his wand out and used a Summoning Charm, his books flying neatly into his arms. He stepped around Pendragon, avoiding his gaze. 

“Hey… uh, Emrys. Wait.”

Merlin stopped and sighed, turning around and facing Pendragon. They were both tall, nearly the same height, staring eye to eye. Pendragon wore an expression of hesitation, and something else that Merlin couldn’t quite name. 

“How are you? Your injuries, I mean.” He asked.

Merlin looked around in a mocking, overdramatic way. “Oh, so you’re talking to me in broad daylight now?” His words dripped with sarcasm, trying to get under Pendragon’s skin.

Instead of the instant anger and irritation Pendragon had displayed on that night in the hospital wing, his expression remained calm. He did, however, glance around the corridor, checking for students or professors passing by. 

“Look, Emrys. I meant what I said before. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

Merlin was at a loss for words, which was a rare occasion. He stood, staring intently at Pendragon, trying to read his face for some kind of clue. A hint, a flicker of something that would explain what he was trying to do. 

“And I meant what I said before, I don't need your pity.” 

“Merlin.” Pendragon raised his voice slightly louder, frustrated. The Gryffindor’s use of his first name made Merlin's breath stop for a moment. Pendragon stared past Merlin, at the approaching footsteps. He lowered his voice and continued.

“Listen…if things were different…if-if I wasn’t… a Gryffindor…”

“What?” Merlin sighed.

“Well, I’d expect we’d get on. We would be friends.”

Merlin laughed, sarcastic and cold. He held his books tighter to his chest and spoke softly. 

“That’s the worst part of it, Pendragon. We were.” 

With that, Merlin turned away and headed down the corridor, quick footsteps echoing off the stone walls. 

Chapter Text

“…Now please make sure to follow the directions carefully. Each ingredient must be put in the correct order, or there could be dire consequences.” Professor Gauis raised an eyebrow as he made eye contact with his students. 

Merlin and Lancelot shared a look, smirking to each other. They knew Gauis was serious about being cautious, but he tended to be a little overdramatic when it came to teaching the class. As the years went on, and Potions class became more challenging, Gauis’s dramatic flair increased, and they both found that amusing. 

The Potions classroom was already warm and humid, the sixth year Ravenclaws and Slytherins gathering ingredients, preparing for a Double Potions class. Merlin and Lancelot settled in the back of the classroom, under a well lit corner, placing a shared cauldron on their table. 

Occasionally, Merlin got dirty looks from other Slytherins when he would pair up with Lancelot. He was, after all, from a different house, and the possibility of helping him to succeed was practically taboo for a Slytherin. Some Slytherins likely assumed Gauis favourited Ravenclaws, being an alumni of the house himself. However, being a talented member of the Quidditch team gave Merlin a certain amount of respect, and for the most part he didn’t feel judged by his peers for choosing to learn alongside his friend. 

Merlin’s friend opened the textbook to their assigned page, “Draught for Peace”. With the scraping of cauldrons and Gauis’s voice in the background, Merlin and Lancelot set to work. About ten minutes into crushing their porcupine quills into powder, Lancelot spoke. 

“So, I feel I should warn you…” He started.

“Hmm?” Merlin was half listening, tracing a long finger down the page, mentally checking off the ingredient list. 

“Gwen’s planning to ambush you at lunch, with Freya.” Lancelot whispered in a serious tone, but his amusement was obvious. 

Merlin looked up, paying attention now. “Is she really?” 

Lancelot nodded, practically giggling. 

Merlin groaned. “I don’t know why she’s insisting on this.” 

Lancelot finished powdering the moonstone. “Oh, she just wants you to be happy, you know Gwen.” 

“I am happy.” Merlin argued. 

"All right. Happier, then.” Lancelot said.

“It’s really not necessary.” Merlin shrugged, adding the powdered moonstone to the cauldron, watching for the green colour that was expected. 

“I know, and Gwen knows that too. It’s just… you seem distracted lately, not yourself.” 

“Since when?” Merlin started stirring the potion. 

“Since your fall in that Quidditch match, actually.” 

“Hmm. And how did you come to that conclusion?” 

“Well, Gwen and I have talked about it. Quite a bit actually, you know how she worries about you.” Lancelot added more powdered moonstone to the potion. 

“Well, it’s nice to know I’m so popular among my friends.” Merlin answered sarcastically. 

“Honestly Merlin, it wouldn’t hurt to meet her. I agree with Gwen, you guys would do well together.” 

“Less chit-chatting boys, more potion making.” Gaius passed by their table, narrowing his eyes at their simmering cauldron. Lancelot nodded in respect as the Professor continued circling the class. 

Merlin lowered his voice slightly. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to meet her. I’m allowed to complain about it, that’s all.” 

“I’d expect nothing less.” Lancelot smirked, and the two friends laughed softly, earning a disapproving look from Gauis. 

Over an hour later, Merlin and Lancelot left the Potions classroom, heading down the staircase towards the Great Hall. While Merlin wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being set up by Gwen, he appreciated the fact that the whole event left little room in his head for Pendragon. In fact, Merlin hadn’t thought about him for the past few hours. Life had been back to normal, he had enjoyed a challenging class with his favourite Professor, and had good conversation with one of his two best friends. He was much more content when he wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of Pendragon. Much more himself. 

They reached the Great Hall and Lancelot gave Merlin an encouraging clap on the shoulder, following him through the doorway.

The Great Hall was filled with students and the smell of hot food. Merlin found himself looking instinctually over to the Gryffindor table, then quickly glanced away. Lancelot nudged Merlin with his elbow, nodding towards an advancing Gwen, and a girl Merlin assumed to be Freya. 

“Boys.’ Gwen smiled as she met them. ‘Freya, Merlin. Merlin, this is Freya.” 

“Hi.” Merlin nodded, smiling politely at Freya. She smiled shyly back, looking up at Merlin with soft brown eyes. 

Gwen was right, Freya was very pretty. She had long, dark wavy hair, light skin and a gentle smile. They had barely made eye contact before Gwen took Lancelot by the arm, and mumbled some quick excuse as they left Freya and Merlin alone. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Merlin continued, slightly awkwardly. 

“You as well.” She responded. 

They stood in awkward silence for a minute, Merlin desperately searching his head for some witty comment, surprised to find nothing. 

“Would you want to meet up later?’ Freya asked in a gentle Irish accent. ‘Only I feel like we have an audience right now.” She gave a nod towards the Hufflepuff table, where Merlin could see Gwen staring at them with a cheesy grin on her face. Merlin laughed, relieved that she too had noticed the pressure from their friend, and nodded in agreement.

That evening, Merlin went to his common room very content. His quick conversation with Freya at lunch had been interesting, and Gwen had been right, she was very much his type. There was an instant attraction, and he met up with her again after his afternoon classes of Transfiguration and Herbology. 

Freya was initially a little shy, but very smart and sweet. He was impressed when she said she was learning how to be an Animagus, specifically a panther, and he found her gentle spirit attractive. 

Merlin settled into one of the large sofas, pulling out his books and rewriting his Transfiguration notes. A few minutes into studying he noticed Mordred walking out from the boys dormitories. Mordred saw him and joined him on the sofa, stretching and yawning. 

“Chocolate Frog?” Mordred offered one to Merlin, who took it eagerly.

“Thanks.”

“Ready for Quidditch practice tomorrow?” Mordred asked, examining his collectors card. 

Merlin snorted. “Ready is an understatement. It’s been a nightmare not being able to play.” 

“Well, it’s been a nightmare not having you in practice. Nimueh has us doing twice as many drills, and she’s been way more demanding than usual.” Mordred complained. 

Isolde and Tristan had come into the common room, Isolde flopping down on the sofa opposite Merlin and Mordred. 

“She’s just frustrated that she can’t hit on Merlin if he’s not at practice.” She teased, playing with her long blonde braid. Mordred laughed, and Tristan nodded in serious agreement. 

Merlin stretched his long arms, and finished his Chocolate Frog. 

“Well, she can hit on me all she likes, if that means I get to play Quidditch again.”

Chapter Text

“How did this happen?” 

 “Do you mean how did you get roped into a double date in Hogsmeade with me and Gwen?”

 “Yes, that’s the one.” 

 “Because you can’t say no to Gwen.” 

 Merlin sighed, smirking. “Oh yes, that’s right.”

 “C’mon, it’s not like you're not going to have fun.” 

 “I know. I just feel like I’ll be more awkward than usual if I have you two staring at us over our Butterbeers.” 

 Merlin’s comment was met with a laugh from Lancelot. The two friends were sitting in the Library, going over Potions homework. It was well into October now, and Merlin was happy to be completely healed from the Quidditch match. Slytherin had played two games since Merlin had recovered, one against Hufflepuff, which they won, and one against Ravenclaw, which they lost. 

Lancelot, being a Chaser on the Ravenclaw team, enjoyed besting Merlin in a match or two. Lancelot was never one to be arrogant, however there was always a pride in him about succeeding in Quidditch. He was a Muggleborn, though he had a relative who was a witch. He knew of the wizarding world, and had dreamed of playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. Lancelot was met with some prejudice, even in the Ravenclaw house, and had worked extremely hard for years to get on the Quidditch team. So, Merlin put up with Lancelot’s occasional teasing, knowing that it came from a place of confidence that his friend needed. 

 “Do you want to meet there a little earlier?’ Merlin asked, growing increasingly bored of their homework. “Maybe down a few Butterbeers before I’m supposed to impress my date.”

 He said the words with a hint of sarcasm, a poor attempt at masking the actual anxiety and awkwardness he felt about the quickly approaching afternoon. 

“Sorry, mate.’ Lancelot replied. ‘I wanted to send a letter to my parents. You can come with me to the Owlery if you’d like.”

 Merlin contemplated briefly, then shook his head. “No, I think I’ll just meet up with you in Hogsmeade. Three Broomsticks?” He asked, packing away his scrolls of parchment and Potions textbook. 

“Yeah. See you in an hour.”

Merlin entered The Three Broomsticks, grateful for the warmth after the walk over in the chilly October air. It was surprisingly empty, considering it was a Hogsmeade weekend for the students; only a few Hufflepuffs were gathered at a corner table, and one or two older Hogsmeade inhabitants were sipping Firewhiskies. He breathed the cold air out of his lungs with a deep sigh, and took a moment to soak up the sweet smell of the pub; old cedar wood and a hint of the butterscotch that Butterbeers tasted of. He made his way towards the bar at the back of the pub, unravelling his green and silver scarf from his neck and taking a seat at one of the barstools. The bartender, an older man with an impressive beard, came up to Merlin to take his order. “Butterbeer, please.”

“Make that two.”

Merlin turned behind him, watching as Arthur Pendragon walked over and sat on the dark wooden stool next to him. He stared wordlessly at Pendragon, feeling a mixture of confusion and something else. 

“Can I… help you?” Merlin asked, voice intending to be snappy, but coming out with surprise and amusement. 

 “Not at all.” Pendragon answered, a brief but visible smile accompanying his words.  

 Merlin stared at him, silently, slightly in shock. The bartender placed the two glass mugs of Butterbeer on the bar counter. Pendragon picked up the glass closest to him and took a long drink.

“Good job on that match against Hufflepuff.” Pendragon said, softly but clearly. 

 Merlin slowly started to look around at the rest of the pub, almost waiting for the rest of the Gryffindor team to jump out and start laughing along with Pendragon. 

“Er.. Are you lost?” 

 “Not at all.” 

Merlin studied Pendragon’s face, searching for sarcasm, or hostility. Surprisingly, he only found a subtle teasing, but it didn’t come across as aggressive. Pendragon took another gulp of his drink, Merlin’s own drink left untouched in his surprise. 

 “It was good to see you on the pitch again, after your fall.” 

 “No thanks to you.” Merlin snapped back, grateful to find his footing in this familiar rivalry again. 

 Pendragon did not respond with an insult, but instead gave a quick and grave nod, agreeing with Merlin’s words. Merlin scanned the Gryffindor’s expression and found…guilt? Pendragon stared at his glass of ever shrinking Butterbeer, bright blue eyes intense. 

 Merlin felt uneasy. He had not been in the presence of Pendragon alone, in public, like this in years, and it made his chest feel tighter than he cared to admit. He looked around the pub again, but it was just as empty as it had been before, no one taking any notice of the Gryffindor and Slytherin sitting side by side. 

 Pendragon started to speak. “Look, Emrys… I -“ 

“Will you stop?” Merlin cut in. 

Pendragon looked up from his now empty glass, slightly miffed to be interrupted. “What?”

 “Will you stop? If I…’ Merlin breathed a heavy sigh, concentrating on not rolling his eyes, ‘If I… forgive you. For the match. Will you stop following me?” 

 Arthur Pendragon smiled. A small smile, but real and rare all the same. Merlin had not seen that from Pendragon in a long time, at least not any that were directed towards him. It gave him a familiar drop low in his stomach, which brought patches of red to his usually pale face. 

“Deal.” Pendragon nodded once, and started to get up from the dark barstool. He pulled four silver Sickles from his trouser pocket. He laid the coins on the bar counter, nodding to the bartender. 

“It’s on me.” 

Merlin opened his mouth to argue, to make some snide comment about the prat’s “royal privilege,” but his words were stopped abruptly as those piercingly bright eyes met his own deep blue ones. Pendragon’s voice dropped, low and soft, but still audible.

 “I insist.” 

With that, Pendragon left The Three Broomsticks.

The whole exchange between them was probably less than three minutes, but it spawned a million thoughts and questions in Merlin, thoughts that would occupy his mind for several hours afterward. Merlin stared at the door that Pendragon had exited for several minutes, Butterbeer still left untouched. He stared so long, in fact, that he saw Gwen, Lancelot and Freya enter the pub, all enjoying a rather amusing conversation, if Gwen’s laugh was anything to go by. Merlin shook his head, as if physically trying to get rid of the memory of the exchange he had just had with Arthur Pendragon, and waved at his friends and date. 

They saw him and joined him at the bar, Freya looking slightly shy, but lovely in a deep red jumper, which complemented her dark hair and soft brown eyes nicely. 

“Started without us, I see.” Gwen teased, nodding towards the empty Butterbeer glass next to Merlin’s full one. Pendragon’s glass. 

Merlin stared at the glass himself, mouth open, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t sound insane.

He just shrugged and laughed, offering his full glass to Freya, who smiled in thanks. Merlin caught Gwen sharing a satisfied smirk with Lancelot, knowing it meant ‘I taught him well’. Merlin caught her eye and gave her a knowing look, almost as if she had said the words out loud. Surely Gwen knew she couldn’t hide anything from Merlin. They knew each other too well. With this thought, however, Merlin felt a sudden rise in guilt. It was true that he and Gwen knew everything about each other, and were as close and as comfortable with one another as two friends could be. But it was almost with a heavy heart Merlin realized that this… thing that was happening between him and Pendragon, was not just conflicting his emotions and confusing his thoughts.

It was also the first secret he had ever kept from Gwen.

Chapter Text

Merlin gave a long sigh as he closed his Maths textbook. Midway through November his experience at his Muggle school had not been enjoyable. While he was forced to learn these irrelevant things, Arthur and Morgana were at Hogwarts, learning magic and spells and things Merlin couldn't possibly imagine, all while being surrounded by their own fellow wizards and witches. Merlin frowned, full of envy, and missing his friends terribly.

During evenings like this he would often lay in his bed, stare at his ceiling and wonder how two wizard children who he had known for only a few months could have such an impact on him. Especially Arthur. He looked forward to those letters from Arthur more than anything else.

Merlin picked up his History papers, stared at them for a minute, and then tossed them back on his desk. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out Arthur's latest letter, the fifth one he had sent, and the one Merlin had read and reread countless times. He unfolded the now worn parchment edges and smiled.

November 1

"Dear Merlin, I can't believe I have been at Hogwarts for two whole months already. It feels like I just arrived, and yet I have been here for weeks.

The Gryffindor team is in the lead for the Quidditch cup, after only four games! The matches are really fun to watch, but first years are almost never allowed on the team, so my father's been writing me, telling me to practice in my free time, so I make the team by next year.

The only good friend I've actually made is Leon, and already we have had to face off some nasty Slytherins. During our third Potions class with the Slytherins, a couple of them ruined our Potion by throwing in all of the wrong ingredients, almost blowing up the entire classroom! After the class about four of them chased us down the corridor; trying to cast curses at us. Naturally we stood our ground and Professor Gauis quickly came by and got them in trouble. I would have loved for you to celebrate our victory with us (although if we had you and your strong magic abilities we could have done much more damage to them).

It hasn't all been great though. I am struggling to find my place a little in Gryffindor. I had expected to feel more at home, and to have an easier time making friends. Of course I didn't expect to be head of Gryffindor house my first year, but it's been a lot harder than I thought, both in the classes and socially. It is times like these I really wish you were here in Gryffindor with me. Already I am seeing Morgana less and less, from her making new friends and being busy in Ravenclaw.

I'll write you again at Christmas. Father is going to be on an important business trip for the Ministry, so Morgana and I have to stay at Hogwarts during the holidays. Feel free to use my owl to write back, just attach your letter to his leg, and he will know to come back to Hogwarts.

Hoping I hear from you soon,

Arthur Pendragon"

Merlin finished reading the letter, folding it ever so carefully and replacing it in his drawer. He sat, folding his hands and placing them under his chin, thinking. How brave of Arthur, to take on those Slytherins. They certainly sounded like nasty pieces of work. It also pleased him to hear his Uncle Gaius had been the professor to step in and punish them, though Merlin had never met him before. And Merlin had indeed responded to Arthur's letter, grateful for more clear instructions on how to get in touch with him. It had been more than two weeks since he sent his reply, and he was anxiously waiting for Christmas to come, mostly to hear from Arthur.

His thoughts were interrupted as his mother called him down for dinner. As Merlin got up from his desk to go downstairs, he couldn't help smiling at the thought of Arthur's words.

"I really wish you were here in Gryffindor with me."

"With me."

Chapter Text

Merlin started to pull his green robes over his head, the faint smell of sweat and sunshine lined in the Quidditch uniform. As he pulled them past his stomach, he absently brushed his ribcage, as though checking for any lasting pain from the injuries he had weeks ago. There was none of course, just a faint grey bruising. 

Merlin sighed, softly breathing out his anxieties. He checked the elegant, black and silver clock in his dormitory wall, noting he was expected on the pitch in less than an hour. He sat back down on his four poster bed, pulling on his black shin-guards and shoes. The other three boys in his dormitory were already gone, so Merlin hummed pleasantly, an old habit he had picked up, a method of calming himself. Grabbing his broomstick from under his green four-poster, he walked out the door, heading along the short corridor that led to the large Slytherin common room. 

As he walked through the mostly deserted common room, he focussed on the plays and strategies they had gone over that week in practice. He needed to be completely ready to go, today’s game against Gryffindor was a rematch of the unfinished one from the start of term. 

He heard quick, gentle footsteps behind him, and felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Nimueh, decked out in her own green and silver robes, black hair formed neatly into a long french braid. 

“Hey, you. Ready to spin circles around Gryffindor today?” She asked in her usual soothing tone.

 “Of course.” 

They continued out of the Slytherin dungeons together, in silence. Merlin could see Nimueh thinking hard, through the corner of his eye. His response had been pretty dismissive. Final. A response she certainly wasn’t used to. 

She smirked, lips in a mock pout. 

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with that Hufflepuff girl.”

Merlin bit his lip to keep from laughing, as they ascended the staircases leading to the ground floor. Nimueh was anything but subtle. 

“News travels fast around here.” Merlin said, holding back a smirk.

Nimueh gave a little laugh, as silky sounding as her voice, ever so gently brushing her hand on his shoulder. 

“Well, I hope you're not letting yourself get too distracted.”

The reached the Great Hall, the welcoming smell of breakfast filling the vast room. 

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that, I can handle any distractions that come my way.” Merlin replied. 

Nimueh gave a quick, twisted smile, sensing a tone of rejection, but clearly not giving up anytime soon. They were thankfully interrupted by Gwen, who all but dragged Merlin to the Hufflepuff table, gently shoving a plate of food in front of him. Merlin dug in, eating quickly and lost in thought. 

His seat at the Hufflepuff table gave him a clear view of the Gryffindor table, and he found himself staring at the Gryffindor team, watching Pendragon eating and chatting with his fellow house members. Merlin watched as someone made Pendragon laugh, a loud, unapologetic laugh that threw his blond head back and showed a brilliant smile. Merlin’s stomach unexpectedly felt tight and he breathed in sharply, assuming it was because of his quick pace of eating.

Suddenly, Pendragon turned from his friends, catching Merlin’s eye. Pendragon smiled again - the small, subtle smile he had given him in The Three Broomsticks - before turning back to his friend’s conversation. The action was so quick, if Merlin had blinked he would’ve missed it. But he hadn’t. He had caught it, clear as day. 

“Merlin.” He felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt his face getting red, realizing he had been holding his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Gwen asked him, slightly concerned. Merlin nodded, snapping himself back to reality. He stood, dropping his unfinished toast back on his plate, and picking up his broomstick. He turned to the entrance of the Great Hall and saw Mordred, Nimueh, Sophia and Cenred walking out. He said a quick goodbye to Gwen and hurried to catch up to his teammates. 

Merlin followed them across the grounds, tuned out to the conversation between Sophia and Nimueh.

What the hell had that been, with Pendragon? That moment was so quick, so unexpected, and achingly familiar. He sighed, breathing out frustration. The whole point of “forgiving” him had been to make things go back to the way they were. No more of Pendragon following him, no talking to each other, no contact. 

Rivals. In class, in Quidditch, in life. At least, that is what it had been between them for nearly six years. 

