Skulls and Crossbones

kneazle

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/11/2003
Last Updated: 25/07/2006
Status: completed

AU! Privateer Harry Potter seeks revenge against Captain Tom Riddle, a ruthless, bloodthirsty pirate who killed his parents 19 years ago. But before he can avenge his parents' deaths, he must return a runaway Princess to her family - despite falling in love with her - and find his father's hidden treasure... before his enemies do! Features RW/LL, D/G as well!

Chapters

1. Skulls 01

2. Skulls 02

3. Skulls 03

4. Skulls 04

5. Skulls 05

6. Skulls 06

7. Skulls 07

8. Skulls 08

9. Skulls 09

10. Skulls and Crossbones 10

1. Skulls 01

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Thus after Dangers past, now safe and well

The Story to our Friends we often tell,

And they to recompense us for our Tale

Do strive to drown us in a Cup of Ale…

– “The Third Journal of Jeremy Roch” (1699)

~*~

October 31, 1749 – All Hallow’s Eve

“All hands on deck! We’re under attack!” the tall, ebony-haired young man cried out, as gunfire and cannon fire was heard echoing through the night. He ran around the hull of his ship, The Marauder, before jumping the steps leading from the pilot deck to his captain’s quarters, where his wife and son slept peacefully.

Yanking open the door to the quarters, he shouted, “Lily! Quick, take Harry and go!”

“James?” the sleepy voice asked, and in the darkness of the room, James saw his wife sleeping on the bed they shared, his son nestled in the cradle of her arms. “What is it? Is that gunfire I hear?”

“Quick, Lily,” said James, his voice hushed and ragged. “It’s The Dark Mark. They’ve found us. You need to get out of here. Please!”

Lily opened her mouth to reply, her green eyes wide with fright and defiance when they heard the sharp tang of metal hitting wood.

“Please Lily,” pleaded James, “They’ve launched the grapples. You must get Harry out of here! Sirius’ ship is mere miles behind ours, and Remus is behind him. I’ll be safe, but you must hurry!”

Lily nodded once, before scooping their son into the protection of her arms. She tossed the covers aside, and glanced back at James, who stood guard by the door. He jerked his head to the bay window that overlooked the hull of the ship. Lily closed her eyes, blew a kiss to her husband, and began to work on the lock of the windows.

She could hear the sounds of their crew shouting at the other pirates, and heard the sounds of gunfire and cannon fire as The Marauder came under attack. With her hands shaking, she finally was able to unlock the window.

Lily pushed it open, and glanced down. At the back of their brig, was a tiny rowboat that was able to carry her and Harry to Sirius’ schooner safely while everyone else was distracted. Lily proceeded to turn and begin her descent to the rowboat when she heard James curse. She didn’t stop, but once she reached the rowboat, she kissed Harry’s forehead, and thanked God that he was still asleep.

With one final glance, she grabbed onto the rope ladder and pushed the rowboat away from their ship, in the direction of Sirius’ – she could even see his lights already.

Lily sighed inwardly before climbing the rope, and jumping through the bay window in time to see Captain Tom Riddle kick open the captain quarter’s door, his bulk shadowing the moonlight that filtered in behind him.

“James Potter,” he said in a silky tone, “We meet again.”

“Riddle,” Lily’s husband replied, nodding his head as he yanked his sword out of its sheath by his left side. He pointed it at his opponent.

Suddenly, the two engaged in a rapid and skilled battle of the swords – the metal clanged every time they met each other, and sparks flew. They went around the room, knocking chairs and tables over as they moved. It happened so swiftly that Lily didn’t see the dagger until it was embedded in her husband’s chest. He fell to the floor, coughing up his blood.

With a look of disgust, Riddle moved towards Lily, demanding, “Where’s the boy? Give me the boy and I will spare your life.”

“Never!” the red-haired woman shouted, picking up James’ discarded sword. She whipped it through the air, hearing it swish. “I’d rather kill myself than betray my son.”

Riddle’s face tilted up, his odd scarlet eyes glowing in the dark, and his pale face white in the moonlight. “So be it,” he said softly, before stepping forward and lunging to the left. Lily feinted and turned right, only to spin and see her sword be knocked out of her hand, which was nicked and bleeding.

Riddle took one last step forward before his rapier came down. Lily didn’t utter a sound.

Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he liked to call himself, smirked before turning and stepping over James’ body, leaving the room. He called a retreat, and left The Marauder to float in the sea.

The Marauder managed to withhold the blows it took by the time help arrived, but both James and Lily were dead by the time Sirius and Remus arrived onboard. Baby Harry was lying in Sirius’ arms, eyes wide and awake when they stepped in the captain’s quarters. He may have only been a year old, but the picture of her parent’s slain on his family’s brig was forever etched in his mind.

~*~

Chapter One – June 23, 1768

The sky was just fading to a dark blue as the sun fell in the horizon. Pinks, purples and oranges filled the sky as the sun glittered off the never-ending ocean before a young man, who stood on the main deck of a large brig. Stars glittered high above the young man, and a moon was slowly making its way over the horizon.

The young man wore a white shirt that had a v-neck to be tied with laces, and loose-fitted sleeves with tight cuffs. He also wore wide black breeches that fell to his knees, and were then tucked into a pair of black buckletop boots. A scarlet sash was tied around his waist to hold his shirt into his pants, and to attach his majestic looking sword to his left hip.

His messy black hair was not tied back in his usual red bandana, but left free so that the wind could play with it, which is greedily did. The young man paid no attention to it, however. He was staring at the horizon, seemingly lost in his memories.

“Oi, Harry!” a deep voice called out, high above the young man. Harry Potter turned around and looked up to where his quartermaster, Ronald Weasley, sat high on the crow’s nest. In the fading light, Harry could barely make out his friend’s vibrant red hair.

Amused, Harry watched as Ron scaled down the foremast and the shrouds before landing on the main boom and falling safely to the main deck of Harry’s brig, The Marauder.

“So what did you see up there, Ron?” asked Harry, turning his face towards his best friend, and first mate.

“Nothing too out of the ordinary,” shrugged the twenty year old. His blue eyes locked with Harry’s green. “So what’s bothering you mate? Thinking about… well… him again, are you?”

Harry turned back towards the ocean, leaning his elbows on the wooden rail. “Of course I’m thinking about Sirius, Ron.”

“You can’t keep thinking that his death was your fault, Harry!” Ron snapped, turning towards his friend and grabbing his shoulders. “He died fighting against The Dark Mark, and he died proudly!”

Harry turned around to face his best friend, and hissed, “Don’t remind me! I was there – I saw everything that happened, remember? I was the one shouting out the orders to my crew, telling them to board The Dark Mark and to find Riddle! Must you remind me?”

Ron sighed. Ever since the death of his godfather nearly five years ago, Harry had changed. Although Sirius had died in battle against Captain Tom Riddle, a notorious and ruthless sea pirate, he had died proudly. Captain Tom Riddle was someone who didn’t take prisoners and never let anyone live… if they did live it was pure luck. Harry, of course, couldn’t see that – he was the one who shouted the orders and commanded his brig into battle. So when there were any deaths he took them upon himself as a personal flaw in his battle plans.

Ron shook his head and moved away from his friend, tugging on one of the tight cuffs of his own white shirt. It would take a miracle for Harry to come to realize that Sirius’ death wasn’t his fault. Now, where am I going to find one?

“Sail ho!”

Shaken out of his thoughts, Ron glanced to see who had yanked on his sleeve, making him reach for the pistol he kept tucked in his waistband of his pants. He saw it was only Harry, watching him with those unsettling emerald eyes of his.

“It’s The Pharaoh ahead of us,” he said quietly, pointing out towards the almost-gone sun. Sure enough, a galiot with its sail fluttering in the wind was where he indicated.

“Are you sure they’re the one? The one that has part of the map?” whispered Ron back, staring hard at the galiot. He glanced at his friend, wondering why they were still going on this wild goose chase Harry’s father started so many years ago after losing his prized treasure.

Harry nodded, his right hand reaching for his sword. “That’s the one. Let’s go.”

Ron nodded, and stood tall, squaring his shoulders. He took a deep breath and shouted, “ALL HANDS ON DECK! HOIST THE MAIN MASTS! MOVE THE MAINSHEET STARBOARD!”

Echoed shouts of his command and the sounds of people moving around the brig reached Harry’s ears as he moved towards the quarterdeck. As he stood next to Ron, just off to the side of the pilot, Harry watched as his ship began to pick up speed whenever one of the sails were unleashed from their lines. The brig dropped a couple feet as it hit a wave, and bounced, in a gentle up-and-down motion. Inhaling, Harry remembered just why he loved being a privateer so much.

Harry’s sharp eyes watched in grim amusement as they came close to The Pharaoh, which noticed their speedy arrival. Through his spyglass, Harry could see many people scurrying about, trying to get their galiot to move faster than his brigantine – and they knew who he was already, because his red flag (a black skull with two swords criss-crossing behind it) was easily spotted.

“Only a couple yards now,” muttered Ron beside him, running a hand through his shoulder-length fiery hair. “Are you ready?”

“Of course I am,” grinned Harry back, roguishly. “When I am never ready for a battle?”

Ron rolled his eyes, before pulling his sword out of its sheath. “PREPARE TO LAUNCH THE GRAPPLES!”

Below on the main deck, Ron watched his youngest and only sister, Virginia Weasley scamper around with her friend, Luna Lovegood. They were the only women aboard The Marauder and were heavily made fun of – but showed they were capable sailors more than once. Wincing, Ron realized that yet again Ginny would be going into battle and if anything would happen to her, he would hear it from his mother, Molly Weasley. That was not something Ron wished to experience, as Molly’s voice took on an extra-loud decibel whenever Ginny was hurt and Ron could have put a stop to it.

“Harry,” started Ron hesitantly with a twitchy smile, “Can I lock Ginny up in the forecastle?”

“No Ron, you may not,” smiled Harry, his eyes still clued to The Pharaoh as they caught up with it and began to overtake the smaller ship. Ron sighed in dismay. “Now! Cast the grapples! Attack!”

Ron shouted back the orders and began to move towards a line that would carry him over to the other ship. Bloody Harry, he knows Mum will have me head if anything happens to Ginny. I bet he does that just to see me get worked up!

Harry’s hands trembled as he grabbed his double-sided sword and grabbed tightly onto a line. He yelled out an “attack!” before flying over the few meters of water that separated the two boats from each other, and landed on his feet on the enemy ship.

As soon as he landed, a crewman from The Pharaoh charged at him, his own sword drawn. Harry sidestepped the attack, tripping the sailor before plunging his sword into his back. “Sorry,” he said evasively with a grin, before pulling the pistol from his back out into the open. He didn’t use it though; he kept to his sword.

He glanced around the deck before charging towards a group of sailor who were ganging heavily upon Luna and Ginny. Harry went about slashing one across the neck and stabbing one through the back before grinning at the younger crewwomen. “Hullo ladies,” he said, tipping his tricorn hat to them. “Lovely night for a battle, isn’t it?”

“Shut up Harry,” said Ginny, pointing loftily over his shoulder. “Three coming at you, four o’clock.”

Harry turned, his sword glittering in the moonlight and his pistol cocked and ready to fire. One crewman leapt forward, his sword drawn and coming down in an arch. Harry kneeled slightly and drew his right hand up on an angle as the two blades crashed against each other. Sparks flew across the deck as the steel collided, making Harry wonder just how strong his opponent was.

Gritting his teeth, Harry swung his blade around and caught the man on his left, a weak side, but the man parried it. Sidestepping, Harry countered the next swing by ducking. He sat back on the heels of his palms and then swiped his right foot out, knocking against the man’s knees. The crewman fell the to deck, and Harry quickly pointed his sword at the man.

“Surrender now and be spared or die later,” he snarled. The crewman blubbered, but threw his sword to the ground. Harry picked it up after placing his pistol safely in his belt sash, nodding at the young man. “Sorry,” he said with a small smile. “I lied.”

He then, with his sword’s hilt, hit the young crewman hard against the head, causing him to fall to the deck unconscious.

Standing, Harry looked around the deck and spotted his crew, easily overtaking the smaller brig. Finally, he heard Ron shout, “WE’VE DONE IT!”

He grinned, as his crew cheered and yelled out their “hoorays!” He had a map that he needed to find.

He began his search in the captain’s quarters, kicking the door open with the heel of his boot, pistol and sword drawn and in front of him as he entered the small yet stylishly done cabin. It was decorated in rich reds and gold, with the Spanish royal family’s coat of arms hanging over the bay window. On the desk that was built into the cabin’s wall, were a candleholder and a captain’s log. However, underneath the log was a folded piece of parchment, which Harry picked up immediately.

He brushed some dust off of it, and let his eyes roam the parchment, looking for the clue that was needed to tell him if that was the map – and there, in the left top corner, he saw it. Messrs was written in fancy cursive script.

“Got you,” he whispered, folding it and placing it in his scarlet sash. He looked around the room for any other valuables, and found none. Stepping out of the cabin, he took a look of his crew. They consisted of family and friends, those who had been part of his parent’s crew, or the Weasley’s. Of his crew, his closest friends were Ron, Ginny, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Justin. The rest of his crew was people either the Weasley’s knew, or his parents had known.

He glanced at Ron. “Take what booty you can find, then get out of here.” He glanced down at a dead sailor. “Dump the dead to Davy Jones’ locker, and leave the alive tied up on the mainmast. Let them find their own way out of the rope.”

With his orders being done, Harry grabbed a line and swung over to his brigantine, in a good mood. It had taken him nearly six months to find that piece of the Marauder’s Map – a map his father and his three closest friends had created of the Atlantic, Pacific Ocean, Caribbean, Mediterranean, and South Sea. What was special about the map, was that it showed where every pirate, privateer, corsair and buccaneer either made port, or where some of the more hidden and infamous treasures were located.

The map had been cut into ten pieces, and Harry had reclaimed six, and now the seventh piece. If the complete map fell into the wrong hands, they would be able to move through the water like a ghost, knowing every trade route and escape route possible and never be found.

Thus, Harry thought that it would be best if he took back the map as its rightful and only heir, and put it to rest in his English mansion in Southampton.

“Did we get it?” asked Ron from the doorway of Harry’s captain quarters. Harry placed the seventh piece of the map down next to its mates. The words, Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER’S MAP. However, three parts of the map were still missing: the Caribbean, Mediterranean and the Atlantic. Harry had reclaimed the Pacific Ocean only recently, and needed the last three pieces; they were the pieces of his usual haunts anyways.

“We’ve got it, Ron,” replied Harry, carefully refolding the whole incomplete map together and placing it securely in his desk. “Only three more pieces left, and then we’ll rule the seas.”

“Oh goody,” replied Ron sarcastically, stepping into the cabin and shutting the door behind him. He went straight to the locked cabinet near Harry’s bed and unlocked it; he extracted a bottle of stolen rum and uncorked it. Taking a swig, he asked, rasping as the liquid hit him, “So now what are we going to do?”

“We’re going back to London to give our booty to the King, and then we’re going to restock in Port Silver,” answered Harry, turning to face his friend.

Ron nodded, taking another gulp of the amber fluid and coughed. “Great!” he wheezed. “Just what I need now is a way to get Ginny off the ship and to Mum where she can keep her safe at home!”

Harry groaned. “Ron, mate, we’ve been over this. Ginny likes being on The Marauder, leave the wench alone.”

Ron scowled but said nothing, just hugged the bottle to his chest.

~*~

The room was dark and damp, hidden slightly underground surrounded by bushes and trees and flowers – nearly impossible to find except for those who were looking for it. The young adult who sat in the small room on two throw pillows of rich colours and material was reading a book. That thick book was titled, Pyrites and the Lives Of: Tales of Infamous Pyrates Who Ruled the Seas.

She was completely engrossed in the story, reading about the Potter family – a notorious family that ruled the Seas from the mid 1700’s to the present. The son had inherited The Marauder, a deadly brigantine of a ship with a red flag – the flag that represented that they take no prisoners (although Hermione heard on numerous accounts from her cooking staff that Mr. Potter did take prisoners, because he didn’t like killing ever since his godfather’s death).

The woman who sat in this small room had bushy brown hair that she tamed by pulling it back into a braid, tied with a blue ribbon. She wore a fancy blue satin dress with square-bodice, princess styled. The skirt was gathered at the waist, and had a fancy pair was ankle-height lace-up boots. And of course, to finish her outfit off was the golden tiara that rested on the crown of her head.

For, young Princess Hermione Granger of Richmondshire was hiding from her wards and tutors to read about the adventurous life on the high seas.

