Work Text:
It was a lovely fall day in late September, and Hermione and Theo were currently walking down the busy sidewalks of New York City. The temperature was a bit warmer than what they were used to at this time of year in London, sitting at a whopping 24°C.
Hermione pushed up the thick sleeves of her cardigan as they joined the heavy foot traffic of 42nd street, after having just left the Library of The Magical Congress of The United States of America. They, well, Hermione at least, were researching currently existing Creature rights, specifically Werewolf rights, for the bill that she was proposing to the Wizengamot next month.
And so far, they have visited nearly a dozen other magical governments around the world, researching their laws in an attempt to set a precedent in Magical Britain.
Surprisingly, Egypt and America were both quite…liberal in their laws concerning the lunar creatures. America even had a domesticated pack of werewolves that intermingled with a coven of vampires in the northwestern corner of the continental United States.
Hermione was beyond excited to use their liberal politics to sway the ultraconservative votes of the Wizengamot. Kind of like…look at what they do here, so you should be thankful this is all that we’re asking for, sort of way.
Theo, though he had no intention of standing before the Wizengamot and arguing her case with her, was in full-stop support of whatever policies she wanted to erect, as were several other of their friends who held seats on the Wizengamot.
And he was more than willing, nay, he had been downright insistent that he join her on any international trips she ventured in order to get the work done…if only to try every dessert he found. From the pan au chocolat in France to the basbousa in Egypt, and even the Apple Pie they tried at that one diner in upper Manhattan just yesterday, his sweet tooth had been in overdrive. She was certain he would need to go on a detox when they returned to the UK. At the very least, he would need to make an appointment to see a dentist.
But that was a problem for future Theo. Right now, there was something on present Theo’s mind that was bugging the rotten shite out of him, if the grimace on his face was anything to go by.
“Hermione, why the fuck do the muggles have those rubber ducks in their automobile?” he asked curiously as they waited at a busy crosswalk for the light to change. “I thought they were reserved for the bathtub? And also, why the fuck are some of them wearing little hats?”
Hermione followed his eye line to a Jeep parked on the curb next to them and sighed. Along the dashboard were nearly two dozen little rubber ducks, all lined up in a neat row. Some of the ducks were different, eccentric colors, others were based off of other animals or characters, and some just had fun hats or other accessories.
One duck even looked like a cow, sporting its long face and small ears in lieu of the traditional duck beak, while the rest of the body was in the traditional shape of a rubber duck. There was even one rubber duck that had a mustache and wore a top hat and monocle. A very distinguished rubber duck to say the least.
“No-Maj’s—muggles, who drive this specific vehicle, the Jeep, leave a duck on a fellow Jeep owner’s side mirror.” Hermione sighed. “They call it ‘getting ducked’.”
“Is this one of those silly American things, or do all muggles do this?”
“As far as I know, it mostly only happens in America—”
Theo gasped.
“Is this one of those cults you were telling me about?! Like the can-can-can?!”
“Oh, my Godric, Theo! SSHHHhhh! Not so bloody loud!” Hermione hissed, throwing her hands over his mouth so he couldn’t attempt to break the International Statute of Secrecy any further by yelling something else. She looked frantically around her, but thankfully, most of the afternoon rush was ignoring them for their mobile devices. Minor miracles, to be sure.
Bloody fucking hell.
Who would have thought teaching Theo about American cults before visiting the bloody states would lead to this? And of all the bloody things that interests him…it had to be the damned Jeep ducks.
“First of all,” she hissed in his ear. “It’s the Ku Klux Klan, and I damn well know you knew that, because you likened it to the bloody Death Eaters and it’s all you talked about for a straight month.
“Second, no, the Jeep ducks are not a cult…just a cultural recreation, a hobby, and yes, there is a bloody diff—”
Hermione shrieked as she jumped back and away from Theo, rubbing the palms of her hands against her jeans. Theo had a shit eating grin on his face, his tongue still sticking out of his mouth from where he had licked the palm of her hand like a child.
“Grow the fuck up, Theodore, honestly. Gin’s kids are more well-behaved than you are.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“That’s because their mum is bloody terrifying.” He deadpanned.
Hermione narrowed her eyes into a penetrating glare, her fists cocked on her hips being the final touch to what she hoped was a truly formidable visual threat.
“Okay, okay, I yield.” Theo gasped. “So…the ruddy rubber duck is not just for the bathtub?”
“Muggles really don’t keep a rubber duck on hand just for their bathtub.”
“They don’t?!”
Hermione sighed long-sufferingly. After the many weeks of travel through other countries’ muggle areas, her patience for Theo’s exuberance and many, many questions about the most out of the box subject matter was waning.
