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HP/Merlin: Before, After, and Now (rated R)
I've been twiddling with this fic since I saw the HBP movie, so maybe it's time to let it out into the world. You know how in those reincarnation fics, Merlin and Arthur talk about all the other times they were reincarnated where things didn't work out so well between them? This could be one of those times. I think this is also crackfic somehow, but I'm not sure.
Before, After, and Now
Harry Potter/Merlin. 2217 words. Merlin/Arthur...ish. Harry/Draco but not really? Blaise/Draco/Pansy! Rated R.
Merlin is reincarnated as Harry, and Arthur as Draco. Set a couple of years post-Deathly Hallows, and is perhaps not very epilogue-compliant.
It's always a shock when he remembers. The memories don't come back bit by bit, but are like flash floods, powerful and dismantling. All his former lives, all the names he had, the defeats and victories of bygone eras: all these are his once more. He scrabbles for purchase - I am Draco, I am Draco Malfoy, I am DRACO MALFOY - but it's difficult. Next to the solidity of lives already lived, Draco feels small, near intangible.
"I told you," Harry says, though his voice seems to come from very far away. "I told you, Arthur."
"I'm not Arthur," Draco snaps, but he feels the lie in his words and the fear in the lie. He recognizes the earnestness in Harry's eyes, and when he reaches for Draco, Draco allows himself to be pulled into an embrace against his better judgment. "I'm not--" and then he stops, the words choking in his throat because Draco suddenly remembers what it was like to be held like this, to be forced into reassurance, because Merlin never had the sense to leave Arthur alone.
"It was more difficult finding you in there, in this lifetime," Harry murmurs.
"I can't believe it," Draco deadpans, because he really can't, but he knows he will. He has no choice.
+
Harry (Merlin, Draco corrects in his head) is predictably delighted at being the butt of profanity. "Can't say 'Merlin's beard' anymore," he says to Draco. "Gotta say my beard now."
"You don't even have a beard," Draco says.
"I did once." Harry contemplates this. "I did many times, actually."
"Yes, you never learn."
"You don't like my beard?"
"God, no."
"You always did have terrible taste." And Harry smiles, a small and soft and secret smile that Draco remembers all too well from nights when they... well.
Draco is sure that Harry remembers those parts too, but there's no reason to bring it up now. They go through their days recognizing each other's hesitations about it, wondering when and how. They approach the moment, and then back off, pretending nothing is there. Sometimes Draco wants to wash his hands of this ridiculousness and fuck Blaise after too many drinks, fuck Pansy because she's good with her mouth, just to prove to himself that he still can. But Draco also knows that no matter how many people he goes through, he will come back to Harry, to Merlin, like in all his lives before. There is no right or wrong in this, just that which is inevitable.
Draco can't hate that which makes him whole. That choice has been taken from him long ago.
+
"The timing's a bit fucked up this time around," Merlin (Harry, Draco corrects in his head) says. "If we had remembered sooner, we might have done something. Maybe we could've changed the war."
Draco frowns. "How?"
"Well, we could've infiltrated on multiple levels since you were already on the inside, so to speak."
"Oh, I see," says Draco. "You're saying that just because we fucked in another life, I'd betray my family for you in this one."
It wasn't how Draco envisioned the first acknowledgment of their previous trysts would go.
Harry's face falls. "That's not what I--"
Draco says, "As far as I understand, Merlin, I will eventually - like clockwork - come to care for you. Some day I'll forgive you all things, but now is not that time. I hope that for the time being, you will permit me to hate you for dragging my family's name through the mud and forcing my friends into exile. If you don’t mind, and even if you do, I will continue to hate you while I still can."
"Arthur--"
"Have a good day," Draco says as he leaves, "and fuck you."
Hardly Draco Malfoy's words. He has to wonder which of his past life has just bubbled to the surface. Perhaps it doesn't matter. They are all him, after all, whoever he is.
Harry calls out "Arthur!" again. When that doesn't work, he tries, "Draco!" He tries, "You prat!"