Merlin unclenched the fists he didn’t realize he had been holding, loosening his grip on his Cleansweep. They reached the pitch at the same time that Merlin reached a realization. It was just a ploy by Pendragon, nothing more. A strategy, simple but effective. One small, familiar smile to rattle Merlin. To unsettle him, confuse him. To make him lose focus on the game. 

Merlin frowned, full of anger at his realization. He mounted his broom before Nimueh could say a word to the team, and shot up into the sky…

Fifteen minutes later both teams were on the pitch, ready to play. The sky was a bright blue, with a shining sun. There was no danger of rain this time. Merlin flew in circles, taking his anger and fuelling it into the task ahead of him. He shot past the stands, noticing Gwen, Lancelot and Freya, waving and cheering as if the game had already started. 

Nimueh yelled at Merlin, gesturing for him to get into the opening position. He came to a stop on the left side of the Slytherin half as the Snitch, Bludgers and Quaffle were released. 

Gryffindor was fast today. Within a few seconds, Elyan had the Quaffle and was speeding past Nimueh and Sophia. Merlin was caught off guard briefly, then shot after Gwen’s brother. He ducked under one of Gryffindor’s Beaters; the bigger one, Percival, just missing getting hit by his foot. 

Elyan was already far ahead, and he fired the Quaffle into the right hoop on Slytherin’s goalside. Tristan tried to catch it but missed, the sound of Gryffindor gaining ten points echoing through the stands. 

Merlin exhaled sharply, this was not how he wanted to start the game. 

He shot upwards fast, catching the Quaffle from Tristan, flying upside down, looping around the two Gryffindor Chasers that were on his tail. He ducked down, leaning forward on his reliable broomstick, speeding up as he tossed the Quaffle to Sophia. She caught it briefly, but one of the Bludgers knocked the front of her broom, making her lose her balance, and her grip on the Quaffle. She steadied herself, but the Quaffle had fallen, caught neatly by Pendragon. 

Merlin frowned harder, chasing after him. 

Pendragon was far ahead, his broomstick much faster than Merlin’s. Nimueh called to Sophia to intercept, but Pendragon had already thrown the Quaffle to Elyan. The other Gryffindor Beater, Gwaine, had flown in front of Tristan, blocking his view as Elyan shot the Quaffle through the tallest hoop, earning another ten points for Gryffindor. A cheer shot through the stands, setting Merlin’s nerves on edge. 

He sped through the sky, flying wide and raising his arm, both as a guide for Tristan and to prepare to catch the Quaffle. Tristan caught his eye and threw hard, over the heads of Pendragon, Gwaine and Elyan. Merlin caught it tightly and took off in the opposite direction, toward the Gryffindor goalposts. 

He ducked under a Bludger, shot at him by Percival, and tossed the Quaffle to Nimueh, who was flying directly under him. She caught it, and with impressive speed, she pitched it to Sophia. The three Slytherin chasers rotated positions, beginning a familiar strategy. Sophia made a move to throw the Quaffle to Nimueh, but switched her arm movement last minute, and threw it to Merlin instead. Merlin received it with no problem, and fired it into Gryffindor’s tallest hoop. 

Merlin cheered along with his team, and the rest of the Slytherins in the stands. Confidence regained, he leaned low on his Cleansweep and headed back down the pitch. A Bludger was sent towards him fast, and he had a brief moment of panic. Isolde came speeding by, hitting the Bludger away from Merlin with a hard swing of her club. He breathed easier, making a mental note to compliment Isolde’s skills after the game. 

He came closer to the Gryffindor side, watching Sophia gain possession of the Quaffle and toss it cleanly to Nimueh. Nimueh moved to the far right side, Merlin flying fast down the middle of the pitch. Nimueh launched the Quaffle towards him, and he flew slightly slower, ready to catch it. 

A red blur shot past him, taking Merlin by surprise. Pendragon had neatly intercepted the Quaffle, and was heading back up the pitch. Merlin let out a groan of frustration, and followed the Gryffindor Captain at impressive speed. He leaned as far forward as he could, chest pressing into the handle of his broomstick, green robes whipping out behind him. The quick wind pushed his naturally messy hair against his head, as he caught up to Pendragon. 

Like it had been during that first Quidditch match, Merlin was struck with this sudden, blinding focus, noticing nothing but Pendragon. Merlin concentrated hard, eyeing the Quaffle tucked in the Gryffindor’s strong arm. Merlin shifted his gaze, meeting Pendragon’s stare. 

Eye to eye, the deepest blue meeting the brightest. 

Time suddenly slowed down, and Merlin no longer heard the cheers of the crowd, or the wind whipping by his ears. With the bright sun shining, and the backdrop of the bright blue sky, Merlin was suddenly transported, reminded of old, wonderful memories. Endless days of laughter and imagination. Him and Arthur, flying around above the bright green hillside outside Ealdor. Pendragon gave him a slow smile. It was not an arrogant, smug smile of victory, but a warm, familiar smile, full of friendly, competitive nature, and a look of admiration.

For this one, frozen moment, he was no longer Pendragon. 

He was Arthur again. 

The noise of the game came flooding to Merlin’s ears, and snapped him out of his untimely reverie. He looked ahead just in time to throw his arm protectively over his face. 

He crashed hard into Mordred, who had been an arm’s reach from the Snitch. They both regained their balance, Merlin giving Mordred a horrified, apologetic look. About to ask Mordred if he was hurt, Merlin was interrupted by the crowd cheering even louder, as the end of the game was announced.  

Merlin looked around in confusion and saw Gryffindor’s Seeker, a dark haired sixth year called Mithian, flying around the stands, holding the Golden Snitch in victory. Merlin’s heart sunk as his face grew hot. His momentary distraction had cost them the game. 

Gryffindor had won. 

Chapter Text

The sky was a blueish grey, littered with white spots of gently falling snow. The wind was soft and subtle, closer to an autumn breeze than a winter wind. The air smelled of firewood, cinnamon candles, and cold. 

Merlin stood in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, giving his best friend a hug. The Hogwarts Express was to arrive in half an hour, taking students who were going home for Christmas. Both Gwen and Lancelot were leaving, much like the majority of Hogwarts students. 

Gwen’s family had invited Lancelot over for the holidays; now that her and Lancelot had been a couple for two years, they wanted to welcome him as part of the family. Merlin wasn’t looking forward to his first Christmas holiday without Gwen, but he hid it well, determined to send her off in good spirits. 

Merlin gave Lancelot a hug as well, then stepped back to smile at his two best friends. 

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?’ Gwen asked, a teasing tone thinly veiling her seriousness. ‘I don’t have to go.”

Merlin nodded, teasing back, “You do know I survived the first eleven years of my life without you, right?” 

Gwen’s expression relaxed, and she gave her friend a half-smile. “Well, it’s a wonder you did.” 

Lancelot laughed, putting his arm around Gwen and resting his cheek on the top of her brown, curly hair. 

“Are you seeing Freya before she goes?” Lancelot asked. Merlin nodded. 

“I should go now actually, I think she's waiting for me.” 

“We’re right behind you.” Gwen replied. The three of them walked down the short staircase that led  to the front of the school. They talked and joked around for the twenty minute walk to the train station in Hogsmeade. Merlin enjoyed the moment with his friends, trying not to think about how lonely he was going to be for the next two weeks. With Gwen, Lancelot and Freya gone, Merlin would have less people around to distract him during a time when he needed it most. This two week period always brought up painful memories of his father. 

The only good thing about this holiday was that Pendragon never stayed at Hogwarts. At least he had no chance of getting distracted by the curious Gryffindor. 

Since their loss against Gryffindor, the Slytherin team had continued to play poorly. They had lost two games against Hufflepuff, and barely managed to end with a draw against Ravenclaw. As increasingly frustrating as Merlin (and the rest of the team) found it, he did not channel his frustrations towards Pendragon, like he had for the past six years. In fact, every moment of eye-contact, or shy, knowing smile, that Pendragon displayed, made Merlin less angry. If anything, he grew more confused. 

On the outside, Pendragon remained the pompous, arrogant prat he had always been. But sometimes, there was a glance between them during dinners in the Great Hall, a shared grin when Professor Gauis made an amusing comment in Potions.

In those moments, he was a different person than the one who he grew up with, than the one he had been rivals against. He was even different from the boy who had slipped into the hospital wing the night of Merlin’s accident. Somehow, even with the limited communication between them, Merlin sensed Pendragon was different. Warmer, more natural.

It made him hopelessly frustrated.

They reached the station, students and professors bustling around, chatting and moving suitcases onto the impressive, red steam engine. Merlin noticed Freya leaning against a pillar, bag beside her and a book in her hand. Merlin smiled; she looked lovely in her dark blue coat, the gentle snowflakes landing on her dark hair and slightly pink cheekbones. She looked up from her book and met his smile. 

Gwen and Lancelot followed Merlin as he walked to meet Freya. Greeting her, and promising to save a seat for her on the train, they entered the Hogwarts Express, both giving Merlin a heartfelt wave. 

“Good book, then?” Merlin smirked, looking at the worn out cover. Freya giggled, a quick, soft sound. She turned the book over, showing him the title of the large book: Animagi: From Theory to Practice. 

“It’s very interesting so far, and definitely useful.” She smiled, warm brown eyes looking up at him. After officially dating for about a month, Freya had lost a fair bit of her shy attitude towards Merlin, but remained just as smart and sweet. Since dealing with the irritating and confusing behaviour from Pendragon, Merlin appreciated that he could rely on Freya, her personality a constant. 

“Well, I hope you find time to relax. You deserve it, you know.” He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, warm fingers melting the snowflakes he touched. 

Freya smirked. “Reading is my relaxing, thank you very much. I’ll miss you, though.” 

Merlin grinned and leaned down, lightly pressing his lips to hers. 

*

Merlin leaned back on the wooden chair, stretching his long arms high above his head and sighing. The Three Broomsticks was quiet, not empty certainly, but already missing the volume and life it usually had when Hogwarts students were around. Merlin stared at his half-full glass of Butterbeer, as he wished desperately for it to be January. 

The door opened, letting in a gust of wind as Mordred stepped in, long Slytherin scarf wrapped tightly around his face. Merlin waved, catching Mordred’s attention. Mordred unravelled his scarf and walked over to Merlin’s table, sitting down in the chair opposite. 

“I thought you were going back home for the holidays?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred shook his head. “No, my dad offered, but I’d rather just stay here.” 

“Fair enough.” Merlin smiled, his mood greatly improving at the sight of a friend. He relaxed, placing his elbows on the table as Mordred ordered himself a Butterbeer. The bartender came within a minute with Mordred’s drink, condensation running down the outside of the glass. 

Mordred took a sip and sighed. “So, how are things going with you and Freya?” 

Merlin smiled. “Really great, actually. Although, Gwen never lets me hear the end of it.” He rolled his eyes as Mordred laughed. 

“Fancy herself a bit of a matchmaker, does she?” 

“Exactly.” Merlin took a drink of his own Butterbeer. They sat in silence for a few moments, soaking up the quiet, warm atmosphere of the pub. 

“So what about you?” He asked. 

Mordred gave him a puzzled look. “What?” 

“You fancy anyone?” Merlin asked in a light sarcastic tone, trying to lessen the awkwardness of his question. Mordred’s face flushed red, and he stared down at the table. 

“Oh…um, you don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” Merlin said softly, picking awkwardly at a small splinter in the table.

Mordred looked up and sighed. “No…I mean, it’s fine. Nothing’s going to happen anyway, um. Yeah. Cause she’s in seventh year, so yeah. I don’t mind you asking.” 

Merlin smiled, amused by his young friend’s flustered voice. “An older woman, huh?” He teased lightly. 

Mordred rolled his eyes, but laughed a little. 

“Who-“ Merlin started to ask, but was interrupted at the look on Mordred’s face. His flushed cheeks had turned a ghostly white, as his eyes were fixed on the door. “Shit…I mean. She’s here.”

Merlin turned in his chair, watching Morgana Pendragon walk into The Three Broomsticks, wearing a dark woollen hat and an irritated frown. 

Merlin snapped his attention back to Mordred. “You like Morgana Pendragon?” 

“Shh!” Mordred hissed, looking back down at the table and placing a hand against his forehead, blocking his face from view, as if it would help make him invisible. Merlin snickered, looking back at the door. Mordred lightly slapped Merlin’s arm and hissed again. “Well, don’t look!” 

Merlin laughed louder, but was stopped abruptly when Pendragon walked through the door, joining his sister with an equally irritated expression. Merlin turned back to Mordred, now matching his friend’s pink face. Mordred frowned, as the two Pendragon’s walked to a table, only a few down from their own. 

“Bloody Pendragon.” Mordred scoffed under his breath. 

“If you have so much against him, why would you like his sister?” Merlin blurted out, surprised at his own intensity. He lowered his voice. “I just mean…she’s a Pendragon, after all.” 

Mordred relaxed slightly, now that Morgana was out of his eye-line.

 “Well, I guess I don’t really think of her as his sister. They hardly ever talk, haven’t you noticed?” Mordred asked. 

Merlin had noticed, of course. He had spent the past six years glaring at Pendragon, after all. It was easy to see his lack of communication with his half-sister. 

Merlin shook his head. “No, I hadn’t.”

Mordred frowned, sneaking a glance at the two Pendragons. “I’m surprised to see them together, to be honest.” 

Merlin sipped his Butterbeer, shrugging as casually as he could. In his and Mordred’s silence, they heard angry voices from the corner table. 

“Be reasonable, Morgana! I’m allowed to have a reaction.” 

“Oh please, this is nothing more than you whining like a child.” 

Mordred met Merlin’s eye, and Merlin raised his eyebrows in response. Mordred stifled a laugh. They heard Pendragon breathe a heavy sigh. His volume increased. 

“You don’t know what I’m upset about, you can’t-“

“Oh, but I do, dear brother. I know you better than you think.’ Morgana snapped back, switching into a mocking, sarcastic tone. “Poor Arthur, Daddy doesn’t want to take him with him on this year’s trip! Poor child-“

“Morgana!” 

“Please! You’re just moping around. You’ve been left behind, and now you’re not Daddy’s precious prince anymore. Now you’re not any better than me.”

“That’s not-“ 

“Save it Arthur. No need to grace me with your presence.”

The loud scraping of chair legs on wooden flooring was heard, and Merlin turned to see Pendragon’s chair kicked back. He was already halfway across the floor, stomping away from his sister. He passed Merlin and Mordred’s table without a glance, and stormed out of the pub, slamming the door behind him. 

Mordred and Merlin stared at each other, and Mordred snorted out laughter. He turned and looked at Morgana, impressed, and a little in awe. 

“I think I might be in love.” Mordred breathed, words said with slight humour, but clear admiration. 

It was Merlin’s turn to laugh. “Hey, now’s your chance. Go comfort her.” 

Mordred’s face went red and he stopped smiling. “Don’t be stupid, Merlin.”

Merlin smiled, “I’m serious. Go talk to her, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

“Did you not just see what she did to Pendragon?” 

“Yeah, you’ll have lots to bond over.” Merlin snickered. Mordred rolled his eyes, but kept looking back at Morgana, who was sitting with her elbow on the table, chin in her hand. She was still frowning, but seemed calmer already. 

Merlin pulled Mordred’s Butterbeer out of his grasp and gave a waving motion with his hands. “Go on!” He shooed. Mordred’s face became more red, but he stood up anyway. He took a deep breath, and walked over to the bar. 

Merlin watched with admiration as his young friend ordered two more Butterbeers, and with slightly shaking hands, walked over to Morgana Pendragon, and offered her one. Morgana said something Merlin couldn’t quite hear, but she gave a small smile to Mordred, and gestured for him to sit in the chair that had just held her brother. Mordred awkwardly sat down, and Merlin stared hard, trying to read what they were saying. 

Merlin sipped his Butterbeer, still smiling at his teammate. A few minutes passed, and Morgana suddenly laughed at something Mordred said, making Mordred blush. Merlin watched with a sense of pride, and a little surprise, as Morgana kept the conversation going, smiling and giggling. 

Merlin traced his fingers along the table, eyeing Mordred with pride. Things were going well, it seemed. Mordred and Morgana looked to be having a natural conversation. He noticed Morgana get up, and order two Firewhiskies. Mordred glanced at Merlin and gave him a wide eyed look of disbelief, paired with an awkward smile. Merlin raised his glass in congratulations, laughing quietly. 

Morgana returned to the table with the drinks, and her and Mordred continued talking. Merlin sighed, staring at his empty glass. As amusing as it was to watch his young friend try to flirt, he felt himself getting tired. With a slight wave to Mordred, Merlin buttoned his coat back up, and wound his Slytherin scarf back around his neck. He got up from his chair and, with one more proud look at his young teammate, Merlin left the pub. 

The sky was that deep blue black of a cloudy night. The snowfall was so light and soft, and there was barely a whisper of a breeze. Merlin walked down the Hogsmeade road, his steps making deep footprints in the fresh powdered snow. Merlin breathed a deep sigh, completely content with the air of nature and magic around him. He walked more slowly, transfixed by the snowflakes dancing by the lit street lamps. As he reached the end of the street, a soft wind blew his hair back, snow lightly sprinkling his face. Merlin smiled, listening to the magical world around him, closing his eyes. 

It was at that moment, Merlin tripped. 

Eyes instantly opening in time to see the snow covered street rush at him, Merlin reflexively stuck his hands out, landing hard in the snow, but seemingly uninjured. He slowly twisted his body, shifting so he was sitting in the snow. 

“Not as graceful on your feet as on your broomstick, hey Emrys?” 

Merlin looked up to see Pendragon, hands in his coat pockets, an amused smile on his face. Merlin frowned. 

“Very funny.” He placed his bare hands on the snowy ground, starting to push himself up.  Pendragon immediately stuck a hand out to Merlin, an offer of help. 

Merlin narrowed his eyes, but his arm reacted before his mind could tell him otherwise, and grasped Pendragon’s hand. Pendragon pulled him up with seemingly no effort, giving a nod. 

Merlin muttered a quiet ‘Thanks.’ and started to turn back down the road, towards Hogwarts. Pendragon stared at him, and Merlin self consciously brushed the loose snow off his coat.

“What?” 

Pendragon put his hands in his pockets, nodding his head slightly towards the direction of the school. “Mind if I walk back with you?” 

It was Merlin’s turn to stare. He searched Pendragon’s face for some clear objective. Eventually, he sighed, and turned again towards the school. 

“I won’t stop you.” Merlin answered, walking a little quicker through the gentle snow. He stared at the ground, more conscious about watching where he was walking, and heard Pendragon walking behind him. 

A few more minutes passed, both students walking in silence, except for the soft crunch of footsteps on snow. Merlin switched between staring at his feet, and stealing glances at Pendragon, who was also looking at the ground. 

"Um...nice effort on that Ravenclaw match. By the way."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, and turned to look at the Gryffindor. "If you're just here to gloat about how Gryffindor is in the lead, don't bother." 

He marched faster through the snow, the castle entrance in sight. 

Pendragon picked up his pace as well, his strides effortless. "No. Wait, I- I just meant you did well. Your house would've lost the match if it wasn't for you at the end there." 

Merlin stopped walking, hands deep in his pockets. Pendragon noticed and stopped as well, looking confused. 

Merlin frowned. "Sorry...was that...a compliment?" 

Pendragon breathed a heavy sigh, starting to walk again. "Just...never mind." He mumbled. 

Merlin followed after him, frown deepening in confusion. A minute passed, and Merlin stared at his feet again, mumbling "Well thanks, I guess."

His soft thanks made Pendragon smile briefly, and Merlin gave a quick nod. 

Merlin looked up at the falling snow, giving his neck a break from looking down so much. What was wrong with him? Here he was, walking practically side by side with his rival. They should have cursed each other by now. Merlin had six years of insults in the back of his mind, any of which would be completely satisfying to spit at Pendragon. Yet he didn't want to ruin this weirdly peaceful moment with anger and aggression. Not like he used to, anyway. 

Pendragon's words snapped Merlin out of his racing thoughts. "You were at The Three Broomsticks before, right?" 

"Um, yeah." Merlin nodded, not sure where this unexpected conversation was going. 

"I don't suppose you heard the argument I was having?" Pendragon asked. 

Merlin gave a twisted half smile in response. "Only the whole thing."

Pendragon sighed. "My sister has very strong opinions." 

Merlin laughed without meaning to. "Oh, I know she does."

Pendragon gave Merlin a side glance, an odd expression on his face. 

"What?" Merlin asked, old defences rising in his words. 

Pendragon smirked. "I suppose you do, don't you? Know Morgana's personality, I mean." 

It was Merlin's turn to smirk. "What, forgot, did you?"

Pendragon shook his head, and smiled wider. "No, not exactly..."

Merlin gaze went back to his feet, his face growing warm despite the increase in the snowy wind. 

“Listen, Emrys, that’s actually sort of what I wanted to talk to you about." Pendragon said, words coming out quickly. 

Merlin gave a hesitant look. “Okay.”

Pendragon stared at his feet yet again, and if Merlin hadn’t known Pendragon to be so confident, he might’ve called the expression on his face nervousness. 

“Well…it’s been. Nice, I guess. Sort of talking again, I mean.” 

“I'm not the one who stopped the talking in the first place.” Merlin snapped. 

“I know that.’ Pendragon argued. ‘I just mean, that maybe we don’t have to avoid each other all the time.” 

“I wouldn’t say we avoid each other.’ Merlin replied. ‘More like…limit ourselves to insults on the Quidditch pitch.”

“Exactly.”

Merlin stopped dead, realizing how close they were to the front of the castle. “Hang on Pendragon,’ he laughed crudely, realizing the absurdity of the conversation. “Are you suggesting we become friends?” He hit the last word with all the sarcasm he had. 

Pendragon smirked. “Obviously not. I hardly think that would go over well.” 