“No, Theo, they don’t.”
“But they keep it on hand for this…Jeep?”
“I—yes, because it’s like a…it’s kind of like a game? I guess…I don’t know, that’s not really what I’m trying to say either.”
Hermione sighed frustratedly, trying to explain the Jeep ducks to a pureblood wizard was a lot more difficult than she thought it would be.
“Oh! Jeep owners aren’t the only ones who leave rubber ducks as tokens.”
“Tokens? Tokens of what?”
“Friendship? Kindness and generosity? That’s beside the point.” Hermione waved her hand dismissively.
“Rubber ducks have become a symbol of lots of things over the years for muggles in America. Lots of muggles will hide colorfully decorated rubber ducks on cruise ships for other passengers to find. Just a fun little way to interact with other passengers on the cruise.
“And in Chicago, a metropolitan city similar to New York City located in Midwestern America, they have an event called the Chicago Ducky Derby. They release hundreds of thousands of ducks into the Chicago River to raise money for the Special Olympics.
“Each participant buys a duck for a certain amount of money, and then the ducks are released from a specific bridge over the river and whichever duck crosses the ‘finish line’ first, the person who purchased that duck wins whatever prize was offered as incentive.”
Hermione frowned thoughtfully.
“Actually…quite a lot of muggles use rubber ducks for raffles and lotteries and games of luck or chance. Carnivals, for example, usually have a game where you pick a rubber duck from a large basin of water, and there could be a symbol on the bottom that gives you a specific prize, or another chance to play and win. And beyond that, muggle America even has idioms pertaining to ducks. One being lucky duck which refers to someone being incredibly lucky.
“You could, perhaps, call Harry a lucky duck because of how frequently he seems to escape certain death.”
Hermione chuckled. Theo appeared pensive for a moment, before his lips slowly curled into a slight smirk.
“Soooo…you’re saying these ducks can often symbolize luck and winning? And they are also given as surprise gifts to strangers and sometimes even friends?”
“I—you know what? Sure, Theo, that’s exactly what they are.” Hermione sighed while rolling her eyes heavenward, beyond done with this bloody conversation.
“Interesting. These muggles sure have an…odd way of expressing themselves.”
“I’m sure they’d say the same about some of our magical cultures too, if they knew about us.”
A month later, found Hermione rushing down the Ministry hallway that leads to the Wizengamot court rooms. She had finally finished her Werewolf Bill of Rights and was about to have her first hearing. With any luck, it would also be her last.
“Hermione!”
She turned to see Draco dressed in full Auror regalia striding quickly towards her, a small box in his hand.
“Draco, what are you doing down here? Don’t you have a raid to prepare for?” She raised a single brow dubiously. He chuckled and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.
“Of course, Darling. But I simply could not let you go into the courtroom without a little bit of luck.” He smirked, handing Hermione a small ivory colored box wrapped in an extravagant, gold ribbon.
“Honestly, Draco, this is completely unnecessary. I don’t need anything.”
“Perhaps you will think differently when you see what is inside the box.” He boasted.
“Besides, I got this specially for you at Theo’s insistence. He said you would know what it meant even though I certainly did not.”
Hermione bit her lip, a light dusting of a blush on her cheeks, as she contemplated whether to still accept it. She could not imagine what would be in the box that Theo could have recommended, but she knew Draco’s love language was gift giving, and therefore she ultimately accepted the little box in hand.
She carefully untied the ribbon, folded it and then placed it in her little purple beaded bag, and took a deep breath before removing the lid from the box and freezing. She gaped in disbelief at what lay nestled in a bed of tissue paper in the box.
“So? Do you love it? Will it bring you luck today as Theo has promised me?” Draco asked, a downright hopeful glint in his eyes.
Nestled in a bed of tissue paper inside of the small box was a small yellow duck with a pink bandana wrapped around its neck, a gold chain necklace, pink heart sunglasses, and a pink cowboy hat. A square-shaped tag hung from its little neck, roughly the same size as the duck that boasted, ‘YOU’VE BEEN DUCKED’.
A bloody fucking rubber duck.
Hermione’s eyes widened comically, as she stared down at the rubber duck, wondering how to tell Draco that this duck was the absolute last thing she expected to open for good luck.
She surreptitiously used her peripherals to glance down either end of the hallway in the hopes that Theo would pop out from behind a bloody Ficus with a giant ass grin on his face and a bloody, gotcha!
Ironically enough, she wasn’t that lucky.