Draco keeps on walking, resisting the urge to look back.
+
The Zabinis and the Parkinsons are among the few Slytherin families who have chosen to stay in England. This is our home, they said, and no war can change that, no matter who the victor is. It's a subject worn into the ground, this business of winning and losing sides, but it's a dichotomy that is difficult to escape.
"The way father goes on about the war," Pansy says, "you'd think it was still going on."
"Some people don't know to leave the past alone," Blaise drawls, and she punches his arm.
"It's useful to remember the past," Draco says.
Blaise replies, "Yes, but it's boring to think of nothing else. Come." He pours more wine into Pansy's obliging cup. "Let's not be boring, you and I."
Eventually, the bottle is emptied, and Pansy locks the door as Blaise kisses Draco, warm and slow. Draco keeps his eyes open, wondering, Where is Lancelot? Who is Mordred? Behind Blaise, Pansy undoes her blouse, shrugs it off. Undoes her skirt, lets it fall. Smiles.
Draco holds out his hand, and she takes it.
The three of them make their way to the bed and fall atop the covers in a tangle of mouths and limbs. They grab each other as if staking claims, and Draco isn't sure whose hand is between his legs, whose hand pulls his hair. He kisses Pansy, bites her lip, and Blaise pulls at his shirt, trying to take it off. Draco breaks the kiss long enough to let him do so.
"We missed you, Draco," Pansy murmurs against his mouth.
Draco says, "I've been busy."
"Well," says Blaise, snaking his arms around Pansy from behind, kisses her neck as his hands slide down her belly. "So have we."
+
Draco, to be honest, is still a bit put out that - in what was arguably his most important life - he was a muggle. A muggle king, sure, but that only makes him a one-eyed man in the land of the blind. Draco may carry many lives in him, magical or otherwise, but he has spent the past two decades living this one, and he is still his father's son. (An heir of the house of Malfoy, Draco confirms, but his mind conjures the image of a gold crown, a throne, a castle.)
Uther didn't survive his downfall, and Draco wonders, feeling traitorous, if that would have been the more merciful fate for Lucius. His father is a quieter man these days, but no less foreboding. Without the fire of the promised revolution, his anger has become a cold thing, polished by loss. Most people went crazy in Azkaban; his father just went inside himself. With his master defeated and his own self dethroned, there isn’t anywhere else for Lucius Malfoy to go. Like the Parkinsons and Zabinis, he refuses to run. Maybe he can't.
You'd think there'd be more variety over the course of a thousand lives, but all of Draco's lives followed a similar pattern whether he was born a pauper or a prince. He learns the same lessons: you are imperfect, and to be truly strong you need to be ready to make mistakes. Your loved ones will make mistakes, and it will break your heart. You will rush headlong into tasks you can't complete because you feel you must.
Watching Lucius read the Prophet at breakfast, Draco thinks, Maybe he is my father, and immediately feels silly. Of course Lucius Malfoy is his father. Of course.
Of course Draco is Lucius Malfoy's son, no matter whose son he was before.
+
Pansy passes the pipe to Draco. "Stops the room spinning," she says, "and it smells nice."
It smells like one of his mother's more unbearable perfumes, but it does calm his head. Pretty much stops it, in fact. The overpowering presence of rum begins to fade from his body, and Draco leans back against the headboard of his bed and shapes his mouth into an O, throat bobbing as he puffs smoke rings at the ceiling.
"Guess what," Draco says, passing the pipe to Blaise, who is half-asleep with his head on Draco's lap.
"What?" says Pansy, who is curled up with her head on Blaise's stomach.
"I'm Arthur Pendragon."
Pansy smiles vacantly. "That's nice."
+
Draco owls Harry, and feels like a fool. He continues feeling like a fool until Harry sends a reply in the affirmative, and Draco feels like an even bigger idiot. But now the date is set and he cannot back out without losing face.
Next Sunday, he goes to Diagon Alley to a nondescript bar of unremarkable repute to meet his oldest enemy and/or friend.
