but merlin was the first to befriend him

harry potter… draco malfoy says in a casual manner, drawling the words and letting it roll around his tongue melodiously. just perfect. it’s only their first year, but somehow draco is intrigued by the boy who lived, not because of his glorious title, but because of him, his scrawny frame, his startling green eyes, his tousled jet black hair, and who could forget his obnoxiously round glasses? yes, draco decides, he’s going to befriend this beautiful bespectacled boy.

scared, potter? draco malfoy, snarky slytherin, challenges gryffindor boy wonder, harry potter. draco knows how pretentious he sounds, yet he just can’t help it. this stupid boy incites a certain strong feeling in him, makes him feel rather… free. merlin knows he feels a particular something for the boy who lived, of all people.

potter, draco malfoy tells crabbe, goyle, and anyone else that has ears, a hint of annoyance and anger seeping through his voice. underneath all of that is the pain. it’s been years, and draco still doesn’t understand. what does weasley and granger have that i don’t? why the hell did it take plotting a bloody murder for stupid potter to notice him?

potter?! draco malfoy whispers harshly, his grey eyes almost softening. almost. he hasn’t seen this bespectacled boy in almost a year, but here he is right now. draco could kiss him, but he can’t show weakness in front of this boy like this. no, he is going to tell his aunt bella that yes, this hideously swollen-faced boy is very obviously his the recklessly brave gryffindor boy, potter. he won’t save this git’s arse—never in a million years. but draco does anyway.

potter. draco malfoy greets, nodding to the other man. it’s years later, years after their hogwarts days. they haven’t seen each other in ages, and they haven’t talked about the day draco saved him and bloody hell, the wizarding world at large. but the black haired man’s genuine smile, one that will forever be etched in his memory, is enough thanks for draco.

harry, draco malfoy gasps in between tender butterfly kisses, his hands tugging gently at the other boy’s raven black hair. draco has always wanted to do that. they’re perfect. it’s perfect. because his beautiful gryffindor boy is here. oh yes, he’s here for him, and it’s the most spectacular moment of draco’s life. draco can finally, finally, call harry potter his harry.

harry potter’s pov

anonymous asked:

Merthur. "Looking at the wide and shining smile in front of him he knew it had been worth it, all of it."

A/N: Okay, so I had an idea for this, but I just couldn’t figure out how to start with that sentence, so I cheated and used it as the last sentence. But the fic is based on it anyway, of course! :) It’s a Modern AU. What is it with me and Modern AUs all of a sudden?? It also turned out quite long… oops?

Read On: AO3 // FF.net

When Merlin first met Arthur, he couldn’t stand him. Arthur Pendragon was exactly what he had expected: An arrogant bully, who thought he owned the world because he was the heir of some rich (very, very rich according to Lance and Gwaine) entrepreneur, who owned several coffee shops and fast food chains all over the world. Merlin had no idea why Lance and Gwaine would want to be friends with him, but when they’d told him they’d bring him along to their next pub night, he didn’t say anything, assuming that it was simply convenient for them to befriend their boss’s son – and probably future boss, too. Now that he’d been introduced to Arthur, he couldn’t imagine taking up that burden only to be on good terms with their superior. Putting up with him really didn’t seem worth it at all. 

“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” Arthur asked him when Gwaine, Lance and the other were standing at the bar and waiting for a new round of drinks.

Merlin scrunched his nose and raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Are you a bit slow or something? What was your name again? … Merlin?”

Merlin huffed and glared at the blond man, who was at least remarkably handsome, Merlin gave him that.

“At least I’m not an entitled prat.”

Arthur flashed him a humourless grin. “Oh, I see. You’re one of those pretentious working class heroes, who always act like they’re better than anyone happening to be successful in their job, while really, you’re just envious because you barely manage to pay your rent every month, let alone afford any of the many luxuries life offers people like me.”

Merlin gave an empty laugh and narrowed his eyes at him.

“I couldn’t care less about your money. It’s what the money makes of you. You treat the people around you like garbage and then expect them to like you. If anything, they’re just intimated by your alleged power – for which you never had to work a day in your life, by the way. You can pretend that you’re some higher human all you want, but underneath you just look like any of us. Prat.”

Arthur clenched his jaw and Merlin could see that he’d pressed the right buttons. His nostrils were flaring, but Merlin wasn’t impressed at all. He could see behind his shiny façade, from the moment he’d met him, he’d seen the hidden vulnerability, the underlying fear of his father.

“I—“ Arthur started, but suddenly his façade started crumpling and for a moment he seemed at a loss for words, before blurting out: “You have no idea how much I work, just to please by father, who keeps doing things I just can’t morally support. But I do them anyway, because he’s my father and what am I supposed to do? For you, life is easy. You can do whatever you like, you can like whoever you want – you have no idea how it feels to have your life laid out in front of you, without having any choice at all.”

Merlin’s face softened a little; Arthur looked considerably taken aback by his own outburst, staring at Merlin like he couldn’t quite believe that he was there and wondering what the hell he’d done to him. Merlin assumed that not many people tried and succeeded to put him off his stride like that.

“If you tell a soul that I said that, I’ll personally make your life a living hell.” He hissed, warily looking around. Merlin raised his hands in surrender.

“I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.” He said softly – suddenly having more sympathy with the prat than he ever thought he could possibly muster. Not that he liked him. He was still entitled and arrogant and Merlin still couldn’t stand him – he could just stand him a teeny tiny bit more than before his outburst.

Merlin felt Arthur staring at him for a while longer, until their friends came back, laughing loud and chatting even louder. He caught Arthur looking at him a few times that night; he wasn’t sure what he wanted from him, though. Merlin doubted that they would ever really get along – their differences just seemed too grave to overcome, a little sympathy or not.  

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