Ever since I was a child, I dreamt of magic. I'd hide in the wardrobe, a stack of comics beside me, grip a flashlight, and imagine what it would be like if I could do the things I read on the colourful pages. Now, ten years later, I got my wish... and it was more boring and tedious than linear algebra.

Slumped at my desk I yawned. Three days until my basic magic exam, and I was nowhere. Whoever came with the course must have had a vile sense of humour. The universe has never known such a contrast between name and syllabus! When I first saw Basic Introduction to Magic, I thought it would be easy. That was before I learned that I had to be an expert in biology, biochemistry, and quantum mechanics just to be able to read what was written on the pages. Understanding it was a whole different ballpark.

"Stupid unicorns!" I slammed my book shut. It was their poking that had lead to the portal between worlds. The greatest discovery of humanity and equinity alike—the confirmation that either race was not alone in the multiverse. Four years ago, the impossible had happened. I remembered it clearly. I was shooting pool with a few friends, trying to impress my at the time girlfriend, when all the channels started showing the same thing. At first I thought it was a hoax: a transdimensional portal appearing at Stonehenge, and a herd of armoured horses charging into our world. Who in his right mind would take that as true? The social networks went wild. Reddit and Twitter had to shut down for a full day, Facebook enforced a one-post-per-ten-minutes rule, and disabled the creation of new accounts. Skype and mobile operators were overwhelmed, as if it was New Year’s, and among all that, people—myself included—watched as a black winged unicorn full platoon of soldiers and requested to speak to the world's leaders. Man, the end of the world never was more absurd.

Fast forward to today: the human-equine relations have become fact. Despite a lot of initial grumbling on both sides, and a lot of saber-rattling on ours, both species are free to visit the other on a temporary basis. The only catch—every visitor must be made aware and prepared for the dangers expecting them at their destination. In my case, that involved a basic understanding of magic and the affects it might have on electronics and human biology.

"Yo, Allen!" My roommate stormed in the dorm. He had the annoying habit of entering before checking if it was okay to do so. Thankfully, he hadn't caught me in the worst situation, but I've long stopped inviting girls over. "Can I borrow one of your fancy shirts? I'll pay you back tomorrow."

Saying that my roommate was weird was both inaccurate and an understatement. Having equines live in the same buildings as humans threw the whole concept of normality out of the window. In general, the policy was to have the equines have their own rooms—males separated from females, naturally—but there always were exceptions. In my case the exception was that I had a dragon for a roommate.

"Are you in trouble again, Spike?" I looked over my shoulder. The purple dragon was standing there in the doorway, black Rogue One t-shirt, black kilt, and what I assume was a headband, though on him it looked more like a bandage.

Looking at him made me think of the first time we met. I had been called to the Dean's office. Apparently, I had been selected to act as a student guide. Later, I had learned that the only reason was me putting Dungeons and Dragons as preferred hobby on my Equestrian visitor's request. Spike had been the embodiment of shyness. Wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, he had remained in the opposite end of the room, wearing a set of clothes so nerdy, that 80s dramas wouldn't allow them on set. To top it all, his legal guardian—which just happened to be Equestrian Royalty—had tagged along to make sure he was going to stay in a proper environment. Boy had she grilled me good.

"No!" He crossed his arms. "I just need to be somewhere, okay?"

Yes, typical Spike. It had taken the timid little dragon two months to become the life of the party on-campus. I must admit I wasn't the best influence, either. The one time I got him drunk, he had spend the entire night singing from the dorm rooftop, while burping green flames. What made it substantially worse, was that he had forgotten he was on earth and had taken off his clothes doing so. The following morning he had burped out a scroll "inviting" us both to the Dean's office to explain ourselves to his legal guardian.

"Yeah, right," I looked at his side of the room. A huge tapestry of a white unicorn hung above his bed, right next to a series of photos, not least of which of his girlfriend—who gave me the chills. I definitely didn't want to be around when she got upset.

"Look, seriously, dude, I just need something cool to go to this new trance party." He started tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. "I got this sweet record from Vinyl, and I want everyone to check it out."

"Spike, you don't need to be the center of attention all the time!" Who was I kidding? The moment he started relaxing, he had become an instant celebrity. There wasn't a person on campus who hadn't posted at least ten selfies with him. "I get it. Everyone knows you're a chick magnet."

"Hey, it's not like that!" He stomped to my wardrobe and opened it. I honestly couldn't tell which was worse. That he was oblivious of the fact, or he really believed it. "I've always liked parties. Oh, and Vinyl said she was cool with hearing some of your samples, maybe giving you some pointers."

Whatever I was about to say got stuck to my throat. A chance to work with a world famous DJ... everyone on campus, heck everyone in the world, would claw their eyes out for such an opportunity, and he had just casually offered it, as if it were nothing.

"Just take something." I waved. It wasn't like I couldn't spare a shirt. At present I had money to spare. If anything, I had told him to stop giving me gems. Right now, I probably had half a million in rubies lying in my desk drawer—rubies I could never sell because of the Equestria-Earth Gem Stability accord. "Will anyone I know be there?" I asked in the hope he'd invite me.

"Linguistics department." He started going through my stuff. "Want to come? Jen will be there."

Suddenly I felt empty inside. Spike didn't know that Jen and I were going through a rough time. Actually, we had pretty much split up, choosing not to make it public in the hope that some miracle would turn things around. Whatever desire I had to be at the party had evaporated.

"Nah, it's fine." I turned around and opened my magic textbook. "I’ve got to go through this if I want to pass Thursday's test."

"You know I could get you a tutor."

"Dude, I'm not getting lessons from a princess!" This sounded so wrong. The point held true, though. I seriously didn't want her ten feet from my dorm, less she starts grilling me about Spike again.

"Twilight isn't the only one that could teach you." He took a midnight blue shirt with ivory buttons and started looking at it critically. "Starlight is awesome too, and there's Moondancer... Hey, I think you'd like Moondancer. I'll send her a note in the morning."

"If you're conscious," I grumbled, loud enough for him to hear me. "Just take the damned shirt and go. If I bomb out, I'll take your offer." Which likely would happen in three days time. "And take your phone this time! I want to be able to get in touch with you if I get a letter from your dragon lady."

"Ha, ha." He put on the shirt. It didn't suit him one bit, but no way in hell I was telling him that. "Once I'm done with midterms, I'm inviting her over. Then we'll see whose laughing!"

I smirked. Another idle threat. From the few interactions I had with Ember through dragon mail, I knew there was no way she would come to Earth, even for Spike. If I recall, her exact words were "why would I go to a dump like that?" In that regard she was even more blunt than Spike.

"Well, I'm off." Spike pulled his collar up and went into the corridor. "Seriously, though, let me know if you're in trouble, bro. If there's anything, I have your back."

"I know, Spike." I tried not to look him in the eye. I had lost count how many times he had listened to me when I was at my darkest. As much as I grumbled and smirked at him, he was definitely the best roommate I'd had. "Go get them, drake." I raised my hand for a backwards wave. "Don't break too many hearts."

"No promises, bro," he yelled back from the corridor.

Ever since I was a child I dreamt of magic; of wizards, knights, and dragons. Now, ten years later, bent over a desk, trying to make sense of logic that would make Einstein dizzy, I got my wish. Nearly every month I thought of quitting, of letting it all go and return to being a normal farmer, or something. Maybe one day I would do just that—say to heck with it and leave, no explanations given. That day, however, would not be today. Magic might have turned out to be pain on toast, but at least I got to have a cool dragon roommate.