Title: Like Water for Squid Meat
Author: Mad Maudlin
Email: mekamorph@yahoo.com
Category: Humor
Keywords: Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, slash, squid, lake, magic realism
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Just some random fandom cliches.
Summary: In Which there is a thin line between antipathy and obsession; Hermione solves problems that don't need much solving; Harry wears a false moustache; and something goes on at the lake that no one is prepared for. With Smirking Innuendo ™!

Disclaimer #1: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

In other words, they're not mine; talk to the nice Scottish lady.

Disclaimer #2: This story alludes to slashy situations; to wit, two genetic males engaging in an adult relationship. If that bothers you, please turn back now or forever hold your peace. Thank you.

Dedication: To the P&P crew, most especially Ichigatsu, who first alluded to "Like Water for Chocolate" on the FAP thread. I ganked her bunny. I am bad. Also to Douglas Adams, to whom I refer in the last line, because he is a genius. If you finish the story and still don't know what happened, go read the book So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, and don't skip ahead to the bit about Marvin. It's worth it.

Like Water for Squid Meat

by Mad Maudlin

It was a lovely summer's day at Hogwarts, or a close as you can get in Scotland, and the entire school was out and about to celebrate the defeat of Lord Voldemort by Harry Potter, a.k.a. The Boy Who Lived, The Heir of Gryffindor, and Witch Weeky's Most Eligible Bachelor ever since he reached the age of consent. Harry himself was walking around the lake with his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, wearing a large hat and sunglasses and glancing furtively into the shadows. The media, despite warnings and open threats from the faculty (some involving hedgehogs), had become remarkably adept at sneaking onto school grounds, and tended to prey upon any dark-haired short people who strayed too far from the buildings; there had be disappearances. Harry did not particularly want to be ambushed by a reporter wielding deeply personal questions about his sex life, and thus had elected to take a few pages of Moody's book, although he had been forced to leave behind a few which were stuck together with something red and smelly.

Hermione was striding, which is a kind of walk that people do when they are entirely certain of something, immensely pleased with themselves, or annoyed, and Hermione was all three. She had, as usual, figured out how to solve a persistent problem, despite the best efforts of those to whom the problem actually belonged, and she would not be stopped in the implementation of her solution. It was For Their Own Good. Ron, who had never strode in his memory and owned many of the problems Hermione had attempted to solve over the years, kept trying to slip away and run back to the castle; once or twice he nearly made it before she cottoned on.

"Ron! Get back here!"

Sulking, he came out from behind the tree and continued to walk next to Hermione, as slowly as humanly possible. Harry, who had just seen what was either a photographer or a squirrel, tried to hide behind him. "This is stupid, Hermione."

"It is not." Hermione seized hold of his robes. "It's good karma."

"My karma's perfectly fine, if we could just get it to come out of the forest—"

"Kar-ma," Hermione said irritably. "It's almost the end of the year, and if you and Malfoy don't make up now, it'll haunt you for the rest of your lives."

"You sound," Ron said, knowing exactly how to annoy her by now, "like Trelawney."

Hermione scowled and continued to stride, tugging at Ron's sleeve. Harry pulled his collar up a bit higher and followed.

"I don't see why I have to make up with the little git," Ron complained. "He's still a nasty little ferret."

"He's a nasty little ferret who was crucial to the downfall of You-Know-Who, and Harry and I have both made up with him, so now it's your turn."

He frowned. "What did he do that was so crucial, anyway? Wasn't it spying, or something?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. I thought he turned against his father at the last minute and betrayed the whole Death Eaters organization. What did he do, Harry?"

"Don't ask me," Harry said, shrugging. "I heard that he has some kind of amazing secret power that he chose to utilize for good, that made him instrumental in Voldemort's demise."

"You mean you don't know? I mean, you were sort of, well, there."

