Chapter 21: The Half-Blood Prince's Birthday Lunch

"It's better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both."~Niccolo Machiavelli

Ariel was singing to herself with her back to the opening when Draco emerged into the modest kitchen. The sound of her melodic voice mixed with the loud cacophony of her loudly chopping onions.

"Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't be scared

You better be prepared

Go on and—" (chop chop chop)

Sha-la-la-la-la-la

Don't stop now

Don't try to hide it

How you wanna" (chop chop chop chop chop)

Each time the sound of a knife connected with a cutting board jutted Draco's racing heart. He looked around for the Dark Lord but it was only them.

"Are you allergic to anything?" Ariel's melodic voice pierced his head fog.

He had to think. He barely knew himself anymore. If someone had asked him last year he's dietary preferences he would've given them a whole litany of foods his refined taste buds couldn't bear. Wasn't he the same child that demanded a personal chef for his 8th birthday because Narcissa's family elf's cooking wasn't up to standard? But now, he felt as feral as an abused dog, happy with whatever he could get his mouth on so long as it wasn't a foot or a fist.

"N-no, madam."

"Good. I'm making trout." She turned her head to the pile of onions then looked at him again and said, "Sweetheart you don't have to stand there. Take a seat if you want."

Draco took the chair closest to him and he was so sore and tired he practically collapsed into the stiff wooden chair like it was a mound of pillows. He let his head hang, grateful for the momentary rest until a thud made him jerk upward.

Ariel had set a glass of water in front of him. When he caught her eye, she looked away as if embarrassed.

"Thank you."

"No problem, sweetheart." She replied as she went back to the onions.

Every time she called him sweetheart it felt like a comforting breeze against exposed sweaty skin. He felt himself ease a little bit with water sloshing in his belly.

"Sha-la-la-la-la-la

My, oh my

Looks like the boy's too shy

Ain't gonna—"

"What are you singing?" He asked finally.

"It's a song a family friend made up a long time ago. I don't know the name."

"It's catchy."

Ariel smirked into her pile of onions. "He wrote it to help me win a bet against a sea witch."

"What was the bet?"

"To see if I could get my land-dwelling crush to kiss me in three days without using my voice."

He smiled. He remembered a time when he asked himself was there a way for him to get Potter to love him without having to talk (or be nice) to him and felt a kinship for the young lovestruck Ariel. "Did you win?"

Ariel turned her head over her shoulder and gave him a thoughtful smile. "Yes and no. I mean, I won the bet but the prize wasn't worth all that much to begin with." She whipped her head back to the chopping board and said, "But isn't that how it always goes? You sacrifice everything for something you think you want, just to get it and realize, this isn't what I wanted at all."

Draco frowned as acrimony filled his fractured heart.

"Want to hear a funny story?"

Draco looked up to see Ariel using her knife to slide the diced onions into a simmering cauldron.

"How old are you, by the way?"

"Sixteen." Sixteen and a half was more accurate but he doubted he'd live to see seventeen.

"Aw, sixteen. You're so young... Well, anyway, when Tom was a little younger than you are now, I took him to meet my friend who wrote the song I just sang. Well, my friend Sebastian is this little crustacean." She demonstrated his diminutive size with her fingers. "Little tiny creature this big. So, I took Tom to meet him and—you know Tom—he's such an arrogant asshole to anyone he thinks is beneath him. And I forgot what he said but he said something really rude to Sebastian about his size. My friend flips out. He takes his little claws and makes a sound so loud it scares me a little." Ariel demonstrated the loudness by bashing the blade of her knife into the cutting board. "This little crab made a noise so loud it scared the literal shit out of him."

Draco let out a shocked laugh. "You're lying."

Ariel shook her head, grinning. "Swear to Cod. He literally pooped his pants."

He guffawed. He couldn't believe it. Imagining it made his core harden: little Voldemort scared shitless of a little crab. "No fucking way."

She nodded. "To this day, he gets upset whenever I bring up Sebastian around him. Or call him crabby."

Draco laughed so hard tears came out of his eyes and his nose was running. It was the first time all year he laughed that hard.

Ariel laughed with him, telling the teen once the laughter faded, "I thought you'd get a kick out of that."

