It was night, and the glow of the nearby muggle city made the low-hanging clouds seem especially ominous. The lights also sparkled off the water as the wind whipped the top of the lough into small white-capped waves.

Tynan shot over it a few feet above the water, gripping the racing broom tightly, his legs wrapped around the shaft and his hands' grip white knuckled. He'd been spotted again, if the farm wife's scream had been anything to go by. He'd come down from the damp and chilly clouds to see what the glow was, unaware how close the hilltops had been, and had seem the muggle too late. Still, she'd fainted, so maybe she'd just think it was a dream.

The lake had seemed the logical place to go, having ducked back up into the clouds at first. It had small islands on it, and they didn't seem like they had much of interest to muggles - which was fine by him. He needed to stop for the night, anyway - the fever was getting worse.

The tiny island he found worked well and his camp was soon set up, wind aside - the tent tucked into the rocks and his things stashed away in its dry confines. He then set to work building a fire, his growling stomach more of a concern than sleep. He was out of food, but thankfully lakes had one thing he could catch for sure - fish.

Half an hour later he sat on the rocks next to his fire, letting the bright and healthy flames dry him out and warm him up as the line bobbed in the deep water. As he'd found the island seemed to be almost pillar-like; only a feet feet offshore the lake floor dropped abruptly.

He relaxed in that trance-like state that most fishermen can achieve, and only jumped back to life when he got a tug...

Lough vs Loch.

Loughs in comparison had sweeter water, slightly more oxygenated with different lake greens.

Just a scant month ago, Heliotrope had traced the shoreline to Crovie, Scotland, known for a magical pub with shady business and common waters for different breeds of merfolk. From there she followed an inner chain of Lochs to reach home, Loch Lomond. Heliotrope had spent some time at home. Her plum tree had been planted on Inchgalbraith, the tiny island her mother Danielle lived on. After that was done, she had questions for the colony chieftains. Questions that had been in her head since the staring contest with Alvis Norling. He had left her the questions of whether she was limited on knowing all of what Merpeople know and all of what Humans know.

The chieftains met briefly and a decision was made. Since Heliotrope had survived so well on her swim home, she was encouraged to continue on her tour to meet other colonies. So after a few weeks she set out again, still towing her giant watertight canvas bag, this time minus a tree. The journey brought her to Ireland. She had met most of the Selkie colonies in Scotland, so the Merrows of Ireland were next to visit. Even though she had never swam these waters before, she was able to communicate through the Siren's Call: loud Mermish song could carry through the water for long distances, so in the Merpeople community introductions and requests for directions could be made without meeting face to face. The lack of tree allowed her to stay submerged at lower depths and slip through the Trench under the Ireland landmass.

Which led her to a lough such as this, eventually. Dark surface above, nighttime. Heliotrope paused, suspended under the surface, to inspect her tailing bag. Her Kelp Whip was lashed around the middle, serving as a lead. Though the plum tree was gone something different was in its place, a mushroom shaped slug-like leech, sitting on the canvas as a lamprey would parasitically latch to a large fish. It was a Lobalug traded from traveling Sirens going the other direction during her passage in the Irish Sea. Bound with it were some salt crystals to help condition it to freshwater.

The Lobalug had substance and Heliotrope did not. Fish would satiate her needs. It would mean untethering her Kelp Whip from the bag and letting it bob to the surface while she hunted for fish. When she returned home again she should learn to hunt by spear from her spawn father Kulgor.

Before the Kelp Whip could be untied there was the motion of a silvery fish a short distance off. It was close enough that Heliotrope could propel herself quickly through the water to catch it. She grabbed the fish in a webbed hand. It hadn't struggled and to Heliotrope's observation this was due to a hook in its mouth. She could faintly see the thin line, the tool surface dwellers used for fishing. She gave it a pull.

This fish was a fighter, it seemed.

Tynan had automatically reacted to the tug on the line the way any fisherman would - he leaned back and started to reel it in quickly. But when the line pulled tight and it became clear that the fish on the end was, well, heavy,  he stumbled forward a bit.

He tugged a few more times - and then grit his teeth. He was hungry and this fish would feed him for weeks, if it was as heavy as it felt. His stomach growled in encouragement, and his stubbornness rose to the challenge. This fish was a record maker, he was sure of that. That'd shut Micheal up for good!

