So, the idea for this came to me while I was waiting for my confirmation email from Pottermore (My username is KnightAuror13, btw. Look out for me if you got early access!). I do not own any of the Merlin characters, or Pottermore, nor do I make any profit from this. It's just for fun. Enjoy!

P.S. Bonus points if you spot the Harry Potter quote!

Merlin is pretty sure he's been waiting for this for his entire life. Well, maybe not his entire life, because it was only announced a few months ago, but whatever. He's been waiting a long time. Today is the 30th of July, and, after dragging himself through a grueling twelve hour shift, Merlin was happily sprawled across the sofa, his head resting in Arthur's lap and Arthur's laptop resting on his stomach (Arthur's laptop was better than Merlin's – it was newer and something shiny and silver and expensive, and it had very quick loading times. Time was money that evening.)

Arthur ran his fingers idly through Merlin's hair, making it stand on end more than usual. "Remind me why practically all our friends keep calling us and screaming down the phone?" Merlin snorted.

"It's hardly all our friends, Arthur. Please give our social lives some credit."

"I said practically all our friends. Listen with your ears, Merlin, God knows they're big enough." Arthur retorted good-naturedly, smoothing his thumb over the frown-lines that appeared when Merlin pretended to be affronted.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, what was that? I'm just hearing this inane twittering? Did you say something?" He grinned as Arthur laughed, tugging gently at his hair.

"Enough of your cheek, Merlin. But honestly, what's so special about today?"

"It's very simple, Arthur – Pottermore." There was a moment of silence where Merlin paused in frantic IMing with Gwen, head tilted back to see Arthur's reaction. He was met with a blank stare.

"Gesundheit." Merlin continued to watch him intently, horrified. "What's Pottermore?"

"You, Arthur Pendragon," He said, matter-of-factly, pointing a finger in the direction of Arthur's face, narrowly avoiding sticking his finger up his nose. "are an appalling person and I am ashamed to call you my boyfriend."

"He didn't even know what it was, Morgana!" Merlin hissed down the phone. Arthur had switched on the TV not long after their Pottermore discussion (or enlightenment, in Arthur's case), and as much as Merlin loved Arthur, he couldn't bear to sit through anymore cricket. Leaving Arthur in the capable hands of the England Cricket team, Merlin had snuck into the kitchen to call Morgana and demand to know if her brother had always been that oblivious to things of great importance. Apparently, he had been. "How can he be my boyfriend, and your brother and not know what Pottermore is?"

"He always has had a questionable intelligence when it comes to cultural masterpieces. Ask him anything about Law, or History or even the poems of Tennyson and he can tell you without even thinking, but Harry Potter? Nothing." She paused, sighing long-sufferingly. "The only consolation I can offer you is that he has at least read the books and watched all of the films. And the fact that it's one less person to fight against for a place."

"That's true," Merlin brightened a little at that. "But still, it's all I've been talking about for the last week, at least. Surely he would've picked something up?"

"Oh, Merlin, darling," She began, her voice laced with pity. "The cricket is on. Arthur's attention has been on the test match and nothing else for the past week, sweetheart. Nothing else matters right now. Don't take it personally though," She added cheerfully. "Leon is just as bad and Gwen informs me Lancelot is just the same. I would say it's a man thing, but, you know…"

"Sometimes, Morgana," Merlin said ruefully, "I feel like the woman in this relationship."

"Oh, babe, has it taken you this long to notice?"

"Arthur."

"Yes, Merlin?"

"Arthur."

"What?"

"Arrrrthurrrr."

"For the love of- what, Merlin?" Arthur put his book down heavily, peering over the top of his glasses in a way that he hoped was menacing, but was probably just amusing (Merlin thought they were boring and made him look like a librarian, with their simple black, thick rims. Arthur liked to think they were sophisticated.) Merlin was sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the living room, gangly legs hanging over one arm, his head dramatically thrown back across the other.

"When is the clue being posted?"

"I don't know, Merlin. Even after the million times you've asked me, I still do not know. Have you asked Gwen?"

Merlin gestured to the mobile resting on his chest. Now that he looked, Arthur realized that it was actually his. He'd been looking for that. "I've been talking to her all evening. She's heard nothing. How is that even possible, Arthur? How can nobody know anything? Surely someone's leaked something?"