“Princess Hermione!” a voice called.

“Bugger,” Hermione sighed, biting her lower lip. She had two choices: run and find a new hiding place, or stay and pray that no one found her. She shook her head, scowling at the loose pieces of corkscrew hair that flew in front of her eyes, and bowed her head to continue reading.

The Potters have been the mortal enemies of the French family, Malfoy (or Mal Foi as they are written; translation: Bad Faith) and the Malfoy family’s boss, Captain Tom Riddle.

The Potters are known for their privateering, under the English royal families’ supervision. They are famous for taking the city of Port Royal, Jamaica, more than once, and before the deaths of James and Lily Potter, were one of the most feared fleets. Their fleet consisted of The Marauder, which was commanded by James Potter himself, The Grim, in command by Sirius Black (also deceased), The Werewolf, commanded by Remus Lupin, and The Scully Rat, in command by Peter Pettigrew, who betrayed the Potters and friends by being a secret crewman of Captain Tom Riddle’s fleet, The Dark Mark. However, the British Royal Navy has yet to capture the criminal and is always eluding them.

“How horrible!” murmured Hermione, pushing her tiara back in place, for it had been slipping down towards her forehead, taking a bunch of knotted hair with it. She frowned as it snagged on a thick piece of wiry hair. “Oh, bloody hell.”

“PRINCESS HERMIONE!”

“Bloody – why can’t she just leave me be?” muttered Hermione, glancing over her shoulder at the voice, which was steadily growing louder. She snapped her book shut and stood, getting ready to make a mad dash for the castle entrance, when a voice exclaimed, “Oh, there you are, Princess Hermione! We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Hermione inwardly groaned, before turning on her heel, plastering a fake smile on her face. “Oh, you found me,” she said insincerely, still smiling. Her face was frozen, and it was beginning to hurt. “How… wonderful… of you.”

Her ladies-in-waiting, Lady Lavender Brown and Lady Parvati Patil giggled. “Oh, silly Princess Hermione. There’s no need to tell us that!”

Lavender reached for Hermione. “Come! We must head back inside. Your tutors are looking for you!”

“Really,” Hermione responded dryly, glancing away from her ladies-in-waiting. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt them to wait a bit more, now would it?”

Parvati frowned. “What are you talking about, Princess Hermione? You know that Sir Snape and Sir Remus don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Lavender nodded feverishly. “Especially that Severus Snape. If it’s not so bold of me to say, but he’s a vicious one, isn’t he?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why, in the name of all things Holy, did my father have to stick me with the two most idiotic and simple-minded ladies-in-waiting on the planet?

Forcing a laugh, Hermione replied, “Oh, that’s not too bold of you. I think that all the time!”

She then climbed out of her hole-in-the-ground room, glancing around. “You didn’t!” she cried out, looking at Lavender and Parvati in shock.

“Why are you so upset, milady?” asked Lavender, surprised, as she too looked around the courtyard forest.

“Well, did it ever occur to you that having the whole royal guard sent to find me might not put me in the best mood?” asked Hermione, her mouth open as she took in the sight of twenty royal guards standing in the courtyard, all with pistols and riffles and swords drawn.

Parvati shrugged. “We are terribly sorry, Princess Hermione. We didn’t think”—No, you didn’t, but you never do, now do you? –“And it won’t happen again.”

“Let’s hope,” muttered Hermione, as she picked up her skirts and began walking towards the west wing, where her tutors would be waiting for her.

Swamped by guards on either side of her, Hermione wished (not for the first or last time, either) that she were not born into royalty. It definitely put a cramp on her secret adventures, the ones she knew she would never be able to experience in real life. Hermione secretly wanted a bunch of pirates to come, storm the castle, and kidnap her – that way she could experience her secret fantasy of being a corsairs kidnapped Princess… in which the evil fiancé of hers would come to her rescue, only she and the corsair had fallen in love and they battled to the death on the high seas – and her pirate would come out victorious and they would live happily ever after, without her parents pressuring her to ever get married to someone she didn’t love.

Hermione inwardly sighed. Yeah, like that would happen. Keep dreaming, darling

“What are you thinking about, Princess Hermione?” asked Lavender, from behind Hermione. They were walking up the stairs that led into the west wing. Hermione could see Remus and Severus standing at the top of the landing, watching her with hooded eyes (in Severus’ case) and amusement (in Remus’ case).

She couldn’t say that she was thinking about hiring a pirate to kidnap her, now, could she? So instead she kept her mouth closed and eyes up to face her tutors. As they reached the top, Hermione nodded briskly at the two men.

“Gentlemen,” she said, smiling openly at Remus, and more closed-lipped at Severus. She then expertly moved her Pyrate book behind her back so that they wouldn’t report back to her parents that she was reading books that she wasn’t supposed to.

“Princess Hermione,” said Severus stiffly, “If you’re ready to continue your lessons… Do follow us.”

Severus turned on his heel, his black frock flaring out behind him as he walked. Making a face behind his back, Hermione stifled a giggle as Remus winked at her. They had been good friends, and whenever she could, Hermione would have Remus quiz her on her pirate knowledge – he was after all, part of the infamous Potter fleet before their deaths.

Remus had first arrived in Port Silver nearly eight years when Hermione first turned eleven. He and Severus had become her tutors promptly, and Hermione remembered the fact that her father never ever did a background check. Hermione, being adventurous and spirited, learned early that Remus was the same Remus from the Potter clan, and that Severus had been a spy amongst the deadly Riddle crew nearly twenty years back. Feeding her love of stories, Severus and Remus kept Hermione entertained and without her parents’ knowledge, taught her rowdy pirate songs, swordplay, and the laws of piracy.

Hermione watched her feet as she followed Severus to their tutor rooms. The marble checker-style floor made Hermione dizzy, but she liked looking at it rather than Severus’ frock, because if she looked at his frock, she would begin to wonder if he was always uptight and if liked wearing throat-to-toes clothing that covered nearly every inch of skin.

She shook all thoughts of that out of her head, and stepped into the tutoring room, only to gasp. Her parents stood before her, staring hard at their only daughter.

“Hullo, Mother… Father,” Hermione said jovially, looking at each of her parents in turn. Dressed in royal attire of deep blues and adorned with their crowns, they were the epitome of British (stuck-up) royalty. “Is something the matter?”

Queen Elisa Granger cleared her throat. “Darling… something has come to our attention.”

“Really? What is it?” asked Hermione, hoping to sound very intrigued at whatever her mother had to say. She noticed that Remus was giving her cut gestures at her hands (where her book was) and then making a Blackbeard “arrr” face. Hermione frowned and glanced at Severus (who never really wanted to see her caught when she did something wrong) who was nodding along with Remus.

Hermione then noticed that her escort guards were still standing around her, like she was some common criminal.

King Theodore Granger stepped forward. “Hermione. We have been informed that you have been reading inappropriate books.”

“Inappropriate books, Father?” echoed Hermione, her mouth dropping open. “Wherever did you get an idea like that?”

King Theodore nodded at one of the guards, who strode towards Hermione purposefully. “I’m sorry, Princess,” the guard said solemnly.

“What –” Hermione barely had time to get the word out when the guard reached behind her and grabbed her Pyrate text. “NO! Give that back! Father!”

King Theodore took the book from the guards’ hands and shook his head. Similar chocolate eyes bore into Hermione’s. “I do not know why you have such a book in your possession, or how you received it, but it is not something that a young royal such as yourself should be reading!”
“Father, please! I like reading about pirates! It’s interesting!” Hermione argued. “Besides, you’re always saying that I should learn politics, and privateering has so much to do with the royal families of Europe!”

King Theodore visibly reddened. “Hermione Elizabeth Granger, you are forbidden to read any more nonsense books as these forever! Do I make myself clear?”

Hermione bowed her head. All her information about pirates was torn from her – there was nothing left to evoke dreams and daydreams. “Yes Your Highness.”

She kept her head bowed and tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. I’ll never get my adventure, she thought to herself, so there’s no point in reading about it. As a Princess of Richmondshire, it’s my duty to prepare for my future as the Queen of some sovereign. I cannot waste my time with idle fantasies.

Unbeknownst to her, King Theodore was watching his daughter with a mixed expression on his face. Finally, after an internal debate with himself, he sighed and strode out of the room, the guards following him. Queen Elisa moved towards her daughter, but when Hermione didn’t look up, she lowered her hand and left the room too. Only Hermione, Lavender, Parvati, Remus and Severus remained.

“You are excused, Lavender… Parvati,” said Hermione, breaking the silence in a subdued voice. “I have my lessons to attend to.”

“Princess,” they curtsied, lowering their heads in a bow before turning and leaving the room as well, no doubt straight to the servant’s quarters to gossip about what happened to Hermione today.

“I’m sorry, Princess Hermione,” said Remus’s soft voice as he took a few steps towards her. “If I had known that someone would learn of the book I gave you, I would never have taken the risk to indulge in your interest in the pirates.”

“It’s quite all right, Remus,” sighed Hermione, finally looking up. Only a few tears had escaped before she reined control on her emotions. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I must just admit to myself that I will never have a grand adventure that the pirates of old ever had… or that I will ever leave these confining walls.”

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but Severus’ hand on his shoulder stopped him. The two men shared a look, but then turned back to the nineteen year old.

Severus spoke, “Come, Princess. The season will soon be over, and you have to finish your education before you prepare for the ball tonight. We still have a lot of work to do.”

As always, thought Hermione, before sighing, and sitting on a plush loveseat across from Severus and Remus.

~*~

The lights from Port Silver weren’t too bright, thought Draco Malfoy as he glanced around the port through his spyglass. Fairly easy to slip in and attack.

He was onboard The Dark Mark, his father’s boss’ ship. Currently, his father Lucius Malfoy was in the captain’s quarters with Captain Tom Riddle, one of the most ruthless pirates that the Caribbean, Atlantic and Mediterranean had ever seen.

And because Draco was onboard meant only one thing, his father would relay the job that was Draco’s to do.

It’s always my job, and never his, he thought bitterly. So when Potter beats me in a battle, I’m the one who gets yelled at for causing problems.

The tall blond-haired young man grimaced as he lowered the spyglass from his icy eyes. In the distance, he could hear faint laughter from guests at the royal ball, and could see the guards watching the courtyard and harbor.

“Perfect night for an attack, don’t you reckon?” asked a deep voice from behind him. Draco turned; his blue eyes locked on his father’s, his sword drawn and pointing at him.

“You know better than to sneak up on me, Father,” sneered Draco, placing his sword back in its sheath.

“I couldn’t help it,” said the older man sarcastically. His eyes turned upwards before he looked at his son. “I have new orders for you.”

“Well?”

“Take your ship, and attack.”

“Port Silver? Is that why we’re here?” asked Draco carefully, glancing back out towards the township. “Is there something specific I’m to find?”

Lucius nodded, although Draco couldn’t see with his back to him. “You’re to find a piece of a map. Remus Lupin – one of Potter’s men, hid it. He’s apparently working in the castle now as a tutor or the likes of to the royal family.”

Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Lupin? The one who commanded that old brig that was always falling apart?”

“Looked like it,” corrected Lucius. “It bested your ship, if I remember correctly.”

“Everything has bested my brigantine,” muttered Draco, quiet enough so that Lucius didn’t hear. Louder, he said, “All right. Anything goes? We take whatever booty we can find?”

Lucius nodded when his son looked at him. He turned and began to walk back towards the captain’s quarters when he called over his shoulder, “oh, and Draco? Do not mess this one up.”

“I will not,” replied Draco, more to himself than to his father. He took a look through the spyglass one more time, before nodding. “All right,” he muttered.

Draco moved across the main deck towards his best mate, Blaise Zabini. Blaise stood across the deck, facing out towards the ocean. His eyes were closed and he smiled serenely, his guard down for once. When Draco arrived near him, Draco spoke, “We’re going back to The Dragon. We’ve got a town to pillage.”

Blaise grinned, his dark brown hair falling over his eyes. “Excellent. C’MON MATES, IT’S TIME TO SET SAIL!”

Draco’s crew heard Blaise’s call, and rushed to meet their captain as they grabbed lines to swing over to the ship that grapples held next to The Dark Mark. Cheers echoed in the air, and Draco felt a simple emotion seep into his skin: joy. Oh, how he loved his job.

The crew sailed over the few meters of open seawater between the two ships, their boots not making any noise as they landed on the wooden main deck. The grapples that held Riddle’s ship to Draco’s were soon pulled free of the wood they were biting into, and the anchor was soon lifted.

Blaise shouted out orders to hoist the mainsails. Draco watched as the sails were unfolded and caught the wind, making the sails puff and catch. They sailed alee, silently towards Port Silver, until Draco realized that they were getting too close.

“Drop anchor,” he instructed to Blaise. The anchor was lowered, and Draco grinned in the darkness.

He took pride in his brigantine. Although he never beat one of the Potter’s ships in a sea battle, The Dragon was able to hold its own fairly well and Draco tended and loved it thoroughly.

“What now?” Blaise asked, as they stood in the inky water, far enough away from Port Silver to have the element of surprise, and close enough to The Dark Mark so that Riddle knew that they weren’t just up-and-going. “What are our orders?”

“We attack Port Silver, that’s our orders,” Draco said in his usual, confident drawl. “Take whatever booty you can find, but we need to storm the castle. There’s a piece of that precious map of Potter’s there, and we need to confiscate it for his own good,” the young man sneered. “No prey, no pay. Tell the crew that.”

“Excellent. Shall I ready the canons, now?”

Draco nodded, and as Blaise moved away, he raised his spyglass one more time. The guards still did not notice the black sails and dark ship resting only yards away from their main harbor. Instead, they were laughing and joking while they were supposed to be on watch. He lowered the spyglass and saw Blaise standing behind him, saying that all was a-go.

Draco lifted two fingers, his fore and middle, before he grinned darkly. When the fingers came down, he heard the sizzle of fire touching particles of gunpowder, until –

BOOM!

Draco’s grin intensified to a full-out smile. It had begun.

**-**

AN: I apologize if I’ve done wrong with the layout of the brigs and schooner, as I don’t know nautical terms. I am however, learning and hopefully I can make the story very real and convincing. Thanks to Katie for beta’ing. Thanks to the following websites for their excellent information that has helped put this story together: piratesinfo.com, and aschulze.net/pirates/index “Swashbuckler’s Cove”.

AN2: [Sept. 9, 2003] Dates and ages changed – Ron and Draco are twenty, the Potter’s died on Halloween. Thanks to Stoneheart for pointing it out!

2. Skulls 02

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Two

Hermione frowned into her champagne flute, arching her back as she tried to unsuccessfully get the whalebone knots of her corset to loosen. She winced as it pinched her skin instead.

“Are you all right, Princess Hermione?” asked Remus, who she was standing with, talking about economics.

“Not really, Remus,” answered the nineteen year old, as she continued to roll her shoulders. Under her breath, she began cursing and muttering about corsets and how they should be abolished.

Remus smiled bemusedly. “I don’t believe that that is entirely proper to say in my company, Princess.”

He took a sip of his drink, glancing around the crowded ballroom. In the center of the circular golden room, couples danced to a minuet, the candlelight of the chandelier above them making them feel like they were under an open roof.

Splashed of reds, blues and blacks swirled around the room, while others stood in small groups, talking and eating; some men were off to one side, enjoying their brandy and cigars.

“Aren’t you going to go out there?” Remus asked, smoothing down the dusty green waistcoat he wore over a gold shirt and matching pants.

Hermione snorted, a very unladylike and un-Princess-like thing to do. She twirled her fan around her fingers and shifted her weight. “I don’t think so, Remus. I will not give my parents the satisfaction of knowing that they got me dressed up in some ridiculous garment and that I pranced in front of wealthy bachelors.”

Remus chuckled. “But you look very beautiful tonight, Princess.”

Hermione sighed. “Remus, how many times have I asked you to call me Hermione?”

“Too many to remember,” Remus answered, smiling as he glanced down at the younger woman. “And you’ll have to continue saying that until it finally sticks in this old brain.”

“You’re not old,” grinned Hermione, enjoying their friendly talk.

“Old enough.” Remus gave Hermione one last grin before excusing himself to go talk to Severus, who stood brooding in a dark corner.

Immediately Lavender and Parvati attached themselves to Hermione’s side, gossiping at the latest fashions from Paris, and who was dancing with whom. Hermione endured the idle talk, allowing the two ladies-in-waiting to escort her over to the large floor-to-ceiling glass doors.