Draco gave her a devious smile. "Got any more stories?"

"That's the only one I'm afraid," Ariel said. "For now. If I get any more embarrassing stories, I'll be sure to share."

"I'd like that."

They fell into a small stretch of silence before he asked, "Where did Tom—" He amended himself. "The Dark Lord go?"

"He went to go catch lunch."

Draco sat up in his chair to peer out of the kitchen window that faced the backyard. He felt like he was watching his own fever dream: here he was in Uncle Sev's house with an ex-mermaid who also happened to be the Dark Lord's adopted mother chopping onions while the Dark Lord himself stood on an ice-covered lake in the dead of winter with his wand pointed at a small hole in the ground like a hunter waiting patiently to use his spear.

He loved ice fishing. Or his version of it anyway. He loved the cold and the wait and feel of ice crystallizing against his bare feet, melting then hardening then freezing against his flesh. He couldn't wait to peel his feet from the ice, yanking off a huge chunk of his flesh along the way nor more than he could wait for an unlucky fish to swim his way.

He left the frozen lake once he caught enough fish for the three of them. His bloodied footprints trailed the frozen lake and disappeared into the back door of the old house.

He plopped his catch on the space in front of Draco and took the chair opposite of him.

"Grab me a boning knife," he ordered as he began rolling up his sleeves. He must have remembered about Ariel because he added, "Please."

Draco did as asked and watched in amazement as the Dark Lord beheaded the fish with one loud heavy-handed CHOP then methodically began to debone, gut and cube the meat.

The room was silent except for the sounds of cooking. Soon, pleasant smells filled the air, teasing the starving young man who felt dizzy waiting for the meal to be done.

Lunch came and it was terrible (Ariel used way too many onions and he forgot how much he detested trout) but Draco scarfed every bit of it down underneath the Dark Lord's watchful eye.

"Thank you, Lady Ariel."

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Voldemort snapped, his constant fury breaking through.

Ariel kicked him in the shin and for a few horrible seconds, the two of them were glaring at each other. Draco thought the house would explode from their quiet intensity but then Ariel turned her head away and told Draco with a smile, "Thank you for cleaning the house."

But Voldemort didn't turn his head. He continued giving her this hard stare like he was only now realized her defiance.

"I hate when you do that." He spoke with a coldness that Draco knew bespoke murder.

"Well I hate when you bully people," Ariel said, looking him in the eye, cool and unafraid.

Voldemort frowned hard. He looked like he was going to burst from a boiling rage. Abruptly, he snapped his head at Draco and ordered the young man to scatter. He did without hesitation though inwardly he wished was braver and could have stood up to the Dark Lord on Ariel's behalf. But he couldn't and he left that poor woman alone and defenseless with that deranged wizard.

Voldemort waited until Draco's frightened footfalls disappeared into the second floor before he asked with an exasperated sigh, "Must you undermine me in front of my servants?"

"Must you be so mean to the kid? He's obviously scared shitless of you."

"That's the whole point, mom. It's better to be feared."

"I disagree. I think it's better to be loved."

Voldemort scoffed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I..."

"What?"

"What happened to you? You used to be a murderous queen."

"I was never a murderous queen! I was a pissed-off princess at most for a couple of decades but I've grown since then."

"But what about the Great Viper of the Seas? You used to be the living nightmare for sailors and the British armada! Now, you're so...ugh, kind, and, ugh, compassionate. It's sickening."

"I've always been kind and compassionate. If I wasn't, we never would have met."

Voldemort let out a heavy sigh tilting his head to the ceiling. "I guess..."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." He grunted out awkwardly not used to apologizing.

Ariel gave his cold, colorless hand a soft squeeze of forgiveness. "You can make it up to me by reading me a story."

"But you have a much prettier reading voice than I." He argued as they got up from the table to relocate into the living room.

"I like the sound of your voice."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I always have. When you're not using it be a bigoted asshole anyway."

Voldemort took his seat on the cushion beside her. "Fair enough." He flipped to the end of the book, waited for Ariel to give him the cue to start, then, in his best grade school reading-aloud-to-the-class voice, read her his personal favorite childhood story, "the Tale of the Three Brothers".