Harry made a face. "Well, yes, but I was a bit busy conquering my lifelong nemesis and the united forces of all things evil and sticky to notice what Malfoy was up to." His head whipped around. "What was that?"

"It was a squirrel, Harry," Ron sighed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Harry."

"It could be a disguise..."

"But, anyway," Hermione said loudly. "The point is, whatever he did, Malfoy was crucial to the downfall of You-Know-Who, which makes him automatically a good guy, and good guys are not allowed to fight. Which means you have to make up with him."

Ron kicked a large pebble into the lake, making Harry start again. "He's still a git."

"Yes, but he's a git on our side."

They had come, at length, to the far side of the lake, not too terribly far from where the first years' boats habitually landed. The castle in the distance was very lovely and enchanting, except for the large puffs of orange and violet smoke coming out of the dungeon windows on one side. Malfoy was already waiting for them there, standing on the shore and hexing robins out of the trees. He beamed beatifically at them as they approached. "Hello, Potter, hello, Granger, hello, Weasel."

Ron growled. Hermione kicked him.

"Hello, Malfoy," Harry said. "Why are you hexing those birds?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I felt like wantonly destroying something innocent."

"Ah." Harry backed away from him, slowly.

Hermione pushed Ron forward in a businesslike manner. "Right. Now, Malfoy, since you're a good guy now—"

"I am?" he asked, frowning. "I thought I was an antihero, like Professor Snape."

"—and since this is our last year at Hogwarts and we'll be leaving in a few days," she continued, ignoring him, "you and Ron have to make up and be friends or your karma will be damaged forever."

"I don't own one of those horrible Muggle machines, Granger."

"Are you sure you've got the right word?" Ron asked.

Hermione growled. A mile away, several unicorn stallions discretely positioned themselves to protect their unmentionables.

Malfoy, not possessing nearly so much good sense, scowled. "I am not being friends with that."

"You'll be happy to know the feeling is mutual," Ron snapped.

Hermione stamped her foot. "Yes, you are! You both are! Right now!"

They stared at each other. Harry began to cautiously root around in the bushes for paparazzi.

"Fine!" Hermione shrieked after a while, "Be stubborn! See if I care! But don't you dare come back to the castle until you're friends, because if you do I will...I will...I will set the house-elves on you both!" Flushed with indignation, she snatched Harry by the sleeve and stalked away. (Stalking is what happens when striding gets offended.)

Ron and Draco glared at each other for a moment.

Draco said, "If you think I'm going to lower to myself to associating with the likes of you, you're mad."

Ron said, "If you think I'd ever get down on my knees and beg to be allowed in your presence, you're starkers."

Draco said, "Bite me, poor boy."

Ron tried to.

-x-X-x-X-x-

"Do you think they're actually going to do it?" Harry asked, as they were now some yards away and had missed the exchange.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Harry. I've never understood all the animosity between them, really—once you take away the evil and the snarkiness and the near-sociopathic disregard for the feelings and well-being of others, Malfoy's not so bad."

Harry nodded. "He makes very good jokes."

-x-X-x-X-x-

In the classic battle of strength versus speed, strength was winning, largely because speed had been too surprised to duck.

"Get off me, Weasel!" Draco yelped, pounding on Ron's back with his fists.

Ron tried to flip him to the ground without much luck. "Make me, Ferret Face!" Draco kicked him hard, in the shins, and they both fell to the stony ground, wands completely forgotten nearby.

-x-X-x-X-x-

"I mean, you would think," Hermione said, "that, after a while, they'd get bored with jumping on top of each other over every little smart remark."

"They don't always jump on top of each other," Harry said. "Sometimes they try to duel. Though that's mostly just shoving their wands in each other's faces and hollering."

"It's all the same thing, really." She looked towards the castle, where a steady stream of turquoise smoke was pouring out of the dungeon windows. "They put so much energy into hating one another, you'd almost think—"

When she didn't complete the sentence, Harry prompted her, "Think what?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Did you just see a camera flash?"