She schooled her features and glanced up at Draco’s expectant visage and internally sighed. She managed to plaster a grin across her lips, though she was certain it had to look a bit manic and hesitantly nodded her head.
“Oh, erm, it’s a rubber duck…thanks, Draco. What a surprise. I absolutely wasn’t expecting this, really, I wasn’t.”
Draco’s grin slipped to a satisfied smirk, more than pleased with himself as he leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek.
“Good! I know you’ll be brilliant, you have mine and mother’s vote, to be sure, but I just wanted to give you a little good luck gift, not that you really need it, I know how hard you’ve worked on this bill, Hermione.”
“Thank you, Draco, but I really should get going, I don’t want the Wizengamot session to begin without me.”
“Of course, love.” He leaned down to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “Keep up the brilliant work, Darling, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Draco winked as he turned around and headed back towards the lifts, intent on returning to the DMLE.
Hermione sighed, tucking the box with the rubber duck back into her beaded bag. She decided correcting his misinformation was a task for another day. For now, she would put all of her efforts into securing basic rights for Werewolves.
Hermione ran into Harry in the lift, and he offered to walk her back to her office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
“How was the hearing? Did the Wizengamot pass your bill?” Harry was just as invested as she was and had in fact been her beneficiary for the majority of the project.
“I—I did, actually, I wasn’t expecting for it to pass on the first go, but as I suspected, the liberal policies of America and Egypt were incredibly helpful in securing my demands.”
Harry grinned and reached over to squeeze Hermione’s arm proudly.
“That’s amazing Hermione! I knew you could do it! Remus would be so proud of you.”
Hermione felt her cheeks flush with a pleased blush at his boastful words.
“Thank you, Harry, but honestly, it was a team effort. You and Theo helped immensely; I would never have finished my research in time had it not been for either of you.”
Harry waved his hand dismissively.
“Nonsense, I threw my vault at you, it’s not like I did any of the actual research. Pretty sure Draco helped more than I did, and we’ve both been busy with the DMLE.”
“Oh, my Godric Harry, speaking of Draco…you will never believe what Theo told him to give me for good luck.”
“A giant ass diamond ring? A tiara of rubies and sapphires? An emerald necklace?” Harry snickered.
“Worst.” I mumbled. I reached into my purple beaded bag and removed the small box that Draco had gifted me and opened it to show the little rubber duck to Harry.
He stared, slightly slack jawed, for a long moment, before he threw his head back and downright cackled.
“What the absolute fuck is that?? Your boyfriend is bloody rich, why is he giving you a rubber duck?!”
“Because Theodore told him that rubber ducks aren’t just for the bathtub. That they also represent good luck and are often given as surprises.”
“And who the bloody fuck gave him that idea?”
Hermione groaned long-sufferingly as she put the duck back in her bag.
“That would unfortunately be me.”
Harry raised his brow in disbelief.
“When we were in New York, Theo saw a few of those Jeeps with rubber ducks in the front dash…and it went to absolute shite after that. He wasn’t grasping the concept which led to cruise ducks and then lottery ducks and carnival games…and now I fear I may have made a mess of things.” Hermione sighed.
They had finally arrived at her office door and Hermione wordlessly waved her wand to Alohamora’d the lock.
They, however, stood frozen in the doorway by the…surprise which laid before them.
Every spare inch of her office was covered in bouquets of flowers and bloody rubber ducks. Chrysanthemums and peonies and hydrangeas and asters. Dozens and dozens of vases filled with them. And the bloody ducks were tucked into every single bouquet using a few well-placed sticking charms.
And a giant banner hung behind her desk that boasted, ‘You’re one Lucky Duck.’
Harry and Hermione stood in the doorway to her office, slack jawed, astounded by the amount of colorful and eccentric rubber ducks that filled the room. One moment later, Harry bent at the waist, his face was turning an alarming shade of reddish-purple, as he broke out into uncontrollable, boisterous cackles.
“Harry, please that’s enough! What am I supposed to do? You didn’t see his face earlier, he was so hopeful that I would love his gift, or, I don’t know, be proud that he followed muggle culture? He’s going to expect me to be thrilled about this too!!” Hermione moaned despondently, burying her face in her hands.
“You really ducked this one up, Hermione.” Harry snickered.
“Harry!” She shrieked, smacking his arm several times as he shook with laughter.
Once Harry had finally calmed down, he and Hermione had then set stasis charms over the many bouquets of flowers. She then brought them all back to her cottage in the Cotswolds, fully intending to press and dry and repurpose the petals into various teas, ointments and oils from all but one bouquet.
And the ducks.
Well, she had plans for the ducks as well.