Hermione looked through the doors towards the courtyard and further to the sea. She wasn’t paying attention to her ladies, but was staring out the window, frowning.

That looks like a ship out there, she mused, leaning closer to the windowpane until her forehead touched it. She heard a dull thud, and saw sparks erupt for a brief moment from the ghost ship.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, and Lavender, mistaking it for what she had said before, looked surprised and stopped her monologue.

“Well, yes… that is what I thought as well, Princess…” Lavender stopped. Hermione was backing away from the glass doors frantically. “Princess? What is it?”

Lavender’s question was soon answered as the glass above them shattered and splintered loudly, tinkering as it fell over the three girls who stood below it. Hermione’s head whipped away from the windows as she watched the cannonball shoot across the ballroom and embed itself in the wall opposite of the doors.

She barely noticed the glass that was raining down on her and her ladies-in-waiting, and the cuts she was receiving.

“Hermione, we must go,” a voice whispered hurriedly in her ear, and Hermione turned to see Remus bending towards her. “Hurry! It’s The Dragon.”

“What?” gasped Hermione, allowing Remus to grab her upper arm and drag her through the crowd. Women screamed as they ran around her, and guards began rushing this way and that, their riffles cocked and ready. “What would The Dragon be doing here, in Port Silver?”

“I’ve got a couple ideas,” muttered Remus, before he tucked Hermione close to him. She heard another thud and whiz as a cannonball sailed through the ballroom. Plaster from the ceiling fell around them. “We must hurry.” Remus looked down at the petite woman. “Especially you.”

“Me?” asked Hermione, startled, as they ran out of the ballroom. Hermione picked up the heavy layer of satin skirt in her hands, keeping pace with Remus as they ducked into corners and made their way to the library.

“Yes, you,” he shouted back towards her, over the echo of soldiers and gunfire. Marble pieces fell from walls and pillars, and drapes were torn as the castle came under fire.

“What’s so important that has to do with me, the Princess of Richmondshire?” gasped Hermione as they ducked inside the relatively undamaged library. Confused, Hermione watched Remus riffle through books, tossing them on the floor in anger, as he couldn’t find the one he needed.

“The map,” he said.

“The map?” Hermione echoed, taking a step towards him. “What map?”

Remus paused long enough to glance at Hermione. “The Marauder’s Map, Hermione. The one we invented, the one pirates all want.”

“Oooh, that map,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes skyward. “Why didn’t you say so?” She began picking up books on some of the tables that littered the large, cavernous room. “You do realize that this library holds over twenty thousand books?”

Remus nodded grimly as Hermione came to stand beside him. “Then we’d best hurry.”

Together, they heaved large tomes off the dusty shelves, flipping the pages and shaking the books as they searched for a loose piece of the map to flutter to the floor. After ten minutes, they still had nothing.

“Now what?” asked Hermione restlessly. The sounds of screams and shouts were getting louder. She glanced nervously toward the large, barricaded doors. “That won’t hold forever, Remus.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing his graying temples. “I just don’t remember where I put it…”

“Try! And hurry!” Hermione begged, turning toward him just as a pound on the door signaled that their time was up.

Remus’ face paled. “To the window, now! Quickly!”

Together, the two of them raced across the library to the large windows, their hands fumbling with the clasp of the lock. Remus stilled. “I remember!” he whispered urgently.

“Where?”

“In your Pyrates book!”

Hermione closed her eyes. “Well, that’s just dandy, isn’t it? My father has the book!”

Remus shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now.” He pushed open the gold-rimmed window, and helped Hermione through it. Once she was on the first ground outside, he hissed, “Head towards the harbor. Severus will be down there, I believe. Stay away from anyone looking fishy. Do this, Hermione!”
“I will,” Hermione nodded, and pursed her lips. “What about you?”

Another bang on the door caught both their attention. Remus glanced back at the girl. “I’ll hold them off. Hurry!”

Hermione turned on her heel and ran toward the harbor and town, her breath coming out in short gasps as she dodged branches and people in her way.

She passed townsfolk fighting men with cutlasses and pistols, trying to protect their homes and families.

“Well, what do we have here?” a voice drawled close to Hermione. The Princess turned, and came face-to-face with a young man, her age, with blond hair and icy eyes. His hands grabbed onto her shoulders, his grip unbreakable.

“Let go of me, you scoundrel!” cried Hermione, bringing her foot down on the man’s boot. He laughed at her antics, pulling her closer.

“Now, now,” he teased, “Is that any way to treat me, the Captain of The Dragon?”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “You’re Draco Malfoy!”

Taking a step back and releasing his hold on her, Draco bowed and waved his tricorn hat to the side. “The one and only, milady.”

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione tilted her head. “I demand that you leave Port Silver at once, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Oooh, do you now?” asked the man, grinning predatorily. His boots crunched against the gravel and dirt as he took steps toward Hermione. “And why should I do what you say?”

Hermione gulped and stepped into the middle of the street, looking up and down the dirt road. Oh boy. You asked for an adventure, and one has found you, Hermione. Next time, be careful what you wish for.

“You should do as I say, because…” Hermione wet her lips nervously. “Because I am Princess Hermione of Richmondshire, and you sir, are plundering my home.”

“Really.” Draco pulled out his sword, keeping it at his side as he stalked his prey. “The Princess, you say.” Without warning, he lunged, grabbing Hermione around her middle. Pulled flush against him, with his sword pointed at her throat, he hissed dangerously, “Where’s the map?”

“What map?” asked Hermione, leaning away from the glinting metal. She bit her lip as the sword was pushed further towards her.

“The Marauder’s Map, Princess,” sneered Draco. “Don’t play folly with me, wench – Remus Lupin had a piece and I want to know where it is! He’s your tutor!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me go!” Hermione screamed, her tiara falling onto the ground beside the two of them, unnoticed. Holding her breath, Hermione struggled against Draco, aware of the cool blade against her throat.

“My patience is waning!” warned Draco, his eyes narrowing hazardously, his grip tightening against her. “Now, for the last time… where is the map?”

“I’d also like to know that, but I don’t go around accosting young women, Malfoy,” called out a new voice in the darkness.

Both Hermione and Draco looked towards the voice, only to see a young man swing down from the top of a building, sword drawn. He flew towards the two of them, feet pointed right at Draco.

“Christ!” swore Draco as he pushed Hermione away from him, ducking to avoid the new hindrance.

The man sailed by them, landing easily on his feet. He turned, and Hermione was surprised to see Harry Potter, Captain of The Marauder before her.

Mouth open, Hermione stared in confusion and wonder at the young man who was circling Draco Malfoy.

“Leave, Potter! This is of no concern to you!” snapped Draco, brandishing his sword toward the other young man.

“Anything that affects my father’s map concerns me, Malfoy,” replied the young man coolly. His emerald eyes settled briefly on Hermione. Scoffing, he asked, “Bothering young women nowadays, Malfoy? That’s a new low of you – something I would expect your father to do.”

“Leave my father out of this, Potter!” warned Draco, “Now… avast!”

Harry grinned, his sword clashing against Draco’s as the two involved themselves in a clash of steel. Harry’s arm swung up on it’s own, to avoid being hit my Draco’s arcing swing. The two metals clashed and sparks flew as they hit.

Draco darted forward, his sword parallel to the ground. Harry turned to the left, watching as Draco went past him. His foot shot out, and Draco fell face first to the ground. Saluting the young Captain, Harry took a step closer and pointed his sword at Draco’s neck.

“This battle is mine. Run along, Malfoy… savvy?”

His eyes flashed in the moonlight, and Draco swallowed visibly.

“This isn’t over, Potter.”

“I hope not,” replied the young Potter, before placing his sword back in its sheath. He watched Draco run off into the darkness before he turned to Hermione, a black eyebrow raised. “Are you all right, milady?”

Hermione nodded mutely, in awe. She had seen both Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter in one night. Oooh, what would Remus do when he heard her!

“Oh, no!” Hermione said, a hand flying to her mouth. “Remus!”

“Remus?” asked Harry, taking a step toward Hermione. “Remus Lupin? You know him? Where is he?”

“Back at the castle – someone was banging on the door, oh, I do hope he’s all right!” blubbered Hermione, as she picked up her skirts and began to walk past the young man. “We were looking for the map before he sent me off”—

“Map? My father’s map?” Harry’s hands reached out and spun Hermione towards him. “Do you know where it is?”

“Why is this situation suddenly so familiar?” asked Hermione dryly, before pointedly looking at Harry’s hands. He released her, but pointed a finger at her face.

“You’ll take me to the castle, and where Remus last was. You’d better pray that he’s all right, lass,” pronounced Harry, glaring at the shorter girl. “And if he isn’t…” he let the threat hang in the air.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Instead of speaking up, she began to walk back up the pathway to the castle, acutely aware of Harry Potter behind her. She did hope that everyone was all right, back at the castle, but her mind was racing with facts about the young privateer behind her.

“Why are you in Port Silver, Mr. Potter?” she finally asked, tossing a corkscrew piece of brown hair out of her eyes.

“Restocking,” Harry said simply, leaving no room for more conversation. His hand drifted towards his side, resting on the hilt of his sword. That was enough for Hermione to shut her mouth.

When they finally arrived at the castle, Hermione went straight toward the library window. The room glowed dimly, and as she peered through the glass, she saw the door was still closed and Remus was still going through the books, tossing them everywhere.

“Let me see,” said Harry, pushing Hermione aside to look through the window.

“Excuse you!” said Hermione, pushing Harry back. They began to scuffle, until the window opened and a jovial voice called out, “Are you two done yet?”

Both Hermione and Harry stopped – Hermione had pieces of Harry’s hair in her fists, and Harry had one of Hermione’s legs in his arms, ready to trip her. Remus Lupin rested his elbows on the windowsill, a grin on his face.

Hermione tossed her hair and allowed Remus to hoist her into the library. Smoothing down her dress, she said stiffly, “Of course.”

Harry shot her a glare before climbing through the first-floor window. He paused only for a second, before hugging tightly the older man. “Good to see you, Remus.”

“You too, Harry. Looking like your father more and more,” Remus replied. “Now… I need to find Hermione’s – er, Princess Hermione’s, that is – Pyrates book, as that’s where I placed the map.”

“Father took it, remember?” stated Hermione, flopping down in one of the chairs. “He would probably take it to his study, or give it to someone else to look after.”

“Like who?” asked Harry, scowling at the girl who sat comfortably in a chair while he and Remus looked through books.

“Like me, Mr. Potter.”

Hermione stood on her feet the second Severus Snape entered the library. His onyx eyes swept the room, resting briefly on Harry before turning back to Remus and Hermione.

He strode forward, and then placed the book in Hermione’s waiting hands. Harry made a move to reach and pluck the book from her, but Remus’s hand stopped him.

Hermione glanced curiously at Severus before opening the book. She flipped through the pages, and then turned it upside down, but nothing fell out of it. “Sir, I’ve read this book thousands of times, inside, outside, everywhere. There was no map.”

“Look harder, Princess,” instructed Severus, producing a small letter opener. “Try again.”

Hermione nodded, took the letter opener and flipped to the back of the book. There, slightly raised, was a small, engraved square. Hermione pierced the top corner of the book, and slid the knifepoint under the jacket. When the cover was lifted, she clearly saw a piece of the fabled Marauder’s Map.

She gingerly pulled it out, and offered it to Harry. “It’s amazing, how something so small is what causes the largest battles,” she said.

Harry nodded. “You have no idea.”

Once he had placed it safely in a pocket, Severus turned to Hermione, now with urgency. “It’s best if you hide with Remus somewhere, not in the castle. The battle is still going on.”

“Not for long,” injected Harry. “Malfoy and I met in the street.”

Severus turned to Harry. Sneering, he asked, “Is that so? Then he’ll retreat. Losing against Harry Potter must be too much stress and failure to him to stay.”

Remus nodded. “The Malfoys never took to losing at something.” Turning to Hermione, he said, “I’ll escort you to a group of guards, who will look after you.”

Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t object. Severus nodded his goodbyes, and left the library, closing the heavy oak doors behind him. Remus and Harry exchanged a few more words, before he climbed back out the window, disappearing in the night.

Remus smiled at Hermione. “Come. Let’s leave… our job is done.”

Hermione gave him a tight-lipped smile, and fell in step behind him. You’re letting your one chance of adventure slip out of your grasp! What are you waiting for, go after Potter!

Hermione, with her mind made up, followed Remus down the marble hallway, keeping close to the windows. If only one was open or broken… yes! They passed a row of windows with heavy drapery, and all windows were broken.

Remus continued walking, unaware that Hermione had stopped behind him. She then gulped, took a deep breath, and jumped out of the window. She ignored the bits of broken glass that cut her skin, and ignored the feel of warm, sticky blood slide down her arm and dry on her ruined dress sleeves.

Her feet hurt as they made impact with the uneven earth, jarring her bones and making her teeth rattle as they clamped tight against each other. Still, she took one deep breath, steadied her shaking self, and disappeared from the castle into the darkness.

~*~

Harry boarded The Marauder with a spring in his step. Although they were shooting cannonballs at Malfoy’s ship, and were occasionally under fire themselves, they were doing well without their Captain.

“Did you find the bugger onshore?” asked Ron, the second Harry walked the plank onto the brig.

“Yes, I did,” replied the young man. He gathered his hair in one hand, and fished around his pocket with the other. His fist closed on something, and he pulled out a piece of red cloth. He wrapped it around his head, keeping his hair out of his face, and then put his tricorn hat on. “And I found the missing piece of the map he was after.”

“Really.” Ron raised an eyebrow. “And where did you find it, exactly?”

“In the castle.”

“And how did you get to the castle?”

“Ron, you’re my best mate and my quartermaster. Don’t bugger it now by asking too many questions,” Harry grinned, thumping his friend’s shoulder as he walked by him. “Set sail for Tunis!”

Ron rolled his eyes and cracked his fingers. One of these days, his temper would be unleashed to his best friend, and he would woe that day tremendously. “SET SAIL! HOIST THE MAIN SAILS!” he hollered to the crew, who did as they were told, while continuing to fire upon The Dragon.

Once they were safely out of range, and away from the harbor, did Ron wonder just how Harry learnt of the missing map piece.

Shaking his red head, he followed his friend into the Captain’s quarters, watching as he put the Caribbean with its companion pieces.

“Where do you reckon the last two pieces are, Harry?” asked Ron, sitting on a couch. Beside him was a table full of fruits. He grabbed an apple and took a bite out of it. “Me guess is that they’re hidden somewhere.”

“You’re probably right. It’s going to take some large payments to find the missing pieces now,” mused aloud Harry, tapping his chin. Slapping a hand on his thigh suddenly, he said loudly, “Well! Time to check that everything is in tip-top shape, eh? Down to the hold we go.”

Ron sighed but stood, following his Captain out of the room, down the quarterdeck, and through the hatch. Harry jumped down first, landing on his feet and avoiding the stairs.

Humming tunelessly, the young man first entered the forecastle, checking on Ginny and Luna, who were involved in a chess game.

They watched for a couple minutes, with Ron shifting his weight agitatedly. Finally, he burst out from over Luna’s shoulder, “Move your knight to E4 and you’ve gotten me sister in checkmate.”

Luna did as she was told, her gray eyes shining as she pronounced, “Checkmate,” to her friend. She turned to Ron. “Thank you, Weasel.”

Ron’s grin faded into a scowl, as Ginny burst into laughter and Harry steered him away from the chess game. They left the forecastle and crew’s quarters to the back of the ship, in the hull, where they kept their stock. It was when they were in the galley that Harry first heard something out of place.

Silencing Ron, Harry frowned and whispered, “Did you hear that?”

“’Ear what?” Ron asked, straining his ears as they stood silently near a barrel of ale. Then, they heard a scuffle.

With a finger to his lips, Harry moved silently into the storage area, where the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Hanging from pegs on the wall were extra grapples, pulleys, rope, riffles, pistols and swords. Barrel upon barrel of gunpowder, rum, and potatoes were also stored, piled one on top of another.

“Ow!”

Harry frowned, trying to place the sound, when he turned towards the pulleys, and reached into the space behind them. His fist grabbed onto some gauzy material, which he yanked towards him unceremoniously.

Princess Hermione of Richmondshire fell to her knees in front of him, slapping his hand away from the bodice of her dress, which he had grabbed. “Do you have no sense of dignity?”

Harry’s eyes widened, as did Ron’s. Ron leaned toward Harry and whispered, “Women are frightful bad luck to bring on board, Harry. How’d she get on here?”