To Draco's relief, Harry looks as uncomfortable as he feels. They order drinks and talk about various banalities until Harry finally looks away and sighs, and the tension of civility in the air is dropped.
Harry says, “You get like this sometimes. “
Draco leans back in his seat. “I know.”
“You balk when you remember, and then you have to hide and suck your thumb for a bit. I have to wait for you to get your act together.”
“Hey,” Draco cuts in, “ what about the 1600s in Massachusetts when you denied it for years?”
“To be fair, witch trials don’t really encourage you to admit to having past lives. D’you remember my neighbor, Goodman Simmons? He accused everyone of witchcraft!” Harry gives a tentative smile, and adds, “It’s good that you’re remembering more things, though.”
“Some parts are still hazy. Like, how long…” Draco hesitates. “In the past, when we… How long do I have before I fall in love with you?”
Harry’s laughter sounds like a bark. “Yes, thank you, I’m glad you find the thought of loving me so appealing. Do you realize the look you have on your face right now?”
“Do you love me?”
He gives Draco a penetrating, considering look, and Draco resists the urge to look away. “No,” Harry finally replies. “Not yet, at least. But I have memories of loving you, and it’s…” He shrugs, as if that alone can convey a significant message.
“Don’t you ever find it tedious, falling in love with the same person every time?”
“It’s never quite the same person.” Harry gestures to him and says, “Case in point. You’re the farthest thing from a noble prince that I know of.”
“Thanks.”
“The circumstances are never the same. Why?” Harry leans on the table, and his tone is outwardly casual. “Do you?”
“I can't just completely replace this life with my old one,” Draco says instead of answering.
“No one's asking you to do that. Frankly I'm not sure if that's even possible. You, Arthur-“
“Draco.”
“…Draco, you’ve always been good at living in the present. It's never the same from one life to the next. We'll have to discover how we work, in this lifetime.”
“Must we? Can’t we just ignore each other?”
“Is that what you want?”
Draco says, “So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” sighs Harry. “We'll figure it out. We always do.”
“I guess.
“We're two sides of the same knut, after all.”
“I am worth at least one full galleon,” Draco points out, and Harry rolls his eyes.
Later, outside the tavern, they stand face to face trapped in the act of awkward goodbyes.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Harry says.
Draco smiles grimly and replies, “Apparently that is impossible between us.”
Draco thinks to himself, I could kiss him, right now. I could kiss him right now.
He doesn’t, and they both apparate home.
+
Here are four things that Draco has figured out, and one thing he hasn’t.
One. Harry, like Merlin, is stubborn as a mule, and the fusion of these two identities only exacerbates it. In the heat of an argument, Draco would find himself missing Gwen's calming presence, and wonders where she is now, whether she is a witch or a mudblood. Muggle. Witch or a muggle.
Two. Harry calls Draco Arthur when no one else is around and Draco hates it. It feels like nothing so much as marking one's territory. For his part, Draco continues to call him Potter, except for that one time when he slipped up. (It was the way Harry had looked, eyes bright but far away, body thrumming with energy even at rest.)
Three. He envies how inured Harry is to upheaval. Draco suspects it's why Harry adjusted to being Merlin better than Draco is adjusting to being Arthur bloody Pendragon. Merlin, like Harry, had stumbled upon his fate as if by chance, but Draco, like Arthur, has been groomed for his lot in life since the day he was born. Change has always come with a hefty price.
Four. Aside from no longer trying to kill each other, Draco finds that being Harry's friend is a lot like being Harry's enemy. One pushes, and the other pushes back. One tries to run, and the other will come after him. It's all so familiar.
Five. How to go from who he is to what he was. Or is it the other way around?
[end.]
Before, After, and Now
Harry Potter/Merlin. 2217 words. Merlin/Arthur...ish. Harry/Draco but not really? Blaise/Draco/Pansy! Rated R.
Merlin is reincarnated as Harry, and Arthur as Draco. Set a couple of years post-Deathly Hallows, and is perhaps not very epilogue-compliant.