Merlin raised his eyebrows, matching Pendragon's smirk. "Considering the entire Slytherin house despises you, yeah, friendship might be a problem." 

Pendragon's bright blue eyes shone. “Exactly. So, I guess that’s it then.”

Merlin smiled at the Gryffindor, despite everything in his mind telling him not to. “Right."

"Not friends, then." Pendragon said. 

Merlin nodded. “Yep."

They reached the front of Hogwarts, Pendragon giving Merlin a smile reminiscent of the one he had given during their last Quidditch match. He then walked ahead of Merlin, up the stone steps leading to the castle. 

Pendragon called behind him as he pushed open the large door. “So, I guess I’ll not see you tomorrow then.”

“Definitely not.” Merlin smirked after him, watching Pendragon walk into Hogwarts.

He stood still at the bottom of the stone steps, hands still in coat pockets. His mind raced, still trying to understand what had just happened. His usual aggression towards Arthur Pendragon had all but vanished in these last twenty minutes, the familiar rivalry between them gone in those moments, replaced by something older, and more familiar. Despite his confusion, Merlin couldn’t help but smile to himself as he walked into the castle.

Maybe the Christmas holidays wouldn’t be so lonely after all. 

Chapter Text

Dear Merlin, 

Hogwarts is incredible at Christmas time. The Great Hall is all decorated and the ceiling looks as if it were snowing inside! The first term here has been great. The homework is getting slightly more bearable, though there are weeks when I have to beg Morgana for help, much to her amusement. 

Oh, and Gryffindor is in the lead for the House Cup, though Slytherin is right behind us, which is completely unfair since most of their house points they got from cheating. It seems every match they get away with all sorts of dirty tricks. 

Also, I forgot to tell you in my last letter, but Morgana’s older sister is here. I think she told you about her last summer. Anyway, we thought she was living in France with her father, and attending Beauxbatons (the wizard school there) but it turns out she’s been staying in England with relatives, so she’s been at Hogwarts this whole time. Her name is Morgause, and she is a third year Slytherin. Naturally, father and I have warned Morgana to be careful around this sister she barely knows, particularly since she’s on Slytherin’s Quidditch team, and I have definitely seen her cheat during games. 

As I’ve said before, Father’s on important Ministry business, so we are staying at Hogwarts this year, but he promised he’ll take me for next year’s trip. He says it’s never too early for me to start learning what he does at the Ministry, since that’s where I’m going to work after Hogwarts. 

There are so many things I wish I could show you at Hogwarts, because just telling you doesn’t do it justice. 

Anyway, I hope you’re having a good holiday, you do get holidays at that Muggle school, right? Morgana sends her love, I’ll write to you after Christmas. 

Arthur Pendragon 

***

Merlin woke up slowly, stretching long limbs on his four poster bed. He opened his eyes, staring around his dormitory room, empty now that the other boys were gone for Christmas. As he rubbed his eyes, the memory of the night before came back to him, bringing an unintentional smile to his face. 

Merlin sat up, mentally running through the snowy walk with Pendragon, making sure it wasn’t just another dream. 

No, it had happened, that much he was completely sure of, though why it had happened was still beyond him. Merlin shifted, elbows balancing on his knees, hands cradling his face. Surely the brief walk had been a lapse in judgement, hell, a lapse in sanity on Merlin’s part. He knew better than to trust Pendragon, he had learned that years ago. 

Not that Merlin would call whatever was between them trust exactly. 

Familiarity, maybe. Certainly not trust.

But there was still something warmer, kinder, even natural. That in itself was weird to Merlin, since his natural, reflex reaction to the mere mention of Pendragon’s name had always been anger. Anger that came from the hurt he felt from Pendragon the very day he entered Hogwarts. 

Merlin shook his head, physically trying to rid his mind of the spiralling thoughts. Instincts told him that it would go right to the arrogant Gryffindor’s head to know how much he intruded on Merlin’s thoughts. 

Sighing, Merlin got dressed, leaving his common room to head up to breakfast. He ascended the dungeon staircase, soaking up the peaceful atmosphere of the deserted halls. He slid his hands into his trouser pockets, humming. He continued this way until reaching the Great Hall, the welcoming smell of hot breakfast inviting him. He entered, noting how much empty space there was at each house table. Slytherin and Gryffindor had roughly ten students each, with the other houses making up another forty or so. 

Merlin easily located Mordred at their table, and he sat down across from him. Merlin almost forgot that Mordred had gone to flirt with Morgana, he was so focussed on the walk with Pendragon afterwards. Merlin smiled at Mordred, happy for a distraction. 

Mordred was already staring into his breakfast plate, anticipating Merlin’s teasing. Merlin playfully pressed Mordred’s arm. 

“So..” he teased in a singsong voice. “How’d it go?” 

The fourth-year Slytherin looked up, blushing. “Fine.” he mumbled. 

Merlin dug into his own hot breakfast, smirking. “That’s all? I don’t get more details?”

Mordred sighed, staring past Merlin. “She kissed me.”

Merlin looked up, nearly choking on his eggs. “Really?” He coughed out. Mordred blushed harder. 

“It was nothing really- just on the cheek.” He rolled his eyes slightly as he continued. “She  said she has a boyfriend. Some bloke who finished Hogwarts last year. At least, that’s what she told me after she kissed me.’ He pushed his food around on the plate with his fork. “She said that was a thank you, for cheering her up.” 

Merlin gave his friend a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about that.” 

Mordred shook his head. “It’s fine, honestly. I knew nothing was gonna happen anyway.” He sighed. “She just thinks of me as some kid.”

“Still,’ Merlin pointed out, scraping his plate. ‘Proud of you Mordred. At least you tried. And Morgana can be pretty intimidating, trust me.” 

Mordred narrowed his eyes. “How would you know?” 

Merlin shrugged, avoiding Mordred’s gaze. “Just from what I’ve heard.”

Mordred snorted with laughter. “Well, you heard right.” 

Merlin grinned, joining Mordred’s laugh. Raising his near-empty glass in a mock toast, he cleared his throat. 

“To Mordred, a braver man than any Gryffindor I know.” 

Mordred laughed again. “Yeah, just wait till the rest of the team finds out I had a drink with Morgana Pendragon. Nimueh and Isolde will never let me hear the end of it.” 

“Yeah, you’ll be teased until seventh year.” Merlin grinned. 

They continued eating, making light conversation. Merlin tried his best to keep his gaze from the Gryffindor table, but found himself searching the long table for Pendragon. He frowned when he couldn’t locate the Gryffindor. Casually, while half listening to whatever Mordred was saying, he scanned the rest of the Great Hall, with the same result. 

Mordred finished his breakfast. “I’m just going to go back to the common room. You coming?” 

Merlin shook his head. “No, I’m supposed to meet Gaius for lunch later, so I think I’ll just walk around in the meantime.” 

Merlin stood up from the Slytherin table, taking one last involuntary look around the Hall. Saying his goodbyes to Mordred, Merlin wandered out of the large room, trying to convince himself he didn’t care Pendragon wasn’t there. He shouldn’t care, after all, since him and Pendragon were not friends.

Merlin walked into the Library, after wandering the corridors for most of the morning. There was no point in going to Gauis’s office early, since he would probably still be asleep. So, with no homework to do, Quidditch to play, or Gwen and Lancelot to talk to, Merlin found himself bored and restless. At least, this is what he told himself. Restless out of boredom and not of his constant swirling of thoughts around him. 

The Hogwarts library was practically deserted at this time of year, with the scowling librarian gone, and only a couple sixth and seventh years getting a head start on studying. Merlin soaked up the magical, festive atmosphere that lived in the beautiful space. Even after going to Hogwarts for over five years, he still got a feeling of excitement looking at all of those books and magical resources. He always loved exploring more about the magic in the wizard world, after feeling ignorant for so long. That passion for learning as much as he could had made him a successful student. 

Merlin found himself in the Magical Creatures section, in front of the large shelf that contained most of the books about dragons. He wondered if it was coincidence, or if he had made some sort of decision to end up here. 

He scanned the books, many with scrawling lettering along the spine. Some had faint sounds coming from within the pages, others changed colours as you touched the spine. Merlin smiled, looking up at the tall shelf, stretching nearly fifteen feet upwards. After years of assignments, presentations, and his own research, he had read most of the material in this section. Taking a few moments, he chose his old favourites, pulling the higher ones down with a wave of his wand. Merlin wandered down the long aisle, spotting a cozy table and armchair at the end of the row. He set his books down and sat down, settling himself. As he flipped through the first one he smiled, remembering the first time he had looked through these books, in an attempt to feel close to his father. The first Christmas he had spent at Hogwarts was very lonely, a memory he was always trying to forget.

After a few minutes of reading and relaxing, Merlin heard soft footsteps echo along the long library corridor. Thinking nothing of it, he kept flipping through the books, engrossed in the living illustrations of a Norwegian Ridgeback.

“Fancy meeting you here, Emrys.” 

Merlin suppressed a grin as he looked up to find Pendragon standing a few feet away, pulling books out from the shelf nearest him. He wore a blue jumper, bringing out the brightness of his eyes, even from the slight distance. 

Merlin leaned back in his chair. “When you said we weren’t going to avoid each other anymore, Pendragon, I didn’t realize that meant you would be following me around.” Merlin said, trying and failing to hide his smirk. The comment was met with a similar expression from Pendragon. Merlin’s chest grew unexpectedly tight, and he coughed slightly, ignoring it. 

“I’m hardly following you, Emrys. I just happened to be in the library, studying.” Pendragon lifted one of the books he was holding, as if to prove his point. 

“Considering you have to know how to read to study these books, I highly doubt that.” Merlin responded. His insult was the kind he was used to throwing at Pendragon, though never with the light playfulness his words now contained. 

Instead of a defensive anger, Pendragon simply laughed at Merlin’s words. 

“Awfully brave of you to say that.” Pendragon said, eyes shining. 

Merlin placed his folded hands behind his head, embracing the banter fully. “You’re right. I take it back. Wouldn’t want to be displaying any of those irritating Gryffindor traits.” 

Pendragon sighed, trying to hide his amusement. “You’re lucky I’m too busy studying to engage in any arguments today.”

Merlin smirked again, taking in Pendragon’s calm demeanour, which in itself was odd. They had not been so relaxed in each other’s company in years. 

“That’s the wisest decision you’ve ever made.” Merlin continued, leaning into the natural, and unexpected banter. 

Pendragon gathered the few books he had been holding, pulling one more off the shelf and adding them to his pile. His eyes shone as he matched Merlin’s smirk. “Well, I have been known to make those once in a while.” He turned and walked back from where he had come, towards the library entrance. Slightly turning his head, he called back towards Merlin. 

“See you around, Emrys.” 

With that, Merlin watched Arthur Pendragon walk out of the Hogwarts Library, unable to help but compare it to another time he had watched the Gryffindor walk away, that night in the hospital wing.

Something had changed between him and Pendragon since then, of that much he was sure. Though he couldn’t quite name it, Merlin smiled as he looked back down at his books. 

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to mind figuring it out.

Chapter Text

“You seem awfully cheery today.” 

Merlin looked up blankly at  Gauis, blinking. “What?” 

Gauis raised an eyebrow at his great-nephew, exhausting a sigh. “I said, you seem like you’re in quite a good mood today, considering your friends and girlfriend are gone.” 

“Hmm. Am I?” Merlin said, taking a bite of the hot meat pie in front of him. 

Gauis didn’t answer, but continued to stare at Merlin, eyebrows still raised. 

“You’re not usually this pleasant around the Christmas holidays.”

Merlin shrugged as he ate. “Maybe I’m growing up. You know, getting more mature..”

“No, that’s not it.” Gauis teased, making Merlin smile. Gauis paused a moment before continuing. “It is good to see you like this, Merlin.” 

“Like what?” 

“Happy, I suppose. Especially during this season.” 

Merlin simply nodded as he ate, not sure what else to say. They continued to eat as Gaius waved his wand and levitated the pitcher of pumpkin juice onto his desk. They were sat in his office, a well lit, large space connected to the Potion’s classroom. Merlin found it looked more like a Potion storeroom than a professor’s office, but Gauis seemed very at home in his room, parchment scattered in every corner, and the faint smell of burning potions wafting through the air. 

“And how are your classes going?” Gaius asked. 

“Pretty good. I’m getting top marks in Transfiguration, Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Good. I expect nothing less from my favourite nephew.” 

“Yeah. My Potions class can get a bit boring though.” Merlin teased. Gaius raised his eyebrow, giving Merlin’s arm a light smack.  

“Very funny.” 

“I’m kidding, of course! You know you’re my favourite professor, Gaius.” 

“I’d better be.” Gaius gave a smile. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I should have you and your friends for dinner when they get back. I’d love to sit down and properly chat with this Freya, get to know this girl that’s made you so cheery.” 

Merlin smiled back, finishing off the food on his plate. 

“Right. I’m sure she would like that.”

**

The next few days leading up to Christmas passed quicker than usual. Since the weather grew colder, Merlin spent most of his time in the Slytherin common room with Mordred, or in the library getting a head start on studying. 

While he usually appreciated the magical, festive atmosphere of Hogwarts, he had always carried an air of sadness with him during the Christmas holidays. He couldn’t help being reminded of his first Christmas spent there, his days full of isolation and grief. 

This year, however, was different. Merlin found himself distracted by Pendragon’s presence at Hogwarts. During mealtimes spent in the Great Hall, he would subconsciously scan the Gryffindor table, then look down at his plate when he was met with Pendragon’s own gaze. Whenever Merlin walked around the school, going from common room to library to Great Hall, he felt constantly aware that he could run into Pendragon at any moment. While he had that awareness in previous years, it used to be accompanied with the desperate hope to avoid Pendragon. 

Now though… It’s not like he wanted to interact with the Gryffindor. He just… didn’t see the need to avoid him anymore. 

Christmas Eve brought with it a blizzard; with ice cold winds howling against the castle walls, and snow piling among the large grounds. This did nothing to dampen the festive spirits inside, however, as students, professors, ghosts and elves contributed to the cheery, holiday atmosphere. Large, decorated evergreen trees bordered the walls of the Great Hall, covered with ornaments that sang lively carols, and twinkling lights that changed colours. Gold, shimmering garlands hung along the walls of the corridors, and  a silvery snowfall descended from the Great Hall ceiling, mirroring the sparkling blizzard outside. 

Merlin spent the evening laughing and chatting with Mordred and some fellow Slytherins. They excitedly worked through dinner, the warm up before the Christmas Day Feast the next evening. 

Against the backdrop of colour-changing evergreen trees, Merlin noticed Pendragon, sitting at his house table among loud Gryffindors enjoying themselves. 

Pendragon’s expression was indifferent, staring at the still snowy ceiling, a full plate of food untouched in front of him. 

Merlin frowned, unused to seeing Pendragon like this. As a seventh year Gryffindor and Quidditch captain, Pendragon practically bled popularity. He was  a natural leader everywhere, especially at his house table, full of charisma and charm. Now though, he was silent, ignoring the shouts of joy and festive conversation surrounding him. 

“Merlin?” 

“Hmm?” Merlin stopped staring at the Gryffindor table, turning to see Mordred. 

“I asked if you had sent Freya’s gift yet.” Mordred said, helping himself to another serving of potatoes. 

“Oh. Yeah, no I haven’t. I thought I’d wait till she came back. You know, so I could give it to her in person.” 

“Oh, nice. I’m sure she would like that.” Mordred said. 

Merlin’s face grew slightly red as he stared down at his plate. Once again, he had been so preoccupied with what Pendragon was doing that he had ignored his friend. What was it about that damned Pendragon that stole his attention?

Merlin chanced another quick look at the Gryffindor table, only to lock eyes with him. From across the Great Hall he could almost see a certain… sadness, in Pendragon’s stare. Merlin looked away again, trying to focus on the conversation Mordred was trying to start about the Irish Quidditch Team.

After dinner, Merlin left the Great hall among the last few stragglers, trying not to think about the expression on Pendragon’s face. He found himself behind a rather slow group of Hufflepuff girls, and moved to walk around them.  

“Hey!”

Merlin turned to his right, unmistakably tuned to Pendragon’s voice. He nearly opened his mouth to respond, but noticed Pendragon was not looking in his direction at all, but rather, trying to get the attention of a group of Ravenclaws. Merlin recognized the black waves of hair of Morgana Pendragon, and his face grew warm as he felt the mild embarrassment of assuming Pendragon was speaking to him. 

He watched Pendragon catch his sister’s attention, and stopped to talk to her. Suddenly, Merlin found himself in a desperate need to tie his shoe, and bent down near the corridor wall, staring at the floor, listening to the sibling’s conversation.

“Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other night. I was frustrated and I shouldn’t have walked out like that.” 

“It’s nothing new to me Arthur, no need to apologize.” Morgana answered.

“Well, I’m still sorry.” 

“ Well, don’t worry about it.”

Merlin glanced up, watching Morgana step away  from her brother. Pendragon continues towards her. 

“Morgana wait! I thought... I don’t know, we should probably go do something...If you want. I mean, it is Christmas, after all.” 

“Sorry Arthur, but I already have plans. You know, with my real friends? The ones I’ve spent every Christmas with while you and Uther were off on some glamorous trip, leaving me behind.”

“That’s not fair Morgana, I didn’t-”

“You’re right, it’s not.” Morgana cut him off, then sighed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do Arthur, really I do. But you’re about six years too late.” 

She put a hand on his shoulder, a strange mix of pity and bitterness in her voice. “Happy Christmas little brother.” 

Merlin watched Morgana walk away from Pendragon, and rejoin her group of friends. Pendragon stood in the same spot, staring after her for a few moments. 

Merlin now realized he was out of shoelaces to tie, and was very obviously  kneeling on the floor, staring at the Gryffindor. He coughed awkwardly and stood up, hoping to pass inconspicuously behind a group of straggling first years. 

His master plan didn’t work, however, as Pendragon leaned back against the corridor wall in frustration, and caught Merlin’s eye. Merlin’s face grew slightly red, and he stared back at the floor, slowly passing by Pendragon. 

Pendragon’s frustrated expression changed to a smirk as Merlin got closer. 

“Are you spying on me, Emrys?” The playfulness in his voice hit Merlin unexpectedly, and a reflexive grin found its way onto Merlin’s face. He stopped a few feet from the Gryffindor. 

“Not at all. I was just...walking with my friends.” He gestured to the group of students he had been behind. 

Pendragon’s eyes danced again. “Since when were you friends with first year Ravenclaw girls?” 

Merlin stared blankly at the group of students. “Ah. Yes. Well, you know. Most people are gone on holiday, I can’t really be picky about the people I hang out with.” 

“Oh, of course.” Pendragon smirked again. 

There was a charged silence for a few moments, the two of them holding eye contact in the deserted corridor. 

“Anyway…” Merlin awkwardly broke the silence. “I should really go catch up with my friends there.” 

“Right.” Pendragon answered, his demeanor changing slightly as he straightened his spine, no longer leaning against the wall. Merlin saw the bright playfulness in Pendragon’s eyes fade slowly, uncovering the sadness he had seen before, from across the Great Hall. It unsettled him unexpectedly, and made his stomach tighten. 

Pendragon slipped his hands in his trouser pockets, breaking eye contact to look at the marble floor. 

“Anyway… I guess I’ll see you around Emrys.”

“...Right.”

Merlin turned from the Gryffindor, heading down the decorated corridor. He walked at a faster than usual pace, a contradictory response to the strange urge to turn back. He nearly was at the end of the corridor, making the turn toward the Slytherin dungeons, when he heard Pendragon shout “Hey.” 

Merlin turned around to see Pendragon walk quickly towards him. 

“Emrys, wait.” 

His long, athletic strides allowed him to catch up to Merlin within moments.

“I don’t suppose you’d fancy a drink?”

**

Merlin sat in an empty History of Magic classroom on the second floor, sitting cross legged on one of the tables. Pendragon sat across from him in one of the tall wooden classroom chairs, a large bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand. 

“Tell me again, why are we drinking Firewhiskey in a dark classroom?” Merlin asked, feeling a mix of disbelief and strange comfort at the current situation. Pendragon shrugged slightly, removing the cork of the Firewhiskey bottle with a flick of his wand. 

“Well, it’s not like I can just stroll into the Gryffindor common room with a member of the Slytherin quidditch team.”

Merlin considered it for a moment, picturing the looks on those smug Gryffindor faces to see a snake inside their elite tower. He grinned at the thought. 

“It would certainly be entertaining.”

“Yeah, for you maybe,’ 

Pendragon smirked, holding the Firewhiskey out for Merlin to take. 

Merlin eyed it with a look of suspicion.
“You’re not trying to poison me, are you Pendragon?” 

Pendragon laughed. “Ah, no. You’ve discovered my secret plan.” He took a drink from the bottle himself, then passed it to Merlin, smirking. Merlin took it, not yet taking a sip. 

“Well that doesn’t prove anything, you know. The poison might not affect prats.” 

“Hmm, you should be fine then.” Pendragon bantered back. Merlin smirked and raised the Firewhiskey in mock toast. “Fair enough.” 

Merlin tipped the bottle into his mouth, the sweet burn of cinnamon and alcohol diving down his throat and into his chest. He exhaled heavily, and passed the bottle back. 

“Seriously though, Pendragon. Why are we here? I assume I’m not your first choice for a drinking companion.”

Pendragon raised his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised.” 

Merlin felt his face grow warm, surely an effect of the Firewhiskey. “Try me.” 

Pendragon sighed, broad shoulders falling a little. “If you must know, I was hoping to have a drink with my sister.” 

“Bit of  a lost cause, I think.” Merlin said. 

“Yeah’ Pendragon gave a small laugh, taking another drink of Firewhiskey. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have tried so hard to stay here for Christmas.” 