Harry turned to Ron, forgetting Hermione for a moment. “Your sister and Luna are women, Ron, and they haven’t brought us any bad luck yet.”

“Yet,” Ron emphasized, before nodding back to Hermione. “Who’s she?”

Hermione stood, straightening her dress as she did so. “Princess Hermione Granger of Richmondshire. And you are?”

Ron grinned, his ear tips red. “Ronald Weasley, milady, the quartermaster and first mate of The Marauder.” He turned to Harry, who was gazing stonily at Hermione. “And this here is me best mate, Harry Potter, Captain of The Marauder.”

“We’ve met,” said Harry coolly. “Now, come along, Princess. We’ll turn about and send you to shore, safe and sound. We’ll even explain to Remus that this is all a big mistake and won’t happen again.”

Hermione bristled. “If you presume to place me back on Port Silver’s harbor, I will only follow you on another ship, Mr. Potter.”

Harry frowned. What on Earth is this wench playing? His frown deepened, before he groaned out, “Fine. Come along with me to my quarters where we’ll continue this discussion.”

He turned away from Ron and Hermione, a hand at his temple as he rubbed it, trying to ease the makings of a headache.

“But there’s nothing left to discuss!” he heard Hermione protest behind him. He led her and Ron to the main stairs instead of the hatch this time, and when they arrived on the main deck, Harry heard Neville call out, “Who’s that, Captain?” and other crewmen whistle their appreciation.

Harry glared at his men, who dutifully went back to word, before opening the door to his quarters. “After you, milady,” he said, leaving his arm on the door and watching Hermione with hooded eyes.

Hermione straightened her shoulders and brushed by him, her nose in the air. She was, after all, a Princess.

When she was inside, Harry turned to Ron and whispered, “Don’t let anyone disturb us. I need to have a word with the wench, all right?”

Ron nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Harry nodded back, and then shut the door of his captain’s quarters. He found Hermione sitting on one of the chairs by the bed. She sat demurely, her hands folded in her lap and her feet were on the floor.

“You wished to speak to me, Mr. Potter?” she asked, giving off a cool air.

Harry inwardly smiled. Although he appeared to be quite cross with the fact that she had snuck on board, he was finding this royal very interesting.

“Princess,” he began, and then grimaced. That doesn’t sound right. He cleared his throat. “Hermione. You snuck onboard my brig, and do not want to return back to shore. Why? You’re a landlubber.”

Hermione fidgeted at the insult. “You’ll laugh.”

“I promise I will not.”

“Pirates can’t make promises!” Hermione shot back, standing suddenly. “They are evil, vile men who like to drink and steal!”
“Aye, we do,” agreed Harry, enjoying himself immensely as he sat by his desk and kicked his feet up onto the table. “But what if I gave you me promise on me parent’s grave?”

Hermione stilled. Quietly, she replied, “Then that’s fine.”

Harry nodded and waited for her to begin. When she didn’t, he raised his eyebrows, and said, “I’m waiting, milady.”

Hermione took a deep breath and quietly said, “I wanted an adventure.”

“An adventure.”

“Yes,” Hermione defended, her nerves strung. “Is that so hard to imagine? Being cooped up in the castle all day without anything fun to do – it’s always learn this, do that, you can’t do that, you must do this… it’s so… so… infuriating! I want to have an adventure at least once, before I must settle down and realize that I’ll never leave my rank… even for a minute.”

Harry’s feet slid off the desk. He tapped his chin thoughtfully, before standing and walking toward Hermione. He towered over her by at least a foot, and was secretly amazed by this Princess’s bravery.

“Very well, milady. You can stay on board this brig for an adventure until we make buff in Tunis. Once there, I will secure you a ship that will take you back home. Do we have an accord?”

Hermione thought about it. She would get her adventure, on The Marauder no less, and be returned safely to her home. She smiled at Harry. “Deal.”

They shook hands and ignored the heat and tingly sensation that ran from their fingers to the rest of their body as they touched. The contact was broken when they abruptly let go of each other’s hands.

“Well,” began Harry, scuffing his boot on his floor. “First off, you need something else to wear.”

“What?” Hermione deadpanned. “What’s wrong with my dress? I know it’s a ball gown, but...”

“But nothing, milady,” interrupted Harry. “You can’t get around on a brig with something like that, now, can you?”

Hermione’s mouth moved wordlessly as Harry began gathering things around his room, before making his way to the door. “Now, Princess. You didn’t think this was a pleasure cruise, did you? Anyone who is onboard The Marauder earns his keep. And that means you.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open. Oh yes, Hermione. Adventure indeed. You just forgot about everything else in the glory of being on a pirate ship. Bravo, my dear, bravo.

Instead, she set her jaw and followed Harry out of the captain’s quarters. Okay, so she’d have to wear something else, and do chores. She could do that, fine. And so she’d be off the brig in about a month, fine with that too. Or was she?

Hermione frowned as she thought about leaving. The crew seemed friendly enough, and Harry Potter wasn’t so bad himself. They seemed like the pirates right out of her fairy tale dreams, and since they did… Hermione felt a devious idea come to mind.

Leave the brig once they port in Tunis? I think not! Hermione grinned. She’d stay on board like what she did earlier when she snuck on. They didn’t find her until later, and she’d be able to do it again easily. If that Mr. Potter thought he could outsmart her, she’d prove him wrong!

**-**

AN: Sorry this update took such a long time to post – I was away on vacation in St. Martin (and now I’m back suntanned and ready to start my last year in high school), and I didn’t have access to a computer to see what my wonderful beta reader, Katie, had to say about my little story here (other than the fact she cannot call the Black Pearl the Black Pearl anymore… but rather the Dark Mark). I hope you all enjoy this chapter, seeing the next probably won’t be out for a while with school starting again. Read, review and enjoy! Kneazle

Alexis Strange: Your favorite movie is PotC? LOL, it’s apparently everyone’s. I don’t know anyone who has seen it and didn’t like it.

Paige Woods: Thank you so much for your amazing and wonderful review. I really didn’t want to kill Sirius off (as like in the books) but I’m afraid that I needed Harry to be a bit standoffish and aloof with his godfather gone to Davy Jones’ locker, you know? No worries about a Ron/Lavender or R/Parvati ship here – I’m making it a bit of a secret, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to guess who he’ll end up with, if they get together! **winks**

Eleena Thea: Thanks. I’m hoping to add a “Landlubbers Guide to Ship and Pirate Terminology” sometime soon… so hopefully it’ll help readers more!

AN2: [Sept. 9, 2003] Changes continued to timeframe, thanks for mistakes being pointed out by Stoneheart!

3. Skulls 03

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Three

“Well, that went well, didn’t you think?” sneered Lucius Malfoy, his arms crossed, as he stared down his son on his schooner, the Narcissa. “Potter beat you yet again, and you blotch up the plan… so we’re back where we started. We don’t have the map, we don’t have anything.”

Lucius uncrossed his arms, brushing some invisible dirt off his black button-up. He stalked towards his son slowly and once he had done that, he all but purred, “So tell me, son of mine, just what are you going to do about it?”

Draco swallowed, tilting his head up a bit in defiance. “I’m going to follow him.”

“Follow Potter?”

“Yes.”

Lucius let out a bark of laughter. “Are you daft? Never mind, don’t answer that. Just why will you be going after Potter, Draco?”

“Because,” started Draco, shifting his weight, “Because he has something he is not supposed to have.”

“And what is that?”

“Princess Hermione of Richmondshire, Sir,” replied the young adult. Oh, he was sick of this stupid cat-and-mouse game his father and he played nearly every day.

Why didn’t you catch Potter? Oh, because his brig is too fast for yours? Well, what are you going to do about it? And then there would be a lashing of the cat. His back was still sore from the last whipping he was given.

“The Princess?” Lucius’s voice took on a surprised tone. “Are you sure?”

What? I’m lying now? thought Draco bitterly, before he nodded.

“Yes, I am sure. I met her on the street, and then Potter came along, saving the day yet again.”

“What is so important about this Princess?” Lucius turned his back on his son and began pacing the wooden deck, stroking his short beard thoughtfully.

Draco took a step toward his father, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword comfortably. He was almost in the clear now. “Because she knew where the piece of the map was. Even if she didn’t know, the way she was looking at Potter and I made it clear she knew who we are.”

“So?”

“So, what I’m saying is that she seems like the type to do something completely rash and out of character,” continued Draco, drawling his words to sound impatient and cocky.

“Get on with it!”

“She wants an adventure,” sighed Draco. “And since she’s not onboard the Dragon, I can assume she’s on the Marauder, with Potter.”

Lucius snarled, turning on his son. “Is that all you have to say? Something that we can already presuppose for ourselves?”

Draco’s face betrayed his surprise and confusion. In a matter of seconds, his father had stridden forward, his hand grasping a black handle. Attached to the handle were strips of cloth, with hooks attached to the ends. Draco paled visibly. It was the cat.

While he was paling, two of Lucius’ men, McNair and Avery, had grabbed Draco. They now turned him and yanked his shirt up from his trousers, allowing the other men onboard the Narcissa to see the still-pink scars of the last whipping Draco received for blotch his duties.

Staring hard at the wooden deck, Draco tried to think of something – anything – else.

He had felt the pain of the cat more than enough to know that he wasn’t very fond of the torture device.

He closed his eyes, waiting to hear the whoosh of air, letting him know a split-second later he would feel the skin of his back break and feel the blood ooze down in slow rivets.

Instead, he heard something that sounded remarkably like flesh against flesh. Opening his eyes, he looked behind his shoulder to see Tom Riddle’s pale and spidery hand firmly gripping his father’s wrist.

“That’s enough, Lucius,” said Riddle in his usual hiss like way. “He has suffered enough humility from you tonight. Instead, just let him go after Potter and see if he can finally catch up to the Marauder and do something useful.”

“And if he manages to?” asked Lucius carefully, letting go of the cat and motioning for Avery and McNair to let go of his son.

“And if he manages it,” said Riddle, turning around to face away from the large crowd, his cloak sweeping around his ankles, “Then he can come up with a plan to ruin Potter. But… to ensure this…” His red eyes caught on Draco’s silver and held. “I will be placing three of my own onboard the Dragon.”

“Really, my Lord, that won’t be necessary”—Lucius hastily spoke.

Riddle waved away Lucius’s protests. “It will be.” His scarlet eyes glittered dangerously in the moonlight. “Bring the Lestranges and Pettigrew forward. Give them their orders, Lucius, and then off you go, little Dragon.”

Draco gulped and all but ran back to his brig.

~*~

“Do you have any threes?”

“No, go fish. Do you have any fives?”

“Bloody hell, Luna, how do you win every game?” sighed Ginny as she threw down her cards and stared in dismay at the perfect couples that Luna managed to place face-down. She ran her hands through her red mane and tugged. It just wasn’t fair.

“Are you two decent?” interrupted Harry. He was rapping lightly on the wooden frame by their door, averting his eyes to the ground.

“You can come in, Harry,” replied Ginny, still mumbling under her breath about Luna’s winnings. She watched as her hard-earned money was taken and counted by Luna. “There is ten guineas there, you know. You don’t have to count it in front of me!”

Luna grinned sheepishly, something that was odd with her slightly surprised, bug-eyed look. “Sorry.”

“If you two are quite done,” coughed Harry.

The two girls turned to their captain, apologies on their lips. However, nothing escaped, because they were staring wordlessly at the other female standing behind Harry.

Seeing their gazes, Harry smirked slightly and wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, ignoring the tugging in his stomach. He pushed the girl slightly forward and said, “Ladies, meet Hermione. She’ll be joining us on our journey to Tunis.”

Ginny jumped up and extended a hand. “How do you do?”

“Fine, thank you,” Hermione replied demurely, shaking Ginny’s hand and bending down slightly in a curtsey. She turned to Luna and did the same, her eyes darting from the small bolted-down table and cards to the money in Luna’s hands, to Ginny and then to Harry. Always back to Harry.

Ginny and Luna shared a knowing look.

Harry coughed and shuffled his feet. “Hermione will need some new clothes to wear and she will be sleeping with you two down here in the forecastle, all right? She’ll also need to learn the basics, so I want you two to help here. Understand?”

“Yes, Cap’n!” said Ginny and Luna in unison, mock saluting Harry. Harry looked at them carefully for a couple minutes before nodding and turning back to Hermione. He pulled her off to one side, ignoring Ginny’s wink and Luna’s grin.

“If these two give you any problems,” Harry began, whispering to Hermione with a hand on her shoulder to make sure she looked him in the eye, “If they give you any problems you come to me.”

“Will they give me problems?” asked Hermione, alarmed. Her eyes were wide and her voice held a slight tremble.

Harry sighed, pulling her further away from the two, watchful females. “I doubt it, but they might say things that you won’t appreciate. You must also not tell them who you really are.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll be in even more trouble than I am now,” sighed Harry, using the hand that was not on Hermione’s shoulder to run it through his hair.

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing Hermione to scrutinize him.

Harry Potter was a very good-looking man, Hermione decided. He had a straight Roman nose, full lips, strong jaw and narrow face, and the most beautiful eyes that Hermione had ever seen in her whole life.

She would do anything he told her to do if he looked her in the eyes, she realized, which was a very dangerous weapon indeed.

Harry opened his eyes, and Hermione mentally swooned. “Did I…” Hermione bit her lip. “Did my coming onboard give you that much trouble? Because if that is the case, I’ll just get a rowboat or something and go to shore.”

Harry stared at her for a couple seconds before chuckling. “A rowboat?”

Hermione made a face. “Well, I can’t have you turn your boat around…”

“Ship, Hermione, ship. Not boat,” corrected Harry gently, before shaking his head in silent amusement.

“Now listen to me. I didn’t want you on the Marauder for your own good. You’re a Princess, not a sailor. However, I am allowing you your adventure, but that’s it. I can’t predict what’s going to happen and I certainly do not want your death on my conscience if we come under fire. That is why I didn’t want you here.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” he sighed impatiently, cupping her chin with the hand that was on her shoulder.

Hermione instantly missed its warmth. He tilted her head up to look at him in the eye. “Will you promise me that you’ll do exactly what everyone on this brig tells you to do?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Hermione blinked. “What do you mean, ‘yes, what’? I said yes, didn’t I?”

Harry inwardly laughed. This woman is priceless, he thought. Has enough spunk to last this journey easily. “I am the captain of the Marauder, Hermione, and you will address me as such, like Luna and Ginny did. Now, yes what?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good.” Harry let go of Hermione’s chin and pushed her back into the room they had vacated. Luna and Ginny were standing suspiciously near the door, appearing as if they were engrossed with looking at a book.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you three to get acquainted.” He then turned on his heel and left the room, muttering about women and their stubborn ways.

Hermione watched the door until she couldn’t hear him anymore. Then she turned and looked carefully at the two only females on the boat… er; ship, she silently told herself.

The redhead, Hermione noticed, was the tallest of them. She towered over Hermione a good three inches, and held herself like she knew what she could do.

“I’m Ginny,” she introduced. She then pointed to the blonde who was just a bit shorter than Hermione. “That’s Luna.”

“Are you related to Harry’s – the Captain’s – first mate?” asked Hermione, stumbling over the unfamiliar term. She nervously smoothed down her ball gown fabric.

Ginny nodded. “Ron’s my older brother.” She steered Hermione towards the table and forcibly placed her on one of the seats. “Luna, she’s about your size. She can borrow your pants, but she’s more my size on top.”

“Excuse me?” asked Hermione, incredulous. She knew that she was going to wear new clothes, but to have Ginny and Luna looking at her that way, talking about her body parts like that startled her.

Ginny waved away Hermione’s surprise. “You need something to wear, and that, whatever you’re wearing, will not do.”

Hermione paused, thinking Ginny’s words over. Nodding, she said almost severely, “Would you hurry up and get me out of this thing, then?”

Luna laughed. “Certainly.”

“What?” Hermione squeaked, glaring at the younger girl for laughing at her.

Luna and Ginny shared another look before bursting out in laughter.

~*~

“Why in Titan’s name did you bring her onboard?” moaned Ron as he glanced over at his dark-haired friend. Harry’s hands were folded behind his back as he stared out at the choppy waters from the head of the brig.

“Because she wants an adventure, Ron,” commented Harry from where he stood, “Why should I have refused her? She’ll be safe in Tunis and I’ll have a merchant ship take her back to Port Silver. Nothing will happen to her. I’m sure Remus can guess where she is too.”

“Still! Frightful bad luck,” moped Ron.

