“Pack your swimming costume.” Lars says absently as Hermann hovers, agonised, over his suitcase.

His head snaps up, but Lars is busy trying to pack thirty massive tomes into one shoulderbag. “It’s a bit cold.”

“Yes, but Deep One courting requires a lot of swimming.” Lars glares at the bag, as though willing it to expand. “Maybe a wetsuit?”

Hermann’s mouth opens, then closes. His face flushes.

“That was your intention, wasn’t it?” Lars glances at him, “Newt is a good catch, the son of a city leader would make anyone jealous- and Newt is a lovely boy.”

Hermann makes a thin, high pitched sound deep in his throat.

Lars finally turns away from the bag. “Is everything quite all right?”

Hermann has no idea how to answer that.

And oh no, Lars has that look. The one that suggests he wants to dig out those damned parenting books and find out what he’s doing wrong.

“It’s fine.” He says weakly.

“I am supportive.” Lars says quickly. “I understand the need for your- for companionship and sexual relations.”

Oh God. “It’s fine.” He says again, quickly.

“Maybe-” Lars gives him a worried look. “The books suggest a ‘talk’ of sorts, at your age- something about birds and bees- although what they have to do with anything-”

The water is cool and chill after the heat of the day. Hermann comes up for air and paddles uncertainly.

“Like this.” The boy pops up beside him, and pushes up his legs, “Kick them.”

Hermannn tries, swims in small circles, “I’ve never-” he gets a mouthful of water, it’s sharp and salty, he spits, “been swimming.” he finishes.

The children stare at him. It’s wretchedly familiar. It’s the same look he gets when he tells people he doesn’t have a TV or the latest toy. “That’s okay,” The boy says firmly, and pulls him out a little. “You’re swimming now.”

The boy’s smaller than he is, and one of the more human ones, itt’s only as they’re paddling together that Hermann sees the little fanning fins on his arms, the very small scales on his back, the little gill slits wavering on his neck.

“Do you live in Arkham?” The boy bobs in the water. There’s a slight current in the pool, as the waves break over the little harbour wall.

“Yes.” Hermann’s searching feet find a little outcropping and balances himself on it. “Have you been there.”

“We go there for school.” He peers at Hermann, wide, green eyes. “Isn’t it horribly dry?”

Hermann smiles. “I’m not a fish,” he points out. “And there’s shops.”

“Oh, that’s fun.” He flips over in the water, comes out spraying water. “We used to have a shop, Monica says, but they went when the army burned the town down.”

Hermann stops. “They burned-”

“It was a long time ago,” the boy says quickly, “They don’t come around now.” he frowns at Hermann. “I don’t think we’ve ever had two people visiting since. D’you know why you’re here?”

“Father’s doing research.” Hermann tries to stifle the swell of pride. “I’m helping him.”

“What for?” The boy leans in, smiles.

“Um.” Hermann isn’t entirely sure. “He’s looking for some- strange creatures. I’m not sure what.”

“Creatures here?” The boy paddles around him. “Like Shoggoths?”

“Um,” Hermann shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know.”

“I could show you.” He says helpfully. “We’ve got a statue and mural and everything.”

Hermann glances back, father did say to stay, but he would be helping him with research- “Okay.”

They swim a little way back towards the sea wall, then The boy hauls himself out, leans down to help Hermann out.

The sun is hot, his feet slop water on the burning cobbles. The boy’s feet are a little splayed, faintly webbed. “This way.” He takes his hand.

They circle round to a wide seaview boulevard, there is no wall here, the cobbles arch over a series of slight bridges, Hermann looks down- the seafront homes are open to the sea.

“Here-” The boy points. Ahead is a sort of square, where a main road runs down to the seafront, and then down in a series of steps to the waves. In the middle is a tall sort of monument, triangular and topped with an obsidian statue. Hermann has no idea what it is, but as they get closer, he thinks it might be a sort of tentacle.

“Are these the things you are looking for?” The boy points at one of the flat sides of the triangle.

Hermann looks.

“Maybe,” He leans closer. It’s a bit stylised, be he can make out some of the kinds of people who live here, and a human army attacking them. Over the burning town, an enormous blackish blob is rushing down to engulf the army. 

