skimming stones
*
November 12, 1575
Merlin watches the green Slytherin quidditch team practice, grey eyes following the golden snitch intently. Much better than Slytherin’s seeker does- the small ginger seeker is all over the place.
Even from all the way up in the Owlery, Merlin follows the snitch’s path and doesn’t lose it once during the whole of the practice.
He internally curses whichever ancient rule bans first years from trying out for the house team. At least he can try out next year.
The quidditch practice ends and Merlin finds his gaze wandering to a small blond tunic-wearing figure marching angrily towards the half-frozen lake.
Merlin peers closer, and yes, he recognises the red magical aura, it’s Arthur. From the way the Gryffindor starts aggressively throwing stones at the lake, not even trying to skim them, Merlin can tell he’s in a mood.
The Slytherin sighs, leaving the Owlery to go and find out what exactly Arthur’s in a mood about.
The blond doesn’t notice Merlin till the Slytherin boy taps him on the shoulder. Arthur physically flinches, turning, before relaxing when he sees it’s Merlin.
Merlin is worried- Arthur, brave careless Arthur, has never flinched in all the time he’s known him.
“If you’re trying to skim it you want to find a flatter stone, like this, and, look, throw it gently, not like a Gryffindor beater, but like this-“
Merlin puts the stone he picked up into Arthur’s hand and directs the prince’s arm to show him.
Arthur grunts but doesn’t throw the stone when Merlin lets go of his arm, instead looking out at the lake moodily.
Merlin sighs,
“Okay, what is it? And don’t say nothing or get angry, I’m just here to listen, alright?”
Arthur is quiet for a second. Arthur’s never usually quiet. Then he skims the stone, which bounces 4 times.
So he knew how to do it all that time, Merlin thinks, annoyed but bemused.
Then Arthur speaks,
“I was.. I was walking to the dungeons, to find you. And two sixth year Slytherins were there- they blocked my path, started saying all this stuff about muggles. I didn’t really know what they were on about, so I tried to turn round and leave, but then one of them grabbed me by my cloak and he… he spat in my face. Obviously, I punched him. What else was I supposed to do? But then it turns out, the other one- his friend- is a prefect. He took 50 points. And he called me a.. a .. dirty mu-mudblood. I don’t know what it means but I know it’s something horrible, the way he said it.”
Arthur goes silent again, looking up at Merlin with an unreadable expression in his dark blue eyes.
Merlin bites his lip before telling Arthur,
“That’s a really shit situation, Arthur, I’m so sorry. At least you’re alright. Er.. a.. mudblood.. is an awful word for someone with two muggle parents. Pure blood ‘old family’ wizards like to use it because.. well, because they’re twats, I guess. I’m really sorry you had to hear it.”
Arthur considers this, before murmuring,
“Thanks Merlin. You always tell me the whole thing, not glossing over the nasty stuff. I appreciate it. You know what’s funny- at home people treat me like a prince, while here at least a quarter of them view me as a, well, mudblood. But fuck them- I’m going to prove them wrong.”
Merlin nods, thoughtful and quiet. He awkwardly pats Arthur’s shoulder, before asking with a grin,
“Wait, you punched a prefect? That’s actually awesome, mate. Was it overhand or under?”
The two chat in this manner all the way back to the castle, back towards warm fires and perhaps a game of gobstones (which Arthur will naturally win- no one beats Arthur at gobstones).