Arthur had been pretty surprised by the way they'd managed to keep Pottermore completely under wraps. Normally, when something big like this happened, someone somewhere along the line leaked the entire thing (Like that X-Men: Origins film) to the highest bidder, but not this time. He was genuinely impressed that no one knew anything, and even if they did, they weren't talking. Not that he'd ever tell Merlin that (he quite liked this life, thank you very much.)

"I don't know, Merlin. Sheer dumb luck?" Merlin merely grunted, throwing an arm over his face. "Hey," he continued, when the mobile started to vibrate. "Are you using all my texts?"

"…Maybe."

"Remind me again why I am still awake at 2 O'clock in the morning, Merlin."

"Because you love me?"

"Well, yes, but, why?" They were both spread across the sofa, Arthur wedged in the corner with Merlin sat with his back against his chest. Merlin shrugged, pulling the sleeves of Arthur's old Rugby jumper over his hands. They'd both long since changed into something more comfortable when they'd realized that it was going to a long night – Merlin was wearing pyjama bottoms and one of Arthur's old jumpers that he'd long since taken ownership of, while Arthur was sporting a simple t-shirt and boxer combination (He was pretty sure the boxers in question were Merlin's – the Cookie Monster pattern confirmed that.).

"Because…" He began, nursing a steaming mug of tea between his hands. "It's fun?" Arthur remained silent, sipping at his mug of coffee. "Because you're secretly desperate to find out about Pottermore?" Arthur snorted – that stuff was catching, he was sure of it. He was probably the only person he knew that wasn't obsessed with the damn thing. "No? Maybe because you're too much of a softie to go to bed by yourself?"

Okay, maybe that bit was slightly true. "Possibly."

Merlin let out a huff of laughter, tapping the laptop to wake it up. The poor thing had been on for hours now so that Merlin could keep refreshing the Pottermore home page. It sounded as tired as Arthur felt. When it dragged itself into consciousness once more, Arthur scowled – He was beginning to resent that "7 books, 7 days, 7 chances" slogan now.

"Still no clue?" Merlin shook his head. Arthur groaned, dropping his head onto Merlin's shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"I thought you weren't interested?" He teased, reaching up to pat Arthur on the head.

"I'm not." He said, his words muffled by Merlin's shoulder. "I just want to go to bed."

"Then go to bed, old man."

"I don't want to go on my own," He said, poking Merlin in the ribs. "That would be abysmally sad and depressing."

"Go to sleep there then."

"I think you will find, Merlin, that I am perfectly capable of staying awake just as much as you are."

"Quit whining then."

Arthur huffed, nuzzling his nose into Merlin's neck. " You are so unbelievably sympathetic and caring."

"I know. You are phenomenally lucky to have me."

"Arthur!"

Arthur sat up sharply, arms flailing as he tried to get his bearings and balance himself. "What? What'sgoingon? Are we being burgled? Where's my cricket bat?" He blinked sleepily for a moment, rubbing desperately at his eyes in an attempt to clear them. Merlin was stood at the end of the sofa, looking down at him, his chest heaving as if he's run a long distance. In truth, he'd just leapt up from the armchair. He'd moved there when Arthur had first fallen asleep to give him a bit more room. That and the fact that his snoring was incredibly distracting.

"Forget the cricket bat! Where's the first Harry Potter book?"

"What?" It takes a moment for Arthur to process what's going on – what use would a book be against burglars? – before he realizes. "The clue! It's up?" He threw himself off the sofa quicker than he thinks he's ever done in his life, knocking the empty coffee mug and his book off the coffee table in his haste to get his balance. He's aware that the living room curtains are open, and that he could be flashing his underwear to any unsuspecting passers-by, but he doesn't care right now. Merlin needs him.

"Yes, it's up! Where's the book? Unless you know how many owls there were on Eeylop's Owl Emporium sign off the top of your head?"

"…Who is Eeylop?"

"Does it matter? Where's the bloody book?"

He paused for a moment, racking his brain. They actually own several copies of the book, what with anniversary editions and box sets that Merlin wanted and his uncanny ability to lose everything. Now that he thought about it, it seemed that he was actually incapable of saying no to Merlin – he'd probably spent a small fortune over the years because of Merlin's puppy-dog eyes. Whenever Merlin fixed him with that look, he always found himself unable to deny his anything. Merlin thought it was great, but Arthur's bank statement tended to disagree. "My office!" He cried, suddenly remembering.

