Mermaid!Harry part 2 (Patreon)

You ask for it, I do as you say  because i love you lots :) 

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ii.

Harry knew it was unwise to return, especially when the human could have potentially alerted other humans over his existence and some sort of intricate netting trap could be waiting for him at the small departure lake from the sea. However, this human had his interest spiked, and he very much doubted that she would share his secret -- she could’ve captured him or done something when he was tangle and yet she let him go; even gave her a sharp rock to use on her in case she’d tried anything to harm him. And when there wasn’t an influx of mean scouring the seas nor word of his kind being a thing on the beaches uttered from lips that did not belong to that of a tiny human’s, a small bead of trust had been implanted. 

He watched from afar for several days and several nights; eying up from beneath the water, trying to make do with the distortion from the rippling waves. Sometimes he could just barely make her out, with her feet hanging over the dock her and toes dipped into the water, swinging her legs back and forth. It makes Harry eye down at his tail, wondering if the legends were true; if he used a drop of her blood, would he grow legs like hers? He’d heard awful stories about how once one of his kind came out of the water without pure intent he was given goat legs by Poseidon rather than human ones. Though he’s fairly sure if he were to drag himself from the ocean onto land, his intentions were only that of curiosity, the idea of it he still feared.

But after contact with her, being above water was all he could think about. When he imagined humans, he imagined pointy teeth, angry fishermen, cruel-mannered and just dreadfully abhorrent. Not soft, nice women who untangle what is unknown to them to set it free, who he often catches picking up pieces of plastic and objects left behind by humans to place in a large black bag. She almost seems as aggravated as he is by the litter. Were there others like her up there? Would they be as kind? Do they pick up after other humans for the safety of ocean creatures such as himself? 

Harry doesn’t know how to show her that he’s still around without outwardly showing himself -- he figures that would be too risky to just do in the daytime, and she only rarely ever came out at night. So instead, he swims to the bottom of the lake and picks the prettiest pebbles and shells he can find, eying them with a scrutinization so intense one might think he was looking for Amphitrite herself. When night fell, and the world above was but a whisper of wind through leaves and the murmur of awoken bugs, Harry swam to the surface. He set the pebbles and shells out intricately, having learned to spell much long ago by an old mermaid, who had come in contact with a fisherman who taught her. Harry hadn’t known how much to believe this, considering it a fable at the time, but if there were humans who were as kind as the one he’d had contact with then he believes her a little more. 

He places their greeting in the way that would be facing her, before slithering away in the sea, finding a nice patch of sand with seaweed as his pillow. 

That next morning she would be greeted with Hi. Are you nice? 

He hopes it doesn’t alarm her. 

                                                  .                                               .                                            .

The next night, when he swam up to the dock, he was pleasantly surprised that there was a response written with those same shells and he feels his heart spark warm with the sentiment of it. Very nice. Is your tail OK? 

A burst of excitement zips through him -- it was her who answered right? Since otherwise, nobody else would know that. Just to make sure, however, he hides beneath the dock until nightfall to see if it was truly her. He’d been falling asleep slowly when he’d heard a shift beneath the creaky worn boards, and it drags him from whatever hazy state he had begun to fall within. At first, he gets worried when he doesn’t hear anything, until aloud he hears her voice, “Yes, it is okay. Thank you for asking.” She does a small laugh and it makes his insides warm, and he wonders if she saw the pile of rocks he had left her just in case she needed more for her reply. 

The next few moments he holds his breath, hearing as she presses the pebbles and shells to the side, the small click and thud of them hitting the dock as she makes a response. The air around them is quiet apart from her soft breathing, the shift of the dock beneath her as she moves around, the scrape of the rocks on wood but the shells he can hear her move carefully. He’s more joyful than he expected to be when he hears her walk away from it, trying to swim quietly from beneath it. He peeks his head up, seeing as she walks away, pulling the cloth over her shoulders while a shiver ricochets through her body. Harry waits for her to step up to the door of the wooden house, ducking down when he sees her begin to turn to face him. 