“It does look a bit like- there was a story in the Fortean Times.” Father had been very interested in that one, he remembers. He smiles at the boy, “Thank you, I think father really would like to see that.” He feels a thrill at having done something, maybe the more he can do, the longer father will keep liking him.

“We can walk back.” The boy takes his hand and they walk up the main street. “I’m Newt.” he says suddenly.

Hermann blinks, looks at him. “I think you’re a fish,” he says uncertainly. “I don’t think Newt’s have gills like that.”

“No-” the boy rolls his eyes. “I mean yes- Newt’s my name. Newt.”

“Oh.” Hermann feels his face flush. This boy might just be his friend and he’s ruined it. “I’m Hermann.”

Hermann’s bag is full to bursting with the ancient library books, his arms barely wrapping around the strange medley of magazines. His heart is beating hard against the mingled pages of Cosmo and New Scientist, desperately hoping he’s gotten everything Lars wanted. 

He manages to juggle everything long enough to unlock the front door, and shuffles in to deliver his load.

A strange, garbled sound reaches his ears. It’s not English, or German, or anything else he knows, but it seems to be coming from Lars’ office.

Hermann slows, hesitates outside the door. The voice- and it is a voice, rises angrily in a raucous croak of irritation, then stops. Hermann hugs the magazines, unsure if he should knock or- what is going on?

“You can come in.” Lars’ voice comes from the other side.

Hermann tentatively pushes the door open. Lars is scowling at his desk, one which is strewn a bizarre collection of- Hermann can’t even describe what they are- smooth, silvery, with a sort of large glass bubble propped up on what seem to be stalks of clear quartz.

Lars turns, and the anger flows away into a tired sort of smile. “I’m sorry about that.” His smile broadens when he sees the magazine. “Ah wonderful, did you get the books?”

Hermann nods, looks around for somewhere to put the books.

“Here.” Lars brushes the strange collection off his desk uncaring. Hermann flinches as the glass bubble falls to the ground- but it bounces, the quartz pieces chiming against it as they rolls away.

Hermann puts the magazines on the table, “Were you talking to someone?” he says in a very small voice, ready to drop into silence the moment Lars starts getting angry at his questions.

Lars sighs, but he isn’t angry. “Yes, I was registering a complaint.” He shakes his head. “You think they could do a damned background check-” he shakes his head again. “Never mind, looks like we’re stuck together for now.” he gives Hermann a smile. “Let’s have a look at those books then.”

Hermann unpacks them quietly. “Can I help?”

“If you can read through these-” he waves at the magazines, “I want any information about Pluto, aliens, mysterious animals, or any disappearances in remote places and mountains. Just tag the page and make a note of it so I can get back to them.”

Hermann nods and hurries over to get started.

They read comanionably for a few minutes, then Lars looks up, “Are you going to sit down?”

Hermann blinks at him, “I can get a chair.” He tries tentatively.

“Just use that one-” Lars waves a hand at the heavy, leather and mahogany armchair Hermann had been screamed at for even going near. He doesn’t dare move, in case this is some kind of test. Lars frowns, “You can sit in the chair.” He glances at it. “Is it broken?”

Hermann shakes his head frantically, does he think he broke it? Lars sighs and gets up, tucks the magazines under his arm, walks over to the chair and shakes it. “You could sit a damned Shoggoth on that thing.” He frowns at Hermann, “Sit down, you can’t concentrate properly standing.”

Hermann nods, grabs the post its and his pen and goes it sit down on the creaking, buttery leather. Lars smiles. “That’s better isn’t it?”

Hermann nods, doesn’t dare talk, barely dares breathe, he waits until Lars has gone back to his desk and is once again absorbed in his work, and lets out tension in a slow exhale. He picks up The Weekly World News, and starts reading.

“Have you finished?” Lars’ voice comes in some unknown time later. 

Hermann guiltily snaps Cosmo closed. The clothes had been rather  nice. “Yes sir.”

“Excellent!” A broad, pleased smile and Hermann’s breath catches in his throat because- how badly had he dreamed to have his father look at him like that? “Very professional.” He glances through Hermann’s post its. “Why don’t you get us a plate of some of that food from yesterday? It must be late.” He looks outside, blinks at the night. “Why didn’t you go earlier?” He glances at Hermann, “You must be hungry.”

Hermann’s stomach growls fiercely. He blushes.

“Go on then-” He waves Hermann off, “Get yourself a double helping for missing lunch.”