Merlin Big Bang: Academy (Part Two)
~.~.~
Lance couldn’t wait to get back to the Academy. He had said goodbye to his parents and Elyan, who didn’t wish to send their son through the barrier (the explanation that he was twelve now sufficed enough) and was now waiting for people to shuffle in so he could get aboard.
The letters he’d been writing to Arthur, Gwen and Morgana had left something to be desired, which was, basically, a desire to be missed.
Honestly, if he went out of the house for a few weeks, all his parents would notice was that the living room seemed more spacious because it no longer held Lance sprawled on the couch in an inappropriate fashion and his books. Elyan would notice, though, his baby brother. He was ten now, starting his own academic career next year but Lance knew he was slowly losing him to his parents.
In a few more months, there wouldn’t be anymore picnics outside the house or in an old room inside Grimmauld Place and the ‘Lance and Ely Cool Club’ would be disbanded. He wished he could help him, he really did.
“Lance!”
He turned and saw Gwen, who stood in a stand-still for a moment or two until she finally decided it wasn’t worth it and ran towards him, putting her arms around him.
“Well, hullo, there, Guinevere,” Lance smiled against the fabric of her shirt.
“Don’t call me that,” Gwen smacked his arm when she pulled away.
“Seen Arthur or Morgana?” he asked.
“Morgana told me they were hitching a ride together so we probably won’t be seeing one without the other.” Gwen shrugged.
“I’m tired of waiting, though. Let’s find a cabin first and we’ll find them later, yeah?”
Before Gwen could answer, Lance took her by the hand and manoeuvred her inside the Express. She linked their arms together and started talking.
Lance liked it when Gwen talked; when she was really excited, she talked really fast then, when the run was over, she’d looked embarrassed by it, as if she just gave away parts of her soul in conversation.
“My mum wants to meet you, you know. Well, not you singularly, but Arthur and Morgana, as well. She wants to thank you or something,” Gwen said
“Thank us? Why?” Lance asked.
“For taking care of me.” Gwen suddenly felt embarrassed (right on time, really) and quickly said, “Her words, not mine.”
“Tell your mum we’d love to come see her some time. I wanna see where Gwen Leodegrance lives, anyway. I keep imagining cows on a farm, for some reason.”
“I think that might be an insult, DuLac.”
“You’d never know it.” Lance gave a small laugh. “And, uh, tell your mum. I, mean, we, love taking care of you.”
Gwen blushed at this and tried to cover it up by swinging her dark curls over to the side of her face before looking down and proceeding to ask him about his summer holidays.
And, because it was Gwen, he told her everything that had happened with Elyan and his parents, or the lack of happening at all. He told her about how his favourite cousin, Emmyria, had come to visit him and how she’d taken him to her cottage to meet her new boyfriend, a Muggle-born wizard by the name of William.
“My family’s pissed at Emmy for doing that. I think they’re going to take her off the wall next.” Lance shook his head, remembering the wall back at Grimmauld Place.
He used to stand in that room and just be overwhelmed by how many people he really did dislike-because hate was such a strong word-in his family, and then smile because Emmy’s name was there and he’d get up and write a letter to her.
“She sounds like a nice person,” Gwen said, about Emmy.
“She is.”
Lance saw an empty cabin a few steps away and led them inside. There was no sign of Arthur or Morgana yet and there really was no point of searching each and every cabin in the train for a cocky blonde boy and with a pretty girl by his side. And, besides, Lance and Gwen were pretty much okay by themselves.
Lance preferred it, sometimes, the company of the sweet, shy, fun girl instead of Arthur’s. Arthur was still his best friend and he probably would be for years to come, but the company of Gwen right now was like a present, like a family he was proud to call his own.
Gwen seemed knackered for the first half of the ride and she usually kept talking whenever she was tired but, by the time the sceneries changed, Gwen was sleeping with her mouth open (quite decently, which was a feat in itself). Her head lolled to the side which could give her major cramps in the neck when she woke up.
He smiled to himself and inched closer to Gwen, carefully taking her head and putting it on his shoulder. She gave a subconscious moan of thanks in her sleep as he started reading his book.
Merlin felt like he’d been half-asleep for months. It was like his feet were never moving the way he wanted them to move and his hands always felt like they were just extra appendages. He felt sick every other day and even Freya couldn’t help him as much.
He didn’t know why he felt like this but he hoped that once he returned to the Academy, he would feel a lot better.
He came with Freya, as he always did, and she held his hand, as she always did, but things seemed different somehow. He was happier, sure, now that he was on the Platform but something felt missing, like there was something in his hands he should be holding but forgot what it was.
Freya waved her hand over his face, snapping him out of concentration.
“You alright?” she asked, stopping their walk through the corridor of the Express.
“Yeah, just fine. I got some stuff in my head,” Merlin said, almost sadly.
“Sure?”
Merlin smiled; Frey always was one to care about him, even when his parents didn’t, despite her Slytherin house. Maybe they were wrong, after all. Not all the kids who were sorted into Slytherin turned out all bad. Freya loved him.
“Positive.” He even made a note to make his smile a little more believable this time.
Merlin tried to find an empty cabin, just to keep his mind off of everything that was never there and was unsuccessful, but, did, however, find a cabin where the only occupants were his friends Gwaine and Leon.
“Hey, there, mate,” Gwaine greeted him cheerfully, passing him a Chocolate Frog as some sort of gesture of kindness through food.
“Had nice hols everyone?” Leon asked them, because he was polite like that.
“Brilliant,” Gwaine answered. “Me and my uncle went to go watch a Quidditch match. It’s been forever since the last we went and I swear, I can still hear the cannons in my ears.”
“Nice, Gwaine,” Leon nodded, chewing on his candy. He turned to Merlin and Freya. “Ever been to a Quidditch match?”
“Nope, never,” Merlin shook his head. “Not even the school ones.”
“The school ones are alright but, mate, you’ve got to see the real ones. They’re brilliant. I could take you sometime, yeah? You, too, Frey.” Gwaine smiled.
“Sounds good,” Freya nodded when Merlin didn’t answer.
He was too busy looking out the window. The rain was splattering on the glass and he could almost feel something. The same feeling he’d been feeling for months now, towards the rain, and the green pastures he knew were hidden behind it. The nature of the world, he felt a pull towards it.
“Merlin?” Leon asked. “Merlin, you alright there?”
“Just leave him. He’s probably having some kind of shock,” an amused voice said.
It was neither Gwaine nor Leon but Merlin didn’t need to turn around to see who it was.
“Piss off, Pendragon,” Merlin said, turning to him and putting anger and grimace on his face.
Arthur was standing in the doorway, like he was a year ago, with Morgana by his side. He looked like he ran the place and he did. Most first-years last year worshipped him and there was no doubt he was going to try out for Quidditch this year so he’d have a bigger legion of fans. That pompous arse.
“My, my, someone’s testy today,” Arthur laughed.
“Arthur, please,” Leon said.
“Nothing to it, Leon. I’m not doing any harm, now am I?”
“I’m surprised Freya here isn’t that talkative,” Morgana sneered, looking at the girl.
“I don’t need to justify myself to a pair of school-class bullies that don’t even know what the world looks like without their cockiness,” Freya practically hissed.
“Yeah, well, Frey-” Arthur inched closer to her.