“Ron, be careful about what you say. You’re including Ginny and Luna in that,” warned Harry, glancing over his shoulder. “Besides, Ms. Granger seems like the type to be able to take care of herself. She won’t be complaining about being onboard the Marauder anytime soon.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue any further. Instead, he tapped his dagger on the table that was closest to him, thinking.

“For someone who is very carefree and exuberant, you’re very quiet,” murmured Harry as he came to stand in front of his friend.

“Just thinking,” mumbled Ron, his ear tips tinting red. Harry grinned.

“Thinking of whom?”

“None of your bloody business, that’s who!” replied Ron hotly, standing abruptly.

Harry rolled his eyes. He turned and unbuckled his sword strap, grabbing the sheath and placing it carefully on his bed. He undid his red sash and pulled his bandana off.

“You, mate, are insufferable,” Harry finally admitted. Ron chuckled.

“Likewise!” Ron’s good-natured smile fell off his face as he asked, “So are you going to tell me whom this illustrious Ms. Granger is?”

Harry spun on his heel and said quickly, “No.”

One of Ron’s red eyebrows rose, disappearing under his fringe. “Really? Why not? Is she someone special, secret? A hidden desire of yours?”

“Ron,” growled Harry, all humor and jokes gone, “You’re treading on dangerous waters. Drop the subject. Now.”

Ron’s other eyebrow disappeared. He held his hands up and took a few steps back, his eyes guarded and wary. Opening the door to leave Harry’s captain quarters he shook his head. “All right, Captain. I understand. I won’t overstep my boundaries again, now that you’ve made them blatantly clear.”

He then slipped through the open door, leaving Harry alone in his quarters.

~*~

“Now, Hermione,” began Ginny, adjusting her top on the petite girl, “You’ll be working with Luna and I down in the galley first thing this morning, making some food for the lads.”

“Cooking?” squeaked Hermione. “Look, I know that being onboard is going to be a bit interesting and hard at first… but still… um, now would be a great time to mention I can’t cook.”

Luna chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione, her cheeks tinting red. Ginny placed a comforting arm around her.

“Don’t worry. You can make Harry’s breakfast then.”

“What?” Hermione glanced at the redhead.

Ginny and Luna shared one of their looks that Hermione was noticing all too well. “We know who you are, and Harry obviously reckons we’re dumb or something.”

“What do you mean, ‘who I am’?” Hermione stuttered. She squared her shoulders and tried to look as defiant as she could wearing an old shirt of the first mate’s and Luna’s pants. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luna laughed. “Oh come on, landlubber! You’re the princess, Hermione – we’re not daft!”

Hermione’s eyes darted from one girl to another. Sighing, she sat on the hammock that served as her bed the night before. “All right. What do you want of me?” she asked wearily.

“Nothing,” replied Ginny, sitting next to the girl, making the hammock sway. “We just want to poke some fun at the captain for thinking us simple.”

“And you want me to cook his breakfast? How does that work?” asked Hermione.

Luna and Ginny grinned. “Why, you can’t cook. And he’ll have to eat or else he won’t have enough strength to go on for the rest of the day.”

“Oh. Revenge,” said Hermione, realizing their plan.

“Mais oui!” winked Ginny, standing. “What do you say? Are you in on the plan?”

Hermione shrugged. “Oh, why not.”

Ginny and Luna whooped before hauling Hermione off the hammock and dragging her toward the galley.

~*~

Harry stared at the lump of black mass that was situated in the middle of his fine china plate. Around it were undercooked pieces of broccoli and carrots, and the bread on the side was stale. Ron was covering his mouth with his hand, trying to unsuccessfully muffle his snorts of laughter.

Harry shot him a glare, thinking how much he sometimes hated his older friend. Picking up a fork, he poked at the meat, and asked in wonder, “Just what is this, Ms. Granger?”

Hermione fidgeted, placing her hands in front of her. “Well, it’s beef. The last piece, because it’ll spoil if we don’t use it now. And those are vegetables, Captain, and bread. I thought that that was pretty obvious.”

“Well…” Harry hesitated. The vegetables and bread were obvious but that sure didn’t look like beef to him. He poked at it again and inwardly grimaced when the fork made a squish noise. That did not sound good.

“Is something the matter? You don’t like it?” Hermione’s lower lip trembled. She, Ginny and Luna had been doing this for the past week already, hoping to get Harry to crack. Hermione was fairly sure that he knew by now that she couldn’t cook, but was far too kind to ask for Ginny or Luna to make his meals instead.

Hermione was, of course, trying her best to make decent meals but it just seemed that she and cooking didn’t mix well. Which was strange, because she managed to excel at everything else Luna and Ginny tossed her way.

For, in the past week onboard the Marauder, Hermione had managed to keep the deck clean, tie a perfectly strong sailor’s knot, help unfurl one of the jibs, and even managed to walk in a straight line after being ridiculed by someone named Dean for looking drunk. She couldn’t help it if she didn’t have sea legs on the first day of working, now, could she?

So there Hermione was, standing in Harry’s captain quarters which she was becoming very intimate with, watching him carefully. He had a disgusted look on his face, but was trying very hard to mask it. He wrinkled his nose once, before picking up the knife and cutting the meat.

Hermione inwardly shouted with glee. Finally, after waiting a whole week, she would see him try to eat that piece of overcooked beef!

Harry cut a small piece, grimaced, and placed it in his mouth.

Ron couldn’t help but let out a howl of laughter, before running from the room, nearly doubled over.

As he chewed, Harry watched Hermione’s face for some hint that she was doing this deliberately. Still, he couldn’t see anything but worry and hurt.

Finally, he swallowed and rasped out a, “delicious”, before cutting another piece. Hermione’s eyes bugged and her jaw dropped.

“A-Are you sure?” she stuttered, taking a step forward.

Harry stood. “Of course not,” he replied easily, taking the plate and opening the large window at the back of his room. He tossed the contents out and then shut the glass pane.

He then put the plate down and crossed his arms. “You’re doing a very good job at ruining my meals, but that just means that you’ll have to share your meal with me.”

“Share!” protested Hermione.

“Yes. Half of your meal will become mine,” clarified Harry, smirking at Hermione’s fallen expression. “You should actually make the meal edible.”

“I tried!” Hermione sighed. “I really did… I just can’t cook. I told Ginny and Luna that, but they wouldn’t listen. Payback, said they.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. Ah, payback? They must know who Hermione is. “And you went along, plotting against your captain? Do you know that you could walk the plank for that?”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she stared at Harry. “Walk the plank?” she echoed in a small voice.

“Yes,” nodded Harry, chuckling to himself. Of course she wouldn’t walk the plank, he was just playing with her. And damn, does it feel good, he thought, before brushing that thought aside. He mustn’t be thinking of her like that.

Hermione felt the tears well up in her eyes and tried to unsuccessfully stop them from spilling onto her cheeks. She didn’t want to walk the plank – she wanted to stay onboard and do a good job so that Harry liked her. She knew he didn’t and wanted to change that because she wanted his respect and for him to joke around with her. She never had friends her own age, with the exception of Lavender and Parvati who just enjoyed saying that they knew “Princess Hermione of Richmondshire”.

Harry felt his gut clench as he noticed the tears spill from Hermione’s eyes. He closed his own painfully, before stepping forward and taking her in his arms.

“Shh, I was just teasing you,” he soothed, running his hand down her back as her hiccups and tears subsided. “I didn’t reckon that you would take it so seriously, Hermione.”

Harry tried to keep his mind on soothing Hermione and away from any other thoughts that were popping up at inappropriate times. He just couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her in his arms; they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

Unable to keep his thoughts and hormones in check, the nineteen year old glanced down at the bushy, brown haired Princess who had one hand clenching his shirt tightly and the other wiping her tears away.

Harry pushed her slightly away before using his thumb to brush a few lingering tears into oblivion. He gave Hermione a small smile, which she hesitantly returned.

“All right now, landlubber?” he asked softly.

“I think so,” she replied in a similar soft tone.

With his hand still cupping her cheek, Harry leaned slightly forward, and Hermione leaned up toward him, anticipating what was going to happen.

Harry could feel her breath on him, and noticed the slight hitch just before he put his lips against hers, savoring their soft feel and sweet taste.

Almost as soon as the kiss began, he pulled back, screaming at himself. Just what do you think you’re doing? She’s a princess – you’re a pirate! You can never be!

He pushed her away, using more force than necessary. Harry felt a slight pang when he noticed Hermione stumble slightly, a surprised and hurt look in her eyes.

He swallowed, taking a small step forward, but she shivered and took one away from him. Hermione turned and picked up the tray in which she brought his food to him, and said, “I’ll just be going then.”

She was out of the room before Harry realized what had happened.

~*~

Hermione placed the tray on the bolted down table in the galley, thankful that both Ginny and Luna had other duties to attend to while she sorted out her muddled thoughts.

Harry kissed you! was the most prominent of her thoughts.

She could still taste and feel him, and shivered briefly in delight before remembering his face and the way he pushed her away. Hermione felt her face turn crimson as she recollected the look of shock and something else that was on Harry’s face when he pushed her.

Bowing her head, Hermione gripped the sides of the table, her knuckles turning white. She exhaled slowly, and straightened her shoulders when a loud boom reverberated through the brig, making the wood shudder and groan.

Hermione heard the surprised shouts and angry noises of gun and cannon fire. An odd sound – like metal hitting wood – reached her ears and then chaos erupted.

Glancing toward the doors, Hermione ran out of the galley and up the stairs that led to the main deck.

She poked her head around one of the wooden posts and nearly screamed. The Marauder was under attack!

There was a man attacking poor Neville right in front of Hermione. The other pirate was tall and broad shouldered, with tanned skin and short, feathery dirty blond hair. He was brandishing a large, curved sword that glittered in the Mediterranean sunlight.

The pirate raised the cutlass right above his head and Hermione knew she had to do something to save Neville Longbottom, the sweetest pirate she ever met.

Spying a discarded sword on the ground, Hermione wrapped her fingers around the heavy hilt and heaved the blade into the air. She then took a few steps forward before swinging the blade in an arch and letting it go where she wanted.

Closing her eyes, Hermione realized she didn’t want to see someone’s dead body, and waited for something to happen.

Nothing did.

Instead, she heard a low, recalcitrant growl, and someone’s large hand wrapped around hers holding the sword.

Letting her eyes blink open, Hermione came face-to-face with her first Barbary pirate. She let out a tiny squeak of fear, but stared boldly into his blue eyes.

“Je ne pense pas que ce serait sage, mon amour^1,” he said in French.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened to stutter silently, as she realized that the Marauder was under French fire outside of Ghar el Melh^2, Tunisia.

“It may not be an wise idea, sir, but you are attacking the boat I am on, and as Princess Hermione of Richmondshire, I demand that you leave at once!” Hermione snapped, finally finding her voice. She tugged on the hilt of the sword, trying to remove her hand from under the French Barbary pirate.

The man merely laughed. He used his other hand to pull Hermione close to him and then, when she was securely placed between his torso and arm; he removed her fingers from around the sword until it dropped with a clatter to the deck.

Hermione was petrified. Now what? She had revealed her identity, tried to use physical force to get the man to leave, and nothing worked. There was only one thing left, Hermione decided. She opened her mouth and let out a shrill scream.

~*~

Harry was fighting with a young corsair when he heard the scream. The hairs at the back of his neck stood, and with a final punch, Harry knocked the young man out. Turning to see where the scream originated from, Harry felt as if someone punched him in the gut when he saw Hermione being held hostage in some corsair’s arms.

His blood began to boil, and before Harry could even wonder why he felt so protective of the young royal, he had grabbed a line and was sailing toward the two, over the heads of his crewmates and enemies.

He landed on the deck gracefully, crouching slightly as he pulled a dagger from the top of his boot.

He faced the man holding Hermione, and asked, “What do you want?”

The corsair’s eyes widened in mirth as he looked down at the young man who wanted to win back the lady he had stolen. “Êtes-vous le capitaine de ce bateau^3?”

Harry let his head nod slightly as he kept his eyes on the man. “Oui. Now, why don’t you just let Hermione go and we’ll continue this by ourselves,” he suggested, taking a step forward carefully, his dagger pointing toward the two in front of him.

He flexed his fingers on his left hand and licked his lip.

The corsair looked as if he was contemplating Harry’s offer when he chuckled and said, “Non. Pourquoi cette femme est-elle si importante? Est-elle votre amante? Ou est-elle votre otage, hmm^4?”

Harry felt his blood run cold. What was he to do now? Say Hermione came onboard the Marauder herself, and wasn’t a hostage or his lover? Tell the pirate that she was important to him, but he didn’t know why?

Harry felt time slip through his fingers as the battle went on around him. He began to sweat as he thought of a proper answer to the question, his eyes staring unfocused at the Frenchman.

Finally, the man sighed and whistled loudly enough to capture the attention of his crew.

Without warning, he released Hermione from his arms and pushed her gently toward Harry, who caught her, surprised.

“You think with your head, not your heart,” the Frenchman said in flawless English, nodding at Harry.

Shocked, Harry sputtered, “W-who…?”

The Frenchman bowed at his waist and with a sweeping motion took his tricorn hat from his head. “I am Compte Pierre d’Orrlyon, a French count stationed here in Tunis to increase trade and hospitality. And you, monsieur?”

Harry blinked before answering with a similar bow at the waist, “Viscount Harold Potter, milord. May I ask why you decided to stop our battle?”

The Count nodded. “Of course.” He glanced at the young woman nestled protectively in Harry’s arms and let a small smile grace his lips. “It is because of that magnifique princess in your arms.”

“Princess?” Harry heard Seamus whisper to Dean, from behind him. “Is that bushy-haired Miss Granger a princess?”

Harry cringed and gritted his teeth as he looked at Hermione. She was looking pointedly at his shoulder, both her hands gathering the material of his shirt in bunches. Harry contracted his hand that rested on her waist. When she looked up at him curiously, he offered her a quick, warm smile, before facing the Count again.

“What is it that you wish of me, d’Orrlyon?” he asked carefully.

The Count d’Orrlyon smiled. “My dear Potter, really, one would think it obvious. I am a French noble placed here with the – ruthless – Barbary pirates. Because of the precious cargo you are carrying with you”—he looked pointedly at Hermione—“I will be able to grant you passage into Ghar el Melh.”

“For supplies?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. I promise you safe passage for one day and night here, and then you shall be on your way to wherever you need to be,” d’Orrlyon replied.

“Excellent.” Harry grinned, striding forward, taking Hermione with him. He held out a gloved hand (the one that was still not holding the dagger) to the Count. “Is that an accord we should shake on?”

“I believe it is,” the Count replied with a slight grin on his face. “Are you… savvy?”

Harry laughed out loud. “I am! Thank you, Compte d’Orrlyon. Your generosity shall not be forgotten.”

“Merci, Vicomte Potter. Si vous avez besoin jamais de mon aide, vous savez où me contacter^5,” the Count said, going back to French.

Harry nodded as Hermione looked back and forth between the two, her eyes narrowed and her brain working overtime.

~*~

The sun was setting when Draco and his ship finally glided into the harbor at Ghar el Melh. Draco was nervous and tense, and Blaise (who stood behind him) was no better off. In fact, the whole crew was silent and somber as they left Port Silver. Draco knew it had something to do with the two tall and foreboding figures that stood in the dark by the helm.

Draco shivered. The Lestranges gave him the willies.

“That’s the Marauder,” said Blaise quietly, pointing to a brig between two others. “It seems that Potter made some friends.”

“Indeed,” murmured Draco in reply, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his nemesis’ craft. “What do you propose we do, Blaise?

Shall we wait or risk an attack while Potter’s unsuspecting and vulnerable?”

“You’ve always had a sense of honor,” reminded Blaise, his eyes flitting to the Lestranges and back to Draco. “If I were you, I’d play it safe until I could maroon the odd couple and the rat.”

“Good idea,” sneered Draco softly, as his own eyes unwillingly went to the two shadowy figures. “Any idea where that rat is now?”

“Below, sleeping of all things. Is the laziest merda^6 I have ever seen,” ground out Blaise, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Draco snorted. “I don’t know how Riddle puts up with him. Probably keeps him around as a memento to the day he killed the Potters.”

“Probably,” agreed Blaise. “So? What shall we do?”

“Weigh anchor and send the crew inland on the wherry. I believe that it’s time to go hunting.”

Blaise grinned in the growing dark, and saluted. “Yes Cap’n!”

Draco watched silently as the Dragon found a relatively safe and obscured place to anchor and his men began to lower the wherries with some of the crew already in the small boats. Once they were lowered, the men began rowing toward the shore, some singing songs that carried on the still wind.

“Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest – Yo ho, ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest – Yo ho, ho and a bottle of rum!”

Draco grinned despite the unease he felt on his own ship. Goyle could never hold his liquor well, and there he was, singing about drinking. Slowly walking toward the last wherry that Blaise was securing, Draco wondered what his plan of action would be.

Try to sneak onboard the Marauder? No, too well guarded. Perhaps Potter had taken the princess to shore?

Unlikely. Draco snorted. His best bet was to corner one of the crew and make them talk at sword point.

With that in mind, Draco let Blaise row them to shore.

“Are you going to go after Potter tonight?” he asked as the oars cut through the dark water.

“No. I think someone else. Who do you think would crack under pressure, mate?” asked Draco, fixing his cuffs and making sure his sword was in pristine condition.

“Either that Longbottom swab or one of those redhead fools, the Weasleys. They’re always good to provoke,” Blaise suggested, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Both laughed, and soon the wherry bumped against the sand bar under them. Blaise jumped out first, soaking his pants as he dragged the small boat closer to shore. Draco then got out and helped, and then placed the oars in the boat, which they both turned over together.

“We’ll meet back here with the crew at midnight, savvy?” Draco commanded, his hand resting on his sword belt.

“Yes, Cap’n,” approved Blaise, before he melted into the darkness. Draco waited a bit before turning on his heel and striding down the cobblestone path.

He had just turned one of the corners that led towards the center of Ghar el Melh when he spotted a bushel of red hair. He silently pulled his sword out and stalked to his prey.

Within seconds of reaching the figure, he had the Weasley pushed up against one of the mud walls, his sword pointed at the throat.

“Hello,” he purred dangerously. “Why don’t we remove this cap of yours to see which Weasley I’ve been granted the pleasure of meeting tonight?”

The figure said nothing, so with a careless flick of his wrist, the blade tipped the hat off the Weasley.

A pile of red curls fell over the girl’s shoulders.

Surprised, but not showing it, Draco raised an eyebrow in appreciation. “I never knew that the Weasley’s had a daughter.”

“Well, now you know,” replied the redheaded, freckled girl, her topaz eyes glaring stonily at him beneath long lashes. “What is it you want, Malfoy? Because I certainly know who you are.”

Draco grinned. “Just some information, my dear, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Information on whom?” Ginny replied, tilting her chin up at him.

“Why, on Potter’s new love interest, Hermione Granger, the Princess of Richmondshire,” Draco grinned, the sword never wavering an inch. “Now, Weasley, why don’t you tell me what you know?”

~*~

Three hours later, Draco and Blaise arrived back at their wherry with the rest of the crew coming slowly.

“What did you find out?” asked Blaise in an undertone.

Draco smirked. “Enough.” Turning, and lowering his voice still, Draco faced Blaise and said urgently, “I want you to send a letter to Richmondshire’s royal family. Tell them that Viscount Harry Potter, England’s own mysterious and bitter privateer, has kidnapped the Princess and as a dangerous pirate, is keeping her prisoner. I think that will be enough of the basic information to stir England up, won’t it?”

Blaise nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll get right on it when we return. Should I just leave it as it is?”

“Oh no,” said Draco, shaking his head. “Add some details in. You’re creative… make up the rest.”

“Yes sir,” Blaise grinned, saluting his captain, before pushing the wherry out into the water and climbing onboard.

It seemed that things were beginning to look up for Draco and the crew of the Dragon.

**-**

1: “I don’t think that would be wise, my love.”

2: Ghar el Melh is in Tunisia about 60 km North of Tunis, the capital. It was an old pirate and smuggler’s port in the 17th century that lasted well into the 19th until the lagoon began to silt open. It has a fortress, small village and wonderful architecture.

3: “Are you the captain of this ship?”

4: “No. Why is this woman so important? Is she your lover? Or is she your hostage, hmm?”

5: “Thank you, Viscount Potter. If you ever need my help, you know where to contact me.”

6: “Shit,” in Italian

**-**

AN: Wow, okay, sorry for the very long wait. Almost a month! *cringes* Anyway, thanks to Katie yet again for beta’ing, despite the broken fingers and school that bothered us both. You guys know the drill – read, review and enjoy! Yours, Kneazle

AN2: [Oct. 16, 2003] Thanks to ilu, for the correct terminology in French. It’s been way too long for me to remember my own French classes. Thanks ilu!

4. Skulls 04

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Four

Remus stood next to Severus, watching King Theodore pace in front of them. His hands were clenched tightly behind his back, making his red cape flare out behind him dramatically. He was red-faced and muttering things under his breath. Queen Elisa was pale and downcast.

“What made her decide to do such a thing?” Theodore finally roared. “How could she be so callous and… and… hormonal!”

“She only wanted adventure, your Majesty,” said Remus softly from where he stood. “You took away her book – which had been her window to the outside world. She took the chance to see the world.”

“See the world!” Theodore exclaimed. “Why would she want to do something like that when she can read and learn about it here in the castle?”

“Perhaps, your highness,” began Severus in his silky voice, “She knew that there was more than just books and cleverness to life. Bravery, friendship, and the likes.”

“Are you saying Princess Hermione did not have friends?” asked Theodore quietly. “What about her ladies-in-waiting?” he waved his hand and flustered about for their names. “Parvati? Rosemary?”

“Parvati and Lavender, your Majesty,” said Remus with a small smile. “And no, Hermione never got along with them. They merely used her as a way to gain status and popularity amongst the nobles. The princess never liked them much.”

Theodore was silent as he digested the new piece of information. He finally sighed. “So what are we to do? Send out the royal fleet to find the Marauder and haul my daughter back? What promises are there to her safety? And what of this Malfoy character? I know I have heard his name before, somewhere…”

Severus stood straight and spoke in a gravelly tone, “The name Mal Foi seems familiar to you, sire, because it is the name of the notorious French pirate, Lucius Malfoy. He works under the command of Captain Tom Riddle – a man who could rival Francois L’Ollonais in cruelty.”

Queen Elisa started. “Francois L’Ollonais, that French pirate who forced one of his prisoner’s to eat the heart he had just cut out of another prisoner?”

Severus nodded, regarding the Queen with hooded lids. “The very same.”

“Then why would he be sending us a letter, informing us of Hermione’s kidnap!” cried Elisa, stepping forward from the throne, her hands clenching each other tightly in front of her.

Remus, startled by the usually quiet Queen’s outburst, hastened to say, “Probably because he wants a reward and an excuse to attack Harry outright.”

“Harry?” asked Theodore, turning towards Remus sharply. Remus saw Severus cringe beside him. “Harry who, Lupin?”

Sighing and realizing his slip too late, Remus, in a subdued voice, explained, “Harry Potter, captain of the Marauder, and currently the guardian of your daughter.”

“How would you know who the captain of the Marauder is, Lupin?” asked Theodore curiously.

Remus ran a hand through his hair. “Because I used to be part of that fleet.”

Elisa let out a breath she was holding. “In… in Hermione’s book,” she started tentatively, “There was a young man by the name of Remus Lupin who was in charge of a boat called the Werewolf. Was that you, Remus?”

Nodding, his head bowed, Remus said quietly, “Before I became a tutor I was a part of the Potter fleet. We were given a letter of marque to hunt down rogue English ships and make sure our English merchants made it to the Americas safely. However, there had been a rival feud between James and Riddle for a long time.”

Severus stepped into the conversation. “I was a part of Riddle’s crew, too, at one time. I was, however, a spy. I knew that Riddle would attack the Potters and other English vessels so I made it my duty to know when and where, and inform my superior.”

Remus swallowed as he began the next part of his tale, “After… after that night when Riddle came onboard the Marauder and killed James and Lily… I gave up pirating. I thought that Sirius was the one who betrayed us… not Peter… but then I learned the difference, and was there to see Harry sail off as an educated and skilled sailor.”

Elisa noticed the tears in Remus’ eyes and felt some in her own. She could almost feel the pain he was radiating.

“Will my Hermione be safe, with this Harry Potter?” she murmured, reaching for a handkerchief. She met Remus’ eyes and held them.

“I wouldn’t know anyone better to care for her,” he replied earnestly. Elisa nodded, and sniffed. Theodore came close to her and wrapped an arm around her.

“So Hermione will be safe with him. What shall we do about Malfoy?” he asked, facing the two men.

Remus shrugged and turned to Severus. “You knew young Malfoy.”

Severus nodded. “I did. He’ll probably go after Potter. They have their own rivalry to battle out. Killing Potter is his only goal.”

“But with Hermione onboard!” protested Elisa, “She’ll be hurt!”

Severus shook his head. “Doubtful. I think they already met and she was hardly scared of Draco.”

“Met? When?” thundered Theodore.

Remus spoke first. “When we were attacked. That was Draco’s ship, the Dragon. Harry and Hermione came back to the castle to look for a piece of the Marauder’s Map.”

“Ha!” Severus suddenly shouted. “I knew it existed! I knew it! I knew there was some way that explained the way the Potter fleet managed to fade into a ghostly myth! Like a ghost ship, some say. Sometimes here, other times there… never in one spot for too long. Now I know how it was done!”

Remus smiled wryly. “Congratulations Severus, for learning the truth. We made a map – one that would allow us to move quickly from place to place like a ghost.”

“And Harry was looking for a piece here in the castle?” asked Elisa, aghast.

“I had my piece stored in the book I gave Hermione,” he flushed guiltily. “I was the one who gave her the pirate book.”

Theodore chuckled. “No need to look so guilty, Remus! I figured it was you who gave it to her.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” asked Remus, flabbergasted.

Theodore turned away from his wife and two tutors. He moved to stand beside a window, staring out over the sparkling sea before speaking again. “I didn’t want to say anything because I knew how Hermione felt. I knew that keeping her cooped up in this castle day in and day out would sooner or later break her. I couldn’t see all the dreams I had as a lad fade away like they were doing in her.”

His eyes grew dark as they remembered a past time. “She wanted adventure. I’m just a parent worrying about his child. I don’t want her to get hurt… but if this Potter is whom you are coloring him to be… then she will be safe. But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about my little girl.”

“She’s hardly a little girl any more,” said Severus, in an odd gentle voice.

Theodore nodded, his voice gruff when he answered. “I know. And I know that sooner or later, I’m going to have to let her go – either to a Prince… or maybe to a pirate.”

Remus felt a small, sad smile grace his lips. “Let Hermione have this one last adventure, my liege. Once it’s over, let her make her choice. You might be surprised by what you learn.”

Theodore turned and nodded, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. “You’re right Lupin.” He stood tall, and with a booming voice, continued: “Tell the guards to send out the royal fleet! I want my daughter protected while she is out there! I will not let this Malfoy harm her or this Potter fellow while he’s taking care of my daughter!”

~*~

Draco sat in his captain’s quarters, wondering if he’d get a reply from the English royal family soon. If they believed his letter, he’d be allowed to go freely after Potter, who’d no longer be a privateer… he’d be a common pirate, like himself, where pirate laws exist only between the two of them.

Draco grinned, his eyes settling on the flicker of a candle that burned in the middle of a table in his quarters. Everything around him was dark; the curtains were drawn across the windows, and the door to his quarters was shut tightly.

Finally, Potter would be his and he wouldn’t have his father’s displeasure reign down on him again, in the form of the cat.

Suppressing a shudder, Draco stood from his seat and moved to the window, shoving the curtains aside.

He was still in Tunis, and he could still see Potter’s brig just a few leagues from his. There were lights on the Marauder, meaning some of the crew was still onboard. He wondered if that tiny red-haired Weasley chit told anyone of their meeting yet… if she had, there would be hell for him to pay.

Usually, pirates and locals minded their own business, and the business of two pirates was between them only. Although, Draco was worried about the guards here… they seemed to cluster close around the Marauder, keeping a watch on it.

Like it was a treasure, or something important… Draco let his eyes glaze over as he thought, before slamming a hand against a wood post between the glass panels, swearing colorfully in French.

“Potter’s got Tunisian protection!”

“How do you think Potter managed that, Captain?” asked Blaise, who appeared behind him silently. It took every effort of self-control for Draco to not turn and knock his fist into Blaise for sneaking up on him.

“I don’t know,” Draco snarled instead, clenching his fist tightly against the drapery of the curtain. “I don’t know and I want to, instantly. Where’s that worm, Peter? Send him out to snoop and learn some information.”

“Will do, Captain,” Blaise promised, before adding quietly, “Your letter came today.”

Draco spun on his heel, his eyes gleaming. “Did it? Excellent. Let me read it.”

Blaise nodded, and left the room. Draco waited until he was gone to tear open the letter, breaking the seal.

To Mr. Draco Malfoy, it began, The English royal family grants you the right to pursue Captain Harold Potter, the once privateer of England. His letter of marque has been ripped and nullified, allowing him to become a free agent. If you are able to retrieve the Princess of Richmondshire safely without any harm coming to her, you will be elevated to Viscount. Do to Potter whatever you wish.

Draco crumpled the letter in his hands, smiling fully now.

Do to Potter what you wish, the letter said. Oh, Draco would. He knew exactly what he wanted to do to Potter.

~*~

Hermione watched Harry under lidded eyes, wondering what he was about to say. After conversing with d’Orrlyon for nearly two hours in his chambers, the two had left the captain’s quarters and seemed to be the best of friends. Both Hermione and Ron shared a confused look.

Harry clapped his hands to get his crew’s attention. “We’re going on shore now – some people will need to stay onboard and keep watch.”

A group volunteered, pulling out a deck of cards and a bottle of rum. Hermione watched with awed rapture, and an image of Harry looking like Blackbeard popped into her mind.

She pictured him with a storm-filled background, by the main boom with one arm wrapped around it.

She could clearly see his sea-soaked hair clinging to his face, smell the salty air in a turbulent ocean, and feel his emerald green eyes penetrate hers.

“Hermione?”

“What?” Hermione jumped nearly a foot in the air, so lost in her daydreams that she hadn’t noticed Harry standing next to her.

“I want you to stay onboard with the others. It could be dangerous for you to go on shore with us,” he explained, his eyes filled with concern and worry.

Hermione felt her jaw drop. She knew that she must have been a sight; wearing men’s clothing, her corkscrew hair knotted and in dreadlocks, and her mouth gapping open. “You cannot be serious.”

Harry blinked. “Of course I am,” replied the nineteen-year-old, “I’m the captain of this brig, and as a crew member, you are to do what I say.”

Hermione barely noticed the rest of the crew watching their argument. “I am a Princess, Harry! I do not get ordered around, because I damn well do as I please! I will not stay onboard like a common prisoner – I am here because I wanted a grand adventure, and going on shore to see Tunis up close and personal is what I will do!”

Harry had listened carefully to Hermione during her lecture, not batting an eyelash. She could clearly see him thinking. His mouth was set in a straight line, his eyes dark and impossible to read.

“Fine,” he gritted out between his teeth. “But don’t call me for help if you’re in need.”

Hermione smiled sweetly. “I won’t forget, Captain.”

Harry nodded, and spoke in a low, dangerous tone, “Make sure you don’t.”

~*~

The first place that they decided to stop by was a tavern with a seedy reputation. Ron had briefed her on this before she left, making sure she knew what to expect when she went into the building. She wasn’t to speak to anyone, or speak at all, and she was to stay near Harry the whole time, without running off, looking for her ‘grand adventure’. That definitely spoiled her mood.

There was hardly any light when Harry, Ron and Hermione entered The Bottom’s Up Bar. Hermione nearly grinned when she realized that double innuendo.

Not only was “Bottom’s up!” a common term used with sailors and merchants when they were together to drink beer, it was also a term for the girls who lounged in the dark corners on men’s laps – a term of what they’d be doing later on in the evening.

Hermione disguised her grin behind her hand, smothering a giggle. She had always wanted to see a whorehouse, and it seemed that she finally had her wish.

Oh, how her father would yell at her for this!

Harry headed immediately to a girl in the back, dusty corner. She was Asian, with long, straight black hair that was clipped back and placed in a messy bun. On the woman it looked seductive and sultry; on Hermione, it would have looked just plain messy. A feeling – one she might believe as jealousy – began to creep into Hermione’s stomach and move up into her heart.

“Cho,” greeted Harry with intimacy that shocked Hermione. He leaned forward and pecked the woman on the lips chastely and pulled back to his full height. “How are you?”

Cho, the woman, grinned in the dark, making her an exotic beauty from far.

“I’m well, Harry, and you, love?”

Hermione bristled. How dare she talk to the Captain like that! He hates it – he’ll smack her down with that tongue and cold disposition, I’m sure of it!

