~14~

"Er, is Arthur in?" Merlin asked, fist still raised to knock even though Leon had answered the door. He quickly lowered his hand when Leon raised an eyebrow, scratched his straw-colored hair, and looked over his shoulder.

"Your highness," he called groggily, "Merlin wants to know if you're in."

"I'm not!" came Arthur's voice back.

Leon sighed and turned to Merlin. "He says he's not in. Sorry."

Merlin groaned loudly. "Arthur! I just want to talk to you. Please."

"I said I'm not in!"

With a very put-upon sigh, Merlin pushed past Leon uninvited and stormed into the room. It was a very nice room, actually, and had only two beds—perks of being a Prefect, Merlin supposed, being able to share with your best friend. He marched over to the desk in front of the window, where Arthur was hunched over a book studying, twirling a quill in his hands.

Merlin took a deep breath, filling his lungs. "Arthur-I'm-sorry-I-sent-you-that-Howler-I-had-no-idea-that-it-would-turn-out-that-way-because-I-wasn't-thinking-as-usual-and-my-mum-and-uncle-already-yelled-at-me-so-don't-worry-about-that-and-I-didn't-mean-any-of-what-I-said-I-was-just-angry-after-the-match-and-I-wrote-it-in-the-heat-of-the-moment-so-please-don't-hate-me-because-if-you-do-I-don't-know-how-I'd-go-on-because-it's-bad-enough-with-the-bullies-and-I-don't-really-have-that-many-friends-anyway." He tapered off toward the end as he ran out of breath.

Arthur hadn't looked up from the pages of his book, nor given any indication that he'd heard the younger student at all. Merlin waited, wringing his hands.

At last the Prefect sighed. He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes with his other hand. "I suppose it's no matter, anyway," he said. "Everything you said was true."

"No," Merlin protested.

"Yes," Arthur said, looking up. "You were right, I am a prat."

"And a dollop-head," Leon piped in from his bed.

"Yes," Arthur said, "and that."

Merlin cocked his head agreeably. "Well, you're not wrong."

"Yes," Arthur sighed again. "Yes, well. What I mean is, I'm not angry with you."

"Oh, that's a relief," Merlin grinned. "Because with the way you were acting, I was sure that—"

"But," he interrupted, holding up a finger. "You'll have to make it up to me, Merlin."

Merlin's smile faded. "But you just said—"

"First, you have to serve me for a whole month. Whatever I say, you have to do it, no buts about it."

"That's—huh?"

"And you have to do extra Quidditch practices, no lazing about!"

"I'm not lazy!"

"And you have to go on a date with me."

"That's not fair!" Merlin exclaimed. "You just said that you weren't angry with me, so why would I have to make up for anything? I'm not a servant, and I am certainly not lazy, and I'll definitely not date—sorry? Date? You mean, you and me? Together?"

Arthur raised an imperious eyebrow, but Merlin could see some uncertainty lurking in the depths of his blue eyes. "All right, fine," he said. "Disregard the first two, then. But go out with me, Merlin. It's the only way."

Merlin flushed.

"My mum watches shows like this on the telly," Leon said from across the room where he was flicking through a Daily Prophet.

"What's a telly?" Arthur asked.

"A Muggle device that puts together photographs and radio," Merlin said. "It tells people news and things. That's why it's called a telly."

"No, it's," Leon started, but then sighed. "Never mind. What I mean is, you're both being dramatically romantic. Why don't you just snog already so I can read about the latest Quidditch match in peace?"

"Who won?" Arthur spun his chair around in interest.

"Arthur!" Merlin said.

"Oh, right. Well, Merlin?"

"Well, Kilgharrah says that you and I should make up, so…"

"Kilgharrah," Arthur repeated slowly. "My father's…cat."

"Yes. I mean, no. He's actually a dragon."

"Maybe you should stop going to the kitchens before bed, Merlin."

"I haven't been to the kitchens! If anyone, it's you. You're the one with the well-fed look."

"Are you calling me fat, Merlin?"

"You said it, not me."

"Merlin!"

"Oh, all right. I'll go out with you, Arthur." He leaned forward so as to kiss him, and Arthur's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. Their lips brushed.

"Merlin, wake up, boy!"

Merlin jolted to wakefulness, heart suddenly thudding. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around wildly. "Huh?"

"Hurry up, Merlin, you'll be late," Gaius said from his doorway. "Come along and have breakfast, quickly now!"

Merlin groaned and flopped back down onto his straw mattress. "Gaius," he complained. "I had the strangest dream. Arthur had magic. And so did Uther, and Gwen, and Lancelot, and—Gaius? Gaius?"

He rolled off the bed and tugged on the nearest pair of crumpled trousers.

"Gaius, are you listening? We all had magic, and we were teenagers, Gaius, and you were there, and Will, and Freya, and Aredian."

"I'm sure, I'm sure, Merlin," Gaius said, pushing a slice of bread into his hand ushering him out of the door. "You'll tell me all about it over supper tonight, but now Arthur is waiting to be woken!"

Still a bit out of sorts, Merlin loped off down the stairs, Gaius staring after him with an archaic eyebrow raised. Then he sent a rather guilty look toward his workbench, where lying open was a book, the ink still drying. He took a seat and took up his quill again to finish the entry: Accidentally dosed Merlin with wrong draft; he enchanted the broom to fly around the room, shouting about something called a "Snitch." Had to sedate him. Woke him in the morning. He thinks it was a dream.

END.

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this ending, but it was the way it was always meant to end. In fact, the story was only supposed to be around five or six chapters, but it took a life of its own and became this monster. I don't know, it feels like a bit of a disappointing ending, but I guess Merlin was disappointed to be woken at that precise moment, eh? And anyway, I'm positively swamped with college at the moment, so this will be the best you'll get out of this one. I just don't have time for it.