“Don’t do anything to her,” Merlin suddenly felt all his pent-up anger in the palm of his hand.
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Arthur challenged
Merlin stood up and felt a sudden rush of confidence and, for some reason, an out-of-body experience in which he was watching himself speak up, one more time, to Arthur, saying, “Piss. Off.”
Then, something happened. He raised his hand and a blast of blue light escaped his palm to hit Arthur in the chest. He had felt it rise up from his feet, flow through his veins and arteries, setting his brain into one simple notion and turn it into motion.
Arthur fell on his back, then got up, rubbing his head, with the help of Morgana. He didn’t say anything, no menacing comment about how Merlin would hear from Professor Tregor the second they got off the Express. He just looked at him like he’d misunderstood him all this time.
“Merlin?” Freya asked. It was the last thing he heard before the power he held in his hands surged into his brain, carefully knocking him out.
“You should report him,” Morgana said, fussing over him during the welcome-back feast.
“I don’t think you should,” Gwen shook her head. “It was accidental magic. It happens to the best of us and he is only a second-year. It’s no use telling the Professors about it.”
“Suddenly you’re so against the law?” Lance asked.
“Merlin’s a good guy. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it.” Gwen shrugged.
Arthur looked at her. If there was ever an emergency or problem, he usually looked to Gwen for her level-headedness and he wanted to listen to her this time because, regardless of who Merlin was to him, or who he wasn’t, accidental magic was bound to happen to any inexperienced student.
But there was something nagging at the back of his head, about how unnatural it seemed when Merlin blasted him like that, how it hurt more than he thought it would and how, for a split-second, he almost thought he saw gold in his eyes.
“Happier topic?” Arthur asked of his friends.
Lance didn’t say anything but he did, however, pass him a chicken leg from his plate like dogs sharing, which is actually just as good as a reassuring word or two.
Arthur didn’t see the point of sleeping so early. Lance, he knew, was happy to fall asleep with a sated stomach on his belly on the bed. He didn’t quite know the girls’ sleeping patterns but he assumed that Morgana was the same as Lance and Gwen would spend a few minutes in bed with a flashlight and a book. He’d caught her once or twice in the common room doing just that. Both times, he joined her.
He wrapped his jacket around him, pulled his hoodie up and walked down the stairs to the common room. Luckily, everyone in the right mind was already asleep and he was alone. Arthur saw something moving in one of the chairs and caught his breath when he saw it was Merlin, wrapped up in a blanket, seemingly asleep.
He almost looked decent like this.
Merlin suddenly jumped up like he was having a spasm, his hair flying away and his eyes bulging open, tossing the blanket to the floor in the process of all his flailing.
“Oh,” he said when he saw that he was seeing Arthur. “I thought I was alone.”
“Go back to sleep, then, Emrys.” Arthur shrugged like any choice Merlin Emrys would make wouldn’t make a difference to him anyway.
“I take it I’m going to be hearing from Tregor tomorrow morning about what happened on the train?” The way Merlin looked to him, his eyes up, it almost seemed hopeful; like it was a friend asking another friend for a favour, one he’d repay one day.
Arthur didn’t answer, he couldn’t; Pendragons never glorified their enemies with proper answers but he did smirk. He bent down and took the blanket Merlin had tossed away before and threw it in his face (not so hard, he made sure, because Pendragons had hearts, really).
“I’m not telling her about your midnight stroll, either,” Merlin replied to Arthur’s non-existent answer.
“I appreciate that.”
Arthur turned and started towards the exit, only to turn back (he didn’t know why he did, he really didn’t) and see Merlin Emrys curled up like a cat with his blanket, his legs tucked to his chest and toes peeking out and feel his heart curl up in the same way.
Since then, he and Emrys had a silent agreement. Whenever Arthur got out of bed in the middle of the night and Merlin was still there, in his chair, either bordering on sleep or reading, he’d say nothing or do anything more than a curt nod a movement of lips that almost looked like a smile.
It didn’t happen all the time, maybe once or twice a week, but Arthur almost felt like he and Emrys were slowly crossing the line to acquaintances. Which, he gathered, was a pretty big deal.
Arthur didn’t know why he kept going out. Maybe it was the routine or his adoration for the night, but, either way, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the feeling of being the only one around.
He always liked the night. It wasn’t an undying love or anything, he hadn’t prepared a sonnet or declared himself a glorified Child of the Night but, compared to the day where the hustle and bustle hurt his ears and set traffic in his mind, the night was a nice way to be alone.
Arthur wasn’t scared of being caught-he never was-and, besides, if he were, the detention he would have had would be long overdue. He wrapped his jacket more tightly around him until the warmth sunk in.
The grounds were beautiful, even in the moonlight. The moon shone on the grass and twinkled over the pond. He wished his friends were here but he knew better. Lance would not sacrifice his beauty sleep for a few minutes outside where he’d spend a majority of that time yawning, though Morgana would be up for it. Sometimes he thought she had more of a knack for trouble than Lance would but then Lance would hex Professor Aulfric’s chair and that would be that.
Gwen wouldn’t come with him, though, because she was more of the ‘responsible’ one, whatever that meant for a twelve-year-old that hung out with kids with a reputation. He figured she was only responsible, or her variation of it, because they needed her to be. Arthur was almost sure that, without her guidance and smacking on the arm, they’d be ten feet under the lake already.
Suddenly, like it was out of a nightmare, he heard sobs.
It was chilling, the sob, the whimper, that he couldn’t see the origin of. Arthur wanted to turn back, to carefully tread through the castle and hide under his sheets but Pendragons weren’t scared. Besides, whoever dared to come out of the castle to cry on the grounds must be having a really rough time.
He slowly walked towards where he thought the cries were coming from, his heart is his mouth all the time, but when he saw what it was, or, more specifically, who it was, it jumped out of surprise.
Gwen. Sweet, lovely Gwen who couldn’t have been anywhere else but her bed at this time, the one who prided her modesty above all else, was here, whimpering, skin naked and bruised.
Arthur gasped and felt a weight in his chest. He unwrapped his jacket and circled it around Gwen, instead, until she was modest enough to be seen. He sat there with her on the ground for a while, holding her in his arms, saying soft ‘ssh’s and ‘it’s alright’ and brushing away the dark curly hair away from her face.
He felt his own eyes well up as Gwen’s whimpers died down to a bare minimum, as the night was as silent as it always should’ve been.
Gwen was, in five words or less, scared. Arthur hadn’t seen her Change, of course, but the scars and the fact that she was naked-oh God, she had been naked in front of Arthur-in restricted areas of the Academy ground had to raise some suspicions. They might not be the assumption that Gwen was a lycanthrope but it was undoubtedly enough to discuss it with Morgana and Lance and she couldn’t even think about what they would say.
She spent the morning classes sitting in her seat, thinking about what was going through Arthur’s head, if he had told Morgana and Lance. He acted like nothing was wrong around him which bothered her even more. She was too distracted with these thought that she managed to raise an eyebrow on Aglain’s part when she messed up her Levicorpus Spell.
During their lunch break, Gwen didn’t actually eat lunch. She sat in a cubicle of the girl’s bathroom for a while until she realized that, despite she loved her friends dearly, she only had one person she could really talk to.
Professor Tregor was standing outside of Professor Taliesin’s office. She didn’t seem like she was entering said office, more like inspecting the brick walls or the statue leading up to Taliesin’s office. “Ah, Guinevere,” she smiled at her. Gwen was taken aback. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“I just…I didn’t know you knew my name,” Gwen said.