It's always a shock when he remembers. The memories don't come back bit by bit, but are like flash floods, powerful and dismantling. All his former lives, all the names he had, the defeats and victories of bygone eras: all these are his once more. He scrabbles for purchase - I am Draco, I am Draco Malfoy, I am DRACO MALFOY - but it's difficult. Next to the solidity of lives already lived, Draco feels small, near intangible.
"I told you," Harry says, though his voice seems to come from very far away. "I told you, Arthur."
"I'm not Arthur," Draco snaps, but he feels the lie in his words and the fear in the lie. He recognizes the earnestness in Harry's eyes, and when he reaches for Draco, Draco allows himself to be pulled into an embrace against his better judgment. "I'm not--" and then he stops, the words choking in his throat because Draco suddenly remembers what it was like to be held like this, to be forced into reassurance, because Merlin never had the sense to leave Arthur alone.
"It was more difficult finding you in there, in this lifetime," Harry murmurs.
"I can't believe it," Draco deadpans, because he really can't, but he knows he will. He has no choice.
+
Harry (Merlin, Draco corrects in his head) is predictably delighted at being the butt of profanity. "Can't say 'Merlin's beard' anymore," he says to Draco. "Gotta say my beard now."
"You don't even have a beard," Draco says.
"I did once." Harry contemplates this. "I did many times, actually."
"Yes, you never learn."
"You don't like my beard?"
"God, no."
"You always did have terrible taste." And Harry smiles, a small and soft and secret smile that Draco remembers all too well from nights when they... well.
Draco is sure that Harry remembers those parts too, but there's no reason to bring it up now. They go through their days recognizing each other's hesitations about it, wondering when and how. They approach the moment, and then back off, pretending nothing is there. Sometimes Draco wants to wash his hands of this ridiculousness and fuck Blaise after too many drinks, fuck Pansy because she's good with her mouth, just to prove to himself that he still can. But Draco also knows that no matter how many people he goes through, he will come back to Harry, to Merlin, like in all his lives before. There is no right or wrong in this, just that which is inevitable.
Draco can't hate that which makes him whole. That choice has been taken from him long ago.
+
"The timing's a bit fucked up this time around," Merlin (Harry, Draco corrects in his head) says. "If we had remembered sooner, we might have done something. Maybe we could've changed the war."
Draco frowns. "How?"
"Well, we could've infiltrated on multiple levels since you were already on the inside, so to speak."
"Oh, I see," says Draco. "You're saying that just because we fucked in another life, I'd betray my family for you in this one."
It wasn't how Draco envisioned the first acknowledgment of their previous trysts would go.
Harry's face falls. "That's not what I--"
Draco says, "As far as I understand, Merlin, I will eventually - like clockwork - come to care for you. Some day I'll forgive you all things, but now is not that time. I hope that for the time being, you will permit me to hate you for dragging my family's name through the mud and forcing my friends into exile. If you don’t mind, and even if you do, I will continue to hate you while I still can."
"Arthur--"
"Have a good day," Draco says as he leaves, "and fuck you."
Hardly Draco Malfoy's words. He has to wonder which of his past life has just bubbled to the surface. Perhaps it doesn't matter. They are all him, after all, whoever he is.
Harry calls out "Arthur!" again. When that doesn't work, he tries, "Draco!" He tries, "You prat!"
Draco keeps on walking, resisting the urge to look back.
+
The Zabinis and the Parkinsons are among the few Slytherin families who have chosen to stay in England. This is our home, they said, and no war can change that, no matter who the victor is. It's a subject worn into the ground, this business of winning and losing sides, but it's a dichotomy that is difficult to escape.
"The way father goes on about the war," Pansy says, "you'd think it was still going on."
"Some people don't know to leave the past alone," Blaise drawls, and she punches his arm.
"It's useful to remember the past," Draco says.
Blaise replies, "Yes, but it's boring to think of nothing else. Come." He pours more wine into Pansy's obliging cup. "Let's not be boring, you and I."