"No, Harry."

-x-X-x-X-x-

Knees and elbows flailed and Ron and Draco rolled across the ground, both trying to pin the other, neither doing a very good job of it. Ron snatched a handful of Draco's hair; Draco jerked his head away, hissed "Don't touch the hair, you overgrown pimento," and tried to bite him on the neck.

Ron twisted out of the way and growled, "Shove off, you little vampire."

"I can't if you're—ow!—on top of me—the hair!"

-x-X-x-X-x-

"I'm surprised they haven't killed each other already, after seven years of this," Harry said philosophically.

Hermione nodded. "It's been building for ages. Maybe generations—you know how Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy fight."

"And about the first thing Malfoy ever said to us was what he'd heard of Ron's family."

She looked out over the clear water. "There's a fine line between antipathy and obsession, I suppose. Like the line between love and—"

"Between love and what?"

"Never mind."

-x-X-x-X-x-

Over and over and over, they rolled, scratching at each other's faces and tearing at each other's robes. Neither was particularly above hair-pulling or biting; Ron narrowly avoiding having an eye put out when Draco decided to make use of his abnormally long (and impeccably manicured) nails. He pulled away, Draco scrambled upward, and the Slytherin was within a step of escaping entirely. Bellowing like a wounded moose, Ron tackled Draco from the side, and they fell, thrashing, into the shallow lake water.

When the splashing stopped, they were laying on top of one another, bodies perfectly aligned and lips just barely touching. Wide eyes, blue and grey, locked in amazement at what they had just discovered, which should've been obvious all along.

Around them, the water began to steam.

-x-X-x-X-x-

Hermione's shoulders sagged. "I suppose it's impossible, really. I shouldn't have even tried."

"Your intentions were good," Harry said encouragingly. "Are you sure that wasn't a camera flash?"

"I'm positive, Harry." She glanced over the lake, and frowned. "That's strange—it's the wrong time year for fog, isn't it?"

Harry took his attention off a journalist-shaped tree stump to watch the wall of white vapor roll across the surface of the lake. "It seems a bit warm for fog, yes." The giant squid soared to the surface, tentacles thrashing, before it was enveloped by the advancing cloud.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head. "It's probably just a climactic anomaly caused by the cold lake water. Or possibly swamp gas."

"I didn't know we had any swamps in Scotland."

"You don't need a swamp to have swamp gas."

"Really?"

"Really. ...did you heard something?"

"Where?!" Harry drew his wand and pointed it at the threatening trees.

Hermione sighed at him. "Not that sort of something. Sort of a...a rushing sound, like when water boils."

Harry cocked his head and listened, but heard nothing except for some agitated splashing he assumed was the concealed giant squid. "I don't hear anything like that."

"Huh. That's odd."

-x-X-x-X-x-

That night at dinner, all the tables were loaded with large platters of something rubbery and white

"Eurgh!" Lavender Brown squealed. "What is that?"

Hermione sniffed and served herself some. "It's calimari," she announced. "I had it while I was on holiday in Italy and it's lovely."

"What's it made out of?" Seamus asked, poking some with his fork.

"Squid. Harry, have you seen Ron?"

Harry, who was removing his false moustache, shook his head.

"Squid? Eurgh!"

"Oh, do grow up, Lavender..." Hermione checked her watch. "I wonder...you don't suppose he's still out there, do you?"

Harry shook his head again. "Not even they have that much stamina, Hermione. I reckon he went around the other way and snuck back into the castle, and he's waiting for you to calm down."

"I am calm."

"Well, you also threatened to set a mob of angry house-elves on him."

"Hmph."

The front doors of the Great Hall opened. Ron and Draco came in, being pushed by the very agitated Heads of their respective Houses. They were both a mess, sopping wet, tracking mud in their wakes; Ron's robes were covered in pond scum, and Malfoy seemed oblivious to the large piece of seaweed twined around his head like a tiara. They were both blushing furiously.