Merlin couldn’t mask his shock. “You’re here by choice ?” 

“I said you’d be surprised.” Pendragon smirked. 

Surprised was only one of the things Merlin was feeling. He was still glancing around the empty classroom he was in with his rival, still unsure how he ended up there. He made a gesture for the Firewhiskey and Pendragon passed it to him. 

“Why are you here, then?” Merlin asked, taking another drink. 

“I’m usually with my father over Christmas. There always seems to be some important Ministry business trip or event he insists I attend with him. Not that it’s to spend any time with me, really..” 

Merlin passed him back the bottle. “No?” 

Pendragon shook his head before taking another drink, much longer than the one before. 

“I’m only ever there to be paraded around as some sort of royalty. I’m just there for the show of it. I can’t even count all the times I’ve been forced to dance with the daughters of my father’s friends at some party or another. 

Merlin smirked, shifting his position so he leaned his weight on one arm. 

“I would’ve thought you’d love all the attention.” 

“You think so?” Pendragon asked.

Merlin nodded. “Leaders and arrogant prats tend to soak up attention, or so I’ve noticed.” 

Pendragon narrowed his eyes. “And which one am I, then?” 

Merlin shrugged. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out.” 

Pendragon laughed, and took another drink. “Ah, typical Slytherin, letting others do the work for you.” 

Merlin felt the natural banter fall a little with Pendragon’s comment. While it was innocent enough, it seemed to hit Merlin a little bitterly. That comment came from a place of truth in Pendragon’s mind, even if he didn’t realize it. 

There was a brief awkward silence as Pendragon took another drink. Merlin cleared his burning throat. “So, you didn’t actually answer my question.” 

Pendragon frowned. “Which one?” 

“Why you’re at Hogwarts and you know, not at some glamourous Ministry party.” 

“Ah, right.” Pendragon sighed, running his hands through his hair, making the blond waves less tidy than usual. He blinked a little slowly, the Firewhiskey affecting him as well. 

“I guess...I’ve been realizing that I won’t really see Morgana after this year. She’s moved in with her sister Morgause, and she hasn’t wanted anything to do with our father in a long time. And..I guess I just realized, this was probably my last chance at a normal family Christmas.” 

Pendragon’s honesty surprised Merlin, and he didn’t know how to respond. Strange that he could be so speechless in front of Pendragon, though it could have been the burning and tingling effects of the Firewhiskey. 

Pendragon used the moment’s silence to sigh, and take one last sip of Firewhiskey. He tipped his head back and drained the bottle. He looked at it, disappointed. 

“We finished that sooner that I thought…” He mumbled. 

Merlin smirked. “You mean you finished it.” He pulled out his wand from its place in his back pocket and pointed it at the bottle. Muttering the Refilling Charm, the Firewhiskey bottle was full again, the strong smell of hot alcohol and cinnamon filling the dingy classroom once more. 

Pendragon looked impressed. He took a drink of the new liquid, and gave an approving smile. 

“You were always better at that.” He said. 

“At what?” Merlin asked, taking the bottle himself. “Drinking?” 

Pendragon laughed lightly. “No, I meant magic.” 

“Oh, well I knew that already.” Merlin teased, the new gulp of Firewhiskey seemingly stronger than the last. He could feel his mind buzzing with the warm, dull magic of the Firewhiskey sending tingling sensations across his body. He felt a satisfying dizziness as his mind let it’s guard down. 

Pendragon took the bottle from Merlin’s offering hand and took another drink. Merlin noticed him swaying slightly as he drank, and his bright blue eyes were heavy. 

“I mean it though. It always seemed so natural to you. Morgana too.” 

Merlin nodded slowly, the Firewhiskey slowing down thought and motion. 

“That’s because magic is more than natural. It’s nature itself.” 

Pendragon’s drunk expression frowned slowly, and passed the drink back. “What do you mean?” 

Merlin gestured vaguely with his arm, the bottle in his hand splashing over slightly. 

“You know...how it runs through everything. It’s the energy that...connects everyone. Even Muggles..even though they can’t sense it.” Merlin shrugged as he continued drinking. 

Pendragon smiled, unfocused gaze looking up at the classroom ceiling. 

“I never thought about magic that way.” 

“Hmm. And what way do you think about it?” Merlin asked, taking another drink, the Firewhiskey draining for a second time. 

Pendragon shrugged, leaning back on the table. “I guess I don’t really think much about it. My father used to tell me magic was our right as a noble wizarding family.”

Merlin held back a drunk laugh. “That explains a lot.” 

Pendragon smirked and sighed, moving his position on the table again. “Probably.” 

Merlin stared at the now empty bottle in his hand. The Firewhiskey made his mind warm and calm, and he blinked slowly, enjoying the feeling. 

“Would you look at that…” Pendragon mumbled. 

Merlin looked up from the bottle to see Pendragon staring at his watch, tired eyes squinting at the bright gold on his wrist. 

“It’s midnight.” 

Merlin raised the empty bottle, giving a little laugh. “Happy Christmas I guess.” 

Pendragon smiled, moving off the classroom table with a slide that was far from graceful. He squinted again at his watch. 

“I should get to my common room…” He mumbled, making slow, staggering steps. 

Merlin found himself laughing, the Firewhiskey vapour filling his mind. 

“The King returning to his castle.” 

Pendragon gave a drunken laugh, still staggering towards the classroom door. Merlin watched him through blurred vision, a strange mix of drunken giddiness, and the familiar confusion that accompanied Pendragon’s presence. 

The Gryffindor swaggered to the half-open door of the classroom, the festive lights from the outside corridor streaming onto the floor. He turned back, the dim yellow light creating a glowing background. 

“Thanks for the drink, Emrys.” Pendragon’s soft, slightly slurred voice made Merlin smile. 

“Anytime, Pendragon.” 

Pendragon opened the classroom door wider, squinting against the twinkling corridor lights. He made a move to step out, but turned his head back towards where Merlin was still sitting on his wooden desk. 

“Did you forget something, Gryffindor?” He smirked. 

Pendragon did not respond for a moment, but stepped back and turned again. 

“Happy Christmas Merlin.” 

With that, he walked out of the classroom, his slightly stumbling feet shuffling farther down the corridor. Merlin found himself alone in the dark classroom, head still buzzing from the alcohol. He smiled to himself and looked at the empty Firewhiskey bottle, mind and heart racing. He waved his wand, refilling the bottle once more. 

“Happy Christmas Arthur.” 

Chapter Text

January brought with it a much colder atmosphere. The magical, silvery snowfalls of the Christmas season were long gone, and the bitter, icy cold winds of the new year endured. The grand decorations that were draped throughout the castle had disappeared, leaving the corridors strangely empty. Merlin, however, felt in better spirits than he had in the past few months. Since the unexpected drink with Arthur Pendragon on Christmas Eve, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unexplainable happiness. 

As the season ended, however, the odd sense of joy Merlin had felt during the Christmas holiday was soon overpowered by the anticipation of Gwen, Lancelot, and Freya returning to Hogwarts. On the day the Hogwarts Express was to arrive, Merlin got out of bed much earlier than usual, pulling on a dark green jumper to combat the deep chill of the Slytherin dungeons. He walked over to his small desktop mirror, suddenly realizing he was about to see his girlfriend for the first time in weeks, and that his black hair was messy and overgrown. Trying unsuccessfully to tame it, he put the mirror down and walked back to the trunk next to his bed. 

Merlin opened the large trunk, one of the only things of his fathers that he had. It was beautifully crafted, made of dark pine, with fine silver hinges and small black dragons carved into the sides. He took out the three Christmas gifts he had set aside for his friends, already neatly packaged. Placing them into his pack, he headed out of his dormitory, walking out of the Slytherin dungeons, and towards the Great Hall for breakfast. 

The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall mirrored the cloudy, frosted sky outside. Merlin took a seat next to a sleepy Mordred at the Slytherin table, the sense of relaxation coming to an end, as students enjoyed their last breakfast of the holiday, knowing classes would resume the next day. Out of an increasingly strong habit, Merlin scanned the opposite end of the Great Hall, searching the Gryffindor table for him . Oddly disappointed after finding nothing, he dug into the hot pancakes and eggs on the plate in front of him. 

“I can’t believe classes are starting again tomorrow.” Mordred sighed, refilling his glass with orange juice.

“Yeah, the holidays went pretty fast.” Merlin replied.

“Did you enjoy it?” Mordred asked, reaching for another slice of toast. 

Merlin found a small smile working its way to his face, staring up again at the Gryffindor table. 

“Yeah,’ he answered, truthfully. “I did, actually.” 

The Hogwarts Express reached its destination at the Hogsmeade train station, the scarlet red steam engine was as impressive as ever. As it screeched to a halt, Merlin standing excitedly with a small group of students who were welcoming their friends back to the castle. After a few minutes of students piling off the train, Merlin caught sight of Gwen, Lancelot and Freya. He waved excitedly as he met Gwen’s eye, suddenly realizing how much he had missed his best friend in her absence. Once the three were free of the crowd, they walked to Merlin, trunks in hand. Freya beamed as she met Merlin, and he wrapped her in a quick hug, pressing his face into her wavy black hair, then giving her a quick kiss. She blushed, and Merlin tried to ignore the slight sense of awkardness between them. They had, after all, only been seeing each other for a few weeks before the break, and the relationship was still new to both of them. 

Gwen broke the tension by wrapping Merlin in a tight hug. She released him, giving him a serious look. “You’ve been okay?” 

Merlin laughed, touched by her concern. “I’m fine Gwen, I promise. I’m here in one piece, aren’t I?” 

Gwen rolled her eyes and matched Merlin’s smile, while Lancelot embraced him as well. “I’d expect nothing less from you, Merlin.” He said, clapping Merlin’s shoulder.

The four of them chatted as they made their way back to the castle. Merlin pulled Freya’s trunk for her, listening to her talk about her quiet Christmas with her family back in Ireland. 

“So Lance,’ Merlin asked, ‘Did you finally impress Gwen’s family?” 

Gwen gave him a lighthearted smack, and Lancelot chuckled. “I don’t know if I impressed them exactly, but I think it was a successful holiday.” Gwen turned to Merlin and Freya, mouthing “They loved him,” with a wide smile. 

Once inside the Entrance Hall, Lancelot excused himself to put his trunk back in the Ravenclaw common room. Merlin walked Gwen and Freya to the Hufflepuff basement, holding Freya’s hand and enjoying Gwen’s recap of Lancelot’s arm-wrestling match with her father. Once reaching the hallway of the common room entrance, Freya gave Merlin a quick kiss, and her and Gwen started walking towards their House common room. 

“Hey Gwen, can I talk to you for a second?” Merlin asked, the words blurting out before he had even decided if he was going to tell her. 

Gwen turned. “Of course, Merlin. What is it?” She leaned an elbow on the extended handle of her trunk. 

“Something...strange happened over the holiday.” Merlin started, unsure of how he was going to encompass the strange glances and conversations he and Pendragon had shared in the last couple months, not to mention the past Christmas Eve. 

“I...um…’ Merlin stammered, staring at his friend’s concerned expression, her brown eyes locked on him. ‘I...had..the best Christmas holiday in a long time.’ He said, the intentions of confiding in Gwen completely abandoned. ‘I missed you all, of course. But it was...good. I didn’t think about my father the whole time.” He finished, mentally eye-rolling at his own lack of courage. 

Gwen smiled and squeezed Merlin’s hand. “That’s not strange Merlin, that’s good. I’m glad there was some light in the darkness. I’ll meet up with you after I put my things away.” 

Merlin watched his best friend walk away, searching his mind for a reason that he still kept this strange thing a secret from her. 

*** 

It was early October of Merlin’s first year at Hogwarts, and it was far from what he had expected. Despite finally being at the school of his dreams, he never felt more lonely and out of place. When Merlin had boarded the Hogwarts Express the month before, he was beyond excitement, finally, he was going where he belonged, and sitting next to him in the train was his friend Arthur Pendragon, who had grown so much, both in height and confidence, more admirable than he had already been when they had first met. 

But then, when the Sorting Hat had shouted out “Slytherin,” all of Merlin’s expectations about Hogwarts were completely shattered. Since that first night he had not spoken to Arthur, and found himself the active target of quite a few older Gryffindor students. 

While the castle and the classes were more exciting and interesting than he’d imagined, he still felt like too much of a stranger, an imposter, to really enjoy it. He felt lost in Slytherin house, the older students so intimidating and clever. Even the common room had a cold, unwelcome dampness, being in the dungeons under the lake. 

There were a couple fellow Slytherins who were friendly enough, a blond first year girl named Isolde, and a second year boy named Tristan, but Merlin kept his guard up, still unsure of who to trust. 

It was this this day in October that Merlin felt a sense of hope for the first time. It was a Saturday, a day when Merlin found himself unsure of what to do. He had no friends to spend time with, and no classes to distract him from how lonely he felt. 

He chose to wander around and explore the castle, which was still magical and fascinating to him despite everything else. Merlin walked around the second floor, looking at the elegant suits of armour down a corridor, which would jump to life and pull out their swords if he got too close. This floor also boasted some of the largest windows in the castle, stretching across whole corridors, and adorned with bright stained glass patterns. There was a particular panel Merlin stared at for awhile, which displayed a beautiful multicoloured silhouette of a centaur armed with a bow and arrow. 

“Hey!” Someone shouted, making Merlin jump slightly. He found its source, and realized with a sinking feeling that it was a group of five Gryffindor boys, third or fourth year by the looks of it. 

“A little Slytherin, all by itself.” One jeered, a greasy looking boy who seemed over a foot taller than Merlin. 

“That’s funny,’ smirked another one. ‘I thought snakes usually travelled in packs. You know, one leader and a few stupid henchmen to do the dirty work.” 

Merlin spoke, unable to help himself. 

“So I guess Gryffindor doesn’t have any leaders, if you’re all the stupid ones.” 

His heart hammered against his chest, why, WHY couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? 

The largest boy nearly snarled with anger, it might have been funny if Merlin wasn’t so terrified. Three of the Gryffindors pulled out their wands, and Merlin’s pounding heart moved up into his throat. Without thinking, he pulled his own out from his back pocket and shouted out the first spell he could think of, which was also one of the only ones he knew so far, “Wingardium Leviosa!” 

Though he hadn’t been pointing at anywhere in particular, he was waving his wand a little frantically, causing several of the suits of armour to lose their helmets, the heavy metal flying across the corridor at the Gryffindors, making a loud clanking sound as they hit their targets. Shocked, Merlin froze for a moment, watching most of the boys get knocked over. 

Shit. 

He bolted down the corridor, not daring to look behind him as he heard the shouts of the Gryffindors. Turning left at the end of the hall, he searched desperately for a place to hide. Noticing a familiar tapestry, Merlin realized he was near enough to the library. Checking back, he saw the boys round the corner, all of them with wands out now. 

Merlin dashed up the short staircase and turned right, breathing quick and heavy, and flew into the library, narrowly missing two older Ravenclaw girls carrying books and stacks of parchment. He heard the librarian shout “No Running!” in her sharp voice, and Merlin slowed down, turning down a random aisle between the tallest bookshelves.

 He moved around the several desks and armchairs that were set up in a study space, and kept running deeper into the library, maneuvering through increasingly empty aisles. Finally, after about 10 minutes, sure he was in the very back corner of the library, he stopped, trying to listen for signs of the Gryffindors over the pounding of his heart. 

A minute passed, and then two, Merlin’s breath finally slowing. They may not be chasing him through the library, but they likely saw him duck in here, and they could still be outside. 

He would have to wait it out here. 

Sighing, he looked around the corner he found himself in. It was clearly not the most used of spaces, missing the large armchairs from the more central spots in the library. There was only a basic table, and no chairs. Merlin leaned against the stack of books behind him, and slowly sank down, sitting on the floor. 

The adrenaline from running away was starting to fade, and Merlin felt tears prick his eyes. He folded his arms on his knees and rested his head on them. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

Merlin’s head snapped back up. Sitting across from him, curled up under the table was a girl, sitting in a mess of parchment and books. He wiped the tears from his eyes quickly. 

“Why are you saying sorry?” 

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like you were having a private moment.” 

Merlin snorted with unexpected laughter, despite tears still sitting behind his eyes. She gave a look of surprise at his reaction, but then started giggling herself. He looked properly at her, she had light brown skin, and shoulder length, dark curly hair, and he recognized her as a fellow first year, a Hufflepuff girl. 

She stopped giggling, tossing aside the parchment that was in her lap. “Can I ask, are you okay?”

Merlin shrugged, resisting the urge to share his misery with this girl. 

“You seem upset. Was someone bothering you?” She asked, brown eyes so full of concern and kindness that Merlin had to avoid their gaze. 

“Yeah. But it’s fine. I deserved it.” Merlin said, wiping his face on his sleeve. 

“How did you deserve it?” 

Merlin snorted with sarcastic laughter. “Uhh, I’m a Slytherin. We’re all liars and cheaters and Dark wizards, didn't you know?” 

The Hufflepuff girl smiled. “Well, you don’t seem like a liar or cheater or dark wizard to me. And I’m a very good judge of character.” 

Merlin couldn’t help but smile. This girl was so free with her kindness, he almost believed her. 

“Thanks.” He muttered, unsure of what else to say. 

“I’ve seen you around, we’ve had a few classes together.” 

Merlin nodded. He finally noticed the piles of parchment and books tossed around her space. 

“So...what are you doing here...under a table?” He asked, shifting into a more comfortable position. 

She sighed. “I was trying to get my History of Magic homework done. It’s just so impossible, and I’ve had such trouble with it, but I can’t bear anyone to see me struggle. I get so embarrassed and the more I don’t understand, the more anxious I get. I came here so no one would see me panic. Sorry...I know that sounds stupid.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” Merlin shook his head. “What’s the homework?” 

The girl shifted some of her parchments around. “Well, I have to write about the history of the First Goblin Wars, and how they affected wizarding society, but I can’t seem to get all these facts straight. There’s so much to remember, and I’ve never been very good with history. I learn better by doing things, not reading hundreds of facts from a book.” 

Merlin thought back to the few Herbology and Potions lessons he’d been in with the Hufflepuffs, remembering how this girl had earned points for her House in both classes. She definitely was more of a hands on sort of student. 

“Well, if you like, I can help you with it.” Merlin offered. 

The girl’s face lit up with excitement. “Are you serious?” 

Merlin nodded. “I did that assignment last week already. I can show you what I did.” 

She smiled. “You are kind. I told you I was a great judge of character.” 

Merlin couldn’t help but smile back. “Fine, you win.” 

The girl stretched her hand out for Merlin to shake. “I’m Guinevere, but most people just call me Gwen.” 

Merlin took her hand slowly, and shook it. “I’m Merlin.” 

“It’s nice to meet you properly, Merlin.” Gwen said. She gathered her papers and books, and moved them on top of the table, then reached her hand to Merlin again, offering to help him stand up. 

Merlin took her hand and she pulled him up. He couldn’t help but drop his guard around this girl, her kindness seemed so genuine. He watched Gwen rearrange her homework on the table, and gestured for him to look over what she had so far. 

“Thank you again, Merlin. I promise, you have a friend for life after this!” She smiled brightly at him. 

For the first time since he had arrived at Hogwarts, Merlin felt a real sense of hope start to spark inside of him, and had a warm, comforting feeling that she was right. 

Chapter Text

“ Protego !” Gwen waved her wand with a timely flourish, effectively blocking Merlin’s Tickling Charm that he had aimed at her. His spell hit the invisible wall in front of his best friend and disappeared into a light vapour.

“Well done Guinevere!” Professor Alice cheered as she passed by, monitoring the students as they practiced. “5 points to Hufflepuff for such an excellent Shield Charm.” 

“Nice one, Gwen.” Merlin encouraged her. The sixth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were in Defence Against the Dark Arts, pairing up to practice the Shield Charm, after learning the theory in the last few classes. The first week back from the Christmas holiday was busier than Merlin had expected, with their classes proving quite intense and difficult. He hardly had any time to process the odd encounters with Pendragon, let alone if he was going to tell Gwen about them. 

Merlin was excited to be doing some practical spell casting of course, but mostly he was appreciative of the time spent with Gwen. It reminded him of their first few years of friendship, excitedly comparing schedules to see when their houses would be in classes together. 

“Your turn, Merlin.” Gwen said cheerfully, twisting her cedar wand and moving into an offensive position. Merlin backed up a step or two, wand raised in preparation. They were, of course, only allowed to perform charms and harmless jinxes on their partners, though occasionally there would be a loud bang from one of the classroom corners, when a jinx would be a little more forceful than intended. 

“Continue practicing your charms, everyone! Remember, the stronger the Shield Charm, the less chance you may be sleeping in the hospital wing tonight.” Professor Alice announced with a wink, her commanding voice contradictory to her small stature. 

“ Ebublio.” Gwen incanted, a large bubble forming from her wand and growing as it moved to envelop Merlin.

“ Protego!” He flicked his wand up, the invisible shield floating up with his wand movements, popping Gwen’s bubble as it made contact with the wall. 

“You’re getting better.” Gwen said, ‘Not that it was bad before, just stronger now.” She added, with a small smile. 

“Very high praise, coming from you, m’lady.” Merlin answered, bowing dramatically and earning a laugh from Gwen. 

“Alright everyone, just a few more minutes before class is over, make them count!” Professor Alice shouted across the large classroom. 

“ Avis!” Gwen cast her spell, the small flock of tiny white birds erupting from her wand with a loud blast. They circled Merlin, who shouted “ Protego !” just in enough time, as the tiny birds dove towards his head, and met his Shield Charm, bouncing off. They twittered loudly in annoyance, continuing to peck at the barrier before giving up and flying out the open classroom window into the frosty January air. 

“Almost got you there,” Gwen teased, as Merlin wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and laughed. 