Eventually, the bottle is emptied, and Pansy locks the door as Blaise kisses Draco, warm and slow. Draco keeps his eyes open, wondering, Where is Lancelot? Who is Mordred? Behind Blaise, Pansy undoes her blouse, shrugs it off. Undoes her skirt, lets it fall. Smiles.
Draco holds out his hand, and she takes it.
The three of them make their way to the bed and fall atop the covers in a tangle of mouths and limbs. They grab each other as if staking claims, and Draco isn't sure whose hand is between his legs, whose hand pulls his hair. He kisses Pansy, bites her lip, and Blaise pulls at his shirt, trying to take it off. Draco breaks the kiss long enough to let him do so.
"We missed you, Draco," Pansy murmurs against his mouth.
Draco says, "I've been busy."
"Well," says Blaise, snaking his arms around Pansy from behind, kisses her neck as his hands slide down her belly. "So have we."
+
Draco, to be honest, is still a bit put out that - in what was arguably his most important life - he was a muggle. A muggle king, sure, but that only makes him a one-eyed man in the land of the blind. Draco may carry many lives in him, magical or otherwise, but he has spent the past two decades living this one, and he is still his father's son. (An heir of the house of Malfoy, Draco confirms, but his mind conjures the image of a gold crown, a throne, a castle.)
Uther didn't survive his downfall, and Draco wonders, feeling traitorous, if that would have been the more merciful fate for Lucius. His father is a quieter man these days, but no less foreboding. Without the fire of the promised revolution, his anger has become a cold thing, polished by loss. Most people went crazy in Azkaban; his father just went inside himself. With his master defeated and his own self dethroned, there isn’t anywhere else for Lucius Malfoy to go. Like the Parkinsons and Zabinis, he refuses to run. Maybe he can't.
You'd think there'd be more variety over the course of a thousand lives, but all of Draco's lives followed a similar pattern whether he was born a pauper or a prince. He learns the same lessons: you are imperfect, and to be truly strong you need to be ready to make mistakes. Your loved ones will make mistakes, and it will break your heart. You will rush headlong into tasks you can't complete because you feel you must.
Watching Lucius read the Prophet at breakfast, Draco thinks, Maybe he is my father, and immediately feels silly. Of course Lucius Malfoy is his father. Of course.
Of course Draco is Lucius Malfoy's son, no matter whose son he was before.
+
Pansy passes the pipe to Draco. "Stops the room spinning," she says, "and it smells nice."
It smells like one of his mother's more unbearable perfumes, but it does calm his head. Pretty much stops it, in fact. The overpowering presence of rum begins to fade from his body, and Draco leans back against the headboard of his bed and shapes his mouth into an O, throat bobbing as he puffs smoke rings at the ceiling.
"Guess what," Draco says, passing the pipe to Blaise, who is half-asleep with his head on Draco's lap.
"What?" says Pansy, who is curled up with her head on Blaise's stomach.
"I'm Arthur Pendragon."
Pansy smiles vacantly. "That's nice."
+
Draco owls Harry, and feels like a fool. He continues feeling like a fool until Harry sends a reply in the affirmative, and Draco feels like an even bigger idiot. But now the date is set and he cannot back out without losing face.
Next Sunday, he goes to Diagon Alley to a nondescript bar of unremarkable repute to meet his oldest enemy and/or friend.
To Draco's relief, Harry looks as uncomfortable as he feels. They order drinks and talk about various banalities until Harry finally looks away and sighs, and the tension of civility in the air is dropped.
Harry says, “You get like this sometimes. “
Draco leans back in his seat. “I know.”
“You balk when you remember, and then you have to hide and suck your thumb for a bit. I have to wait for you to get your act together.”
“Hey,” Draco cuts in, “ what about the 1600s in Massachusetts when you denied it for years?”
“To be fair, witch trials don’t really encourage you to admit to having past lives. D’you remember my neighbor, Goodman Simmons? He accused everyone of witchcraft!” Harry gives a tentative smile, and adds, “It’s good that you’re remembering more things, though.”
“Some parts are still hazy. Like, how long…” Draco hesitates. “In the past, when we… How long do I have before I fall in love with you?”