“Arthur’s friends are famous but I always thought you were a bit too bright for them. I suspect you’ve though that, too,” Tregor looked at her, like they were sharing an inside joke. “Regardless, I’ve always known your name, Guinevere.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Gwen said, feeling a blush in her cheeks.
“You’re here to see Professor Taliesin, I assume?” Gwen nodded. “Well, come now.”
Tregor stood in front of the statue of the eagle and spoke out the word, “Tennyson,” and its wings, which had been spread out before, closed up, revealing stairs behind it.
“Go on, then,” Tregor patted her on the back.
Gwen smiled anxiously and headed up the stairs, regardless but, right now, the only person in the castle walls that knew what she was was Taliesin. He was who her parents approached when she got her letter to the Academy. They figured the Headmaster needed to know who he was letting in.
“I know about Guinevere,” he had said, surprising all of them. He was just standing there, in his long, flowing robes that looked like someone had ripped it and put it back to together again using mediocre tools, making tea, and saying he was pretty much chill with a werewolf in his school.
“And you’re still okay will letting her in?” Gwen’s mother had asked.
“Discrimination happens far too often in our world and in the Muggle world, I wager. I will not let an innocent girl, who must be brilliant, be disregarded the chance of education because of her little problem. Werewolves are still humans, regardless of what they do every full moon, they still love and feel and get hurt. They deserve just a chance at life as all of us do. Everyone does.”
Taliesin then inched towards her and she suddenly felt small in her chair. “Guinevere, I know you hate what’s happening to you and if I could help you, I would, but understand that it is a part of you now.”
Now, heading back up to the office, where she was welcomed back by the huge shelves of books on each side and the big oval space that would open up to a smaller, circular space with a big desk, Gwen was faced with what she’d always been scared of.
“Professor?” she called out.
She heard a crash from behind her and turned, seeing the Professor with tangled robes and dirt on his face.
“Guinevere, this is quite a surprise,” he said, spelling his appearance to its normal, clean state. “I was just organizing the back room. The things you accumulate in your years is astonishing, really. Now, why have you come to see me, child?”
“Can we sit down, sir?” she asked timidly.
“Of course, come to the desk,” Taliesin said gently.
He walked over to his own desk that was decorated with piles of papers and a number of unidentifiable objects she was sure she would soon find in a Defense against the Dark Arts text book or a pamphlet about what contained powerful magic. The elderly man raised his wand to pour a cup of tea for her but didn’t bother to clean the mess, as if to make a point that the mess was a part of him.
“Now, what’s wrong?”
Professor Taliesin had such a way of asking the question that she felt like she wasn’t burdening him, instead, relieving him of some kind of other burden. He wasn’t like the other teachers because it was so obvious he cared.
So Gwen told him, about how last night had been a full moon and she had escaped the dormitories, as she always had, and went to a secluded area of the grounds but had, somehow, broken out of her chains and had run rampage.
“It was lucky no one was hurt, sir, but, someone did find me.”
And she told him about how Arthur had found her, had wrapped her in a protective embrace and carried her back to the dorm room. And also of how she was scared he would do anything about this.
Taliesin sat in silence for a moment or two, his lips pursed and his hands together in some sort of prayer and finally said, “Well, Miss Leodegrance, from what you’ve told me, this should not be a question of doubt or fear. It is one of friendship.”
“Sir?”
“If Arthur was truly a friend, he would tell a soul about you and, instead, accept you as you are. As would Miss Lefay and Mr. DuLac. You do remember what I told you when I first met you, don’t you?”
“That my, uh, problem is a part of me now.”
“Exactly,” Taliesin smiled. “If they were truly your friends, they would accept all parts of you. My suggestion would be to tell them the truth but that is your choice, Guinevere. That way, you are relieving yourself of a question and trying to embrace the answer.”
“Professor…”
“Be brave, Guinevere. Be brave, starting with your friends.”
The Gryffindor common room looked exactly the kind of place she needed. The warmth of the fireplace reached her toes and the people around it were all people she knew; from Gwaine and Leon, to Arthur who had his legs on Morgana’s lap and Lance surrounded by their History of Magic homework.
Professor Taliesin’s voice kept repeating themselves in her head. Be brave, Guinevere, be brave. She had always admired the bravery and courage in others, especially in her fellow Gryffindors and she figured she had to start admiring herself.
“Guys?” Gwen approached her friends.
Arthur glanced up to her and there was a sudden flicker of panic and fear, like he was scared she might Change right now and claw at his face but that soon disappeared and was replaced by a cold look. Not cold, exactly, more…emotionless.
“Hey, Gwen,” Lance smiled at her. He didn’t know. Arthur hadn’t told him.
“Can I talk to you guys? Somewhere?”
Morgana and Lance raised their eyebrows to each other but Arthur immediately untangled himself from the extra limbs and stood next to her, ready to follow her lead. The other two followed suit as Gwen walked away from the crowd and sat on a couch at the far end of the room instead. They all huddled around her; Arthur standing up with his arms crossed, Lance across from her and Morgana on the floor, hand on her knee.
Lance was the first to ask. “What’s wrong?”
Be brave, Guinevere
“I have to tell you guys something.”
“Gwen?” Morgana’s voice cracked with concern. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”
“Just let her talk,” Arthur said sternly.
Just peel it off, Gwen, just peel the Band-Aid off. Quick and easy.
“I’m a werewolf.”
There, the Band-Aid’s gone. Is it supposed to be this silent?
Arthur’s stature changed from being as straight as a stick to something equivalent to jelly. He drooped down and so did his eyes. Morgana kept her hand over her mouth, practically shivering. Lance’s eyes grew wide and his mouth open, as if to say words he couldn’t think of at the moment.
They all locked eyes with each other for split-second; it was all they needed to deliberate what they needed to do.
Morgana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Gwen, as if to say Hugs Now, Questions Later. And Gwen hadn’t known how much she wanted to cry until all of them were in the same hug, too.
They had bombarded Gwen with questions, at first, more playful than serious (“Do you, like, shed fur or something?” “Are you always naked? Hm….”) because she knew them well enough to know that they were saving the serious stuff for when the next time the full moon came around.
Arthur had then resumed to being himself again or a highly functioning variation of himself because concern was etched in his eyes. Whether it was for himself or for Gwen, she couldn’t figure out. She didn’t want him to change, not ever. If there was ever a constant in her life, it had to be Arthur and that constant needed to be, well, constant, as well.
She slept on that couch of the common room that night, with Morgana’s head on her lap and her own on Lance’s chest while Arthur slept across from them, still managing to have his feet press against Morgana’s side.
The morning they all woke, nothing had seemed to change. They had spent a few nights like this, tangled in each other until they didn’t know where one ended and the one began, and it was nothing extraordinary.
They all stretched and got dressed and went down for breakfast. It was almost like an erase button had been pressed before they fell asleep. Gwen wanted to ask about it but she was scared to break this spell, that things were back to where they were, with no detour brought on by her lycanthropy.
Gwaine sat down next to them on the Gryffindor table, peering over Morgana’s shoulder to see what the headlines for the Daily Prophet were. “Hullo, all,” he said cheerfully, whipping a strand of hair away from his eyes.