“That’s the time everyone! Well done to you all, I think both Hufflepuff and Slytherin have earned 5 house points for all your hard work and concentration,’ Professor Alice smiled. ‘And I’ll remind you that next class we will be moving on to casting Shield Charms around something other than yourself, which is a lot harder than it seems, trust me. Now, off to lunch!” 

The room filled with noise as students packed up their books and bags, and chatted with each other. 

“You put up a good fight.” Merlin praised Gwen, holding his hand out to shake hers. She laughed as she took it and bowed dramatically. “And you, good sir.” 

“Shall we head to the Great Hall?” Merlin asked, gathering his Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms books. 

“Actually, I thought we could have a picnic or something, just the two of us. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

Merlin smiled. “I’d like that.” 

They set up their picnic in an empty classroom near the Hufflepuff common room, after they made a visit to the Hogwarts kitchens. The house elves were more than happy to pack them a lunch, though Merlin suspected it was more about their respect for Gwen than anything else. She made it a point to thank them each week for their hard work making meals for the castle, and they often went out of their way to give her snacks and desserts in return. 

Being early January, the grounds were still cold and snowy, so the empty classroom would have to do for their picnic. 

“So how are you doing, Merlin?” Gwen asked, pulling the chicken legs and hot meat pies from the elves’ basket. 

“I’m fine. A little overwhelmed by how intense my classes are. I thought the professors would ease into the work load a little.” Merlin sighed. 

“That’s not likely,’ Gwen smirked. “You know we are in sixth year, right? It only gets harder.” 

“Well aren’t you optimistic today?” Merlin teased, digging into his lunch. 

“You know what I mean. These last two years are meant to help us for our future careers. They’re not supposed to be easy first year classes.” 

“I seem to recall someone having difficulty with those so-called easy classes.” Merlin smirked, washing down the pie with a drink of pumpkin juice. 

“Hey, that was only History of Magic,’ Gwen playfully flicked a piece of pie crust at him. ‘Besides, that was only a sneaky plot to become your best friend.” 

“Ah, I didn’t realize you were such a mastermind. Very Slytherin of you, I approve.” 

“Ha. Ha. Anyway, speaking of Slytherin, I see Nimueh’s been a handful since the holidays ended.” 

Merlin sighed. “That’s an understatement.’ Nimueh had, in fact seemed to have grown even more confident and flirty in the last week, hinting at “private Quidditch practices” she was happy to give Merlin, even though the Quidditch season wouldn’t continue for nearly another two months. ‘Whenever she’s around me she talks about some guy she met on holiday in Scotland, as if I’m supposed to be jealous.” 

“And are you?” Gwen teased. Merlin laughed. 

“Hardly. If anything, I hope that if he does exist, he got away in one piece.” 

Gwen laughed lightly. “Not to mention you’ve got a girlfriend now.” She added. 

Merlin’s food stuck briefly in his throat at the word ‘girlfriend,’ though we wasn’t sure why. He coughed and swallowed hard, hoping Gwen wouldn’t notice. That was just wishful thinking, of course, as Gwen had an uncanny ability to sense anything wrong with him. 

“You okay?” She asked. 

Merlin nodded, but it did not satisfy her curiosity.

 “Was it what I said? I guess I just assumed you’d labelled it. I mean you have been seeing each other for a couple months, but I guess it’s not really my place to say. I am sorry about that. ” She rambled.  

Merlin smiled at his friend, who never meant to offend anyone if she could help it. “It’s fine, it’s just that Freya and I haven’t talked about it. Honestly, we haven’t really talked much at all since you got back last week.”

“Any reason for that?” 

In truth, Merlin wasn’t sure exactly why, but when he and Freya would see each other, he felt the awkwardness of their first encounter come back. She seemed to be back to a more shy personality, and Merlin felt guilty that he didn’t feel as interested during their conversations as he was before. There just didn’t seem to be many other thoughts in his head besides schoolwork and analyzing the strange encounters with Pendragon. 

“I don’t know Gwen.’ He answered. ‘We just haven’t been connecting lately I guess. And...it’s just too soon to be calling her my girlfriend.” 

“That’s fair enough. I do hope you both find time to talk though, I think that would help.” 

“Thanks.” Merlin smiled back. Gwen never failed to be supportive, she truly was his best and most loyal friend. Surely he could confide in her about his and Pendragon’s strange and unexpected friendship. He watched her pull out a warm cinnamon cake slice from the basket for them to share, and he cleared his throat. 

“I guess...I’ve also been...I don’t know.. distracted in the last little while.” He slowly stammered out. 

“Well I’ve sensed you haven’t quite been yourself this year. But I figured that was because of the fall in the Quidditch match.” She passed him his own fork for the cake. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s when it started,’ He agreed. ‘It’s more than that though. I’ve been distracted by...something.” 

“What is it, Merlin? You know you can tell me anything.” Gwen asked.

“There’s some one who’s been distracting me.” Merlin stammered out, not sure why his face grew red.

“What do you mean? Do you fancy someone else?” 

“No!” Merlin shook his head, face growing more red. “Not like that, it’s more like…” His voice faltered, and he knew in that moment he couldn’t possibly explain to Gwen about his strange friendship with Pendragon. He couldn’t even make sense of it or put it into words for himself. 

Saying it out loud would make it real. And it couldn’t possibly live outside his head, in his real life, part of his real friendships. 

“It’s...Gaius.’ He lied. ‘He keeps pushing me to decide what I want to do after Hogwarts. I’ve been thinking about it but I still don’t know. I guess it’s distracted me a lot this year.” Coward, he chastised himself. 

Gwen gave him her usual smile and reached out to touch his arm. 

“That makes sense. I think we all feel like that sometimes, especially being so close to finishing school. I’m sure he’s just wants you to succeed.” 

“I know. And he’s been great to have in my life, of course. More of a father figure than he had to be.” Merlin picked at the cinnamon cake, shoving bites in his mouth to keep from lying to his best friend anymore. 

“Well, I’m glad you told me what was bothering you.” 

Gwen smiled and the guilt in Merlin’s chest moved up to his throat. 

The more he lied to Gwen, the more he was acting like the very type of Slytherin he used to be so terrified of becoming. 

***

It was late May and Merlin lay in the bright, grassy field behind his house. He pulled at tufts of the grass beside him, and tossed them in the air, using magic to make the green blades float through the air, spinning in circles that mirrored his movements. 

One more summer. Just three more months until he could finally go to Hogwarts. Each day he got closer to September his excitement grew as much as his patience decreased. There were weeks that went by without any word from Arthur, and Merlin would convince himself that Arthur finally forgot about him, had made friends with other Gryffindor boys and would barely recognize Merlin by the time he got to Hogwarts. 

But then the letters would arrive, full of adventures Arthur had been on, the new things he was learning, who the funniest Professors were and which ones were the toughest markers, each letter ending with promises of Quidditch games, adventures of their own, and wishes for Merlin to have been there with him. 

The closer September came, the more those dreams seemed like a reality. 

“Merlin!” A call from his mother interrupted his thoughts, and the spinning grass dropped on his chest. He twisted and sat up, Hunith waving from their back door. He made his way to her and she smiled as she ruffled his hair. 

“You’ve got a letter.” She said. Merlin’s heart leapt, he had only sent his last reply to Arthur a week before. 

“From my friend?” 

“No,’ Hunith smiled. “It’s from your father.” She passed him a small envelope, with sharp scrawling letters that spelled Merlin’s name in dark green ink. 

Merlin took it in stunned silence. His father didn’t contact them often, and it had been at least two years since he’d last set foot in Ealdor. The few times Balinor would reach out to them every couple months would be through the telephone, something Hunith was more used to than owl post. 

“I’ve got to pull supper out of the oven, i’ll call you when it’s ready.” She walked back through the door and left Merlin to open his father’s letter. 

My son,

It has been far too long since we’ve spoken, and for that I ask your forgiveness. My work has kept me exceptionally busy this year. The new species of Dragon my colleagues and I were tracking had disappeared in the mountains of Iceland, and it took some time to tempt them to come back out. Though I have often wondered what it would be like to share more of my work with you, I still believe it is best that you’ve stayed with your mother. 

I write to you now because of my father’s brother, your great uncle Gaius, who has reminded me that you’ll be getting your Hogwarts letter this summer, and begin your proper education of the Wizarding World. I am the first to admit I have not done my duty as your father in preparing you for your schooling, but I hope you’ll allow me and Gaius to take you to Diagon Alley to get your books and supplies at the end of August. 

I’d also like to tell you about my own experiences at Hogwarts. I’ve made plans to meet with Gauis and travel to Ealdor on August 30th. I look forward to seeing you and your mother. 

Your father, 

Balinor.

Chapter Text

Just over a month had passed since the holidays ended, and Merlin felt a sense of things returning to normal. His friends were back, classes were continuing, and he hadn’t so much as spoken to Pendragon since sharing the bottle of Firewhiskey on Christmas Eve. In fact, now that the usual gang of Gryffindors that surrounded Pendragon were back at Hogwarts as well, Pendragon seemed to be back to his outgoing, arrogant self. 

Not that Merlin was observing him, of course. 

This return to the distance between him and Pendragon, however, did not fix the awkward energy Merlin still felt with Freya. With Freya in her fifth year, she spent a lot more time studying for her OWL’s, and  it seemed they only saw each other briefly on the weekends, usually with Gwen and Lancelot tagging along. 

But; Valentines Day was two weeks away, on a Sunday, and Merlin hoped to make the most of it and get past this weird, awkward stage with Freya. Some time alone on a romantic visit to Hogsmeade would be just the thing, according to Gwen at least. 

“I’m sure you’ll fall back into the normal routine once you spend some quality time together, not just visits between studying.” Gwen said, passing him her Transfiguration notes to copy as they sat in class on a Monday morning. 

“I hope so,’ Merlin replied, quill flicking across his parchment in a rush. ‘I really do like her, and I know we had a good connection before the holidays. I’m just not sure what’s changed.”

“I’m sure if you have an open and honest conversation with her, you’ll probably find that out.” 

“Well, you’re probably right.”

Gwen smirked. “I’m always right, and you know it.” 

“Of course, how foolish of me to forget,’  Merlin teased, bumping lightly against her shoulder. 

‘I beg your forgiveness, m’lady.” 

“And you shall have it, sir.” She laughed.

They bantered the rest of Transfiguration class, turning their teaspoons into vases and back again, occasionally interrupted by the loud crash of someone’s vase breaking. Merlin really took the moment to appreciate his time with Gwen, feeling their solid friendship move back into its regular routine. It helped that he didn’t feel anxious about not talking about Pendragon, no need to share about something that wasn’t happening anyway. 

They were making their way towards the Great Hall for lunch, when Modred came up to them, visibly annoyed. 

“Did you run into Nimueh yet?” Mordred sighed, eyes rolling. 

“No, why?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred folded his arms. “She’s pushing for us to start Quidditch practices next weekend already, a full month before the season even starts back up again!” 

Merlin sighed. Nimueh ran them hard during practice at the best of times, but she never started back up again this early. 

“Surely she knows that’s a little too soon?” Gwen asked, frowning. 

“Oh, she knows, she just doesn’t care.” Mordred huffed. 

“What did Tristan and Isolde say?” Merlin asked. 

Mordred shrugged in reply. “Not sure. They weren’t there when she told Sophia, Cenred and I. What do you think about it?”

“I’m not happy about it, but I can’t say it’s a surprise. She knows we’re sitting behind Gryffindor and Hufflepuff this season.” 

Gwen patted his shoulder encouragingly. “I’m sure she was wanting the best thing for the team, then.” 

Gwen. Always trying to see the best in others. Merlin never thought of Gwen as naive exactly, but perhaps she didn’t know Nimueh like he did. If she made any decision, it was always for her own benefit, eventually.

Lunch was a moody affair. Nimueh had gathered the team on one end of the long Slytherin table, shooting down the complaints of Tristan, Isolde and Mordred. 

“I know it’s early, I’m not daft, am I? Look, we’re sitting below Gryffindor and Hufflepuff for the Cup. We need all the extra training we can get, especially after our disastrous start to the season.’ She looked pointedly at Merlin, who shrugged it off but felt a twinge of guilt all the same. 

‘Once we start playing like Quidditch champions again, then maybe I’ll cut down the practices.”

Mordred swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice, and opened his mouth to protest. 

“And Mordred,’ Nimueh shot him a look, pointing her fork at him. ‘There are plenty of sixth and seventh years who would love a shot at Seeker. Don’t make me replace you with someone willing to do the job.”

Merlin doubted there were plenty of Slytherin candidates that were better than Mordred, Nimueh herself had chosen him as their Seeker over her own friends. Though the comment was enough for Mordred to close his mouth and stare sourly at his plate. 

“Anyone else have anything to say?” Nimueh dared them, flipping her long dark hair behind her shoulder as she reached to grab another helping of roasted potatoes. The team remained silent and Nimueh gave a sharp “Good.” in response. ‘Practices start on Thursday. Remember to bring some better attitudes.” 

That evening, after dinner, Merlin sat in one of his favourite spots of the Library with Gwen, Lancelot and Freya. It was this cozy corner, pushed to the far back of the Library that Merlin properly met Gwen for the first time. It was something of a tradition to study there. 

Merlin and Lancelot were comparing Herbology notes, adding diagrams and notations to each other’s parchments. Gwen sat next to Freya, editing the essay she had written to practice for her Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

“So what do you think?” Freya asked Gwen nervously, peering over at the last page of her work. 

Gwen smiled. “It’s brilliant, Freya. I especially loved the points you made about the common inaccurate classifications of doxies and pixies. Very well thought out.”

Freya beamed, and Merlin noticed how much brighter her eyes seemed when she smiled. He set aside Lancelot’s parchments for a moment and instinctively pulled out his wand, whispering a Transfiguration spell. He presented Freya with what used to be his quill, now a beautifully bloomed red rose. She shyly took it and responded with a gentle, “Thank you.” 

Lancelot nudged Merlin playfully. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, mate.” 

“Oh stop.’ Gwen rolled her eyes. ‘You do just fine.” 

Another fifteen minutes or so passed, Freya making revisions to her essay and Merlin and Lancelot switching back their parchments. Freya yawned, gently rolling up her essay and moving to put her papers and books away. “Well, I think that’s enough studying for me tonight. Would you mind walking back with me, Merlin?”

“Not at all.” Merlin grinned, gathering his own things. They bid Gwen and Lancelot goodnight and headed back through the library. Freya linked her fingers through his and Merlin felt the heat rise to his face. They walked wordlessly for a few minutes, past some of the tallest stacks and shelves when Freya stopped abruptly. 

“Oh, I forgot my jumper.”

“I’ll get it,’ Merlin offered. 

“No, it’s alright.’ She said, ‘I’ll just be back in a moment.” She turned back down the library corridor and Merlin set his bag down on the floor, waiting patiently. 

After a minute or so, he suddenly heard a loud bang to his right, down one of the dimly lit stacks. Instinctively, he turned and looked but didn’t see anything but an empty table and chairs at the far end of the shelves. The noise came again and curiosity got the better of him. He slowly walked down the corridor stacks, following the occasional bang. As he got to the end of the stack, the rows of books curved to the left, into a cozy corner of studying space, and Merlin stopped dead in his tracks to see Arthur Pendragon throwing books at the wall.

Pendragon flung one book hard enough that the spine cracked open and dropped on the floor, a loud pitched, magical whine escaping from the pages. He stepped over and kicked it shut, with a mumbled “Shut up.”

Merlin stood still, shocked at the scene he had stumbled on. After a few seconds of deciding what to do, he slowly walked backwards, too late, as Arthur Pendragon turned and froze at the sight of him. 

Merlin managed to huff out a quick, “Er, sorry” and turned to leave. 

“Wait! Er, I mean-“ Pendragon stammered. “You won’t tell, will you? The librarian I mean. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of happened.” He nodded towards the haphazard pile of books on the floor, various pages torn out.

Merlin smirked, in spite of himself. “She scare you too, then?” 

Pendragon relaxed slightly, and matched Merlin’s grin. “Terrifies me. Always has. She’d probably ban me from the library again if she saw what I was doing to the books.”

“What did they do, bite you? There was one I borrowed from the Restricted Section once that did that.” Merlin felt the tension calm a little more as he spoke. 

Pendragon huffed out what could have been considered a laugh. “No, I just had the family owl drop off a letter and it was…’ he trailed off, staring back at the table where a crumpled piece of parchment lay. ‘Anyway.. the books were nearest to me and seemed a better alternative to punching the wall.” 

The odd energy from Pendragon unsettled Merlin a little. Even in the few conversations he’d shared with Pendragon this year; he had never seen him so...there was really no other word for it - sad . 

“Fair enough. Wouldn’t want to injure your hands right before the Quidditch season starts up again.” Merlin teased as Pendragon pulled out his wand and mumbled ‘Accio’ to summon the books off the floor. They stacked neatly in his arms and he placed them on the table. 

“Exactly.”

Merlin glanced back down the stacks to where he left his bag, and where Freya would surely be returning right away. 

“Anyway, sorry again. About interrupting you.” He gestured to the now neatly stacked books.

Pendragon just nodded, almost embarrassingly, and Merlin returned the nod with a small smile. “See you around, Pendragon.”

Merlin turned around to walk back when Pendragon said, “Hey Emrys. Would you mind joining me for a drink? I...could really use one right now. And to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t mind the company.” 

Merlin felt a rush moving upwards in his chest, not unlike a similar feeling when Pendragon had last invited him for a drink. He glanced back to where his and Freya’s bags were, sure she would be returning within moments. 

“Oh, I er, normally would. I’m just, sort of in the middle of something right now.”

Pendragon gave a solemn shrug and picked up his own bag from the floor. “It’s fine. Never mind then.”

He tucked his wand in his pocket and started to walk past Merlin, but stopped suddenly a foot away. Merlin found himself awfully close to the Gryffindor, staring into bright blue eyes and a face that was decidedly a bit red. 

“If you change your mind,’ He hurried out, ‘I’ll be at the Hogs Head.” 

With that, Pendragon continued down the stacks as Merlin’s heart hammered against his chest, and he let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He waited a moment or two before heading back himself, meeting with a very confused Freya who stood with her arms folded across her chest, missing jumper slung over one of them. 

“Where’d you run off to?” She asked, picking her bag back up and looking behind Merlin at the dimly lit stacks of books he’d emerged from. 

“Nowhere,’ he started, ‘I just thought I’d heard something that’s all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.” 

Merlin was unsure how he looked pale, considering how suddenly warm he felt.

“It was nothing, I’m fine.” Merlin smiled, trying to ease Freya’s concerned stare. 

“If you say so,’ she answered, linking her free hand with Merlin’s as they continued to walk.

After about ten minutes, they stood in front of the stack of barrels that marked the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. 

“Merlin, can I ask you something?” Freya asked, gently squeezing his hand as he turned to face her. 

“Of course, anything.” 

Freya sighed and looked up at him, making his chest tighten. “I know things have been a little strange between us for the last while, and I know it’s really because of how busy I’ve been.”

“It’s okay -’ Merlin started. 

“No, let me finish. I just want to apologize for the distance between us lately. I’ve just been so busy with homework and studying, and, well, I like you. A lot ,’ She blushed a little and looked down. ‘And, well I just wanted you to know...I’m still in this, if you are.” 

Merlin’s mind raced, taking in what Freya was saying. Of course she had noticed the distance between them, but Merlin knew it wasn’t her fault. It was all him, his own thoughts and odd distractions about Pendragon and his uncharacteristic behaviour. 

Freya looked up at him with her gentle brown eyes, and Merlin felt the guilt rise to his stomach. He couldn’t bear for her to feel responsible for his distracted mind. Instinctively, he put his hand on her face and kissed her. 

She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. His hands found themselves tangled in her dark hair, trying to escape the feeling of dread and guilt. 

After a minute, she pulled away, a little breathless. “Was that a yes?” She smiled. 

Merlin matched her sweet smile and brushed a stray hair away from her face. “It was. And I’m sorry too, I should be making more time for you.” 

Freya reached up and kissed him again, smirking. “If you want, you can start right now.” She nodded to the common room entrance behind her. 

Merlin smirked as well. “You’d sneak me in, would you?” 

“I could try.” She answered, intertwining their fingers again.

Merlin had to admit, Freya was effortlessly beautiful and sweet, and certainly tempting him with the thought of trying to sneak around in the Hufflepuff common room. 

But something in him was pulling at him to be somewhere else. 

“I can’t say that doesn’t sound fun,’ He kissed her hand that was still locked in his. ‘I would hate for you to get in trouble though.” 

Freya nodded, “Next time then.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Of course.”

“Goodnight Merlin.” 

“Goodnight,’ He gave her one last kiss, then watched her disappear behind the stack of barrels. Once she was gone, he frowned, that guilt rising again. He couldn’t help but feel he had somehow not been honest with her. Of course he liked her, and was very much attracted to her, he knew that for sure. But something about her acknowledging that awkward distance, something he knew was only his fault, shook him a little.

But how could he have focused on being in the moment with Freya tonight after that invitation from Pendragon intruding his thoughts? The strange energy he felt finding Pendragon in that corner of the library...

Not that he cared about whatever was going on with Pendragon. He certainly wouldn’t consider him a friend at this point. 

Still...the curiosity of it all swirled around Merlin’s mind as he made his way down the kitchen corridor, the lower levels, the Slytherin dungeons, and all the way to his dormitory that he was fully intending to stay in for the rest of the night…

Half an hour later, Merlin stood outside the entrance to The Hog’s Head, the last snowfall of the season lazily leaving flecks of snow on his Slytherin scarf. With an inexplicable pounding in his chest and a deep breath, he pushed open the pub door. 