But, to her surprise, Harry did not. He laughed and slid into the seat across from her while Ron moved to stand with his back to them. Hermione didn’t know what to do, so she continued to stand where she was, trying to look like she was bored out of her mind. In reality, she was listening very carefully to the conversation.

“What’s the news around here, Cho?” asked Harry in a low tone.

Cho twirled a piece of hair around her long, manicured finger. “Why, Harry, you know that’s going to cost you.”

Hermione ogled shamelessly. Cost?

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m in no mood tonight Cho, some other time, okay?”

Pouting, the Asian beauty batted her eyelashes. “Are you sure…?”

“Very.”

Laughing slightly, Cho swatted his arm. Hermione winced. “News from London or from here?”

“Both,” answered Harry, his tone brisk.

Cho stopped twirling and glanced at Hermione. “Both? Something the matter, gov?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Nothing that would concern you, Cho. Just answer me.”

Widening her eyes, Cho nodded. “Fine. I had a couple of English soldiers come by here a week ago and mentioned something about a Princess gone missing.”

Hermione stiffened.

“Anything else?”

“There are rumors that the Royal family will turn their eyes on you, Harry – someone saw your boat sail away, and speculated that this Princess was onboard.”

Harry nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. “Who is the leak?”

“I’m thinking Malfoy.”

“Figures,” he snorted. He waved Cho on, and Hermione felt her hands begin to shake.

Cho took a deep breath. “Watch your back. I can’t help you this time – your marque would be taken and you’d become a common pirate, easy to hunt, easy to kill.”

Harry stood. “Thank you for your help, Cho.”

Cho stood as well, coming up to Hermione’s height. “It’s always a pleasure Harry,” she purred. Harry nodded, reached into his pocket and leaned close to hug Cho. She wrapped her slender arms around him, a grin sneaking onto her lips as she looked over Harry’s shoulder. Her eyes caught Hermione’s and held them. An almost feral grin overtook her normal one, and her eyes glittered in the dark. Hermione felt her hands clench and her eyes narrow.

A burning coil lay in her stomach, rising up and squeezing her heart. Her vision narrowed to just the woman across from her. Cho sensed Hermione’s jealousy and allowed her hands to slip lower on Harry’s back to –

I’m going to kill her, thought Hermione dangerously. Ron glanced sideways at her, and noticing her trembling figure, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her away, turning her attention to him and away from Harry and Cho.

“She’s always like that,” he told her as they began to leave the Bottom’s Up Bar. “Don’t mind her, I reckon she never got over the fact that Harry did not get along with her.”

“Really?” asked Hermione. “What happened?”

“Old dispute over Cho’s former beau. He’s a sailor for the Scots, and does not come into this harbor often, so it was a long-distance relationship,” explained Ron. “Harry blows in – pardon me – and Cho is instantly infatuated, but Harry… well, he was dazzled by her beauty but that raven has got claws.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Her? I could easily take her on.”

Ron just grinned. “Sure you could, little lioness. I’m sure you could,” he just said, turning them down a narrow cobblestone alleyway. They were heading back towards the harbor. Finally, Hermione spoke up.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am not jesting!”

“Neither am I,” chuckled Ron. “Look, me an’ the whole crew can see it, Princess, you and the Cap’n fancy each other,” Ron wagged a finger in Hermione’s face when she opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t try to deny it; we can tell.”

Hermione crossed her arms.

Ron mimicked her and turned another corner in the dark alleyway; they arrived at the harbor, stopping just in the shadows before entering the dock. Hermione could see d’Orrlyon’s guards standing around, listening and watching the area carefully.

Hermione turned and faced Ron. “Fine. You win, Ron. I fancy Harry, the Captain of the Marauder, the privateer-almost-pirate. Are you happy now?”

“Yes,” replied Ron in a bubbly tone. “Now I reckon I am.”

“Brilliant,” groaned Hermione.

~*~

Back onboard the Marauder, Hermione sat next to Ron on Harry’s couch in the captain’s quarters. D’Orrlyon and Harry were standing before her, watching her reaction carefully.

“No,” replied Hermione stubbornly. “I won’t go back.”

Harry sighed and threw his hands up in the air. “Bloody hell, she won’t go. What are we going to have to say, Princess, to make you realize that the situation has become undoubtedly more dangerous?”

“Nothing, I understand it already,” remarked Hermione, crossing her ankles. “I want to stay.” She jumped up from the couch. “This is the adventure I was waiting for! To chase down Malfoy and to find your father’s treasure! What’s an adventure without treasure?”

“She’s right there, mate,” piped up Ron from his position.

“Belay, you,” snapped Harry, turning to his best friend. “This is all your fault!”

“Mine?” asked Ron, clearly confused. “What did I do? Say? Think?”

Harry groaned, rubbing a hand over his mouth. He stepped close to Hermione, hoping to intimidate her. “Listen to me carefully, Hermione. This is not a game anymore. I want you off the Marauder and onto one of d’Orrlyon’s ships by midnight.”

“No,” rebuked Hermione. “I won’t. You’ll have to take me kicking and screaming.”

Harry grinned. “I’d be glad to.”

Hermione’s expression changed. Terror began to seep into her features. “What? No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, Captain, because it goes against your code.”

Harry frowned. Damn, how did she know that? He shook his head, trying to remove the thought. “All right, so that’s true, but I don’t want you onboard this brig.”

“Why?” Hermione asked quietly, changing tactics. “What are you so afraid of, Harry?”

Harry frowned. How had she picked up on that so quickly? Harry opened his mouth and almost said, “Because I’m afraid of losing another person I love,” but quickly clamped his mouth shut. He would not be saying that to her! Instead, he sighed and turned away.

“Because I don’t want to risk your life. You have a wonderful life ahead of you, Hermione… you’re a princess, and we’re pirates. We lead a completely different life than you can ever imagine. We don’t go to parties, we don’t wear the latest fashions from Paris, and we don’t know manners or even proper speech.”

“You do,” pointed out Hermione gently, “and so does d’Orrlyon.”

D’Orrlyon, hearing his name, looked up from his shoes and said frankly, “Don’t bring me into this, Princess.”

Hermione sighed, and turned back to Harry, who had moved away to the window at the hull. “Harry, please. Listen. All that doesn’t matter to me,” she said, stepping closer to him whenever she could, with each sentence. “I don’t care about the parties, or the people, or that fashion. I don’t care about how you speak or how your manners are. I only care about who you are. I see too many people who pretend to care about me because of who I am. Here, on your ship, I can see the difference.”

“It’s no different, Hermione,” laughed Harry bitterly. “People are only caring because you’re valuable cargo.” Instantly, Harry wished he could take back the words.

Pain shot across Hermione’s face, and behind her, Harry could see Ron getting slowly to his feet behind her. D’Orrlyon was shaking his head at Harry’s right.

Hermione backed away slowly. “I see,” she whispered. “So even the slight friendship we have means nothing to you?”

Harry stepped forward, wanting to smooth over his mistake. “No, Hermione, I really value this friendship”—

“Or do you just value me, the cargo?” she interrupted sharply. Harry swallowed. He turned away, gripping the window frame tightly.

“You may stay onboard,” he croaked out, in a tight voice. Clearing his throat, he continued, “Just write a letter to your parents telling them you are safe and that you’ll be home as soon as possible. Keep updating them, because I don’t want Her Majesty’s Royal Navy on my heels.”

Hermione nodded, although he could barely see her through the reflection in the glass, and turned on her heels. Ron held open the captain’s door, and she passed through, her head bowed.

When Harry turned around, Ron shook his head. “Shit, you really messed that one, mate. Use your deadlights – she cares for you.” He shook his head one last time. “And I don’t know why.”

Harry turned to D’Orrlyon, who turned his head away. “You should follow your heart, not your head,” was all he said, before leaving the room, Ron on his heels.

Harry, left alone in the dark, sighed and moaned into his hands, “What have I done?”

~*~

Hermione went straight to the forecastle, knowing that Ginny was probably teaching Luna another new card game to pass the time while they were below, waiting for orders. As she neared the door, she could hear the two of them, and occasionally a raised voice going, “Snap!”

As Hermione pushed open the door, and stepped into the room, she immediately noticed the two. They were playing a fast-action card game, finishing piles of their cards and then slamming their hand down on that pile. Whoever was the fastest shouted, “SNAP!”

“Am I interrupting?” asked Hermione wryly as she moved towards the hammock that served as her bed.

Ginny and Luna both stopped, looking up. They stared at her. Finally, Ginny spoke in a hushed voice. “Why are you crying?”

Hermione lifted a shaking hand to touch her cheek. It was moist with her tears – tears she hadn’t even noticed she was shedding. Her hand trembled as it fell to her side. Hermione turned her back on the two and sat on her hammock before lying and curling on her side. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

The wood creaked and groaned in the harbor, moving in a gentle up-and-down motion. Ginny cautiously moved to Hermione’s side.

“What were they talking about, in the captain’s quarters, Hermione?” she asked. Luna came up behind her.

Hermione gave a shuddering sigh, knowing that she had to confide in someone. Being females, they had bonded, so Hermione decided to give just a little. “He said that I was just cargo.”

Luna narrowed her blue eyes. “Who?”

Ginny answered for her, anger in her voice. “Harry did.”

Luna’s widened now. Hermione rolled to face the two, more tears making their way silently down her cheeks. “He said that no one cared about me – they only cared because I was precious cargo between passages, something that would be on and off just as easily as I came.”

Ginny and Luna shared a dark look. “What else did he say?”

“Said that I should go back home. Back to my parties and latest fashion and manners and proper speech,” her voice was flat and dead.

Ginny swore colorfully under her breath. Luna braced her hands on the table behind her, leaning against it in a carefree manner, a manner that was only betrayed by the whites of her knuckles.

Hermione finished, “He said he was just a pirate and I was a princess. Like it could never be.”

Ginny stared down at the older girl, before wrapping an arm under her and making her go in a sitting position. “Harry,” Ginny said slowly, “Is daft. He’s nutters. He obviously doesn’t see what is right in front of him.”

“He’s right, though, isn’t he?” Hermione finally said with some emotion, a spark of understanding in her voice. “He is just a pirate, and I’m a princess.”

“So?” asked Luna. “And, for your information, Harry is a Viscount.”

Hermione’s head shot up to look at Luna. “He is?”

Luna nodded, while Ginny just stared at her. Catching her stare, Luna looked slightly dazzled. “What? I didn’t mean to overhear him and D’Orrlyon. It’s not my fault I can understand French.”

Ginny just shook her mane of red hair and turned back to Hermione. “Even if daft Harry doesn’t take notice in you, it doesn’t mean you should leave!”

“Why not? He doesn’t want me here,” sighed Hermione, going to lie back down. Ginny caught her.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she reprimanded. “I like you. Luna likes you. We care about you, Princess Hermione or pirate Hermione. You’re just Hermione to us, and that’s the way you’ll stay.”

Hermione, with unshed tears in her eyes, turned to Ginny with a hopeful expression, which instantly hardened. “You’re right. You care, and so does Luna”—“Excuse me, I’m right here.”—“And Harry can go sit on his arse all day for all I care!”

“Good for you, Hermione!” whooped Ginny. “So what are you going to do?”

Determinedly, Hermione pursed her lips and motioned for some paper and quill. “I’m going to write to my parents.”

“What?” blanched Ginny.

Hermione laughed. “Harry wants me to write to them saying I’m safe and okay – and to send frequent updates. I can do that and stay… but for a couple minutes I was ready to give up and go back home.”

“But you aren’t?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head. “I realize I’m made of stronger stuff than that. I always wanted an adventure, and this is my chance to get it.” Her eyes gleamed. “This is my chance to experience a life without guards behind me, without my parents dictating me, without anyone watching me, judging. This is I, being me.”

Ginny and Luna smiled at each other.

“Princess Hermione Granger of Richmondshire isn’t on this boat,” continued Hermione in a rising voice. She held her quill tightly in her hand like a sword, and brandished it about the room. “This is Hermione Granger, the pirate – off for an adventure of a lifetime!”

She swung the quill about, splattering ink. Ginny and Luna laughed at her embarrassed face.

“You mean Hermione Granger, the girl who needs to work on her sword-play!”

Hermione grinned. “Well, yes, maybe that too.”

The three girls giggled and fell into a comfortable silence. Luna asked, “Where are we heading now?”

“I think the Caribbean,” Hermione replied. “I saw charts in Harry’s room.”

Ginny winked. “Ooh, Harry’s room, eh?”

Hermione threw her quill at the girl. “Quiet you.” She watched Ginny duck and move back to her place at the table, with Luna in tow.

They settled back into routine, and Hermione twirled the quill she had lost and picked up from the floor in her fingers amidst “snaps!”

“What’s in the Caribbean?” Ginny finally asked.

Hermione glanced up at her. Luna fell silent, slipping her cards free of Ginny’s hand without her noticing. Hermione replied, “the rest of the Marauder’s Map.”

**-**

AN: Oooh, another chapter of swashbuckling adventure out – more of a plot piece without any real action, but there will be plenty more where that comes – after all, we need to find James’ treasure, don’t we? So, for the usual – thanks to Katie for beta’ing, and all of you for reviewing! Read, review and enjoy! Yours, Kneazle [Oct.19.03]

5. Skulls 05

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Five

At the dawn of the next morning, Harry was spotted talking to D’Orrlyon, muttering things about a ‘map.’ Now, most of the crew knew that there was something they were hunting and whenever they saw their captain in such a happy state they knew that he received his booty. Only a precious few knew just how valuable the treasure Harry was seeking was.

“Do you have any idea where the last three pieces are, Francois?” asked Harry, leaning against the wood wall that lead up to the main deck.

D’Orrlyon frowned and a glazed look came over his eyes. “I believe, if my informants have been successful in their… ahem, interrogations, that one piece of your father’s map, Potter, is in the Caribbean.”

“Can you pinpoint it to make it any more specific?” Harry pressed, his eyebrows coming together in a V. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the Mediterranean sun.

“I do not know exactly,” sighed D’Orrlyon. “I would suggest aiming for the Lower Antilles, Potter – head for Isle de la Tortuga, where the lowlife pirates and thieves gather. If anyone knows where a part of the Marauder legend is, they’ll be there.”

“Then I suppose that this is goodbye,” replied Harry, a smile on his lips. He held out his gloved hand for a shake. “It was excellent making your acquaintance, D’Orrlyon. I hope to meet you again, and perhaps next time under different circumstances?”

D’Orrlyon laughed, pumping Harry’s hand with his. “Me too, Viscount. Me too.” He went into a loose bow, straightened and then glancing over Harry’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his mouth, he whispered, “Your woman is coming this way.”

“She is not my woman,” Harry responded fiercely, his eyes narrowing. He changed his entire face though, when Hermione spoke from behind him.

“Are you leaving us, D’Orrlyon?”

D’Orrlyon bowed and gave Hermione a brief smile. “I am afraid so, Princess. My time onboard the Marauder has come to an end. You are in safe hands.”

“I’ve always known that,” Hermione replied, glancing surreptitiously at Harry out of the corner of her eye. D’Orrlyon gave her a smile and a wink back, leaning over her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the smooth skin above her knuckles.

Beside her, Hermione felt Harry stiffen.

“Au revoir, Princess.”

“Goodbye, D’Orrlyon,” Hermione replied when he stood straight, beaming at him. “And D’Orrlyon? If you’re ever in Richmondshire, please drop by the castle. I’d love to see you again, even if it’s only for a while. After all, it’s not every day that a Princess like myself can entertain a real-life pirate in her home, can she?”

D’Orrlyon laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the crew towards them. “Of course, Princess. I would treasure such a moment.” The three of them walked to the edge of the brig, where a rope ladder was placed, leading down to a wherry to take D’Orrlyon back to the main land.

“I wish you both the luck in your quests,” he said, placing a foot already on the lower rung. “I hope you both find what you are looking for.”

Hermione smiled at the cryptic message but Harry merely frowned, before raising a hand in a silent, still wave goodbye.

They both stood next to each other, watching as D’Orrlyon cut through the water with the wherry’s oars, until he stood on the wooden dock. He stopped once, to turn and glance back at the large brig, before turning and walking with his garrison away.

As soon as he disappeared, Harry turned, his eyes catching Hermione’s, before he shouted, “Weigh anchor! All hands on deck! Hoist the main sheets, ready the sails!”

Hermione sighed, brushing a strand of corkscrew hair away from her eyes as Ron shouted the orders back to the crew from where he was next to the helm.

