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The Seaweed is always greener in someone else’s lake.
“Mate, what in the name of ever-loving Merlin and all the sorcerers are you doing?”
Blaise Zabini was shocked by the disheveled state of his normally immaculate friend - tie undone, sleeves rolled up, and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, he was only wearing one shoe.
Draco simply raised his eyebrows and finished counting the crushed barnacle scales, dropping them into the simmering cauldron. “Six hundred and twelve, six hundred and thirteen, six hundred and fourteen.”
Gently placing his cauldron ladle down, Draco glanced up at his friend, saw the frown, and chuckled. “The only reason you would be at Hogwarts on a non-Quidditch Saturday is if Xavier is in trouble. Again.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Blaise folded his long body into one of the rather uncomfortable chairs that potions Professor, Draco Malfoy kept by his brewing table. “That spawn of mine is more trouble than a flock of pixies on the summer solstice. I had three owls from the Head of Gryffindor just this week. Why couldn’t he have been sorted into Slytherin like every ruddy Zabini before him? You would have cut him some slack.”
Glancing back at his friend, Blaise continued. “Nice deflection by the way. What is it that you are brewing? It reeks of fish and seaweed.”
“It’s something for Granger. And it’s not working as I’d hoped.” Even amid his obvious frustration, Blaise did not miss the stupidly sappy smile on his friend’s face at the mention of his wife. Even after a decade together, it never failed to astound Blaise that somehow Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had gone from enemies to friends to lovers. Draco was unsurprisingly close-mouthed about the subject and even the normally loquacious Granger would never spill any details, no matter how many Gilded Lilies he plied her with at The Leaky Cauldron.
However it happened, the Malfoys had become the Newt Standard for love, marriage, and commitment. They had weathered the siege on their privacy when they had come back from a quick vacation in Aruba as man and wife. When their faces were plastered across every paper, screaming accusations of Imperius for him and love potions for her, they still showed up at Ginny Potter’s Quidditch matches, attended every single charity gala Narcissa Malfoy organized, and were the beloved godparents to a passel of Weasley, Potter, Nott, and Zabini children.
Eventually, the press and the doubters changed the narrative, soon falling over themselves to extoll Draco and Hermione’s virtues instead of their supposed sins. Hermione was a greatly admired mind healer and Draco was widely respected as a Hogwarts Professor. Both found themselves on Witch Weekly’s and Wizard Quarterly’s Sexiest Wizard and Witch of the year lists, a source of endless delight to Blaise and Ron Weasley who teased them mercilessly.
A less than subtle clearing of the throat from Draco brought Blaise back to the present. “And why would Granger ever want something that smells like yesterday’s fish finger leftovers?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, Draco sighed heavily. “You know how Saturday is Valentine’s Day?” At Blaise’s nod, he continued. “Well, the last couple of years my gifts weren’t very inspired. I know Hermione would never complain, but I think she was a little disappointed.”
“Draco, those first editions set you back a hell of a lot of galleons. You know Granger loves all that archaic frippery. I think you are overstating things. For some reason, that witch is totally gone for your pale scrawny arse.” Blaise cocked his eyebrows and continued. So, what exactly are you trying to do?”
Draco waved him over to a large screen and tried to explain. “So, when Granger and I first started dating, I would always hear her singing this one particular song. She was embarrassed when I pressed her for the name, she hesitated. While my darling wife is a lot of things, a good singer is definitely NOT one of them.”
Draco waved his wand at the screen, and Blaise had to laugh at the red crab that appeared, dancing and singing about seaweed being greener in somebody else’s lake.
“You want to give her a crab dinner? I know you’re not much of a cook, but that stuff stinks.” Blaise pointed to the bubbling cauldron.
“No, you knob. Not this song. Hold on. Let me change it.” Draco performed a few more horizontal movements and as pictures moved across the screen, he finally settled on a moving picture of a cartoon mermaid. “Now watch and listen.”
“Ummm…. cute tune. I think Anya would love it. But what does this have to do with Granger?” Draco smiled at the mention of his and Hermione’s goddaughter and tried to explain.