Chapter Text

Merlin stood in his bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror and trying desperately to fix his messy hair. He picked and adjusted with no real goal in mind, nervous to meet with his father any minute. 

Today was August 30th, the day Merlin would see Balinor for the first time in years. Him and his Uncle Gaius were set to finally take him to the wizarding world, and get the supplies he needed for Hogwarts. 

He had spent the morning anxiously wondering what it would be like to spend time with his father, surrounded by other wizard families. Better yet, Arthur’s latest letter shared his summer adventures with his family, and that he too would be in Diagon Alley this weekend. Merlin’s mind wandered, thinking of seeing Arthur again. A whole year had passed, and Merlin could imagine that at twelve years old now, Arthur was probably even more confident and magnetic than before. Merlin looked at himself again, pulling at the sleeves of his jumper and picking at his tangled hair. He had grown in this last year, a few inches taller, but certainly not bigger. His limbs seemed long, gangly and awkward than they’d been before. Too skinny, he thought . Hopefully, once I’m in Gryffindor, Arthur could help me practice Quidditch skills, and maybe I’ll bulk up a little…

His musings were interrupted by his mother calling him from the kitchen. His heart leapt, did one last adjustment to make himself presentable, and grabbed his carefully folded Hogwarts letter and supply list that had laid on his small desk. He found his mother in the modest kitchen, pouring a cup of tea for the odd man sitting at their table. 

The man wore a long, dark blue set of robes,and shoulder length hair that was a mixture of grey and white. He glanced up as Merlin entered the room, pushing his small circular spectacles farther up his nose. He smiled at Merlin and gave a gentle nod. 

“Good morning. You must be Merlin.” 

Merlin nodded, shyer than he expected himself to be. 

“I’m Gaius, your great uncle. It’s good to finally meet you.” He stuck out a hand from beneath his long sleeves, and Merlin walked over to shake his hand in greeting. His mother smiled at him encouragingly as she passed Gauis his teacup. “Thank you, Hunith.” 

Merlin stood beside the table, now glancing around the kitchen, eyes searching for their other guest. 

“Is my father with you, or will he be meeting us there?” 

Gauis’s expression changed as he sipped his tea. “Unfortunately, your father was not able to join us. He sends his regrets, but his work has kept him very busy. He wished us well though, and ensured I received some money for your supplies.”

Merlin processed what Gaius was saying, and his breath stopped a moment. 

He would not be seeing his father, wouldn’t be asking him questions and being taught important things about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. 

Instead, he was to start his magical education journey with a stranger because his father couldn’t bear to stop his work. 

Merlin felt unexpected tears prick his eyes, and he blinked quickly. Should’ve known…

He noticed his mother’s concerned gaze and he moved to keep his composure. 

“Oh. I see…alright then.” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His mother sighed, and passed a full teacup to him. 

“It’s alright.” Merlin said, giving a weak smile. “When do we leave?” 

“Right away, if you’re ready.” 

Merlin certainly felt less ready than he had that morning, but he thought of Arthur, and missing him in Diagon Alley just because his father didn’t show just didn’t seem like something a Gryffindor would do. 

So he took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.”

Three hours later, Merlin was in a bookshop called Flourish & Blotts, cross referencing the stack of books in front of him with his first year supply list. To say the last few hours were unexpected was an understatement. 

One moment they were in Merlin’s kitchen in their small home in Ealdor, and the next they were standing on a cobblestone road, plenty of shops, people, sights and sounds bustling around them. 

Merlin had felt a wave of dizziness and a tingling deep in his stomach as he took in his new surroundings. 

“Side effects of Apparation .” Gaius had called it, offering an arm to steady Merlin. They then set about shopping, Gaius perfectly happy to answer Merlin’s questions, or let him explore a shop, even if there wasn’t any supplies he needed there. Merlin’s disappointment in his father’s absence remained, but his excitement and curiosity grew, as they made their way through Diagon Alley. 

He was fitted for new sets of black robes, the Hogwarts crest embellished on one side of the front, the other empty and waiting for his eventual house crest. Merlin had looked at himself in the shop mirrors, somehow not seeming as gangly as he had earlier that morning, and with a small shot of confidence, he imagined the red and gold patch of Gryffindor that would be added onto his robes in a few days time. 

They’d also stopped for his other basic supplies, such as feather quills, ink, parchment and a small cauldron (“Essential for my potions class!” Gaius insisted). While they checked items off his list, Merlin learned more about his great uncle Gaius, a skilled potions master and physician who had been the Potions Professor at Hogwarts for the last 25 years. Married briefly when he was young, he had no children of his own, though he insisted he was quite content to be an uncle to young Balinor. 

“Did you go to Hogwarts as a student?” Merlin asked, as they went to the checkout counter in Flourish & Blotts, and Gaius passed the friendly witch a handful of gold and bronze coins. 

“Indeed I did,” Gaius responded. ‘Top of my class for Potions and History of Magic, and I was also Prefect, then Head Boy of Ravenclaw in my final year.”

The mention of another Hogwarts House brought up Merlin’s curiosity, and he cleared his throat to cover his nerves. 

“Er, Uncle Gaius, sir.’

“Just Gaius is fine. Professor Gaius when you’re in my classes.” He said with a wink. 

“Er, Gaius, then. I was just wondering what house my fath-“

“Merlin!”

A shout from behind them interrupted his question, and Merlin turned to see Morgana Pendragon waving at him from the back of the shop. In a few strides she passed through the small crowd of shoppers and caught up to them, giving Merlin a quick hug. 

“It’s so good to see you! And Professor Gaius, hello! What are you doing here?” 

Gaius smiled warmly at Morgana. “It’s lovely to see you as well, Miss Pendragon. I’m just helping my young nephew here with his first year supplies.”

“Oh, that’s right! You must be the uncle who worked at Hogwarts.’ Her dark braid flipped over her shoulder as she turned to Merlin. ‘I forgot you mentioned that last summer. But how are you Merlin? Are you excited for first year?”

He nodded, happy with the surprise of seeing Morgana. She had certainly grown in the last year, her hair was longer and she rivaled Merlin’s height. 

And her presence here, surely, was a sign that Arthur would be close by.

“Is Arthur here too?” Merlin eyed the rest of the bookshop, scanning for blond hair.

“No, Father took him along to his meeting at Gringotts. I’m not sure how long they’ll be, but he usually takes a while with that sort of thing.” She rolled her eyes. Merlin tried his best to mask his disappointment for the second time that day. 

“Would you like to join us while you wait, Miss Pendragon?” Gaius asked.

“Oh, thank you Professor, but my stepmother is waiting for me at Madam Malkins.’ She turned again to Merlin. ‘So nice seeing you again, Merlin! I’ll try to save you a spot on the train on Sunday.” 

“Thanks!” Merlin beamed, and he waved as Morgana dashed out of Flourish & Blotts. Gaius passed Merlin his bag of newly purchased books, and gave him a supportive clap on the shoulder. “I didn’t realize you knew the Pendragons.” 

Merlin nodded, a little surprised by the weight of his books. He adjusted the straps of the bag to a more comfortable position over his shoulder. “Yeah, I met them last summer. They were near Ealdor with their father, and they actually saw me-” He stopped, suddenly unsure if he should tell Gaius that he had been practicing his developing magic abilities out in the open. 

“Er.. when they saw me walking. Anyway, I’d never met other wizard children before, and they told me all about how they were going to Hogwarts and Arthur told me all about Quidditch, and later in the summer he came back to Ealdor, and he even let me fly his new broomstick!”

Merlin grinned at the memory, excited at the prospect of having more opportunities to practice flying with Arthur. 

“You’ve flown on a broomstick, have you?” Gaius asked, stepping out of the shop and holding the door open for  Merlin. They continued down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley. 

“Yeah, it was amazing! Arthur said I was a natural at it.”

“High praise, indeed.’ Gaius smiled. ‘It’s good that you were able to connect with them before you come to Hogwarts. I’m sure it will help you adjust, having someone you know. There are many things in the Wizarding World that are quite different from Muggle society.”

“Yeah, I was really lucky to meet them.” Merlin took in the bustling, magical surroundings of the Alley, watching families running around with purpose, and shopkeepers waving to people in the crowds, calling them in for end-of-summer sales. 

“You did not know much of our world before then?” Gaius asked.

Merlin shook his head. “Only a few things. I can remember my father doing magic for me and my mother when I was really little. He spoke about what we are, and that I had magic too that would show when I was older…That’s really it. He hasn’t been around much for me to ask him questions.” 

He continued walking, the truth of his words weighing him down nearly as much as the bag of books. 

“His work has kept him busy these last several years, it’s true. Gaius nodded solemnly. “I’m sure he would have joined us today, if he could.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, but he felt a knot form in stomach. With the subject of his father brought up, he remembered the question he was about to ask Gaius before Morgana interrupted. It continued to race around his mind several minutes later, when they stopped for a break at a cafe next to Ollivander’s Wand Shop. 

Gaius ordered two cups of tea and several sandwiches from an elderly witch, who was summoning used tea cups and dishes from one of the tables. They ate in relative silence, and it wasn’t until Gaius was on his second cup of tea before Merlin brought up the courage to ask the question he was dying to know.

“Er… Gaius, sir.’ 

The Professor raised one eyebrow as he sipped his tea.

“I was just wondering…which House my father was in at Hogwarts?” 

Gaius put down his tea cup and smiled. “He was in Slytherin, I believe… yes, very bright, an excellent student. I had the pleasure of teaching him in his final years. Exceptionally gifted in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures , if memory serves me correctly…” He went to sip his tea again. 

Merlin picked at the sandwich crusts left on his plate, the knot in his stomach moving up to his throat. 

Slytherin.

He should have known, really. Ever since Arthur mentioned that one’s parents could affect the House they were placed in, that sense of dread had been in the back of Merlin’s mind. Now he knew, his worst fears were realized. 

Gaius eyed him across the table. “Was that not what you were expecting to hear?”

Merlin snapped out of his thoughts, trying to mask his feelings with a shrug. “It’s fine.”

But the word Slytherin echoed in the back of Merlin’s mind for the rest of the afternoon. As they collected more books, supplies, and some sweets for the train journey. Even when purchasing his wand, an extraordinary thing made of elm and dragon heartstring that sang to his very soul, was not enough to drown the word from his mind. 

At the end of the day, long after he’d returned home, thanked Gaius for his help, and packed his trunk for the train journey in two days time, Merlin lay awake in his bed. He stared at the ceiling, twisting his wand through his fingers, unable to shake the feeling that if his father had been a Gryffindor, perhaps these last few years would be full of memories with him, and not just the hollow pain of his absence. 

Perhaps he would have spent today with his father, and not with his empty excuses.

Chapter Text

Merlin hadn’t spent much time in the Hog’s Head Inn. In fact, he’d only been a few times in his third year, when students are first allowed into Hogsmeade and spend the time exploring every possible shop and street corner. Once the novelty wore off, there were definitely better establishments Merlin and his friends would go to now. 

His impression of the Inn certainly hadn’t changed. Hovering in that middle space between dirty and not quite clean enough, the pub was dim, a few dusty lamps lighting the short bar counter at the back. The Hog’s Head had a reputation for housing more than its fair share of shady characters. Nothing changed in that sense, as Merlin surveyed the space, eyeing a small handful of wizards and witches that looked as dingy and run down as the tables they were sitting at. 

It didn’t take long for Merlin to spot Pendragon in a dark corner, his light golden hair strange among the dusty greys and blacks of their surroundings. Merlin paused a moment, watching him hunched over the booth table, a glass in hand, likely full of some cheap spirit. Even in the shadows, Merlin could see his miserable expression. 

Strange, to think that at the beginning of the year he would’ve probably enjoyed seeing Pendragon like this, defeated, alone. Now though, this tentative… friendship…that had built between them in the last few months had changed things. He felt pity, sympathy even, for this frustrated Gryffindor. 

Merlin walked over the corner booth where Pendragon sat, hands in his coat pockets.

“Do you normally spend time in dingy pubs then?” Merlin teased, taking a seat across from Pendragon, enjoying the surprised smile that appeared on the Gryffindor’s face. 

“Yes, well, thought I’d go somewhere that mirrored my current mood.” Pendragon shrugged, twisting a considerably smudged glass, which held a deep brown liquid.

“You’re in a dingy mood, then?” Merlin smirked. 

“Downright foul.” Pendragon matched his smirk, then downed the rest of his drink. “Care for one?” He lifted the now empty glass. 

“I suppose I’ll risk it.” Merlin settled in his spot, unbuttoning his coat and starting to unravel his scarf. Pendragon watched him with already tipsy eyes.

“Didn’t show up very subtly I see.” Pendragon nodded towards Merlin’s Slytherin scarf, green and silver stripes admittedly very bold. 

Merlin shrugged. “It’s still cold out there. And I didn’t realize I was required to be in disguise to join you.” 

Pendragon smirked again. “I suppose not.” He picked up his glass and walked over to the run-down bar, where the equally run-down barkeep was hunched over the counter, nursing his own drink. Merlin watched as Pendragon ordered two drinks, and left three bronze coins on the counter top. The barkeep poured the drinks and tossed the coins in his stained apron pocket. 

Pendragon sat back down and passed Merlin a drink. 

“What is it?” Merlin eyed it skeptically, a dark brown liquid with a thin layer of silver foam. 

“They call it a Dragon’s Scale. Bit like a lager I suppose. Not bad, once you down a few.”

Merlin raised his glass. “Cheers then… to…”

‘To my last season of Quidditch.” Pendragon raised his own glass and met Merlin’s, then they drank in unison. Merlin tasted the dark, bitter lager, which mixed with the spice infused foam in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. The alcohol content was considerably higher than other beers Merlin had had before, but it provided a welcome, almost spicy burn in it’s aftertaste. All in all, not terrible. 

“Not bad, hey Emrys?” Pendragon raised his eyebrows, taking another drink. 

“Not nearly as bad as expected.” Merlin smirked, setting his glass down. 

They sat in an awkward silence for a minute or two, both of them periodically sipping their drinks. Finally, Merlin cleared his throat. 

“So…did you want to…talk about it at all?” 

“You mean the horrific massacre I did to those library books?” Pendragon gave a half smile, though his expression darkened.

“Well, I’m sure some of those books deserved it. They can be quite rude sometimes.” Merlin responded, trying to keep the energy light. 

It seemed to work, since Pendragon genuinely chuckled before taking another swig. He set down his glass, slowly twisting it around and around, and sighed.

“At the end of April, there are official tryouts happening in Ireland for all of the professional UK Quidditch teams. You have to sign up by the end of February. I wanted to sign up but…’ Pendragon stopped, staring at his glass. ‘I felt I needed to tell my father first. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I know it’s what I want to do - play Quidditch professionally. But I guess I felt I owed my father an explanation before I signed up.”

“...Did you tell him?” 

Pendragon scoffed and nodded, taking another sip of Dragon Scale. “I got his letter today. He said ‘Pendragons invest in Quidditch teams, they don’t demean themselves by playing the sport.’” 

“Well, why would he let you play Quidditch at Hogwarts then, if he was so against it?” Merlin asked.

Pendragon laughed harshly. “Oh, it’s fine at school. Expected even, since Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team is an admirable title and certainly makes one more employable. According to my father, it shows I’m respectable and have leadership skills, and earns me valuable references from professors. But, only those wizards who have no other career prospects pursue it for their future.’ He gulped down the remnants of his drink. 

‘He also wrote in his letter, in no uncertain terms, that I’d be starting a job at the Ministry the week after I graduate. A job, he was not shy about reminding me, that he personally ensured through all of his connections, as if I’m supposed to be eternally grateful for that.”

Merlin considered Pendragon for a moment, taking in his hunched shoulders and dark frown. He felt a pang of sympathy, and a strange desire to comfort him somehow. 

Comforting Pendragon, he thought, certainly not something I ever expected to be doing at this point in our lives.

“That’s… got to be frustrating, Pendragon…I’m sorry.” 

Pendragon ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “That’s one way of putting it.” 

“Are you still going to sign up for tryouts?” Merlin sipped his own drink, the bitter alcohol starting to cloud his mind and dull his senses.

Pendragon laughed harshly again. “Hardly. Couldn’t possibly go against him, not when he’s planning on campaigning to be Minster for Magic at the end of the year. He needs to have the perfect family, with the perfect jobs. It’s his dream to have the Pendragon legacy running the Ministry. In his mind, he’s already won, and is shaping me to take his place.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.” 

Pendragon smirked, bright blue eyes staring fiercely into Merlin’s deep blue ones. “Hadn’t noticed.” 

Their eye contact lingered, and Merlin was surprised how focused Pendragon’s gaze was, considering how much he’d had to drink at this point. 

Merlin cleared his throat, breaking the overwhelming contact. “So…how does Morgana feel about your father’s plans?” 

Pendragon shrugged. “No idea. She hasn’t spoken to Father in over a year, so she’s pretty much out of the picture for him.”

Merlin took another gulp of his drink. “Do you miss her?” 

Pendragon stared at the dusty corner wall, spinning his empty glass. He was silent for a few minutes, and just when Merlin started to wonder whether he had actually heard him, Pendragon spoke softly. “I get angry about it sometimes. I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to miss her. It’s…I don’t know…easier that way, I guess.” 

Merlin considered what the Gryffindor was saying, and his tipsy mind drifted to long lost memories of playing in the Ealdor woods, of flying a broomstick over rolling green fields, of letters scrawled on parchment, exchanged between two young boys. He considered the past five years, and the anger and rivalry that had existed between him and Pendragon.

Merlin considered that he, too, had found it to be easier to be angry at the present than to miss the past. 

He finished the last drop of his drink, and set it down, eyes meeting Pendragon’s again. 

“Yeah…I get that.” 

Pendragon smiled. It was small and sad, but it was real all the same. 

Two hours later, Merlin snuck into his dormitory room, trying to steady himself as he ungracefully pulled his coat and boots off and stumbled into his four-poster bed. He flopped his head down on the pillow and breathed out a deep sigh. 

They’d each had another three rounds of Dragon Scale (which definitely improved the taste of it). Their conversation had moved on, continuing into an easy banter as they’d chatted about classes, professors, Quidditch, and even started to reminisce about the first summer they met. 

Only when Pendragon had realized it was nearly midnight, and well past student curfew, did they leave the Hog’s Head. Walking quickly against the chilled early February air, they’d continued to banter and laugh. Though Merlin couldn’t quite understand why, he’d felt the weight of the last five years start to drift away with the few lazy snowflakes. 

They’d snuck back into the school, the Entrance Hall corridor dark, save for a few torches along the wall. Pendragon had drunkenly thrown his arm about Merlin’s shoulder, much in the same way Merlin had seen him congratulate his fellow teammates after a game. 

“Listen… Emrys. You’ve been….I mean… well…it’s been…” He slurred, pressing a significant amount of weight on Merlin as he leaned over, almost causing the Slytherin to stumble. He balanced himself, which was an impressive feat considering how drunk he felt.

Pendragon turned his head, squinting at Merlin for a moment, as if trying to search for his own words in Merlin’s face. He huffed out an alcoholic breath, making Merlin realize just how close Pendragon’s face was to his own. 

“ Anyways .” Pendragon dropped his arm, and took a shuffled step away. “ Thanksyou… .I just mean… thanks, I guess. 

Merlin stifled a laugh, some sober part of him recognizing the need to be quiet in the corridor, not particularly wanting to be caught out past curfew.

“You’re welcome.’ Merlin extravagantly waved his arm and folded into a mock bow. ‘Anything for the future Minister for Magic.”

This had caused a real laugh from Pendragon, far too loud for their situation. Merlin clapped a hand over his own mouth as they both looked around the corridor. “We’d better go.” Merlin whispered, starting to turn towards the corridor that led to the Slytherin dungeons. 

Pendragon slowly nodded his agreement, a drunk, goofy grin still playing around on his face.

“I’ll see you around, Emrys.” 

Merlin waved. “And you, Pendragon.” 

Pendragon shook his head at that, actually giggling, as he walked backwards the opposite way. “Nope. I’m not Pendragon….not right now.” 

Merlin smirked, blurry vision matching his cloudy mind. “Oh, and who are you then?” 

Pendragon stopped walking backwards and shrugged. “...Just Arthur.” 

Merlin had looked at the Gryffindor standing several feet away from him, had taken in the messy, windblown hair, playful smirk, and eyes that glowed with something gentle and mischievous, something ambitious. He had looked across that dim corridor and seen his young friend again.

Merlin just nodded, then turned fully down the corridor and kept walking towards his common room. 

“Goodnight, Merlin .” He had heard a shouted whisper from the far end of the corridor behind him. Merlin didn’t turn around, but smiled widely to himself.

Back in his bed, the world around him still spinning slightly, Merlin slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep, the smile that Arthur brought out of him still shining on his face.

Chapter Text

Merlin and Mordred walked into the Great Hall for breakfast on the morning of Valentine’s Day, taking in the pink, red, and white sparkling decorations that danced around the large room. Fluffy pink clouds floated high up in the enchanted ceiling, swirling streams of pink and gold vapor emanating out of them.

Each of the House tables had delicate pink tablecloths, draped elegantly underneath platters of pastries and rolls, and large jugs of juice, tea and pink hot cocoa.

They made their way towards the Slytherin table. Merlin noticed Mordred blush as a few fourth year girls waved at him, giggling and gesturing for him to sit down beside them. He gave them a polite, half-hearted wave as he and Merlin went to sit down across from  Tristan and Isolde.

“Morning!” Isolde said cheerily, as Tristan placed cinnamon rolls on both of their plates. 

“Is it just me, or have they really gone all out with the decorations this year?” Mordred complained.

“It’s just you," said Merlin. “I think it’s always like this.” 