Once the door shuts quietly, Harry dips his head back up above the water, and grabs ahold of the edge, pushing himself up so that he could read but his tail stays submerged. 

Good! What is your name? Mine is Y/N. 

Harry grins, reaching up to wipe the message away. 

                                                                 .                        .                     .

Harry writes to Y/N for seven nights before he decides he wants to speak with her. He can trust her, he’s fairly sure, and while this goes against everything he knows and everything he’d been warned against, he needs to. It feels like he needs to; like he would regret it if he didn’t. 

So, he’s idle beneath the dock again, holding onto the post as he hears her step onto the wood. Instead of lingering until she responds, he pushes himself outward and grabs onto the side of the dock, his hair slicked against his neck as he looks up to her. She’s faced away, eying the empty dock where only a pile of rocks stood and she appears to be sad if her posturing is anything to go by. But he clears his throat and says a careful, “Hel-lo,” trying to regain his voice -- it’d been so long since he’s spoken aloud, he feels as if he should’ve warmed up earlier, but this was more spur of the moment than something he probably truly thought out. 

It startles her he presumes since she all but jumps from her skin with a shriek that makes him flinch back in the water, and he wants to dip beneath the water out of the embarrassment of scaring her alone, but his nails digging into the old boards stop him. She holds a hand to her chest, clearly overwhelmed to some degree, and he worries that maybe this was the wrong idea but her widen eyes soon soften, “Oh, sorry,” she rushes, shaking her head, “You scared me some. So it was you?” 

His brows furrowed as he nodded, “Yes. Who else would I be?” 

She looks at him disbelieving, shaking her head to herself, “I just wasn’t sure if someone was trying to trick me or something.” Y/N admits to him, slowly lowering to her knees, leaning her bum back onto her heels, and leaning backward some, “How are you? Are you well?” 

He nods, “Yes I am okay,” he points at the cabin behind her, “You live there?” 

Y/N looks back to where his finger is directed before humming, “Kind of -- I take care of the place for my grandparents. Come every few weeks to check up on things.” She, in turn, points at the water, “You live there?” 

“I do, yes,” he responds, “It is very vast, but sometimes the dolphins wake me with their chatter, and then I cannot sleep.” She gives a laugh -- one that sounds disbelieving, and he tilts his head, “You do not believe me?” 

“No, I believe you I just --” she lets out another laugh, “I’m just trying to adjust to this, is all. I’ve never met someone like you before.” 

Harry flickers his tail out of the water momentarily, a few droplets splattering her skin, “I have never met you before either,” he assures her she’s not alone, “I’m very nervous.” 

“Me too,” she admits. 

This makes him feel better though and he wonders if that makes her feel better too. Nobody had the upper hand in this moment, both of them were worried and confused, and not sure of what to make of things. This was new and not necessarily bad but still jarring as the collide of brick to sand. Their conversation is careful, nowhere near relaxed but not stiff in nature. Like two neighbors finally chatting after living next to one another for a few months, acquaintances, not yet friends but the beginnings of some sort of comradery are planted. 

Speaking with her makes him feel quite warm; she is very gentle in her questions of his world as he is with hers and never does Harry feel offended by her curiosity nor does he get irritated. It’s interesting to see where their world differs and where things are the same. While Harry lies in soft beds of sand, she lies upon feather-filled sacs and stays beneath long patches of fabric. Harry’s version of fun is swimming laps and racing sea turtles, while her own is going out to something called a park, and eating ice cream while watching “movies” whatever those are. They both like watching waves crash against rock though, and they both enjoy the way the sun feels when it works its way through their skin down to the marrow of their bones. They also both marvel at the shells and pebbles Harry had found to write to her with, Y/N asking if she could keep some, and Harry was so delighted that she liked his findings he couldn’t help the smile that spread on his cheeks. 

Harry knows he’s treading into this way too fast when he says it, lying a gentle wet hand to her calf and she only tenses for a moment before relaxing, “May I ask something of you?” He questioned her, and when she nods he decides that now’s as good a time as any, “Would you help me in seeing if I can grow these like you?” 

“What?”