“Hermione loves this song. I think she relates to this Ariel character because she never felt like she fit in anywhere. She wanted to be part of our world so badly and it was so hard for her to do that.” Draco tried to keep the tremor out of his voice and continued. “It was hard because of people like me who reminded her every Merlin forsaken day that she was worthless and unwelcome. To this day I don’t know how she forgave me.”
A bit alarmed to see his normally stoic friend so overcome, Blaise chose his words carefully, “Come on, Draco. Granger forgave you because she loves you. And you two are truly nauseating together. But I still don’t understand what the redheaded cartoon mermaid and the smelly seaweed stew you are making have to do with Valentine’s day?”
“I want to turn Hermione into a mermaid.” At Blaise’s dropped jaw, he continued. “Not permanently, idiot. Just long enough so she can have a day swimming in the Black Lake as her favourite character. So she can be part of their world, so to speak.”
“You romantic sack of shit.” Blaise clapped him on the back. “But swimming in the Black Lake in February, that’s going to cause shrinkage. ”
“You are such a cretin, Zabini. But now that you are here, I could use your help setting up warming charms strong enough for Saturday.” As Draco smiled gratefully, Blaise got his wand ready to cast, “Anything for your little mermaid, Draco.”
“Draco, it’s freezing. Why in the world are we having a picnic at Black Lake? There’s a lovely fire at home . . .. bearskin rugs all washed and fluffed.”
Trying to instill as much seductress into her voice as she was capable of, Hermione Malfoy was desperate to get her husband’s attention as they both trudged down the path past Hagrid’s cottage towards the lake, shivering despite the long red wool cloak she was wearing.
By the time they finally arrived at the northwest bank, she was more than a little annoyed at Draco. He was awful at keeping secrets, so at the risk of spilling the beans about his Valentine’s present, he had barely talked to her for the past five days.
All he would tell her was that “ No, you don’t need to dress up”, “Yes, it is just going to be the two of us”, and “You might want to do something with your hair because it is likely to get wet.” It was the last one that concerned her the most because her hair was thick and long, and it was minus seventeen Celsius out. Never even mind the rat’s nest it would become without the proper potions and her beloved paddle brush.
As they turned the corner to a small inlet in the lake, Hermione was overcome by the scene that greeted her. A small galley ship with stark white sails floated easily at a large wooden dock. On the beach, there was every kind of treasure exploding from barrels and trunks of varying sizes and shapes. Tridents gleaming with garnets and emeralds had been sunk deep into the sand. Huge fish tanks were interwoven between the treasures, containing every kind of sea creature imaginable. Languid moray eels in one, octopus in another, and every colour of fish in the rainbow.
As Hermione spun, her gloved hands clasped to her mouth, she felt tears spring to her eyes. What a work of art her husband had created for her. Running her hands along the delicate lace tablecloth that protected the dining table in the middle of the beach, she noticed that one of the treasure boxes was labelled, “thingamabobs,” another “whosits,” and still another “whatsits”.
Words failed her as she considered the time, effort, and sheer magnitude of magic that was required to pull off this surprise, so she threw herself into her husband’s arms, kissing him soundly.
“You ridiculous, wonderful man. How, how, how did you ever put this all together? Oh Draco, you brought Ariel to life for me. I just can’t believe the detail in everything. Oh look, there’s Flounder, and … where on earth did you find a bright red crab?”
Hermione looked at Draco in astonishment, suddenly noticing he was working on something that looked like a potion in an exceedingly small cauldron.
Coming to his side, she peered into the cauldron, wrinkling her nose at the decidedly briny smell. “Whatcha doing there, Professor?”
“Hermione, I didn’t bring Ariel to life for you. You are going to bring Ariel to life for yourself.“ Draco smiled indulgently at his wife, reveling in the look of confusion on her face, an expression he rarely saw. He continued, “I’ve been working on this for a while, it’s a hybrid of Polyjuice, with a Gillyweed derivative added to fish and barnacle scales. But it was getting the right temperature and consistency to ensure that the transformation wasn’t permanent, that was the trickiest part.”
As Draco glanced up at Hermione he had to laugh as he could literally see her calculating the potion’s ingredients in her head. There was a moment when he thought she was going to refuse, her innate sense of caution taking over. But then she smiled his second favourite smile. The one that embraced her Gryffindor side, the one that said let’s do this, no matter the Merlin damned consequences.” Damn, he loved that smile.