“Maybe you just notice it more when you’re lonely and single.” Tristan teased, pointedly putting his arm around Isolde and playing with her signature blond braid. She playfully smacked his arm. “Oi, don’t be mean.”

Mordred mumbled out, “It’s fine..don’t care,” thought Merlin noticed his face grow redder as he looked down at his breakfast plate.

“Anyways,’ Isolde said, ‘What do you and Freya have planned for today?”

Merlin shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought really. Just spend the day together, I suppose.”

“Well you should try and make it special, it is your first Valentine’s Day after all,’ Isolde said.

Merlin took a sip of the frothy pink cocoa. It tasted of chocolate, coffee and mint.

“Yeah, I was actually thinking of - ‘

His reply was interrupted as a  very loud ‘pop’ sounded from the other side of the Great Hall, at the Gryffindor Table. The noise appeared to come from a swirling stream of red flame, that fizzled and popped like a firecracker. It continued spinning several feet over the heads of the Gryffindor students, their gaze on the bright object. 

Suddenly, the flame went out, and floating in its place was a large bouquet of gold and red flowers, a shining gold banner attached to it, sparkling black lettering spelling out “Be Mine?”

Merlin watched as the banner and bouquet fluttered delicately down, and a very pretty, dark haired girl caught it. He recognized her as Mithian, one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor team. She walked over to the group of sixth and seventh year Gryffindors that were intensely watching the display. She confidently handed the bouquet and banner to a handsome blond boy.

Pendragon.

Merlin watched as Pendragon smiled, leaned down and said something into Mithian’s ear. She giggled, and Pendragon wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into a long kiss. 

Merlin’s breath stopped completely, at odds with his heart that seemed to beat louder and faster with every single second. He finally exhaled with an audible sigh, though no one would have heard it over the shouts of joy and encouragement the other Gryffindors were cheering, whistling and shouting around the - still embraced- Mithian and Pendragon.

“Bunch of arrogant prats.’ Isolde rolled her eyes. ‘As if the entire school needs to applaud your snogging.”

Tristan nodded, ‘Only a self-obsessed Gryffindor would need an audience for that.”

Merlin focused his attention back to his friends the moment Pendragon let go of his teammate. Merlin focussed on his breathing, slowing it, willing his damned heartbeat to do the same. The casual breakfast conversation carried on, though Merlin was barely half-listening. His mind raced in confusion as he wondered what had caused such a reaction in him. 

Surely it was the surprise of it all… who knew Pendragon had that kind of relationship with Mithian going on? She was beautiful and clever, sure. And a force to be reckoned with on the Quidditch pitch - but that was exactly it. Merlin had observed Pendragon for years, sometimes out of anger, spite, or lately, admittedly, curiosity and confusion. But either  on and off the pitch, he’d never seen anything romantic between the two…

He shook his head, snapping back to reality as his friends and several other Slytherins were finishing up their breakfast and leaving the table. 

Why should he have any sort of reaction to Pendragon snogging someone? Why should he care at all, really?  Even though they had a friendship of sorts again, it’s not like he was entitled to know everything going on in Pendragon’s private life. Sure, he’d shared about some challenges with his father, but what else did Merlin really know about the present day Pendragon? In fact, how much Merlin even shared about himself in the last few times they’d met? Hardly anything, really…

He had no reason, no right, really, to care what Arthur Pendragon did in his spare time - or who he did it with.

Merlin left the Slytherin table, resisting the urge to look across the hall again, and instead stepped out ino the Entrance Hall. He would wait out here for Freya, he would invite her out, plan a date for their day and focus on what actually mattered…

He didn’t have to wait long. Freya left the Great Hall only 10 minutes later. Merlin surprised her - and himself - with how quickly he went to her and greeted her with a deep kiss. When he pulled away she was clearly blushing, wearing a shy, but pleased look. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,’ He said, taking her hand. ‘What would you like to do today?” 

Freya brushed a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “I actually have plans at lunch already - I promised my friend I’d spend some time her - she’s just been broken up with, you see.’ She frowned in an apologetic expression, then took Merlin’s other hand. 

“Oh, I see.’ Merlin started.

‘But, I was hoping we could go to Madam Puddifoots. You know, the tea shop in Hogsmeade? It’s supposed to be really cozy.”

“Really girly is more like it.” A voice behind them muttered. Merlin turned around to see Nimueh walking past, a smirk on her face.

“Nimueh,’ Merlin snapped.

“What?’ She put a hand to her chest in mock innocence. “I’m just saying, if I were looking for a romantic setting I wouldn’t be going to some overcrowded, frilly little tea shop where the old Hogsmeade witches sit and gossip.” 

She flipped her long waves over her shoulder, looking from Merlin to Freya. “I’d try to find a dark, private corner somewhere. Very private…’ She looked at Merlin again and winked. ‘Just saying.”

With that, she confidently strode down the corridor, leaving both Merlin and Freya a little speechless. Merlin’s mind raced. Sure, Nimueh had still been her usual, overly flirty self among their teammates, but to make a comment like that in front of Freya - what the hell was that about?

He turned back to Freya, who had let go of his hands and wore a mixed expression of embarrassment and concern.

“What was that all about?” she frowned.

Merlin shrugged. “I honestly have no idea.”

Freya was quiet for a moment, then looked away. “Well, that was a little rude. It’s not really any of her business what we do.” 

She crossed her arms and looked back at him. “Would you.. I mean…do you want to go to the teashop? I’d just heard it was romantic, but we can do something else.”

Merlin did his best to give Freya a reassuring smile. It wouldn’t have been his first pick, but after that interaction with Nimueh, he was determined to keep Freya happy.

“That sounds lovely, honestly. Maybe afterwards we can go on a long walk around Hogsmeade.” He reached for her hand again and grazed his lips across her knuckles in a soft kiss. 

Freya smiled, though her expression was still slightly unsettled. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am. Really.” Merlin reached up with his other hand and played with a loose wave of her hair around his fingers. 

“Then I’ll see you at four.” She grinned shyly, reaching up to kiss him again. When they pulled apart again, Freya put her hand on his chest. 

“Merlin…I know it’s not really…well…any of my business really. But.. you and Nimueh… you’ve never…?”

“Oh, oh no. Definitely not.”

“You’re sure? I mean, I have watched you before, you know, during matches or…meals and…I don’t know. She just seems… very hands on, I guess.”

Merlin sighed. “She is sometimes, yeah. Not just with me though…it’s sort of in her nature. I’ve made it clear I’m not interested.”

Freya frowned again. “Well, why wouldn’t you mention that she’s been flirting with you?”

Merlin now matched Freya’s expression, the irritation with Nimueh and frustration with the situation making him more than a little annoyed.  “I didn’t think it mattered since I don’t feel the same way. Why didn’t you say anything if you saw something that bothered you?”

At this, Freya took a step back, arms folding again “Well, I guess I’m saying it now. I didn’t like how she just spoke to us.”

“Neither did I!” Merlin snapped back. 

He paused, surprised how quickly he’d felt upset. He looked around, suddenly aware of how many other students were walking past. He stared at Freya, taking in her expression, the softness of her features folded into a heartbreaking look of concern. He felt guilt rise in his throat.

“I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I’m not interested in Nimueh, she’s just a teammate. I like you. A lot.”

Freya met his gaze, considering.

“I believe you. I do. I guess..’ she sighed. ‘I guess I feel a little intimidated by her. She’s so… confident.”

Merlin stepped closer to her and she didn’t move away. “You shouldn’t be, Freya. You’re beautiful, and smart, and incredibly sweet.”

Her expression softened a little more. “Thank you.”

“So…I’ll still see you later then?” Merlin grinned, closing the gap between them again and putting his hands around her waist.

Her sweet smile had found it’s way back to her face and she nodded. 

“I’ll see you at four.”

**

A few hours later, Merlin was in dormitory, laying down his bed, mind still racing. His annoyance and bad mood had only gotten worse since the morning. He’d hoped to find Nimueh to tell her off, but had only succeeded in finding a very upset Gwen, who told him through tears that her and Lancelot had had quite the argument at breakfast. He’d asked how he could help, and Gwen just said she didn’t want to talk about it and needed to be alone, before heading to her own common room. 

Not like I could help anyway, he thought. He seemed pretty useless in his own love life already, trying to get things back on track with him and Freya, for one comment from Nimueh to nearly derail their plans.

Useless.

Coudn’t even help his best friend out. Couldn’t stop Nimueh from making some manipulative comment.

Stupid, too.  

Didn’t have a clue what was happening in Pendragon’s love life - stupid, really, to feel betrayed, like a friend hadn’t trusted him enough to share about himself. Stupid to have even thought about Pendragon as a friend again. 

But why did he feel so odd about it?

It’s not like he’d told Pendragon anything about his own relationship. They’d talked about…well, Quidditch mostly. And Pendragon’s family.

Merlin sat up and sighed, putting his head in his hands. He felt the stress and worry start to build up to a wicked headache. He needed to clear his head, especially before his date with Freya later.

His gaze caught his Cleansweep Seven  in the corner of his dormitory. He checked the time - only half past one…He certainly had some time to spare…

Barely twenty minutes later, Merlin found himself at the Quidditch pitch. Though the rest of the Quidditch season wouldn’t continue for a few weeks yet, he was still worried someone may have booked the pitch for practices. But, he was pleased to find the space empty, save for a couple tiny piles of melting snow on the grounds.

He tossed his bag on the ground, pulling out the old, beat up spare Quaffle him and his teammates occasionally practiced with. There was more equipment in the changing rooms underneath the arena bleachers, but he would need special permission from a Professor or Quidditch Captain to get anything from there. It wasn't worth it for today.

He took in a deep breath, already feeling his nerves and stress calm as he took in the fresh air, and the distinctly earthy, woody smell of the Quidditch pitch.

Merlin moved his broomstick from where it was resting on his shoulder, and adjusted it between his legs, stepping forward to take off into the air. 

“I see you had the same idea.”

Merlin nearly tripped over his Cleansweep, stepping in time to save himself from falling flat on his face. He straightened his broomstick and turned around.

Arthur Pendragon stood before him, holding his own broomstick in one hand and wearing a decidedly satisfied smirk.

Chapter Text

Merlin’s voice came back to him after a surprised ten seconds. He cleared his throat, stepping towards Pendragon. 

“I didn’t realize Gryffindor had booked the pitch today.” Merlin said.

Pendragon gave a half-shrug. “We didn’t. I was just…in need of a place to clear my head.”

“Oh.’ Merlin adjusted his stance, moving his weight onto one leg and leaning on his own broomstick. Another few moments of silence fell until Pendragon broke it. “I can leave, though. You were here first.”

It was Merlin’s turn to shrug. “No, it’s fine. I was…well, same as you really. Needing to think, and I thought I’d get some practice in.” 

Pendragon smiled. “Don’t suppose I could join you then.” 

Merlin considered for a moment. Whenever he practiced alone he would just enchant the Quaffle to fly back and forth around the pitch. He would practice flight maneuvers or shots on the goal posts. It wasn’t ideal, but better than nothing. 

Having another player to practice with, especially one of Pendragon’s skill…well…that would be a much more valuable experience. It wasn’t like either of them were in their house coloured robes either. If anyone happened to pass by the grounds where the pitch was and notice them, well..they could be anyone. 

Merlin smiled and gave a sharp nod. “Sure thing, Pendragon.” He tossed the Quaffle at him and he neatly caught it in one arm. 

“ If you can keep up.”

Merlin smirked, quickly turned, mounted his broomstick and shot into the sky. 

The slight chill of the air blew past Merlin as he effortlessly circled the pitch, looking behind him to see Pendragon climbing on his own broomstick and following. Merlin leaned forward, picking up speed and approaching the far side of the pitch. He whipped around the goalposts, taking the Keeper position.

Pendragon shot towards him, Quaffle still tucked in his arm. Merlin hovered in front of the middle goalpost, watching Pendragon speed towards him. As he got within 30 feet of the posts, he threw the Quaffle with impressive force at the tallest one, to Merlin’s right. Merlin leaned hard on his broomstick and flew up, catching the Quaffle just before it went through the post. 

“Lucky save.” Pendragon called down, flying over the posts. 

“Thought you were supposed to be good at this!” Merlin called back, smirking and tossing the Quaffle back towards Pendragon. He heard Pendragon laugh out loud as he scooped the ball back up again. 

Merlin circled all of the posts, watching as Pendragon flew in a low, lazy loop before taking another shot. This time, he threw the ball in a hard curve, sending it through the middle post, just past Merlin’s outstretched fingers. 

“You were saying?” Pendragon laughed, flying in small circles. Merlin flew towards the ground, snatching the Quaffle back. 

“Show off!” Merlin shouted back, though he couldn’t stop the grin on his face. “How like a Gryffindor. Now go to the other side, it’s my turn.”

Pendragon waved an arm in mock dismissal. “Giving orders now? How like a Slytherin.” His own expression matched Merlin’s grin, however, and he flew to the other goal posts anyway. 

Merlin made his way to the posts as well, taking his time to cross the pitch. He practiced a few solo flying maneuvers, looping and swerving in the air, the Quaffle tucked tightly in his arm.

“Any day now, Emrys!” Pendragon shouted.

“Patience, Pendragon!” Merlin yelled back, making a point to do an even slower diving loop. As he pulled back up, he picked up speed as fast as he could, hurtling towards the goalposts Pendragon guarded. He kept flying at top speed, catching Pendragon’s determined, entertained expression, then at the last second fired the Quaffle into the tallest hoop.

“Ten points to me!” Merlin grinned, flying a quick victory lap above Pendragon.

**

They continued playing for hours, taking shots at each other, practicing varied flight patterns and maneuvers, and heckling and teasing each other whenever either scored points. Merlin never felt any animosity, though, and all of the competitive teasing came with their familiar, friendly banter. He felt as comfortable as he often did when practicing casually with any member of the Quidditch team. 

This was not the competitive, aggressive Gryffindor Captain he had come up against so many times on the Quidditch pitch. This was a friend, pushing Merlin to practice his skills through banter and encouraging competition.

This wasn’t his old rival Pendragon. 

This was his friend again.  Arthur.

After some time, it was Merlin who suggested a quick break, to catch their breath and get water. Merlin hadn’t brought his water bottle, but a quick “Aguamenti ” spell to create a water stream from his wand worked just as well. 

Merlin took a long drink and looked over at Pendragon. His normally straight blond hair was windswept against his head, and the sheen of sweat on his face, neck and forearms nearly shone in the late afternoon sun. He lifted an arm to wipe the sweat and dust off his forehead, then looked at Merlin and grinned.

“Well, Emrys. I’ve got to admit, you’re a challenging opponent.”

“I should think you’d know that already.” 

Pendragon grinned again. “True. I’m usually competing against your whole team, though, not just you.” 

“I mean, I’m clearly the best player on the Slytherin team. So it’s basically like competing with just me.” Merlin smirked. 

“Ah, of course.’ Pendragon matched Merlin’s smirk and sarcastic tone. He took another drink from his own water bottle and leaned his weight on his upright broomstick. 

“Actually, as much as it pains and frustrates me to admit it, your House has an exceptional team this year. You’ve had some tough games this season, but everyone clearly has the right skills for their position.” 

“Is that the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain complimenting the whole of Slytherin team?” Merlin placed a hand to his own chest in mock surprise.

“Yeah, just don’t let it go to your head, alright? I did say it was painful to admit it.” Pendragon rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll try.’ Merlin answered, using one last water spell to drink again. ‘I suppose I can return the favour, and say that the Gryffindor team is…adequate.” 

“Hey,’ Pendragon scoffed. ‘You can come up with something more complimentary than that.” 

“Fine.; Merlin sighed dramatically. ‘Your team is great. Happy?”

Pendragon grinned. “Yes.”

Merlin took a moment to actually contemplate the players on the Gryffindor team. His comment wasn’t a lie, the Quidditch players were certainly formidable in their own right. His thoughts, however, drifted to Pendragon’s fellow seeker, Mithian. The odd knot in his stomach that he felt in the morning came back immediately. 

He looked over at Pendragon, who was putting away his water bottle and stretching his arms. Merlin had the opportunity to ask…. He might as well settle his curiosity. 

“So…speaking of your teammates.’ Merlin started, unsure of why he seemed to be trying so hard to keep his voice casual, when this was, in fact, a completely casual conversation.

‘You and Mithian?”

Pendragon stopped stretching, making an odd expression and rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that’s been…new.’ His already flushed and sweaty face seemed decidedly more red.

Merlin forced himself to put on a teasing smirk. “Yeah, that was quite the romantic display this morning.”

Pendragon nodded slowly. “Yeah, well… we’ve known each other for a while. Her parents work with my father. We actually hooked up a few times at the start of last year, just at different parties and things. Nothing too serious. At first we agreed to just be friends and teammates, but lately she seemed to want something more and…I dunno. Seemed like it just made sense.”

Merlin nodded slowly. “Sure. You looked..’ What? Happy? Merlin couldn’t quite say it. He certainly didn’t know Pendragon well enough to make that sort of comment.  ‘..like you two make sense.” 

“Yeah. Like I said, we’ve known each other a while. Obviously she’s great. Talented player, kind, beautiful, obviously.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing and picking his broomstick back up.

‘And I know my father likes her and her family, so I thought that would at least be one thing he approves of.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense.” Merlin said. They stood in a few moments of silence, the joy and banter of their flight practice slowly fading into an uncomfortable awkwardness again. 

Pendragon coughed, lifting his broomstick slightly. “Anyway. Um, one last round? I think we were tied up in points.” His familiar half-smile returned to his face. 

Merlin matched it. “I think I was actually winning.” He gripped his own broomstick and started walking back towards the middle of the pitch.

Pendragon followed. “Tell you what, Emrys. All or nothing, next goal wins.” He picked up his pace to match Merlin’s, then stuck his hand out to shake.

Merlin gave an amused smirk, looking down at the Gryffindor’s hand. “I suppose I could be persuaded. What would the winner get?” 

Pendragon cocked his head to the side, thinking. “How about this…if I win, you have to admit once and for all, that I’m the superior Quidditch player.” 

Merlin laughed out loud. “And I suppose, if I win, you’d have to do the same? Admit that I’m the best? That a Slytherin plays better than you?” 

Pendragon grinned wider, his hand still outstretched to shake. “Of course, I’m a man of my word, after all.”

Merlin matched Pendragon’s grin and grasped his hand, noting in the back of his mind how warm and…solid the handshake was.

Pendragon let go and mounted his broomstick, flying into the air. Merlin followed suit, jumping on his own broomstick and flying close to the ground, snatching up the Quaffle from where they’d left it on the pitch.

He shot upwards towards Pendragon, who was already waiting in front of the far side goalposts, circling in the air. Merlin feigned a high throw, but Pendragon stayed in the same position, too used to Merlin’s favoured strategies by now.

His actual shot at the post was caught with ease by Pendragon. “Is that all you got?” He teased, throwing it with full force over Merlin’s head.

Merlin quickly pivoted and followed the ball’s path across the pitch, catching up to it in seconds. He caught it in his arm then turned back around. Pendragon still hovered by the goalposts. 

Merlin raced back towards him, gripping his broomstick tighter and wrapping his legs around the long handle. With a quick motion he tipped himself upside down. As he neared the posts, he threw the Quaffle with both hands, aiming at the shortest post. Pendragon flew with impressive speed, kicking the ball away just in time.

Merlin turned right side up again and shouted a teasing, “Booo!” Pendragon met it with a laugh. “Nice try, Emrys!” He circled around the posts in a small victory lap.

Merlin dove back to the ground, picking the Quaffle up from where it had landed. 

“I believe it’s my turn to shoot!” Pendragon called, flying towards Merlin. Merlin smirked, tucking the Quaffle tighter in his arm. 

“If you want it, you’ll have to come and get it, Gryffindor.” He turned and sped upwards, looking back a few seconds later with a satisfied smile as Pendragon sped after him. Merlin whipped around again, diving towards the audience stands. 

“That’s not very sporting of you, Emrys!” Pendragon shouted, though the amused smile on his face negated any sense of anger. 

“Don’t tell me you’re not up for the challenge, Pendragon.” Merlin called back. He gained a few more feet of altitude, following the border of the pitch. Pendragon gave up strictly chasing him and flew around, trying to cut him off from another angle.

Merlin pivoted quickly, flying back around the stands. He dipped farther down, the ground coming up fast. He risked a quick glance behind him. Pendragon was hot on his trail, matching Merlin’s speed and inching ever closer.

Merlin faced forward again, leaning down hard. He was barely a foot from the ground now, the brown-grey of the February ground streaking past him. 

“Watch it, I’m nearly there!” Pendragon shouted. Merlin snuck another quick look behind him. Pendragon had indeed caught up, and had his arm stretched out, reaching for the back of Merlin’s broomstick.

With a jolt of adrenaline, Merlin made a sharp turn to the right - too late - as Pendragon gripped his broomstick, right above the bristled tail. The pull of Pendragon’s grip slowed Merlin’s speed down with another jolt, knocking him off course. He dropped the Quaffle in surprise, losing his balance. He tried with desperation to pull his Cleansweep upwards, enough to slow him down a bit more. 

It wasn’t enough - his feet hit the ground and him, Pendragon and their two broomsticks toppled onto the pitch ground.

Merlin spent a few long seconds in a daze, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of him. As he regained his breath and came to his senses, he realized he had landed on Pendragon, laying halfway across his chest. 

“Shit, sorry.” Merlin wheezed out, pushing himself up and leaning back into a sitting position. Pendragon coughed a few times and lifted his head, blinking as his vision became less blurred. “No, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Merlin assessed himself. He was sore and likely bruised, and still a bit out of breath. Otherwise, unharmed. “Yeah, fine. You?”

Pendragon propped himself up on his elbows. “Not sure.” He moved his legs, then winced in pain. “Might be my ankle.”