“Hullo, fabulous hair,” Morgana said with a condescending smile. “And not so fabulous person.”
“You say that now,” Gwaine smirked. “Wait until I try out for Quidditch in a few weeks.”
“Oh, not you, too,” Gwen shook her head.
“Yes, me, too, darling,” Gwaine nodded proudly and shared a high-five with Arthur and Lance.
“We hang out with too much testosterone,” Morgana said to Gwen.
“It’s better than running the werewolves, eh?” Gwaine chewed on his banana, unaware of the implications of the sentence. He just broke the spell.
Gwen could see all three of them looking at her then Lance raised his eyebrow like this was something unusual and started laughing. This action was followed by Morgana and Arthur and, soon enough, Gwen.
She didn’t even know why they were laughing but she knew why they weren’t dejecting Gwaine by saying werewolves were worst than excessive amounts of testosterone: they had accepted her, in the most natural way they could, in a way of happiness and in such a way that it could only be described as carefree, easy. Like they had always known they were never going to leave her, no matter what.
“What’s happening? I don’t get the joke!” Gwaine cried.
“Nothing, mate,” Arthur managed to say between howls of laughter. “It’s just, I’m sure werewolves aren’t that bad.”
He wanted to say that everything changed, that whenever he looked at Gwen now, he saw the sharp teeth and wild tangles of fur she would evolve to in a few days, but, no, she was still the same.
And Lance cared for her, regardless.
He figured she could be a lycanthrope or a shape-shifter or a goblin in disguise and he would still care for her as long as she had the same smile.
He found her now, in the common room, on the desk. Usually, when she was in this state, she was poring of History of Magic notes or trying to recite the charms she’d been thought just the day before but, today, however, her notes were strewn about, not being paid attention to and she was leaning against the couch.
“Not doing homework, then, Gwenny?” Lance asked, sitting down next to her.
“Can’t bother,” she shrugged. “Tonight’s the full moon and I doubt I’ll be well enough to get out of bed, let alone get to class.”
“Tonight? Oh, hell, tonight?”
“Lance, what’s wrong?” Gwen put her hand on his shoulder.
“Nothing, nothing,” he shook his head fervently just to make a solid point. “It’s just, it’s the first full moon since we found out and I always thought we’d make a bit of a party of it, you know, just so you can have some fond memories of this time of the month.”
“Party?” Gwen laughs.
“Yeah, I was thinking like me and Morgana could sneak into the kitchens again and get some of that chicken rolls you love and Arthur could pull those impressions of Tregor. Just so you remember some fun.”
Now that he said it, it sounded lame, it sounded like a lame attempt at a joke no one would get.
“Oh my God,” Gwen smiled. “That would’ve been so fun!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s alright that didn’t happen, though. It’s the thought that counts and your thoughts are wonderful.” Once again, the blush crept across her face. “I mean-uh, your-oh, you understand!”
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Lance pulled her in a headlock, in which she flailed around, trying to escape his grasp.
“Stop it! Stop it!” she yelled between her laughs.
He did, but encircled his arm around her shoulder instead and gave her a fond kiss on the top of her head.
“Tell me you’ll be alright,” he said suddenly. He couldn’t help it. The worries he had for Gwen had just increased tenfold and he needed to know she was going to be okay. He knew she’d been through this before, a lot of times, without his help, but he just needed to know.
Gwen looked up to him and she didn’t look like the blushing, shy girl anymore. If anything, she was reminding him of what a real mother should look like; that kind of reassurance in her eyes and the understanding lining her lips.
“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” she said softly, so soft that only the two of them could hear it and she gave him a kiss on the cheek just to prove her point.
The day was dark, almost too unsuitable to be the day Quidditch tryouts were being held but, nonetheless, when Gwen and Morgana sat down at the stands, there were dozens of Gryffindors huddled together on the field, ready to mount their school-issued brooms and fly.
Three of said Gryffindors were, of course, Arthur, Lance and Gwaine. Arthur spotted them and waved, a motion mirrored by the other two boys.
“Oh, hello there!” a cheerful voice said to them.
“Elena!” Gwen patted the seat next to her.
The Ravenclaw second-year happily sat down and then asked, “Here for Arthur and Lance?”
“Yes,” Morgana and Gwen said simultaneously. “You?”
“It’s a nice day to be out and I’ve finished all my homework so I thought I might as well, humour myself with watching with watching Gryffindors flying around like kites,” Elena said absent-mindedly. “Also, Gwaine wanted me to come.”
Another one of their friends joined on the stands. Leon sat next to Morgana who seemed surprised by his presence.
“Not trying out, then?” she asked.
“Nah, maybe next year,” Leon answered, shrugging his shoulders.
“You are the first sensible boy in our house, then,” Gwen smiled at him.
“I’m surprised you’re not trying out, Morgana. You’ve got a Chaser’s build, eh?” Leon nudged her.
“It’s crossed my mind, what with being surrounded by boys who talk about nothing but Quidditch but, nah, maybe next year,” Morgana smiled.
“Oh look,” Elena pointed to the sky stabbed with big poles and holes like really big bubble-makers. “They’re up.”
The four of them observed the girls and boys flying and whooped whenever Arthur, Lance or Gwaine took one for the team.
It was the most graphic dream he’d had in years.
It was raining and the trees in his dream seemed abnormally large, towering over him, eventually, crowding him with their shadows, making Lance second-guess whether or not he really wasn’t claustrophobic. The rain hit him but he was never wet.
His clothes stayed dry as he walked past the huge trees and saw that he was in a huge field. He didn’t know how or why, but he could feel the grass underneath his feet but it didn’t feel like grass at all, more like rubber stretched together.
Lance walked some more before he heard a loud, distinct growl, further up in the field. Once again, reason had no hold over him in his dream state, so he walked towards the growl. The sound was hiding behind a tree then it came out, the sound and its holder.
The wolf was as long as he was tall and the fur clumped together, due to the rain Lance couldn’t feel. Its eyes were yellow and its tail wagging. As much as his focus was on the wolf, it paid him no such attention and, instead, growled at the back of him.
Lance turned and saw the huge figure of an animal. Said animal - he couldn’t figure out what it was - jumped towards the wolf and wrestled with it. After a brief moment of struggle, the wolf began to whimper and ultimately surrendered. The other animal, however, didn’t give a roar of victory or begin to eat the wolf, but it gave the same small whimper and rubbed itself against the wolf, almost comfortingly.
Then a roll of thunder rumbled and Lance woke with a start. He quickly jumped out of bed, tossing his sheets to the floor. He went to Arthur’s bed and tried to shake his friend awake. Arthur groaned and grumbled, as Lance knew he would, so he did what he had to do and swung his legs over and sat on Arthur’s legs jumping on them for good measure.
“Geroff! Stop jumping!” Arthur swatted his hands like Lance was some kind of insect.
“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!” Lance said excitedly.
“What?” Arthur hissed, his eyes beginning to open.
“I just had a dream.”
“Well done, mate, really, fantastic,” Arthur said sarcastically.
“Listen!” Lance hit his chest.
“I’m listening!”
“I know how to help Gwen.”
“With what?” Arthur asked angrily
“Her ‘furry’ problem,” Lance said, complete with the hand gestures.
“How?” Arthur pushed Lance aside and sat up in his bed.
Lance beckoned him closer then whispers, “We turn into animals, too.”