Motivated both by hunger and pride - and the chance to show up his brother - he planted his feet against some sturdy rocks and threw his weight into reeling in the line, the muscles on his arms bulging - well, for a 12 year old's, anyway. Thanking Merlin that the line and rod were magically strengthened, he grunted as the line pulled extremely tight and the pole bent almost to the breaking point, the wood groaning under the strain and the line singing in high-pitched tweaks as it rolled down the shaft.

Of course, what came from the water wasn't what he expected. He stared for a moment and then dropped the pole in shock.

The tug on the line triggered a pulling from above and the fish was nearly torn from Heliotrope's grip. She held to it fast, tugging in return. Fractionally, Heliotrope found herself being pulled towards the surface. She had not the strength to pull the other end of the line under water.

A change of tactics. Heliotrope swam closer to the conical landmass of an island above. She scrunched her legs, found some footing, and kicked off, following the line that hooked the fish. She broke the surface, a gasp to trigger her air lungs to begin breathing, the last of water flushed from her gills. The blobby canvas sack bobbed up behind her like a dutiful buoy.

Still holding the fish, her eyes followed the line to a dropped fishing pole at the feet of someone she recognized, the Gryffindor with the scars across his eye.

"Tynan," she said. "Tynan..." This should have been one she remembered. Dropping the fish, she pulled her canvas sack closer, removed the Lobalug from the opening, and reached inside. After a second she withdrew a wet yearbook in Hufflepuff yellow. The pages were warped and the signatures scattered throughout blurry. She flipped to the right page.

"Tynan MacFusty," Heliotrope completed, climbing upright onto the shore.

"You're nae'ta fish," Tynan said, demonstrating his intelligence. But still - he was clearly and thoroughly unsure how to respond. Admittedly, if you were going to fish a girl out of a lake, Heliotrope was about 90% more likely than, say, Noriko...

The fish flopped in the water, still on the line; Tynan looked down at it and vaulted off the rocks, grabbing it after a few tries. A good solid whack against one of the rocks ceased its flopping, and he sat down to work the hook out of its mouth, frowning at Heliotrope and her...bag?...and the book.

"LeJean," he said. He would hope she hadn't heard the news; could she even read the Prophet? Wouldn't the paper kind of...melt? Or whatever paper did.

"What're ye doin' here?" he asked, as casually as he could manage. "I thought ye lived..." He trailed off, failed, and settled on, "..not here."

"Half Selkie," Heliotrope said, as if Tynan had forgotten as much about the people at school as she had, even with yearbook reviews. Although the graduate "Carter George" had his name printed in reverse order. She hauled the boulder shaped bag ashore, placing it between rocks, with the yearbook on top.

Tynan set to work on the fish. "LeJean. What're ye doin' here? I thought ye lived.....not here."

Heliotrope squatted next to him, knees bent in a springy way as a frog would prime a hop. She watched him remove the hook. "I am visiting the Merrow Colonies of Ireland. My colony encouraged me to journey to learn the ways of other Merpeople."

Heliotrope realized that she had not seen Tynan MacFusty since school, realized the length of time it had been. She should give him a proper greeting. There were words she recalled from distant clan cousin Deus on the land dweller custom:[1]

Ah'll let ye in on a secret, since we be family ahn all. Ye ever seen two people kissin'? Ye know, bring their lips together? It be 'cause they're auld friends. Great way tae show a lad or lass yer friendly. Not distant family, o'course. A...firm handshake says it all between say, ye and me. But friends ye 'ave nae seen...'tis a very important gesture.

How to do it? It was similar to the Sharing of Air Danielle and Kulgor did, the other Unions in Loch Lomond did not do it as frequently. She never knew it was so widespread a gesture, like how the Ravenclaw Prefect and Carter George did so the day by the dock with the open jar of gillyweed. But doing it in the water was not always necessary, Heliotrope had seen other students in the hidden out-of-the-way nooks at school doing it too, their faces pressed together. Common features were closed eyes and the nibbling of lips. Almost a chewing motion. With their arms around each other.

Heliotrope went from crouching to on her knees. It wouldn't do to put arms around Tynan, his arms were busy with the fish. Leaning forward, then. Eyes open or closed? Closed, in case their eyeballs met upon impact. Heliotrope ran a webbed hand over her mouth, felt her lips. She hadn't contemplated what lips were really for. Straining the muscles, she got them to jut out. Her tongue licked them, to make sure it had worked. Heliotrope braced her hands on her legs, lined up her head with Tynan's, and slowly leaned forwards. She aimed for his lips, the bringing of lips together was the definition of the exercise. As she got closer, a feel for how continue on the correct tangent, she closed her eyes, lips leading the charge.