Harry’s laughter sounds like a bark. “Yes, thank you, I’m glad you find the thought of loving me so appealing. Do you realize the look you have on your face right now?”
“Do you love me?”
He gives Draco a penetrating, considering look, and Draco resists the urge to look away. “No,” Harry finally replies. “Not yet, at least. But I have memories of loving you, and it’s…” He shrugs, as if that alone can convey a significant message.
“Don’t you ever find it tedious, falling in love with the same person every time?”
“It’s never quite the same person.” Harry gestures to him and says, “Case in point. You’re the farthest thing from a noble prince that I know of.”
“Thanks.”
“The circumstances are never the same. Why?” Harry leans on the table, and his tone is outwardly casual. “Do you?”
“I can't just completely replace this life with my old one,” Draco says instead of answering.
“No one's asking you to do that. Frankly I'm not sure if that's even possible. You, Arthur-“
“Draco.”
“…Draco, you’ve always been good at living in the present. It's never the same from one life to the next. We'll have to discover how we work, in this lifetime.”
“Must we? Can’t we just ignore each other?”
“Is that what you want?”
Draco says, “So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” sighs Harry. “We'll figure it out. We always do.”
“I guess.
“We're two sides of the same knut, after all.”
“I am worth at least one full galleon,” Draco points out, and Harry rolls his eyes.
Later, outside the tavern, they stand face to face trapped in the act of awkward goodbyes.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Harry says.
Draco smiles grimly and replies, “Apparently that is impossible between us.”
Draco thinks to himself, I could kiss him, right now. I could kiss him right now.
He doesn’t, and they both apparate home.
+
Here are four things that Draco has figured out, and one thing he hasn’t.
One. Harry, like Merlin, is stubborn as a mule, and the fusion of these two identities only exacerbates it. In the heat of an argument, Draco would find himself missing Gwen's calming presence, and wonders where she is now, whether she is a witch or a mudblood. Muggle. Witch or a muggle.
Two. Harry calls Draco Arthur when no one else is around and Draco hates it. It feels like nothing so much as marking one's territory. For his part, Draco continues to call him Potter, except for that one time when he slipped up. (It was the way Harry had looked, eyes bright but far away, body thrumming with energy even at rest.)
Three. He envies how inured Harry is to upheaval. Draco suspects it's why Harry adjusted to being Merlin better than Draco is adjusting to being Arthur bloody Pendragon. Merlin, like Harry, had stumbled upon his fate as if by chance, but Draco, like Arthur, has been groomed for his lot in life since the day he was born. Change has always come with a hefty price.
Four. Aside from no longer trying to kill each other, Draco finds that being Harry's friend is a lot like being Harry's enemy. One pushes, and the other pushes back. One tries to run, and the other will come after him. It's all so familiar.
Five. How to go from who he is to what he was. Or is it the other way around?
[end.]
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D’you remember my neighbor, Goodman Simmons? He accused everyone of witchcraft!
AHAHAHAHA. LASS ILU! ♥ (Will must have traumatized him so badly in that one life that it carries on through all the others)
I almost didn't read this, but it's you so I checked it out (because I find the idea of pretty noble Arthur being biggoted Draco Malfoy pretty ridiculous and I never quite saw the Harry/Merlin parallel in any form either) -- but it really worked. I'd say the Harry/Merlin didn't jive as well for me, since we didn't see inside his head and I think he was coming off very Merlin and not at all Harry (which sort of makes me sad for Harry, as I'm wont to do with reincarnation stories where they lose who they are).
I love Arthur fighting against it, because well, I think it's Draco fighting against it and that really worked. It brought a lot of issues to the surface about destiny and choices, but it's YOU SO WHY AM I SURPRISED. I do love that you touch on this type of thing, it makes me happy to read about it and give it some virtue and light at the heart of the matter. I liked the struggle dealing with it and the POV worked really well for both Draco and that hint of Arthur in the background.
