Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. This world belongs entirely to
J. K. Rowling , and I just found a home in it. Apart from that, no profit
is made from this story.
“Shut. Up. Giggling!!“
Aquaine giggled even harder.
“Why should I?”
“Because it´s annoying! I
can hear your silly noises even up in my bathroom!”
“And why should that bother
me? I can giggle any time I want, so I ask you again: Why should I stop?”
“Because you’ve got no reason
to! What are you laughing about, what is so funny about just hanging on
“Being a portrait in a bathroom
can be very interesting, be assured!” Aquaine flashed her fins
and smiled sweetly—well aware that the other girl was about to explode.
“Well, I suppose you´re only jealous.”
Myrtle scowled. “Jealous?
About you?” The shadowy girl zoomed out of her favourite water tap and
hovered above the basin with her arms folded. “Why should I be jealous
At this point Aquaine ran her white fingers
through her golden hair. “Well, the artist who painted me paid great attention
to my beauty…” She paused meaningfully. “…Perhaps your—er—parents might
have decided not to have children. I mean, if they knew the result
would look like that.”
At this point, Myrtle was
bound to burst into tears—and launch into a longish tirade about her own
misery. Aquaine leaned forward on her rock. She, as a mermaid (and a painting)
was not able to cry, and her fascination for other people’s tears sometimes
astonished even herself. She briefly wondered whether to feel guilty about
that. Then she assured herself that it was not necessary.
Myrtle, however, unexpectedly
kept her waiting. She glided over, the candlelight flashing on her pearly
glasses. In a voice like frozen stone, she hissed: “You would be better
off if your creator had paid only the slightest attention to your
Aquaine sat up, stunned.
Had she heard correctly? Myrtle, defending herself? “H—How do you mean
that?” she asked shakily. Myrtle narrowed her small, dark eyes.
“I meant it just as I said
it, you heartless, brainless half-fish! If you would bother to think at
all, you would know that there are other things to do than showing off
your beauty and insulting me!! How unoriginal can you get??”
“Un—unoriginal?” Aquaine stuttered.
Unoriginal? She, who was so proud of the little,
enchanting songs she used to make up? She, who always found a new insult
to throw at this clumsy ghost called Myrtle?
“Yes, unoriginal!!” Myrtle
shrieked. “Always picking at me, everybody does that!!” She threw back
her lank hair violently, and a misty tear was shaken off her face and
evaporated in mid-air.
Hopefully, Aquaine slid off her rock and looked
at Myrtle more closely. Her dearest wish was to reach out of the frame
and catch one of these shiny tears… but it seemed that, to her vast surprise,
she would be disappointed again.
Myrtle squeezed her eyes
shut. “I have something to tell you!” she declared with
teeth clenched. “You have no chance!”
Aquaine scratched her head.
What was the girl talking about? No chance? Ridiculous!
“I warn you, Aquaine. I know
things about merpeople you would not even dream of. And,” she opened her
eyes with a jerk, “I will tell you if you promise me something.”
“What do you know?!” Aquaine
had completely forgotten about trying to make Myrtle cry. The only thing
she was more eager about than tears was being told about herself—or about
any of her kind…it made her feel real, and that was new for her.
It was exciting.
Aquaine hesitated for a fraction
of a second. “Anything.”
“Speak after me.”
Aquaine gulped. “Okay.”
“I, Aquaine the mermaid,…
do solemnly swear… that I will do nothing…to interfere… with Moaning Myrtle´s
Aquaine furrowed her pretty
white brow. What was that little hag up to? She tried to think of a possible
solution as she absent—mindedly repeated the oath; however, she found
herself completely at sea.
Myrtle folded her arms again, looking
as satisfied as Aquaine had never seen her before. “Fine.” Slowly she
floated back towards the water tap.
“But you can´t leave now! What about
the things you wanted to tell me?”
She didn´t even bother to
turn around. “Tomorrow. If you keep your oath.” Aquaine clenched her fists
“What are you up to, then?”
she called. “What is so oh—so—important?”
Myrtle threw her a suspicious glare. “ Ooh,
I won´t tell you. You´ll only try to spoil it!”
“No, I won´t!” To her utter
astonishment, Aquaine found that this was true.
Myrtle could not keep a secret
for long. “Harry Potter will be here tonight!!”
This was interesting. Aquaine
had overheard many a conversation about the famous boy, and she was quite
curious now…without any doubt he would appreciate her help—more than that
cute, ignorant Cedric had done, anyway…
Then she remembered her oath. She cringed
inwardly. It really looked like—and she still couldn´t believe it—Myrtle
Getting accustomed to the
thought would take a while.
Myrtle had left, and Aquaine climbed her rock
again (much less gracefully than she would have liked to). The weather
on the canvas shore was stormy as always, and thoughtfully she looked
down to watch the waves breaking into white spray on the cliffs. Absent—mindedly
she wiped a few droplets of saltwater off her cheek.
A/N: Only to make this clear: I do not
think Cedric is ignorant. It´s just Aquaine who thinks that, and
she doesn’t know better.
Besides, I´ve got a little
“Thank You—speech” for you all. ;-) Thank You to all those
kind people who reviewed my first story, Thank You to our wonderful
headmistresses (who are outdoing themselves day after day—yes, I mean
it! ;-) ) and last but not least Thank You to Doctor Cornelius,