She needn't have worried about misaiming, as for anyone else when their eyes were closed there was darkness. For Heliotrope, it was a translucent film that protected her eyes underwater. It should also protect Tynan's eyes in case of their eyeballs squishing together during the Sharing of Air.

Closer...

Closer...

There was the sound of a *schmck* at the collision.

1.	I swear I didn't know she was a sheep!

Tynan wondered, for a moment, how that worked. He'd met merpeople - the real ones, with tails and teeth and nasty dispositions - and they'd never seemed...chummy. (He cringed; he'd unconsciously thought one of his father's favorite puns on his own). Chummy, friendly, whatever; they'd never seemed to be family people.

Well, maybe it was different for the lake ones. The sea merpeople were supposed to be considerably nastier, weren't they? "Sounds interestin'," he said. As he'd been learning, travelling was rather fun on its own, so maybe swimming was too.  Jut less scenic. And less muggles, unless she ran into those weird under-ships Keegan'd mentioned once, which Tynan didn't get the point of. Ships were supposed to float - why would you want one that sank?

He'd ceased to look at her directly, his growling stomach meaning he was prioritizing getting the fish properly gutted and cleaned. So, when her face loomed in front of his suddenly, he reeled back, eyes bugging out -

The kiss was, certainly, unexpected. To say the least. It wasn't exactly how he'd thought kisses were like, either, not that he'd ever allowed himself to think things like that. Pondering kissing was Not Done, especially if he wanted to be a Gentleman.

He sat there blinking, unsure how to react. That was what girls did when they liked you, right? His mum had been rather quiet on the subject. His gran...well, everyone told him not to listen to her. Besides, he couldn't follow through on her walkthrough of kissing - there wasn't a stack of hay for at least a mile.

He looked at Heliotrope, his usual vaguely belligerent expression barely masking his confusion. "Err," he said, intelligently. He wasn't quite sure what a girl would like him for. "Tha's, urm, very nice of ye, but..." What did you even say? He didn't dislike Heliotrope. And he liked Mairead, but she'd never kissed him, so maybe she didn't like him?

Just before the kiss did connect, Tynan looked up and squirmed back like a retreating grindylow. Heliotrope had still surprised him so before she fell over it happened. There was the sound of a *schmck* at the collision.

Heliotrope's back returned to an upwards angle. She watched the features on Tynan's face shift, never lingering. She felt her lips again. The lips did not feel different.

"Err, Tha's, urm, very nice of ye, but..."

"Was that done right?" Heliotrope asked. "It was my first time doing so. It is a common gesture, so you must know how it is done when you meet your friends." The instructions from Deus had sunk in deep.

The sight of gutted fish reminded Heliotrope of how her own stomach called out.

Tynan gave Heliotrope a look - a look so full of blank confusion she may as well have drawn out a large fish and hit him with it. He was still stuck trying to divine her reasoning when she spoke up, and it took him several moments to recognize her words for the lifeline they were.

Not that he was out of the torrent of confusion just yet, mind, but - "What?" he said, sitting up. He'd never heard of kissing being a common greeting . Unless...didn't the French do that? Or something? Yeah, that made sense. That was why it was called a French kiss, he was sure.

Damn. That meant he'd been french kissed by a fish. Fish girl. Whatever - a fish-like thing. Somehow he'd sleep better if his brothers never found out about that, or it'd be his epitaph. Tynan MacFusty: Fish Snogger. Better than 'Sheep Buggerer', he supposed, but still -

"Er.. I dunno," he told her, finally. "Dinnae knew ye could kiss wrong." Maybe you just missed, or bashed your teeth together or something. "Yer tribe do that, do they?"

"They don't do the Sharing of Air unless they are mated in Union, like my mother and spawn chieftain. Kissing is how you great old friends and shake the hands of family, that's what you do on the surface."

She eyed the fishing pole, recalling an old memory of the first time Tynan had seen her make a new Kelp Whip and he didn't believe fish could be caught that way. There was the one fish but not of a size to eat for two.

"How quickly does your pole snag fish?" Surface dwellers were 'incredibly lazy' by merpeople standards since they waited for the fish to come to them instead of actively hunting. She untethered her Kelp Whip from the bag, winding and unwinding it through her hands.