ETA: I'm 80% sure this is a prompt on the
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I find the idea of pretty noble Arthur being biggoted Draco Malfoy pretty ridiculous
Fer sure, and that's where the tragedy lies. It can't be that in every life he's going to be a photocopy of Arthur, right? I think some lives are going to make it harder to accept what he used to be. How do you work those past identities into your current one? Or how much do you completely shrug off your current one (and the people/responsibilities in it) to roll around the past? And where is the reincarnation fic where modern!Arthur remembers what it was like being a shoemaker in Oslo in 1675 more than he remembers being King Arthur. Or the one where Gwen is reincarnated as a boy.
Thank you, Mia! <3
I just looked it up on the kinkme_merlin delicious, but alas I could find no such prompt! :(
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Yes and I still think it's awesome. And I still think you should write the AU where Will doesn't die first.
Yeah, I don't know where the reincarnation thing started, but I love when people really explore different aspects of it instead of just finding each other. I'm still really trying to resist writing the immortal!Merlin, immortal!Morgana, Arthur reincarnated for the first time for a reason fic where it's like dystopian and mostly long. Because, yeah. TOO MANY FIC IDEAS.
By the way, Gwen would make a pretty hot boy (http://community.livejournal.com/yuletart/66654.html#cutid1).
As for the prompt. My google!fu found it (http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/2936.html?thread=989304#t989304) (or I should say my delicious!fu).
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Yo, I am down for a good dystopia any day.
XD yay for delicious fu! Thanks.
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Oh Draco and family! I mean, Arthur and family! this works so well the way you bring it forth, Lass!
also who does not love bad trio sexytiems. rawr, hotttt.
A muggle king, sure, but that only makes him a one-eyed man in the land of the blind.
HAHA oh this is clever!
(you've got a typo I think? - Nut now the date is set and he cannot back out without losing face.)
Goodman Simmons! XD
I love the end bits, and I love that Draco doesn't kiss Harry, and I love the whole thing about names and how Merlin's more attached to being Merlin but Draco is kind of refusing to be Arthur.
Merlin, like Harry, had stumbled upon his fate as if by chance, but Draco, like Arthur, has been groomed for his lot in life since the day he was born. - Ooooh, this is really interesting.
:DDD there is nothing like a crack idea to get you to write profoundly themed fic, eh? this is awesome.
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Thanks, Z. :D Why I have not written more Slytherin sexytimes before this is beyond me.
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<33 Thank you.
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I'm not in the Merlin fandom, but I do love a good reincarnation story. And this one was very, very good.
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"I did once." Harry contemplates this. "I did many times, actually."
"Yes, you never learn."
"You don't like my beard?"
"God, no."
"You always did have terrible taste." And Harry smiles, a small and soft and secret smile that Draco remembers all too well from nights when they... well.
Oh man, DRad with a beard? LOLZ.
Why yes, I do have meaningful and thinky thoughts but apparently not now.
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only you, Lass, only you! DESTINY AND CHOICE, and past lives and present! and how do you reconcile yourself-now with yourself-before? normal people have enough problems with that! AND NAMES, omg. Arthur! I'm DRACO. uhh... and FAMILYYYY. if there is one thing that will always carry over for Arthur, it is family, and how loyal he is to them. THIS IS FABULOUS. <333
and that last line, ahhhhh, such a killer! it slays me. :(
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Thank you so much! Yay I'm glad that worked. I think now I'm curious about reincarnation fic. What if Arthur gets reborn a girl or Morgana a guy?
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Love the fic, though! The first time I saw the meeting (fight) scene in the first episode, I went, "HOLY SHIT, THEY ARE HARRY AND DRACO SO HARDCORE". Of course, they moved away from that as the characterizations developed, but I still see Harry/Draco echoings when I re-watch that scene. Merlin's self-righteousness! Arthur's careless, entitled arrogance! And the poor servant Merlin rescued kind of looks like Neville, which didn't deter the comparison at all XD
(Also, this fic was screaming for this icon. Just sayin'.)
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I'm glad you liked it! Thanks very much :D. Haha your appropriate icon is totally appropriate. <3
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