But first, she needed to have a very serious talk with Draco, one which she was decidedly not anticipating.
She placed a bouquet on her coffee table displaying it proudly for all who entered her home to see. It truly was a lovely bouquet. The pinks of the chrysanthemums and peonies paired quite well with the purple-pinks and blues of the New York Asters and the white hydrangeas brought the entire bouquet together.
And the fragrance of all of them together was simply euphoric.
Hermione was fluffing the pillows on her sofa when the Floo activated with a whoosh, and Draco stepped out with a grin on his enviably handsome face.
“Hello, Darling,” Draco grinned as he magicked the ash from the Floo off his clothes. “I brought take out from that French place you like on Palmer Street.”
“The one with the—?”
“But of course, Darling.” He smirked, winking at Hermione as he moved the takeout containers from the canvas bag he brought with him. He then pulled out a lovely bottle of Zinfandel. “And a little bubbly to celebrate your big day!”
“Thank you, Draco, but this is too much!”
“Only the best for you, love.”
As they separated the food between them, the seafood risotto for Hermione and the lamb for Draco, they exchanged small talk about the rest of their day, as well as their plans for the rest of the week. And then finally, finally, as they finished their meal, they arrived at the topic that Hermione had been avoiding.
“How did the hearing go?” Draco asked, as he gathered their containers and disposed of them in the bin.
Hermione sighed.
“Well…it passed—”
“What?! That’s amazing!” Draco cheered as he grabbed her hand in his and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I knew you would! Congratulations, Darling!”
“Thank you, love.” Hermione grimaced.
Draco furrowed his brow with a frown at her lackluster response.
“What’s wrong? I thought you would be, I don’t know, more…excited, about this? I mean, you only visited a dozen other embassies over the last few months to research their creature laws to set a historical precedent for our ministry.
“Isn’t this—I mean, I thought—this is what you wanted, yes?”
“Yes, yes! Of course!” Hermione gasped, nodding her head fervently in agreement. “It was—it is—my life’s goal, to give creatures like Werewolves and Veelas and house elves and other creatures fair and equal rights to that of regular witches and wizards.”
“Then what could possibly be the issue?” Draco’s flabber’s were positively gasted at this point.
“I—” Hermione sighed resignedly. It was time. No sense in trying to avoid the truth a moment longer.
“Draco…” she started hesitantly.
“Yes…?” He raised a single brow uncertainly, completely puzzled by Hermione’s behavior.
“We need to discuss the…the ducks.”
Draco stared at Hermione impassively for a long moment.
She was fidgeting, twisting and wringing her hands in her lap, and practically gnawing her lower lip raw with nerves.
“What, what about the ducks?”
“What exactly did Theo tell you about them?”
“He said something about muggles collecting them and gifting them to strangers and friends as a token of friendship or kindness and oftentimes they represented the luckiest of muggles, because of the—the lotteries?
“And he said that muggles had that idiom, lucky ducks, so he said that meant that all ducks were lucky, and if I wanted to wish you luck the proper muggle way, then I needed to collect as many eccentrically colored and decorated ducks as possible, and surprise you with them, just like they do with the muggle vehicles—what did they call it, duck, duck cheap?”
Hermione tried to keep a straight face, really, she did…but honestly.
Duck, duck cheap?!
This was going to be worse than Hermione had mentally prepared herself for.
“Draco…you know I love you, yes? You know that I would never lie to you or cheat on you or hurt you on purpose, yes?”
Hermione looked imploringly at Draco, and he impatiently waved his hand as if to nonverbally say, get on with it.
Hermione sighed long-suffering.
“Well let me just preface this by saying…telling you this is going to be a fuck ton more painful for me than it will be for you—”
“Darling, you’re stalling, get on with it.”
“Right—right, okay. Right.”
Hermione took a big deep breath, held it for a couple seconds and then slowly let it out. She stared at Draco for a few seconds more like a deer caught in the headlights, and then—
“Theo lied.”
“What?” He twisted his face into a look of confusion.
“Theo. He lied.” Hermione grimaced. “About the ducks.”
“What?!” Draco hissed disbelievingly.
“Okay, so maybe not lied…but he certainly misunderstood the concept of the damn ducks and then transferred that misunderstanding to you…and it’s all a bloody mess, and I fear it’s my fault.”
Draco raised his brow as if to nonverbally tell her to explain.
“Okay, so it started in America. He saw several American automobiles with rubber ducks sitting in the front window, and in my attempt to explain one of their muggle cultures…I may have…oversimplified and over complicated the damn ducks simultaneously.