They both looked at each other for a moment, before Merlin threw himself through the doorway and into the office, Arthur close behind. One wall was completed dominated by a frankly monstrous bookcase that somehow they have both managed to fill with books upon books (Despite it's size, they still had a few piles of books next to the damn thing that there wasn't room for.), and it's here, on the second shelf, in between Lord of the Rings and the first three books of The Chronicles of Narnia (God knows , that they find the book they're looking for.

Merlin practically tears it off the shelf, wrenching the poor thing open to what he hopes is near the section he's looking for. They stay in tense silence for about thirty seconds as Merlin furiously flicks through the pages, until he makes Arthur jump several feet in the air by shouting,

"Five! Five, Arthur! Multiply that by fourty-nine!" Before he can even open his mouth to reply, Merlin's back out the door, running for the laptop as if his life depends on it, crying, "Two hundred and fourty five!". As he thinks about it, Arthur doesn't want to know what will happen if Merlin doesn't get a place, so maybe, Arthur's life depends on it. Shuddering at the thought, Arthur hurries after him, hoping to God they were quick enough.

Arthur leant back heavily against the sofa, hair still dripping from his shower. He grips his mug of coffee between his hands, resting it on his leg. The heat of it is burning through his jeans, but frankly, he can't bring himself to move it. Merlin's still upstairs, taking an infuriatingly long time in the shower, probably conditioning his hair again. As Arthur finally gets comfortable, and is just about to drift off into sleep, his phone rings. Opening his eyes slowly, he scowled at it, still across the room from where Merlin had it earlier that morning. It takes a lot of time for Arthur to drag himself off the sofa and over to the phone, and almost as long to pick it up and answer it.

"Hullo?"

"Arthur! Sorry, I was expecting Merlin."

Arthur bristled a little. "It's my phone, Morgana."

"I know. But Merlin seems to use it more than you. Whatever, that doesn't matter. I told myself I wouldn't get caught up in this and would be completely mature and wait until October, but… I got in! Did Merlin?"

Arthur sighed. Even his sister had got carried away by it all. "Honestly, Morgana, I expected better of you. Am I the only person left on this godforsaken planet that isn't obsessed with Pottermore?"

"Oh, probably. After all, you do have less brains than the average person."

"Hey!"

"No one cares about you and your last-man-standing spiel, Arthur. Did. Merlin. Get. In?"

Arthur sighed. "Yes. Yes, he got in. And I am now partially deaf because of it." Merlin had watched with bated breath while the page loaded once he'd entered his answer, clinging so tightly to Arthur's arm that it had actually begun to bruise. Once the 'congratulations!' page had appeared, Merlin had shouted something incomprehensibly happy right in Arthur's ear. He could still hear it now.

"Oh thank God. I would've felt awful if I'd got in and he hadn't. Do you know his username?" She paused, then gasped. "Oh my God what about Gwen? Has she got in?"

"Oh for the love of-" Arthur was cut off by the sudden ringing of the doorbell. "I'll have to call you back, Morgana. Well, I'll probably forget. Speak to you later." As Arthur started toward the door, his movement slowed by lack of sleep and effort, Merlin sauntered down the stairs, his expression extremely smug.

"Was that Morgana?" He asked, joining Arthur by the door.

"Yes," He said, turning the key in the lock. "Would you like to explain to me why people assume that you are going to answer my phone?" Merlin was not given a chance to reply, however, because as soon as Arthur opened the door, a squealing Gwen came flying through it, screaming something along the lines of, 'I got in! What's your username?' From the doorstep, Lancelot gave Arthur an apologetic look, smiling.

"She got in then?" He asked, laughing as Lancelot rolled his eyes, offering Arthur a bottle of wine.

"Yes. How ever did you guess?"

"Merlin got in too, in case you haven't noticed. And Morgana, as well." He said, clapping Lancelot on the shoulder, ushering everyone into the living room. "Well," He started, when they had all sat down. "At least I've got you to keep me sane, Lance."

Gwen snorted. "Hardly," She said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He got in before I did. You should've heard him. I thought he'd won the lottery."

Arthur dropped his head into his hands, disbelieving. Lance? Of all people? This was insane. "You've all gone completely mad!" He cried, voice muffled by his hands.

Merlin placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Have you ever thought that it might be you?"

"God," He said, standing up sharply. "I can't even look at you people. Please excuse me while I go and save what is left of my masculinity and watch the cricket. You," Here he pointed at Lancelot, who had perked up at the mention of sport. "are not worthy of cricket. You can stay here and fester with the rest of the nerds." He gestured vaguely at Merlin and Gwen. "Strauss would be ashamed."