PART THREE
Lance couldn’t wait to get back to the Academy. He had said goodbye to his parents and Elyan, who didn’t wish to send their son through the barrier (the explanation that he was twelve now sufficed enough) and was now waiting for people to shuffle in so he could get aboard.
The letters he’d been writing to Arthur, Gwen and Morgana had left something to be desired, which was, basically, a desire to be missed.
Honestly, if he went out of the house for a few weeks, all his parents would notice was that the living room seemed more spacious because it no longer held Lance sprawled on the couch in an inappropriate fashion and his books. Elyan would notice, though, his baby brother. He was ten now, starting his own academic career next year but Lance knew he was slowly losing him to his parents.
In a few more months, there wouldn’t be anymore picnics outside the house or in an old room inside Grimmauld Place and the ‘Lance and Ely Cool Club’ would be disbanded. He wished he could help him, he really did.
“Lance!”
He turned and saw Gwen, who stood in a stand-still for a moment or two until she finally decided it wasn’t worth it and ran towards him, putting her arms around him.
“Well, hullo, there, Guinevere,” Lance smiled against the fabric of her shirt.
“Don’t call me that,” Gwen smacked his arm when she pulled away.
“Seen Arthur or Morgana?” he asked.
“Morgana told me they were hitching a ride together so we probably won’t be seeing one without the other.” Gwen shrugged.
“I’m tired of waiting, though. Let’s find a cabin first and we’ll find them later, yeah?”
Before Gwen could answer, Lance took her by the hand and manoeuvred her inside the Express. She linked their arms together and started talking.
Lance liked it when Gwen talked; when she was really excited, she talked really fast then, when the run was over, she’d looked embarrassed by it, as if she just gave away parts of her soul in conversation.
“My mum wants to meet you, you know. Well, not you singularly, but Arthur and Morgana, as well. She wants to thank you or something,” Gwen said
“Thank us? Why?” Lance asked.
“For taking care of me.” Gwen suddenly felt embarrassed (right on time, really) and quickly said, “Her words, not mine.”
“Tell your mum we’d love to come see her some time. I wanna see where Gwen Leodegrance lives, anyway. I keep imagining cows on a farm, for some reason.”
“I think that might be an insult, DuLac.”
“You’d never know it.” Lance gave a small laugh. “And, uh, tell your mum. I, mean, we, love taking care of you.”
Gwen blushed at this and tried to cover it up by swinging her dark curls over to the side of her face before looking down and proceeding to ask him about his summer holidays.
And, because it was Gwen, he told her everything that had happened with Elyan and his parents, or the lack of happening at all. He told her about how his favourite cousin, Emmyria, had come to visit him and how she’d taken him to her cottage to meet her new boyfriend, a Muggle-born wizard by the name of William.
“My family’s pissed at Emmy for doing that. I think they’re going to take her off the wall next.” Lance shook his head, remembering the wall back at Grimmauld Place.
He used to stand in that room and just be overwhelmed by how many people he really did dislike-because hate was such a strong word-in his family, and then smile because Emmy’s name was there and he’d get up and write a letter to her.
“She sounds like a nice person,” Gwen said, about Emmy.
“She is.”
Lance saw an empty cabin a few steps away and led them inside. There was no sign of Arthur or Morgana yet and there really was no point of searching each and every cabin in the train for a cocky blonde boy and with a pretty girl by his side. And, besides, Lance and Gwen were pretty much okay by themselves.
Lance preferred it, sometimes, the company of the sweet, shy, fun girl instead of Arthur’s. Arthur was still his best friend and he probably would be for years to come, but the company of Gwen right now was like a present, like a family he was proud to call his own.
Gwen seemed knackered for the first half of the ride and she usually kept talking whenever she was tired but, by the time the sceneries changed, Gwen was sleeping with her mouth open (quite decently, which was a feat in itself). Her head lolled to the side which could give her major cramps in the neck when she woke up.
He smiled to himself and inched closer to Gwen, carefully taking her head and putting it on his shoulder. She gave a subconscious moan of thanks in her sleep as he started reading his book.
Merlin felt like he’d been half-asleep for months. It was like his feet were never moving the way he wanted them to move and his hands always felt like they were just extra appendages. He felt sick every other day and even Freya couldn’t help him as much.
He didn’t know why he felt like this but he hoped that once he returned to the Academy, he would feel a lot better.
He came with Freya, as he always did, and she held his hand, as she always did, but things seemed different somehow. He was happier, sure, now that he was on the Platform but something felt missing, like there was something in his hands he should be holding but forgot what it was.
Freya waved her hand over his face, snapping him out of concentration.
“You alright?” she asked, stopping their walk through the corridor of the Express.
“Yeah, just fine. I got some stuff in my head,” Merlin said, almost sadly.
“Sure?”
Merlin smiled; Frey always was one to care about him, even when his parents didn’t, despite her Slytherin house. Maybe they were wrong, after all. Not all the kids who were sorted into Slytherin turned out all bad. Freya loved him.
“Positive.” He even made a note to make his smile a little more believable this time.
Merlin tried to find an empty cabin, just to keep his mind off of everything that was never there and was unsuccessful, but, did, however, find a cabin where the only occupants were his friends Gwaine and Leon.
“Hey, there, mate,” Gwaine greeted him cheerfully, passing him a Chocolate Frog as some sort of gesture of kindness through food.
“Had nice hols everyone?” Leon asked them, because he was polite like that.
“Brilliant,” Gwaine answered. “Me and my uncle went to go watch a Quidditch match. It’s been forever since the last we went and I swear, I can still hear the cannons in my ears.”
“Nice, Gwaine,” Leon nodded, chewing on his candy. He turned to Merlin and Freya. “Ever been to a Quidditch match?”
“Nope, never,” Merlin shook his head. “Not even the school ones.”
“The school ones are alright but, mate, you’ve got to see the real ones. They’re brilliant. I could take you sometime, yeah? You, too, Frey.” Gwaine smiled.
“Sounds good,” Freya nodded when Merlin didn’t answer.
He was too busy looking out the window. The rain was splattering on the glass and he could almost feel something. The same feeling he’d been feeling for months now, towards the rain, and the green pastures he knew were hidden behind it. The nature of the world, he felt a pull towards it.
“Merlin?” Leon asked. “Merlin, you alright there?”
“Just leave him. He’s probably having some kind of shock,” an amused voice said.
It was neither Gwaine nor Leon but Merlin didn’t need to turn around to see who it was.
“Piss off, Pendragon,” Merlin said, turning to him and putting anger and grimace on his face.
Arthur was standing in the doorway, like he was a year ago, with Morgana by his side. He looked like he ran the place and he did. Most first-years last year worshipped him and there was no doubt he was going to try out for Quidditch this year so he’d have a bigger legion of fans. That pompous arse.
“My, my, someone’s testy today,” Arthur laughed.
“Arthur, please,” Leon said.
“Nothing to it, Leon. I’m not doing any harm, now am I?”
“I’m surprised Freya here isn’t that talkative,” Morgana sneered, looking at the girl.
“I don’t need to justify myself to a pair of school-class bullies that don’t even know what the world looks like without their cockiness,” Freya practically hissed.
“Yeah, well, Frey-” Arthur inched closer to her.
“Don’t do anything to her,” Merlin suddenly felt all his pent-up anger in the palm of his hand.
“Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” Arthur challenged
Merlin stood up and felt a sudden rush of confidence and, for some reason, an out-of-body experience in which he was watching himself speak up, one more time, to Arthur, saying, “Piss. Off.”
Then, something happened. He raised his hand and a blast of blue light escaped his palm to hit Arthur in the chest. He had felt it rise up from his feet, flow through his veins and arteries, setting his brain into one simple notion and turn it into motion.
Arthur fell on his back, then got up, rubbing his head, with the help of Morgana. He didn’t say anything, no menacing comment about how Merlin would hear from Professor Tregor the second they got off the Express. He just looked at him like he’d misunderstood him all this time.
“Merlin?” Freya asked. It was the last thing he heard before the power he held in his hands surged into his brain, carefully knocking him out.
“You should report him,” Morgana said, fussing over him during the welcome-back feast.
“I don’t think you should,” Gwen shook her head. “It was accidental magic. It happens to the best of us and he is only a second-year. It’s no use telling the Professors about it.”
“Suddenly you’re so against the law?” Lance asked.
“Merlin’s a good guy. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it.” Gwen shrugged.
Arthur looked at her. If there was ever an emergency or problem, he usually looked to Gwen for her level-headedness and he wanted to listen to her this time because, regardless of who Merlin was to him, or who he wasn’t, accidental magic was bound to happen to any inexperienced student.
But there was something nagging at the back of his head, about how unnatural it seemed when Merlin blasted him like that, how it hurt more than he thought it would and how, for a split-second, he almost thought he saw gold in his eyes.
“Happier topic?” Arthur asked of his friends.
Lance didn’t say anything but he did, however, pass him a chicken leg from his plate like dogs sharing, which is actually just as good as a reassuring word or two.
Arthur didn’t see the point of sleeping so early. Lance, he knew, was happy to fall asleep with a sated stomach on his belly on the bed. He didn’t quite know the girls’ sleeping patterns but he assumed that Morgana was the same as Lance and Gwen would spend a few minutes in bed with a flashlight and a book. He’d caught her once or twice in the common room doing just that. Both times, he joined her.
He wrapped his jacket around him, pulled his hoodie up and walked down the stairs to the common room. Luckily, everyone in the right mind was already asleep and he was alone. Arthur saw something moving in one of the chairs and caught his breath when he saw it was Merlin, wrapped up in a blanket, seemingly asleep.
He almost looked decent like this.
Merlin suddenly jumped up like he was having a spasm, his hair flying away and his eyes bulging open, tossing the blanket to the floor in the process of all his flailing.
“Oh,” he said when he saw that he was seeing Arthur. “I thought I was alone.”
“Go back to sleep, then, Emrys.” Arthur shrugged like any choice Merlin Emrys would make wouldn’t make a difference to him anyway.
“I take it I’m going to be hearing from Tregor tomorrow morning about what happened on the train?” The way Merlin looked to him, his eyes up, it almost seemed hopeful; like it was a friend asking another friend for a favour, one he’d repay one day.
Arthur didn’t answer, he couldn’t; Pendragons never glorified their enemies with proper answers but he did smirk. He bent down and took the blanket Merlin had tossed away before and threw it in his face (not so hard, he made sure, because Pendragons had hearts, really).
“I’m not telling her about your midnight stroll, either,” Merlin replied to Arthur’s non-existent answer.
“I appreciate that.”
Arthur turned and started towards the exit, only to turn back (he didn’t know why he did, he really didn’t) and see Merlin Emrys curled up like a cat with his blanket, his legs tucked to his chest and toes peeking out and feel his heart curl up in the same way.
Since then, he and Emrys had a silent agreement. Whenever Arthur got out of bed in the middle of the night and Merlin was still there, in his chair, either bordering on sleep or reading, he’d say nothing or do anything more than a curt nod a movement of lips that almost looked like a smile.
It didn’t happen all the time, maybe once or twice a week, but Arthur almost felt like he and Emrys were slowly crossing the line to acquaintances. Which, he gathered, was a pretty big deal.
Arthur didn’t know why he kept going out. Maybe it was the routine or his adoration for the night, but, either way, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the feeling of being the only one around.
He always liked the night. It wasn’t an undying love or anything, he hadn’t prepared a sonnet or declared himself a glorified Child of the Night but, compared to the day where the hustle and bustle hurt his ears and set traffic in his mind, the night was a nice way to be alone.
Arthur wasn’t scared of being caught-he never was-and, besides, if he were, the detention he would have had would be long overdue. He wrapped his jacket more tightly around him until the warmth sunk in.
The grounds were beautiful, even in the moonlight. The moon shone on the grass and twinkled over the pond. He wished his friends were here but he knew better. Lance would not sacrifice his beauty sleep for a few minutes outside where he’d spend a majority of that time yawning, though Morgana would be up for it. Sometimes he thought she had more of a knack for trouble than Lance would but then Lance would hex Professor Aulfric’s chair and that would be that.
Gwen wouldn’t come with him, though, because she was more of the ‘responsible’ one, whatever that meant for a twelve-year-old that hung out with kids with a reputation. He figured she was only responsible, or her variation of it, because they needed her to be. Arthur was almost sure that, without her guidance and smacking on the arm, they’d be ten feet under the lake already.
Suddenly, like it was out of a nightmare, he heard sobs.
It was chilling, the sob, the whimper, that he couldn’t see the origin of. Arthur wanted to turn back, to carefully tread through the castle and hide under his sheets but Pendragons weren’t scared. Besides, whoever dared to come out of the castle to cry on the grounds must be having a really rough time.
He slowly walked towards where he thought the cries were coming from, his heart is his mouth all the time, but when he saw what it was, or, more specifically, who it was, it jumped out of surprise.
Gwen. Sweet, lovely Gwen who couldn’t have been anywhere else but her bed at this time, the one who prided her modesty above all else, was here, whimpering, skin naked and bruised.
Arthur gasped and felt a weight in his chest. He unwrapped his jacket and circled it around Gwen, instead, until she was modest enough to be seen. He sat there with her on the ground for a while, holding her in his arms, saying soft ‘ssh’s and ‘it’s alright’ and brushing away the dark curly hair away from her face.
He felt his own eyes well up as Gwen’s whimpers died down to a bare minimum, as the night was as silent as it always should’ve been.
Gwen was, in five words or less, scared. Arthur hadn’t seen her Change, of course, but the scars and the fact that she was naked-oh God, she had been naked in front of Arthur-in restricted areas of the Academy ground had to raise some suspicions. They might not be the assumption that Gwen was a lycanthrope but it was undoubtedly enough to discuss it with Morgana and Lance and she couldn’t even think about what they would say.
She spent the morning classes sitting in her seat, thinking about what was going through Arthur’s head, if he had told Morgana and Lance. He acted like nothing was wrong around him which bothered her even more. She was too distracted with these thought that she managed to raise an eyebrow on Aglain’s part when she messed up her Levicorpus Spell.
During their lunch break, Gwen didn’t actually eat lunch. She sat in a cubicle of the girl’s bathroom for a while until she realized that, despite she loved her friends dearly, she only had one person she could really talk to.
Professor Tregor was standing outside of Professor Taliesin’s office. She didn’t seem like she was entering said office, more like inspecting the brick walls or the statue leading up to Taliesin’s office. “Ah, Guinevere,” she smiled at her. Gwen was taken aback. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“I just…I didn’t know you knew my name,” Gwen said.
