Work Text:
Sailing weren’t made for giants, even half-breeds like him. The wood creaked too ominously underfoot and the constant motion railed against every fiber of giant in him that much preferred dirt and rock under foot; hard and steady and able to shake under foot without feeling like it would shatter with every step. Sailing most certainly weren’t made for giants, and yet there he was on a shockingly clear New Year’s Eve, with nineteen-sixty-four on the brink of dawning in a few hours, on the ocean as opposed to reliable land. Generally, he would have spent the evening with the Centaurs as they charted for shifts in the stars and planets as theirs finished its yearly revolution. Hot tempered creatures, they were, but when they celebrated they were a delight and his invitation was permanent.
Rubeus may not have been over fond of the situation, but he was more than passingly fond of the reason for it. Dolores, he’d named her; the baby Selkie that was currently swimming in abstract circles in the large jar he’d put her in. Dumbledore hadn’t minded him running the errand. Selkie had no business being in tanks in pubs. Was only right that he put Dolores back with her own.
So in a boat that felt more than a little precarious for the ornery Scottish swells, he set the jar on the wooden floor for a moment as he tossed lemon sugar scattering over the glassy water. “Just have’t wait now.” He reassured the twirling creature, the size of his thumb and not at all interested in what he had to say. He said it anyway. Best not be rude.
The wait was short, an eerie glow spreading out in a pulse beneath the water like a target circle, before a head breached the surface. And another, and another, until what looked like an entire clan was suddenly extremely interested in how long it would take to drown him. “Just a minute now.” Rubeus held up a large hand in a not at all bothered ‘hang on’ motion, which made the Selkies heads tilt in unison, not being used to being spoken to such. Mighty proud Selkies were, but more patient than their Irish cousins.
In a moment, he had the jar picked up and began unscrewing the lid. One of the Selkie leveled a screech that damn near vibrated his bones. “No need for tha’ now.” He commented back reprovingly. “Wouldn’t come to show off stealin’ one of ye, would I?” He continued conversationally, smiling wide and earnest as he gently tilted the now open jar just so. Just enough that Dolores swam out rather than being tossed headfirst into the sea.
Not much for gratitude at the best of times, most of them vanished back into the black waters, barr one that stayed above water long enough to click at him in what he chose to interpret as a thanks. With a wide smile, he waited long enough to be sure none of them were lingering close enough to cop a hit from the oars before he began the long row back to shore. With luck, he’d catch up with the dawn just in time to see the Centaurs fire their flaming arrows to farewell another year.