Merlin stood up, brushing the dust and mud off his legs. He reached out a hand to help Pendragon up, and he clasped it with surprising strength. Merlin pulled hard and helped Pendragon to his feet, the Gryffindor’s other hand gripping Merlin’s shoulder as he settled himself upright.

“You alright?” Merlin asked again, looking at Pendragon’s face for any more expressions of pain. Pendragon looked down at his right foot, giving it a twitch. “Yeah, I think it’ll be fine.” He looked back up to meet Merlin’s gaze.

Merlin was suddenly very aware that Pendragon’s hand was still on his shoulder, that their hands were still clasped, and that Pendragon’s eyes were somehow brighter and bluer than he’d ever remembered them being.

He was struck with this awareness so quickly, yet he couldn’t do anything but stay frozen in place, not moving an inch, not loosening his grip on Pendragon’s hand. Not looking away from those eyes that continued to hold his gaze.

What was mere seconds felt like hours.

“I..um..’ Pendragon stuttered out softly. Merlin’s heartbeat started to race, unsure of why. His breath, which had just begun to slow down, had increased again.

Pendragon’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, and Merlin felt as if Pendragon was pulling him closer.

No. He was pulling him closer, wasn’t he?

Merlin’s heartbeat was now pounding in his ears. Was he really that winded from the flying?

For a moment, he was sure he felt Pendragon’s hand start to slide down his shoulder, ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Pendragon blinked hard, breaking eye contact. He let go of Merlin’s hand, and the hand that had been on Merlin’s shoulder moved quickly to his back, lightly clapping him there twice, as Merlin had seen him do with his teammates in moments of encouragement and camaraderie. “Thanks.”

Pendragon stepped back a few paces, still wincing slightly as he put pressure on his right foot. He coughed, then slipped back into his familiar smirk. 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make us fall, really. Just got a bit too competitive there.”

Merlin swallowed hard, fighting the dryness in his mouth. “No, it’s fine. I think we both just got..carried away.”

Pendragon wiped the sweat and dirt off his forehead, nodding. “Yeah, definitely got some good practice in.” He gestured to both broomsticks laying a foot away. “No harm done though. Looks like those are still in one piece.” 

Merlin looked over and nodded in agreement. He walked the few paces to the broomsticks, picked them both up, and passed Pendragon’s to him.

“Thanks for the practice.” Merlin wiped the sweat off his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. His breathing now slowed to it’s normal pace.

Pendragon nodded. “Of course.”

Merlin leaned slightly on his broomstick, gesturing to Pendragon’s leg. “You sure you’re alright?”

Pendragon shrugged, smiling slightly. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before, really. I’ll get it sorted in the hospital wing. Probably just needs time to heal.”

Time.

Time.

With the mention of the word, Merlin was hit like a flash, suddenly remembering where he needed to be.

“Oh, shit. Shit. What time is it?” He asked Pendragon, already moving towards the player’s entrance to the pitch, where he had left his bag.

Pendragon shrugged again. “Not sure. It's probably nearly dinner back in the Great Hall.”

Merlin snatched his bag, taking out his wand and muttering a quick “Accio” to summon the Quaffle. He shoved it back in the bag.

“I have to go. Um.. see you around.” He looked back at Pendragon, giving a quick nod, then jumped back on his broomstick and shot out of the pitch.

*

Hogsmeade was not far from where the Quidditch pitch sat on the Hogwarts grounds. It only took Merlin five minutes or so to reach the gates of the town. Reluctantly, he got off his broomstick as he entered Hogsmeade, as the local residents were extremely picky about students flying without a professor present. 

He ran, making his way through the crowds of witches, wizards and students that were milling about, chatting and crossing into shops and pubs. He hoped he remembered the way to Madam Pudifoots.

How? How had he lost track of time so easily?  

Merlin continued running, pushing past a pair of giggling witches. He turned left on a street corner and spied the tea shop halfway down the road. He slowed slightly, trying to catch his breath. He was barely twenty feet away when someone stepped out of the tea shop.

Freya .

Merlin stopped dead in his tracks, as Freya looked up and saw him. Her face was slightly red, and her look of sadness turned quickly to disappointment as their eyes met.

“Freya, I’m so sorry I’m late, I-’

“I’ve been waiting an hour , Merlin.” Her words were soft in volume, but had a sharpness to them that made Merlin’s chest tighten.

“I know. I’m so sorry. I was just practicing, I must have lost track of time.”

Freya folded her arms across her chest. “ Practicing with Nimueh, were you?” She gestured to his broomstick still gripped in his hand.

“What? No, of course not. I was just..with a friend.”

“But you won’t tell me who.”

“It’s…not important.”

Freya shook her head, looking away from him. “It’s clearly more important than our date.”

Merlin walked closer to her. “Freya, it’s not, really. I’m so sorry, I really don’t know how -’

“Stop.’ Freya looked back at him, eyes shining with fresh tears. ‘Merlin, I think we should end things.”

Merlin stood, shocked. “What? No, Freya, I-’

“No, listen, please.” She tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear, then went back to folding her arms. ‘I feel like you don’t trust me.’

“I do.”

“Not really. I feel like you never share what you’re really thinking. You seem…distracted when we’re together. And I’m clearly not a priority for you.” She shrugged, looking away from him again.

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but he was unsure of what to say. A few seconds passed in silence, as Freya kept her gaze down, wiping at her eyes. He took a step closer to her.

“I’m sorry, really.”

She looked back up at him, her disappointed expression cutting him again. “So am I. Goodnight Merlin.” She turned and walked past him, hurrying down the street, leaving him to stare after her in confused silence.

*

Merlin skipped the evening meal, preferring to lay in his bed the moment he got back to the castle. He’d walked past Mordred as he entered the Slytherin common room, where he’d completely ignored his question about how his date with Freya had been.

Merlin now lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his dormitory room, his mind swirling with guilt and confusion, feeling considerably worse than he had earlier that afternoon. 

What made him feel the worst, though, was not the way he’d made Freya feel. It was the fact that his thoughts kept returning to his time spent with Pendragon. To the joy and freedom he’d felt as they’d flown around each other, teasing and laughing and playing. 

To that moment when he’d helped Pendragon to his feet. To when his teasing grin and bright blue eyes had caused everything else to fade away. 

Merlin frowned, a dull headache quickly forming.

Whatever he thought of Pendragon, whatever familiar or new feelings of rivalry, confusion, friendship, or joy had plagued him this year, one thing was clear to him. Something he could barely believe. 

That moment when he’d almost thought the Gryffindor had started to pull Merlin close to him.

It had sparked something in him.

Merlin had wanted Arthur Pendragon to pull him even closer.

Chapter Text

Merlin was flying, soaring through the clouds on his broomstick. He was moving faster and faster, gaining height and speed with each second. He looked ahead of him, and - there! Through the swirls of clouds he saw him. Pendragon on his own broomstick, speeding through the sky, away from him.

“Wait!” Merlin shouted, his own voice a whisper compared to the wind whipping past his ears. Pendragon didn’t turn around, but stopped, hovering in place among the clouds. Merlin leaned forward to gain speed, but found his own broomstick suddenly stopped, frozen in place.

“Wait, Arthur!” He yelled again, desperate to move forward. He willed his broomstick to continue flying, but it remained frustratingly still. The clouds that surrounded Merlin started to turn dark gray in colour, a violent, threatening feeling emanating from them. Merlin called out for Pendragon again, but he still didn’t turn around. 

Panic started to set in, the confusion of his broomstick frozen, but not falling from the sky. Why, why was Pendragon not looking at him, not helping him?

Suddenly, Pendragon whipped around, his face twisted in anger. “LIAR!” He shouted.

“No, Arthur, wait!”

“LIAR!” Pendragon snarled again, his voice a loud echo of thunder.

“Arthur, please!”

“Fucking filthy, lying SLYTHERIN!” His voice was so loud now it hurt Merlin’s ears. With Pendragon’s last word echoing through the sky, Merlin felt his broomstick underneath him vanish.

His screams were swallowed by the dark and he was falling, falling.

Falling…

Merlin woke up with a start, sitting up immediately and gasping for air. His heart was beating fast as he stared into the darkness, eyes adjusting. His breathing started to slow as he recognized his surroundings, his dark green curtains drawn around his four-poster bed. 

He was safe. He was in his dormitory. It had all been a nightmare.

He relaxed a little, rolled over and pushed one of his curtains aside, looking for the small clock that sat on his bedside table. Five o’clock in the morning. 

No point going back to sleep, then.

Merlin sighed, laying his head back on his pillow. If only yesterday had just been a nightmare too. He felt awful for the way he had treated Freya. It was almost worse that he had simply been too distracted and forgot their plans, instead of just deciding not to show. 

All because of bloody Pendragon. 

The mixture of guilt, anger and desire tangled in his stomach. He had known for years that he sometimes felt physical attraction to other boys as well as girls. He remembered when he’d first joined the Quidditch team in his third year, and he found himself fancying a couple of the seventh-year boys. He’d only ever told Gwen about his feelings of attraction, and he’d certainly never done anything with another boy. 

But to have those thoughts about Arthur Pendragon. 

Ridiculous. 

Pointless, too. This friendship with Pendragon, this distraction, had only caused pain for him, for Freya. Not to mention the guilt he felt from keeping this secret from Gwen. He had distanced himself from his true friends, the ones that didn’t hide him away or meet with him in secret. 

Merlin felt unexpected tears start to prick his eyes. His nightmare was real in one way - he was a liar. He hadn’t been honest to Gwen or Lancelot about why he was distant, he couldn’t even tell Freya the truth about who he had spent yesterday afternoon with.

A few tears spilled over, warm and unwelcome. Merlin wiped them away, sighing again. 

He would have to stay away from Pendragon from now on. He couldn’t let a simple physical attraction dictate his choices or impact his friendships like this anymore. He would have to go back to avoiding the Gryffindor, just like he had done for so many years before. 

It was just a physical feeling, after all. He would get over it. He had to.

*

Merlin skipped breakfast in the Great Hall, not yet willing to face his friends. He had double Transfiguration class with the Ravenclaws first thing, so he made his way to the classroom early, trying his best to fight the exhaustion. He entered the large room, finding his preferred desk and sitting down. 

He heard a slow creak from the front of the room, and watched Professor Annis step out of her office door. She was carrying a large stack of parchments and promptly walked them over to her oak teaching desk. She looked up and gave him a look of surprise. 

“Oh, Mr Emrys! You’re here rather early, I wasn’t expecting any students for at least an hour.” She shuffled through the parchments she had just laid on her desk.

“Sorry, Professor,’ Merlin responded, showing her a respectful nod. “I was…eager to get to class I suppose.”

Professor Annis smiled warmly at him. She was an intimidating woman usually, with long reddish hair, sharp features and a no-nonsense approach to teaching; but like many professors, she quite liked Merlin’s good work ethic and friendly demeanor. 

“I see. Well, I don’t mind you being here, but just remember, I can’t let you start the test early. All students must be given the same amount of time.”

Merlin’s heart nearly dropped to his stomach, nausea increasing. Test .

Shit.  

He had completely forgotten. There was a Transfiguration test today with both written and practical components. He glanced at the clock above the windows, there was just over an hour before class really began. He took a deep breath, composing himself and returning the professor’s smile. 

“Of course, no problem Professor. I’ll just do some extra studying while I wait.”

He opened his Transfiguration textbooks and notes, trying to keep the rising anxiety at bay while frantically scanning the material...

…

Three hours later, Merlin walked out of the Transfiguration classroom, barely listening to Lancelot chat about the test. 

It was one of their more challenging tests of the year. The written part included several essay questions, most of which he didn’t feel prepared for. Thankfully, the practical part of the test went well. They were expected to Transfigure ordinary feather dusters into live ferrets, something they had only practiced twice in class. Merlin usually thrived in the more practical applications of magic, and his rather orange feather duster successfully turned into a small ferret, with orange-brown fur, although it scampered away before Professor Annis had the chance to evaluate it properly.

Still, it shook him to think that he felt completely blindsided by the test date. He couldn’t believe he forgot something so important so easily.

Just like his date with Freya.

“So, how do you think you did?” Lancelot asked, gently bumping Merlin’s shoulder. It shook him out of his reverie and he turned, facing his friend.

Merlin shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Not sure. Fine, I think.”

“Well, you definitely made a good ferret. It had four legs and everything.” Lancelot smiled at him. Merlin gave a half-hearted smile back. They continued down the corridor with the rest of the class, the chatter of their fellow students contributing to Merlin’s stress headache.

“So…’ Lancelot started. Merlin looked over at him, having a feeling he knew what was coming. ‘Missed you at breakfast.’

Merlin sighed. “Wasn’t feeling up to it.”

“Gwen told me.”

“Ah.”

“She’s a little surprised she heard it from Freya and not you.”

Merlin frowned. “Well it only happened yesterday, I’m hardly going to make an announcement to the whole school, am I?” He surprised himself at how quickly he had snapped at his friend. The guilt rose as he glanced at Lancelot’s cautious expression. “Sorry.” Merlin mumbled.

“It’s fine.” Lance replied.

“I just… don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s okay, really.”

They walked in silence for another few minutes, heading towards the Great Hall for lunch. The closer they got, the more Merlin’s anxiety rose to his chest. He desperately needed a distraction. 

He remembered suddenly, running into Gwen yesterday, before he had run off to the pitch to clear his head. She had been upset about an argument with Lancelot.

“So... I guess if Gwen’s talking to you, you guys are okay? She seemed upset yesterday.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, we argued. It was my fault, really. I caught her this morning before breakfast to apologize. We’re okay now.”

Gwen and Lancelot had been together since fourth year. Merlin had never known them to fight. They had always had such a strong, supportive relationship. 

“What was the argument about?” He asked. Lance looked over at him, sighing.

“I guess I’ve been feeling  insecure lately. Ever since going to visit her family over the holidays.”

“I thought you said that went well?” Merlin frowned.

“ Gwen said it went well. It was fine enough, but I couldn’t help but feel like her dad didn’t like me. Like he doesn’t think I’m good enough for her. And I guess…I don’t know. I started to believe it.”

Merlin placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, stopping them both just as they stepped into the Entrance Hall. “Hey, you can’t actually think that’s true.” 

Lancelot said nothing.

“Gwen loves you, you idiot. You’re made for each other! You’re also the best, bravest, wisest man I know.” 

Lancelot smiled. “I don’t know if I should feel good or insulted that you’ve called me wise and an idiot.”

Merlin returned his smile. “You should feel highly honoured and respected. It’s the greatest compliment I can give.”

Lance chuckled, clapping Merlin gently on the back. They continued moving towards the Great Hall, the smell of hot food beckoning them. Skipping dinner yesterday and breakfast this morning was catching up to Merlin, his stomach growled.

The feelings of stress and anxiety were still there, but Merlin felt slightly more at ease, glad to be chatting with Lancelot. He made a mental note to make greater effort to spend time with his friend. They walked into the Great Hall, and Merlin did his best to avoid looking at the Gryffindor table. 

He lasted about ten seconds before stealing a glance.

No Pendragon, as far as he could see. He breathed a sigh of relief, one less person he didn’t have to worry about avoiding. He turned to Lancelot, about to tell him he was heading for his own House table and would catch him later. Merlin stopped as he noticed Lance’s frown. 

“What do you suppose that’s about?” He nodded towards the Hufflepuff table. Merlin followed his gaze and noticed Gwen, standing at the far end of her House table, chatting pleasantly with two tall Gryffindor boys. One of them had shoulder length dark hair - Gwaine, one of the Gryffindor team Beaters, and the other - 

Pendragon.

His breath caught, the tangle of anxiety and desire sending his heart rate rising. He swallowed, actively trying to breathe out. 

Why was Pendragon talking to Gwen? Did he go up to her? Was this about him? Had she seen him and Pendragon on the pitch yesterday? Did she suspect that was why he’d stood up Freya?

No, she couldn’t know, that would be insane.

Merlin swallowed again, although it turned into more of an awkward cough. He watched as Gwen smiled widely, responding to something Pendragon was saying. She was nodding and put her hand on his arm for a moment, then gave both him and Gwaine a small wave as they walked back to the Gryffindor table.

He glanced back at Lancelot, who was still frowning at Gwen. “I didn’t realize they knew each other.” Lance said.

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t think they do, really.” It was true, he’d rarely seen them interact. Gwen was certainly friendly, and would chat with almost anyone. With her brother, Elyan, being on the Gryffindor team, she’d come across many of the sixth and seventh years before. He’d never seen her strike up a conversation with Pendragon, though.

“Are you going to go see what that was about?” Merlin asked. Lancelot shook his head. “Maybe later, I think I’m gonna go sit down.” He headed to the Ravenclaw table without another word.

Merlin stood still for a few seconds, trying to slow his mind and steady his breathing. Eventually, the smell of savoury chicken pie motivated him enough to walk to his own table. He sat down, facing the rest of the House tables and eagerly started eating the hot pie in front of him.

He simply focused on eating for the next several minutes, not realizing just how hungry he was, despite the twist of nerves in his stomach. He tried to ignore the chatting of Slytherin students and his own increasing headache. 

He stared out into the Great Hall, watching the hundreds of students eat and visit. He looked over to the far table, at the Gryffindor students. He found the blond hair he was scanning for, and felt that familiar jolt of tightness in his chest.

Merlin replayed that moment from yesterday in his mind. Him helping Pendragon up off the ground, his strong hand clasped in his own, the other gripping his shoulder tightly. Merlin felt the heat rise to his face. 

There really was no denying it, there was a sort of physical pull in him when he thought about being that close to the Gryffindor. His own body was betraying his common sense, for fuck’s sake.

His sightline was cut off suddenly, as Mordred sat down across from him. He grabbed a lunch plate and greeted Merlin. “Hey, how was your morning?”

Merlin shrugged. “Um, fine. Yours?” 

Before Mordred could answer, he was interrupted by Nimueh, who sat down on Merlin’s right side. “My morning absolutely dragged , thanks for asking.’  She nudged Merlin’s shoulder. ‘Didn’t see you at breakfast.”

Merlin ignored her. She poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “ Anyway , I’ve decided we need an extra practice tomorrow. Be on the pitch right after dinner.”

“What if we have plans?” Mordred sighed. Nimueh shrugged, flipping her dark braid over her shoulder. “Cancel them. The season starts back up in three weeks and we need to be ready. I’ve already told the rest of the team.” 

“Fine.” Merlin said.

Mordred mumbled under his breath and went back to eating his lunch. 

Nimueh smirked and looked over at Merlin. “ So , how did your little date go with that Hufflepuff girl?”

He stared back at his plate, his hunger leaving him suddenly, his headache getting worse. “It’s none of your business.”

She made a sound of mock sympathy. “Oooh, that bad huh? I did try to warn her about that frilly place, but some people just don’t like taking advice.”

“I said it’s none of your business.”

Merlin shrugged away, looking up from his plate. His eyes scanned the tables in front of him and he noticed a pair of sad eyes staring at him from the Hufflepuff table. 

Freya.

“Fine, fine.” Nimueh shrugged, smirking. ‘Just remember, I’m always available if you need cheering up.” She brushed a thin hand over his shoulder. He watched Freya look between him and Nimueh, an expression of hurt on her face.

The morning’s mix of guilt, anxiety and stress finally came to a boiling point, and Merlin stood up from the table, snapping angrily at his team captain.

“Just LAY OFF, Nimueh!”

He slammed his lunch plate down on the table and stalked out of the Great Hall.

*

Later that evening, Merlin sat in the Library, curled up in one of the farthest and quietest stacks. The rest of his afternoon had been just as rough as the morning. He’d gone to his Care of Magical Creatures class, which he barely paid attention to. His last class of the day was History of Magic, and he had gotten through all of ten minutes of class before he felt a panic attack approaching. He’d made his excuses to  Professor Geoffrey and pretended to head for the hospital wing, complaining of an upset stomach. He ended up in the nearest boys toilets, riding out the worst of the panic.

He’d made his way to the Hogwarts kitchens, politely asking the working house-elves to send him off with a quick snack. He couldn’t bear going back to the Great Hall for another meal today.

Since then, he’d been sitting in an isolated spot in the Library. As his mind swirled, he thought a few times about getting up and heading to his dormitory as quickly as possible. But the fear of Gwen or Freya approaching him, or Nimueh waiting in the common room to snap back at him kept him glued to the carpeted floor.

Occasionally he would pull a book out from the nearest stack, but he’d mindlessly scan the pages, retaining no information. Eventually, he gave up and went back to sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs, pounding head resting on his knees.

He sat like that for a while, trying to focus on nothing else but his breathing. Inhale for four beats, hold for four, exhale for five. One of Gauis’s preferred calming strategies, one of many he’d reminded Merlin of during his first year.

His breathing routine was interrupted as he heard a soft screech above him. He lifted his head up to see a large tawny owl fly down, landing two feet in front of him. He recognized it as one of the school’s resident owls. It ruffled it’s gray and brown feathers, and stared at him with intense black eyes, sticking out it’s foot. A roll of parchment was attached.

Merling frowned, confused. It wasn’t a post day, and he hadn’t sent letters to anyone recently. The owl huffed its impatience and hopped closer to him, sticking out his leg again.

Merlin slowly reached out, gently pulling the parchment away. The owl hooted and promptly flew off. Merlin opened the note, and tried to restrain the feeling that leapt in his chest as he stared at the all-too familiar handwriting:

Emrys,

I tried to  find an opportunity to talk to you today, but it didn’t work out. I thought it would just be easier to just send an owl. I hope you don’t mind, but I need some advice about something and wondered if you’d mind meeting me to talk. I’ll be in the North Hall, by the History of Magic classrooms at 9:00 tonight. 

I could use a friend.

Thanks,

-AP