McGonagall pushed Ron towards the Gryffindor table, her lips so tightly compressed that it was miraculous she could speak without deflating her head. "I am very disappointed with you, Mr. Weasly. Very, very disappointed. I will inform you of your detention tomorrow at breakfast. I cannot believe a student, a seventh-year, in my own House—" She broke off and departed, taking her seat at the nearly-empty staff table.

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Ron. Did you even try to make up with Malfoy before you jumped on top of him?"

Ron considered this for a moment. "No."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

Harry frowned. "Ron, you've been out there for hours. Surely not even you and Malfoy can keep at it for that long?"

Ron's face, if that were possible, went even redder. He mumbled, "You'd be surprised..."

Hermione swallowed a piece of calimari and glared. "Well, it doesn't appear that either of you were hurt too badly...you didn't hurt him, did you?"

Ron's face at that point could've luminesced. "I, er...might've. But he seemed to rather...enjoy it...at the time."

Harry frowned again, dimly aware that something significant had occurred, but in much the same way as the butterfly is aware that it has just caused a tornado in Kansas. Hermione just sighed the sigh of those whose good intentions have been once again thwarted by the free will of others. "Oh, fine. Eat your calimari."

"Caliwhatty?"

"Boiled squid," Harry translated.

"Eurgh," said Lavender, again.

Ron suddenly went white and began to choke.

-x-X-x-X-x-

They went back to Gryffindor after dinner. Harry insisted on taking a circuitous route, because Colin Creevey still had his camera, and got five Galleons and a photo credit for candid shots. Hermione took advantage of the extra time to lecture Ron on Proper Behavior for A Young Wizard, Or, What Am I Going To Do With You?

"...rolling around on the ground with Malfoy, did you actually fall into the lake? I suppose you must've. Honestly, Ron! Can't you learn to restrain yourself just a little bit where he's concerned?"

"He didn't mind," Ron said, but softly.

Harry, looking out of the windows in the corridor, paused. "Er, guys..."

"If only you could learn a little self-control!"

"...Ron? Hermione?"

"A little patience!"

"...ahem..."

"How to get a grip on yourself instead of on him!"

Ron's eyes bugged out.

"Hermione!" Harry tugged on her robes and pointed out the window. "Look at that."

She looked, as did Ron once he'd calmed down. "I don't see anything, Harry, it's just the lake."

"I know...but doesn't it seem a bit...smaller?"

Below them, Dumbledore was kneeling on air several feet above the mud and dead fish that now ringed the lake on all sides. He was conversing animatedly with several disgruntled merpeople, all of whom looked very red, as though they had bad sunburns. They were pointing at the far side of the lake and waving their spears in a threatening manner.

"It does look a bit lower," Hermione said after a while. "But how could you drain off so much water?

Ron cleared his throat and began walking jauntily away. "You know, that's a very good question, Hermione, I think I'll go find out! I'll just go look...er...look in...in the…hark! A decoy!"

"Ron! Get back here! I'm not done yet!"

"Sorry, must dash!"

"Ron! Ooo…what am I going to do with him?"

-x-X-x-X-x-

The last week of the term was uneventful, by Hogwarts standards. The source of the smoke in the dungeons was located and given a detention. The House Cup was awarded as usual. Calimari was served at every meal for a week, except on Thursday, when Dobby lead a general strike among the kitchen help, and the professors had to hand out pot noodles and cold tinned spaghetti from little carts. The lake eventually returned to its normal level, but the merpeople took to throwing rocks at anyone who walked too close to the shore, and so most students began to avoid it. A small colony of reporters was located in the Forbidden Forest, and forcibly relocated back to their natural habitat. The unicorn stallions eventually uncrossed their legs.

Ron and Draco slept very late and did it all over again the next day, but on dry land, and with Sony Walkmans.

-Fine-