“You see, American muggles use rubber ducks in carnival games of luck and chance, and they also use them for charity lotteries and raffles. And in addition, they hide the ducks on cruise ships for other passengers to find as a fun game.
“And muggle Americans who own the Jeep automobile trade ducks by leaving them on each other’s side mirrors…they call it ‘duck, duck Jeep’.
“And I also explained to him that muggle America has many idioms pertaining to ducks, and one of which is calling someone a lucky duck…I told him we could call Harry a lucky duck because of how many times he’s survived death.”
Draco sighed long-sufferingly, reaching up with his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“And Theo heard less than half of what you actually said and ran with it.”
“Yes! Exactly! He concluded that all muggles give out the rubber ducks as surprise gifts to friends and strangers, and that they represent luck and winning…but by that point, I was beyond done with the conversation and I did not feel up to correcting him or explaining further. So—”
“So you let him believe whatever he pleased, assuming it would be a harmless, and have absolutely zero consequences on any of us….and now here we are, and I’ve made a complete ass out of myself in an attempt to do something nice for you that I thought was in line with one of your muggle cultures.”
Hermione sighed forlornly.
“Unfortunately…yes.” Hermione grimaced. “I’m sorry, Draco. I thought it would be harmless.”
Draco’s cheeks were tinted the faintest shade of pink as he leaned back on the sofa with a sigh.
“It’s fine, Hermione. I’m only sorry that I went out of the way to make a bloody arse of myself without checking the facts.” He groaned. “I mean, I work with how many muggleborns?! I could have asked any one of them if this was something muggles did, and it could have all been prevented.
“I should’ve stuck with my original plan and gave you that emerald necklace…or the bloody ruby and sapphire tiara.” He grumbled.
Hermione gaped at Draco for a long moment, before she broke into uncontrollable giggles. Draco stared concernedly at her, wondering if this is what would finally break his girlfriend’s mental wellbeing.
“I’m sorry, Draco, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just that, when I was telling Harry about the first duck, I asked him to guess what you had given me as a good luck present, and he guessed a tiara with rubies and sapphires or an emerald necklace, and I—"
“You told Potter?!” Draco practically shrieked like a little girl, his mouth gaping wide open like a fish. Hermione grimaced, nodding her head hesitantly. Draco flopped back on the sofa with a loud groan, dramatically throwing his arms over his head.
“Bloody hell, he is never going to let me live this shit down.”
“I—you’re probably right about that…I’m sorry, love.” Hermione sighed, patting his arm consolingly.
“If it helps, I’ve already crafted the perfect revenge scheme for Theo.”
Draco perked up slightly at the idea of retaliating on the person who was at fault for the entire chaotic mess.
“Have I told you lately how much I fancy your mean streak? No? Darling, I positively adore it when your Slytherin side is showing…it’s hot as fuck.
“Now, what did you have planned?”
Theo groaned as he rolled over in bed, his wand alarm blaring. He threw the covers back as he sat up and stretched.
Bloody hell. Whose bright idea was it to invent alarms? Or work?
Being a responsible adult was such a bloody drag.
Theo begrudgingly rose from his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not fully awake just yet. He exited his bedroom out into his hallway and through his receiving room to enter the kitchen. He was on a mission to make a lovely pot of that coffee he had tried in America. It was much stronger than tea, and definitely a gift from the deities above.
He sighed in relief when the bitterly delicious aroma of brewing coffee beans wafted near him.
Despite having a perpetual sugar addiction, Theo took his coffee black, to the shock of everyone in his life.
When the pot finished brewing, Theo poured a generous amount into a mug that boasted “I <3 NY” on the side, and turned to go back into his receiving room to read the morning edition of the Prophet…
…and very nearly dropped his mug onto the hardwood flooring of his flat.
Every. Single. Surface, of his flat was covered. Covered! In bloody rubber ducks. Pink and yellow and green and orange and every other bloody color under the ruddy sun.
Big and small and every size in between.
Cowboy hats and sunglasses and mustaches and sombreros. Every blasted accessory imaginable.
Cows and chickens and aliens and more.
Just hundreds, if not thousands, of rubber ducks decorated the receiving room of his flat, covering bookshelves and tables and the sofa and the armchair and the mantel and the floor.
Ducks. Everywhere.
Including a giant ass inflatable duck, nearly three meters tall and wide, which took up the majority of the space between his sofa and the Floo.
And hanging on the wall just above the Floo was a banner that boasted, “Get DUCKED, Theodore!!”
Theo stood there in shock, his mouth gaping open as he took it all in.
“Bloody fuck…muggle culture is too bloody confusing.”