“Arthur’s friends are famous but I always thought you were a bit too bright for them. I suspect you’ve though that, too,” Tregor looked at her, like they were sharing an inside joke. “Regardless, I’ve always known your name, Guinevere.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Gwen said, feeling a blush in her cheeks.
“You’re here to see Professor Taliesin, I assume?” Gwen nodded. “Well, come now.”
Tregor stood in front of the statue of the eagle and spoke out the word, “Tennyson,” and its wings, which had been spread out before, closed up, revealing stairs behind it.
“Go on, then,” Tregor patted her on the back.
Gwen smiled anxiously and headed up the stairs, regardless but, right now, the only person in the castle walls that knew what she was was Taliesin. He was who her parents approached when she got her letter to the Academy. They figured the Headmaster needed to know who he was letting in.
“I know about Guinevere,” he had said, surprising all of them. He was just standing there, in his long, flowing robes that looked like someone had ripped it and put it back to together again using mediocre tools, making tea, and saying he was pretty much chill with a werewolf in his school.
“And you’re still okay will letting her in?” Gwen’s mother had asked.
“Discrimination happens far too often in our world and in the Muggle world, I wager. I will not let an innocent girl, who must be brilliant, be disregarded the chance of education because of her little problem. Werewolves are still humans, regardless of what they do every full moon, they still love and feel and get hurt. They deserve just a chance at life as all of us do. Everyone does.”
Taliesin then inched towards her and she suddenly felt small in her chair. “Guinevere, I know you hate what’s happening to you and if I could help you, I would, but understand that it is a part of you now.”
Now, heading back up to the office, where she was welcomed back by the huge shelves of books on each side and the big oval space that would open up to a smaller, circular space with a big desk, Gwen was faced with what she’d always been scared of.
“Professor?” she called out.
She heard a crash from behind her and turned, seeing the Professor with tangled robes and dirt on his face.
“Guinevere, this is quite a surprise,” he said, spelling his appearance to its normal, clean state. “I was just organizing the back room. The things you accumulate in your years is astonishing, really. Now, why have you come to see me, child?”
“Can we sit down, sir?” she asked timidly.
“Of course, come to the desk,” Taliesin said gently.
He walked over to his own desk that was decorated with piles of papers and a number of unidentifiable objects she was sure she would soon find in a Defense against the Dark Arts text book or a pamphlet about what contained powerful magic. The elderly man raised his wand to pour a cup of tea for her but didn’t bother to clean the mess, as if to make a point that the mess was a part of him.
“Now, what’s wrong?”
Professor Taliesin had such a way of asking the question that she felt like she wasn’t burdening him, instead, relieving him of some kind of other burden. He wasn’t like the other teachers because it was so obvious he cared.
So Gwen told him, about how last night had been a full moon and she had escaped the dormitories, as she always had, and went to a secluded area of the grounds but had, somehow, broken out of her chains and had run rampage.
“It was lucky no one was hurt, sir, but, someone did find me.”
And she told him about how Arthur had found her, had wrapped her in a protective embrace and carried her back to the dorm room. And also of how she was scared he would do anything about this.
Taliesin sat in silence for a moment or two, his lips pursed and his hands together in some sort of prayer and finally said, “Well, Miss Leodegrance, from what you’ve told me, this should not be a question of doubt or fear. It is one of friendship.”
“Sir?”
“If Arthur was truly a friend, he would tell a soul about you and, instead, accept you as you are. As would Miss Lefay and Mr. DuLac. You do remember what I told you when I first met you, don’t you?”
“That my, uh, problem is a part of me now.”
“Exactly,” Taliesin smiled. “If they were truly your friends, they would accept all parts of you. My suggestion would be to tell them the truth but that is your choice, Guinevere. That way, you are relieving yourself of a question and trying to embrace the answer.”
“Professor…”
“Be brave, Guinevere. Be brave, starting with your friends.”
The Gryffindor common room looked exactly the kind of place she needed. The warmth of the fireplace reached her toes and the people around it were all people she knew; from Gwaine and Leon, to Arthur who had his legs on Morgana’s lap and Lance surrounded by their History of Magic homework.
Professor Taliesin’s voice kept repeating themselves in her head. Be brave, Guinevere, be brave. She had always admired the bravery and courage in others, especially in her fellow Gryffindors and she figured she had to start admiring herself.
“Guys?” Gwen approached her friends.
Arthur glanced up to her and there was a sudden flicker of panic and fear, like he was scared she might Change right now and claw at his face but that soon disappeared and was replaced by a cold look. Not cold, exactly, more…emotionless.
“Hey, Gwen,” Lance smiled at her. He didn’t know. Arthur hadn’t told him.
“Can I talk to you guys? Somewhere?”
Morgana and Lance raised their eyebrows to each other but Arthur immediately untangled himself from the extra limbs and stood next to her, ready to follow her lead. The other two followed suit as Gwen walked away from the crowd and sat on a couch at the far end of the room instead. They all huddled around her; Arthur standing up with his arms crossed, Lance across from her and Morgana on the floor, hand on her knee.
Lance was the first to ask. “What’s wrong?”
Be brave, Guinevere
“I have to tell you guys something.”
“Gwen?” Morgana’s voice cracked with concern. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”
“Just let her talk,” Arthur said sternly.
Just peel it off, Gwen, just peel the Band-Aid off. Quick and easy.
“I’m a werewolf.”
There, the Band-Aid’s gone. Is it supposed to be this silent?
Arthur’s stature changed from being as straight as a stick to something equivalent to jelly. He drooped down and so did his eyes. Morgana kept her hand over her mouth, practically shivering. Lance’s eyes grew wide and his mouth open, as if to say words he couldn’t think of at the moment.
They all locked eyes with each other for split-second; it was all they needed to deliberate what they needed to do.
Morgana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Gwen, as if to say Hugs Now, Questions Later. And Gwen hadn’t known how much she wanted to cry until all of them were in the same hug, too.
They had bombarded Gwen with questions, at first, more playful than serious (“Do you, like, shed fur or something?” “Are you always naked? Hm….”) because she knew them well enough to know that they were saving the serious stuff for when the next time the full moon came around.
Arthur had then resumed to being himself again or a highly functioning variation of himself because concern was etched in his eyes. Whether it was for himself or for Gwen, she couldn’t figure out. She didn’t want him to change, not ever. If there was ever a constant in her life, it had to be Arthur and that constant needed to be, well, constant, as well.
She slept on that couch of the common room that night, with Morgana’s head on her lap and her own on Lance’s chest while Arthur slept across from them, still managing to have his feet press against Morgana’s side.
The morning they all woke, nothing had seemed to change. They had spent a few nights like this, tangled in each other until they didn’t know where one ended and the one began, and it was nothing extraordinary.
They all stretched and got dressed and went down for breakfast. It was almost like an erase button had been pressed before they fell asleep. Gwen wanted to ask about it but she was scared to break this spell, that things were back to where they were, with no detour brought on by her lycanthropy.
Gwaine sat down next to them on the Gryffindor table, peering over Morgana’s shoulder to see what the headlines for the Daily Prophet were. “Hullo, all,” he said cheerfully, whipping a strand of hair away from his eyes.