“Okay give it here. How is this going to work exactly?” Hermione reached for the beaker full of foul-smelling green liquid and was about to take her first drink when Draco cleared his throat to grab her attention.
“Hermione, you need to get into the lake first … and you need to be naked.”
“I am not getting into the lake naked, Draco Malfoy. I will freeze to death.” Hermione scowled at him.
Draco couldn’t help but chuckle. “First of all, have you never heard of a heating charm, Witch? And secondly, can’t you feel how warm this area is now? “
Hermione stopped for a moment and realized that it was a lot warmer than it should be in February in Northern Scotland. Quirking her eyes to her husband, she asked, “But how? It’s impossible to cast a heating charm over this large of a body of water. It Northam’s Third Law of Hydrogenated Physics.”
Dear Salazar, he loved his little swot . Wisely choosing to keep that thought to himself, Draco answered. “See all the little pearls floating in the air? Those are Zabini’s Sweltering Spheres. They are guaranteed to keep the temperature tropical enough to encourage all kinds of naked adventures. But I did have Molly sew you up a little something to wear . . . you know, for the sake of authenticity.”
Draco held up a lavender scrap of cloth shaped into shells, strapless and backless. Hermione started to make vague arm movements around her breasts, retorting, “And how exactly is that tiny little bra going to fit these ?”
“Do not disparage those tits, I am rather fond of them myself. And don’t worry Molly put in a stretching charm and a no-slip glamour that is waterproof. You are ready to go under da sea .”
Caught between laughter at her husband’s horrendous Jamaican accent, and retroactive embarrassment that Molly Weasley would know she was wearing a micro-bra for Valentine’s day, Hermione slipped out of her clothes, grabbed the bra, and waded out to the deep water.
When she was waist deep, she raised the beaker to Draco in faux cheers and drained the contents in one gulp. “So, when exactly should I be feeling something? Feel perfectly human right now. By the way, Professor Malfoy, that stuff is vile. Perhaps some peppermint to counter the barnacle would make it a bit more pal……HOLY CRICKETS! This is the weirdest feeling ever. It’s not like Poly…”
And Hermione Malfoy disappeared under the Black Lake.
For the first few minutes, Draco was patient, but after a few more had passed, he tore off his clothes and dove into the waves where he had seen Hermione disappear. When he broke the surface of the water, he was met by the most intriguing creature he had ever seen in his life. It was still very much his wife, but her hair was somehow redder,straighter, and held back by a small shell clip. Her mermaid half was a tight cropping of iridescent scales containing every shade of brown, red, and ochre, ending in large diaphanous fins in a deep rose that waved seductively above the water.
She was laughing as he scowled at her. “Don’t be angry, your potion worked perfectly. It was just so amazing to realize that I could breathe underwater,I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”
“I thought that I had hurt you. Again.” His stark tone left no doubt that he wasn’t joking and Hermione felt her heart clench that she had caused him any worry.
“You could never hurt me, Draco. Look what you’ve done for me. You gave me my very own Disney movie. Loving you is the absolute best choice I have ever made in my entire life.” At his scoff of disbelief, Hermione swam closer and threw herself into his arms, locking her hands behind his neck.
“I love you, Draco Malfoy. And I know things. I know about the man who anonymously donates his salary to Neville’s orphanage. I know that the reason we have five dogs, three rabbits, and too many cats to count is because you have the softest heart I’ve ever seen. And I know that we will grow old together and sit on our porch all wrinkly and grey and I will love you then even more that I love you today.”
Lifting herself even further on his chest, Hermione smiled as she felt his hands cup her arse. Pursing her lips, she raised her face to his, and in a quiet, sweet, and completely off tune manner, she sang,
Sha lalalalalala la la
Boy don’t be shy.
You know you want to kiss . . .
Hermione never finished the last part of the verse as her husband did exactly what the song suggested and kissed the girl. Delighting in the feel of his lips on hers, and the completely sensual feel of his hands on her scales, Hermione floated back and decided not to be annoyed that the intensity of his kiss had as much to do with stopping her singing as turning her on.
Well, at least at first.