“Hullo, fabulous hair,” Morgana said with a condescending smile. “And not so fabulous person.”
“You say that now,” Gwaine smirked. “Wait until I try out for Quidditch in a few weeks.”
“Oh, not you, too,” Gwen shook her head.
“Yes, me, too, darling,” Gwaine nodded proudly and shared a high-five with Arthur and Lance.
“We hang out with too much testosterone,” Morgana said to Gwen.
“It’s better than running the werewolves, eh?” Gwaine chewed on his banana, unaware of the implications of the sentence. He just broke the spell.
Gwen could see all three of them looking at her then Lance raised his eyebrow like this was something unusual and started laughing. This action was followed by Morgana and Arthur and, soon enough, Gwen.
She didn’t even know why they were laughing but she knew why they weren’t dejecting Gwaine by saying werewolves were worst than excessive amounts of testosterone: they had accepted her, in the most natural way they could, in a way of happiness and in such a way that it could only be described as carefree, easy. Like they had always known they were never going to leave her, no matter what.
“What’s happening? I don’t get the joke!” Gwaine cried.
“Nothing, mate,” Arthur managed to say between howls of laughter. “It’s just, I’m sure werewolves aren’t that bad.”
He wanted to say that everything changed, that whenever he looked at Gwen now, he saw the sharp teeth and wild tangles of fur she would evolve to in a few days, but, no, she was still the same.
And Lance cared for her, regardless.
He figured she could be a lycanthrope or a shape-shifter or a goblin in disguise and he would still care for her as long as she had the same smile.
He found her now, in the common room, on the desk. Usually, when she was in this state, she was poring of History of Magic notes or trying to recite the charms she’d been thought just the day before but, today, however, her notes were strewn about, not being paid attention to and she was leaning against the couch.
“Not doing homework, then, Gwenny?” Lance asked, sitting down next to her.
“Can’t bother,” she shrugged. “Tonight’s the full moon and I doubt I’ll be well enough to get out of bed, let alone get to class.”
“Tonight? Oh, hell, tonight?”
“Lance, what’s wrong?” Gwen put her hand on his shoulder.
“Nothing, nothing,” he shook his head fervently just to make a solid point. “It’s just, it’s the first full moon since we found out and I always thought we’d make a bit of a party of it, you know, just so you can have some fond memories of this time of the month.”
“Party?” Gwen laughs.
“Yeah, I was thinking like me and Morgana could sneak into the kitchens again and get some of that chicken rolls you love and Arthur could pull those impressions of Tregor. Just so you remember some fun.”
Now that he said it, it sounded lame, it sounded like a lame attempt at a joke no one would get.
“Oh my God,” Gwen smiled. “That would’ve been so fun!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s alright that didn’t happen, though. It’s the thought that counts and your thoughts are wonderful.” Once again, the blush crept across her face. “I mean-uh, your-oh, you understand!”
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Lance pulled her in a headlock, in which she flailed around, trying to escape his grasp.
“Stop it! Stop it!” she yelled between her laughs.
He did, but encircled his arm around her shoulder instead and gave her a fond kiss on the top of her head.
“Tell me you’ll be alright,” he said suddenly. He couldn’t help it. The worries he had for Gwen had just increased tenfold and he needed to know she was going to be okay. He knew she’d been through this before, a lot of times, without his help, but he just needed to know.
Gwen looked up to him and she didn’t look like the blushing, shy girl anymore. If anything, she was reminding him of what a real mother should look like; that kind of reassurance in her eyes and the understanding lining her lips.
“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” she said softly, so soft that only the two of them could hear it and she gave him a kiss on the cheek just to prove her point.
The day was dark, almost too unsuitable to be the day Quidditch tryouts were being held but, nonetheless, when Gwen and Morgana sat down at the stands, there were dozens of Gryffindors huddled together on the field, ready to mount their school-issued brooms and fly.
Three of said Gryffindors were, of course, Arthur, Lance and Gwaine. Arthur spotted them and waved, a motion mirrored by the other two boys.
“Oh, hello there!” a cheerful voice said to them.
“Elena!” Gwen patted the seat next to her.
The Ravenclaw second-year happily sat down and then asked, “Here for Arthur and Lance?”
“Yes,” Morgana and Gwen said simultaneously. “You?”
“It’s a nice day to be out and I’ve finished all my homework so I thought I might as well, humour myself with watching with watching Gryffindors flying around like kites,” Elena said absent-mindedly. “Also, Gwaine wanted me to come.”
Another one of their friends joined on the stands. Leon sat next to Morgana who seemed surprised by his presence.
“Not trying out, then?” she asked.
“Nah, maybe next year,” Leon answered, shrugging his shoulders.
“You are the first sensible boy in our house, then,” Gwen smiled at him.
“I’m surprised you’re not trying out, Morgana. You’ve got a Chaser’s build, eh?” Leon nudged her.
“It’s crossed my mind, what with being surrounded by boys who talk about nothing but Quidditch but, nah, maybe next year,” Morgana smiled.
“Oh look,” Elena pointed to the sky stabbed with big poles and holes like really big bubble-makers. “They’re up.”
The four of them observed the girls and boys flying and whooped whenever Arthur, Lance or Gwaine took one for the team.
It was the most graphic dream he’d had in years.
It was raining and the trees in his dream seemed abnormally large, towering over him, eventually, crowding him with their shadows, making Lance second-guess whether or not he really wasn’t claustrophobic. The rain hit him but he was never wet.
His clothes stayed dry as he walked past the huge trees and saw that he was in a huge field. He didn’t know how or why, but he could feel the grass underneath his feet but it didn’t feel like grass at all, more like rubber stretched together.
Lance walked some more before he heard a loud, distinct growl, further up in the field. Once again, reason had no hold over him in his dream state, so he walked towards the growl. The sound was hiding behind a tree then it came out, the sound and its holder.
The wolf was as long as he was tall and the fur clumped together, due to the rain Lance couldn’t feel. Its eyes were yellow and its tail wagging. As much as his focus was on the wolf, it paid him no such attention and, instead, growled at the back of him.
Lance turned and saw the huge figure of an animal. Said animal - he couldn’t figure out what it was - jumped towards the wolf and wrestled with it. After a brief moment of struggle, the wolf began to whimper and ultimately surrendered. The other animal, however, didn’t give a roar of victory or begin to eat the wolf, but it gave the same small whimper and rubbed itself against the wolf, almost comfortingly.
Then a roll of thunder rumbled and Lance woke with a start. He quickly jumped out of bed, tossing his sheets to the floor. He went to Arthur’s bed and tried to shake his friend awake. Arthur groaned and grumbled, as Lance knew he would, so he did what he had to do and swung his legs over and sat on Arthur’s legs jumping on them for good measure.
“Geroff! Stop jumping!” Arthur swatted his hands like Lance was some kind of insect.
“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!” Lance said excitedly.
“What?” Arthur hissed, his eyes beginning to open.
“I just had a dream.”
“Well done, mate, really, fantastic,” Arthur said sarcastically.
“Listen!” Lance hit his chest.
“I’m listening!”
“I know how to help Gwen.”
“With what?” Arthur asked angrily
“Her ‘furry’ problem,” Lance said, complete with the hand gestures.
“How?” Arthur pushed Lance aside and sat up in his bed.
Lance beckoned him closer then whispers, “We turn into animals, too.”
PART THREE