It was going to be a long journey, Hermione thought sadly, before she walked across the deck and down the hatch towards the galley. And a long journey meant hungry stomachs.

>><<

Harry, yet again alone, sat with his head in his hands as he ran his fingers through his hair periodically. He could no longer deny that he was intrigued and attracted to the bushy haired Princess that was once a stow-away on his ship, and he could not deny that when he saw D’Orrlyon kiss Hermione’s knuckles he felt jealousy like he’d never experienced before.

A jealousy that screamed, Mine!

Letting out a shaky sigh, Harry murmured in to the room, “What am I to do?”

Silence greeted Harry, pressing in from all sides of the cabin that had once belonged to his father and mother. It pained him to stay too long in the room, in the dark, knowing that he could very well be standing in the exact spot his father last stood, or where his mother gave her last breath.

Feeling agitated, Harry rose from the bed he was sitting on and stalked towards the door, yanking it open. A rush of sweet, salty sea air filtered into the cabin, brushing Harry’s hair away from his face and caressing his skin.

Inhaling deeply, Harry strode out of the cabin, hands on his hips, and looked around the Marauder with a proud captain feeling. This was his; Harry thought proudly, everything he had done to make the brig his own. Only his.

“Cap’n!” shouted a female voice, carried on the wind. Harry felt his heart leap, only to sink when he realized that it was Ginny shouting at him, not Hermione.

“Yes, Ginny?” Harry asked once the younger girl was near him.

With her coppery hair flying all over the place, Ginny reached up and wrapped her hand around the bulk of it. “Harry…” Ginny hesitated.

“Go on, Ginny. Off the record.”

Nodding, Ginny took a deep breath. “I was wondering how long we will be at sea, Harry. This is only because I’m worried a bit for Hermione. She’s a landlubber, but has sea legs. I’m just worried that this extended sea voyage will cause her some seasickness.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t think it will, Ginny. If she does get a bit sick down in the forecastle with you and Luna, send her up to stay in my chambers. She might relax a bit better there instead.”

Ginny grinned widely, saluting him. “Yes sir!”

She then bounced off, slipping down through the hatch, presumably to tell Hermione their conversation.

“You just got your bollocks twisted, mate,” Ron’s voice from behind him chuckled, clearly amused.

Harry turned to regard his tall redheaded friend. “And why do you say that, Ron?”

“Hermione doesn’t have t’ worry about seasickness. I’ve seen her go to the crow’s nest without glancing down at the height when we were swaying to and fro – you’ve been conned into letting Hermione share a bed with you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “Ron!” he stuttered, “But… but that’s only if she gets seasickness. I specifically told Ginny that! She wouldn’t disobey me!”

“I reckon she would,” Ron nodded, chewing his inside cheek. “Women are a strange species, y’know? Once you’ve got a couple women onboard they’ll take over the whole crew. Just you wait.”

Harry scowled and crossed his arms. “That won’t be happening; not while I’m Captain.”

“Mmm hmm,” Ron nodded absently, as Luna had just emerged from the hatch, Hermione in tow.

Harry followed Ron’s line of sight, his eyes latching on to Hermione as she gracefully glided across the deck, the sunlight catching her glossy brown mane. She seemed right at home, laughing and handling herself with ease.

“It looks like she was born on a ship,” Harry murmured, unaware that he had done so.

“She sure does,” commented Ron, his eyes torn from Luna to smile carelessly at his shorter friend. “Take some advice from your mate Ron, Harry – just tell the Princess you love ‘er and be done with it. It’ll sure make things easier on the crew when you’re not berating yourself about messing up your chances with the wench.”

Harry turned to his friends, a teasing tone in his voice as he spoke. “Ron, sometimes I wonder why I just don’t toss you overboard.”

Ron hitched his thumbs against the top of his pants and rocked on his heeled boots. “It’s ‘cos you love me, Cap’n. After all, I am your best mate.”

Harry shook his head and turned back to Hermione, only to see her talk to Seamus, who was in charge of looking for storms and other vessels. Hermione laughed and something the Irishman said, making Harry unconsciously clench his fingers.

He excused himself from Ron’s side without so much of a “goodbye”, and stalked over to where the object of his affection was standing with a rake.

“Finnigan! Standing around and talking to wenches won’t help us if there is an enemy vessel in the waters!” he snapped uncharacteristically. Seamus and Hermione exchanged worried glances.

“O’ course, Cap’n.” Seamus frowned, raised one sandy coloured eyebrow at Hermione who shrugged, and then turned to the shrouds and began to climb them. He paused a couple feet up off the edge of the rail, and tilted his head down to Hermione, who was standing next to Harry (or was it the other way around?), watching him.

“Would you like to see what the ocean looks like from up on the Crow’s nest, Princess?” Seamus asked in his Irish lilt. Harry’s frowned etched deeper.

“I’d love to! Last time, George took me up, and had me hanging on for dear life when he tossed me over his shoulder” – Hermione would have continued if it wasn’t for Harry’s explosive, “WHAT?”

Hermione turned towards him, confused. “Something the matter, Harry?”

“Damn straight something is the matter!” he all but snarled. Turning to Seamus, Harry snapped, “No one is to take Hermione up to the Crow’s nest or on any of the masts, jibs, or booms, is that clear?”

Seamus nodded. “Yes, Cap’n.”

“Good,” breathing heavily, Harry turned to Hermione, grasping her firmly but gently around the wrist. “And you, well, we’re going to have a little talk, Ms. Granger.”

Opening her mouth wordlessly, Hermione gapped. Finally, she choked out, “Are you insane, Potter? Let go of me! I will not speak to you in private – if you wish to talk, do so here!”

Harry raised one jet black eyebrow before asking, “Are you sure that you do not wish to speak with me in private?”

“Absolutely!”

Harry sighed. “You leave me with no choice then, Hermione.” With one sweeping motion, Harry had Hermione off her feet and grasped gently in his arms, being carried towards his cabin.

“Now, Ms. Granger, you and I are about to have a long delayed talk,” he growled out, kicking open the door to his cabin, and then kicking it shut again once they were inside. A simple chandelier swayed gently to the roll of the ship above them, the candles’ flames flickering.

Harry tossed Hermione down onto his bed, where she bounced before settling. She was on her feet immediately, hissing and spitting.

“How dare you!” she hissed. “How dare you treat me like your whores! How dare you humiliate me in front of your crew!”

Harry let a smile lazily appear. “Are you finished?”

Hermione heaved a breath but said nothing more.

“Good.”

Harry stepped closer, deliberately invading her personal space, making Hermione take small steps backwards until she hit the bed and sank back down on it. Harry continued moving forward, leaning over her with his arms braced on either side of her shoulders.

“Now you listen to me carefully, Hermione,” he whispered in a deadly voice that sent shivers up and down Hermione’s spine, “You will not knowingly endanger yourself by doing any of the tasks that my crew, with the exception of Luna and Ginny, do. You will obey my rules and understand that you are, in all reality, my prisoner. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes,” Hermione stuttered out, her breath little more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide and dark, trained on his face.

Harry watched her silently, his gaze unwavering, until he leaned in with a slight groan and kissed her on the lips. He pulled back as suddenly as he kissed her, swearing under his breath. Harry then turned on his heel and marched out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

It was going to be a long month.

>><<

The sky was dark and stars littered the inky blackness when the Marauder entered Isle la Tortuga, a small island off the coast of Hispania. Hermione stood next to Harry by the helm, amazed at the sight of wavering candles and torches that hung on walls and in windows, and of the raucous laughter that floated over the water like ghosts.

“This is Tortuga?” she asked carefully, her face blank.

Harry nodded.

“And we’ll find a piece of the map here?” Hermione glanced up at Harry questioningly. “Are you sure?”

Harry grated his teeth. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think a piece was here, Hermione.”

“Oh,” Hermione gave a small sigh, looking back at the harbor. “Where do you suppose it’ll be?”

“I have no bloody clue.” Harry all but tore his hair out in frustration. Damn, this woman asked a lot of questions.

“You shouldn’t curse in a woman’s presence. It’s not gentlemanly,” reprimanded Hermione, her tone scathing. Harry felt his jaw drop open. “In fact,” she continued, “as a viscount you should be the perfect gentleman.”

Harry’s emerald eyes swung to glare down at the chit. “For your information, Princess, I am hardly a gentleman.” He allowed his eyes to rake up and down her body; Hermione was now wearing an old dress of Luna’s that didn’t cover much of her chest and hugged her nipped waist thanks to her corset that she had from her ball gown. The dress barely reached Hermione’s mid thighs, but was the perfect outfit for a wench to wear.

Hermione shivered beneath the intense stare, but forced her blush away. Whatever Harry said, she knew in her heart that he cared about her and wouldn’t jeopardize her safety unless it was necessary.

“Let’s go over the plan once more,” she suggested instead, licking her lips nervously. She felt Harry’s gaze linger there before he nodded in the pale moonlight beside her.

“All right, Hermione,” he said softly. “We’ll go into a local inn and bar where I will go around and ask the right people the right questions. You just listen and if you hear anything interesting, listen in. Hopefully this will all be over in a couple of nights.”

Hermione nodded. “Very well. Am I to be your wife?”

Harry let out a chuckle of laughter. “Princess, you’re to be my whore, not my wife. Seamen don’t bring their wives on their voyages, and no respectable sailor from a merchant ship would be caught in the inn we’ll be at.”

Hermione felt her face flush, and cast her eyes to the ground. Damn you, Potter, she cried out inside, I know you care about me – why do you put me through such torture?

Biting her inside cheek, Hermione felt tears well in her eyes but blinked them away. It would do no good for Harry to see her and assume that she was scared. She wasn’t, not really, more so she anticipated a new adventure in a new environment.

After a couple terse orders from Harry, the Marauder’s anchor was lowered and the wherry readied. Hermione, Harry and Ron settled themselves comfortably in the small rowboat, before they were lowered to the dark blue water.

Harry and Ron rowed towards the harbor, jumping out of the wherry and dragging it the rest of the way to a sandy beach. Harry leaned forward when Hermione stood, and wrapped his hands around her waist. He lifted her and she clung to his shoulders as he swung her out of the wherry and onto the beach.

Then, he and Ron upturned the wherry and hid the oars beneath it. Satisfied, Harry took Hermione’s hand and nodded once to Ron, who nodded back and disappeared into the shadows.

“Where is he going?” Hermione asked breathlessly. She was far too close to Harry to think rationally.

“No where you need to worry your bonny head about,” Harry replied, before tugging her towards an inn that sported drunks outside of it and whores kissing men. “Remember, don’t look disgusted, don’t talk in that high-born accent of yours, and whatever you do, avoid men like him.”

Hermione followed Harry’s lifted hand to a man who lounged half in the dark by the door of the inn. His arms and ankles were crossed, and he sported a sword and pistols.

Hermione nodded and gripped Harry’s hand just a bit tighter. He maneuvered her throughout the throng of people towards a dark corner where Hermione could see the faint outline of a man smoking a cigar.

“Viscount,” the man said when they approached, with a London accent.

“Shacklebolt,” greeted Harry coolly. “What do you have for me?”

Hermione saw his eyes drift towards her, and felt Harry remove his hand, only to bring his arm across the back of her waist.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s trustworthy,” he assured the older man calmly, squeezing her waist to reassure Hermione.

Shacklebolt inhaled once before tossing his cigar to the ground and grinding the heel of his polished boot into it.

“The man you’re looking for is known as Viktor de Krum. He’s a notorious drinker, gambler, and officer of the Bulgarian army stationed here through the Dutch. You be careful with him, Potter, he’s a might bit bigger than you are and although you’re good with a shot, he’s a bitch to take down in a fight.” Shacklebolt glanced at Hermione again. “My apologies, milady, for the coarse language.”

“’Tis fine,” Hermione murmured, absently. She had heard the name de Krum before, but she couldn’t in her life remember from where.

Shacklebolt continued, speaking in a hushed whisper to Harry, and handed him a piece of paper. “It’s rumored he’s got a piece of the infamous Potter map, and gloats about it only when he gets drunk enough. Been goaded into trading it in card games but never rose to the bait. If he’s got it, he wants to keep it.”

Harry nodded once more before reaching into a hidden pocket. He procured a handful of gold guineas and handed them to the man. “Thank you for your information, Kingsley. Give my regards to your lot.”

“Will do, my Lord,” Kingsley gave a brief smile before pocketing the gold. “My pleasure.”

He bowed and faded into the darkness, leaving a confused Hermione in his wake.

“Who was he?” she finally asked quietly.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt. Works for Her Majesty’s Royal Navy but only as a Bow Street Man,” answered Harry. “A private detective,” he clarified for Hermione when he saw her expression. It cleared instantly.

“So where are we going now?” Hermione asked.

“To de Krum.”

“Where is he?”

“Here.”

“Here, where?”

“Here, Hermione, that’s all you need to remember and know,” Harry finished gently, smiling at the bushy-haired young woman. “It’s… better if you don’t know.”

“Harry Potter!” Hermione stamped her foot. “If you don’t tell me right now I’ll—”

“You’ll what, girl?” Harry asked, turning abruptly to face Hermione, his eyes glittering dangerously in the soft light. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll… I’ll…” Hermione tilted her chin up. “I’ll wallop you.”

Harry threw his head back and laughed loudly, causing some drunks on the street to rise from their stupor and glance about.

Tugging Hermione towards him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her lips, delving his tongue into her mouth and thoroughly tasting her before pulling back and laughing again.

“My dear Princess,” he whispered in her ear, making Hermione shiver, “The day you wallop and trounce me is the day I agree to be your husband.”

Hermione raised her head slowly to look into Harry’s eyes, before answering carefully and slowly, “That day may yet come, my Lord.”

Startled, Harry took a step back, clearing his throat as he did so. His expression changed, melting into a blank face, before motioning Hermione to step beside him. “Come,” he said stoically. “We’ll head to the Scurvy Dog, where de Krum is staying currently.”

Hermione followed silently, wondering about the change in Harry’s demeanor. Surely he knew how she felt, especially by now, Hermione wondered. It wasn’t like she went around kissing potential suitors back in Richmondshire all the time. After all, she was an innocent.

Their pace was brisk but not too fast, for they soon reached the Scurvy Dog Inn. Hermione heard laughter and smelled the ale before they even entered the establishment. She forced a grin from her lips and placed an aloof mask on her face before they entered. Harry made his way to where the bartender stood behind the bar, cleaning a drink. He glanced from Harry to Hermione often, before returning to Harry in time to see him slip a couple guineas across the bar towards him.

The bartender looked startled before answering Harry’s question. Harry nodded once and took Hermione by the arm, leading her up a flight of rickety stairs.

“Where are we going?” she whispered as they made their way down the dark hallway.

“Towards de Krum. He’s in room nine, alone, I was assured,” replied Harry coolly. Hermione had to skip to keep up with him.

When they reached room nine, Harry had drawn his pistol and leaned sideways before kicking open the door, the pistol drawn.

“Halt, de Krum! Do not move if you value your life!” he snarled, pointing the barrel of the weapon at a burly man with a crooked nose. He was wearing a loose shirt and black pants, a green scarf around his waist.

He was sitting on a chair with a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky in his left hand and pistol in his right – the pistol that was carefully trained on Harry as he moved into the room further.

“I believe that you have something of mine, de Krum,” said Harry evenly, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” snarled the older man in the chair, his accent thick but not impossible to understand.

“Really?” Harry looked bored. “Perhaps I can refresh your memory. Small, square in size, parchment, ink on it, a… map perhaps?”

“I have no map,” the man insisted. “Now, get out of my room!”

Hermione swallowed hard and looked back and forth between the two. She remembered where she heard the name de Krum before. He was an excellent solider in the Bulgarian army, stationed in Tortuga because he was injured in a battle. Sour, he retreated somewhere where Europe had not heard of him to recuperate before returning to his homeland.

“I will not be leaving until I get what I have come for,” Harry answered steadily, a glint in his eyes that Hermione had never seen before. Who was this man?

Without warning, he fired one shot that hit de Krum’s pistol and sent it flying across the room. Harry said, “Hermione, go get the pistol.”

Hermione, trembling, did as she was told and held it at an arm’s length away from her. She walked in a wide circle around the two and plopped herself down on an ottoman, pale and shaking.

“All right, Mione?” Harry asked, never lifting his eyes off de Krum’s face.

Hermione smiled briefly at the nickname. “Just fine, Harry,” she whispered back, before settling to watch the interlude.

De Krum was watching her carefully, his eyes looking her up and down, appreciation easily read in his eyes. Hermione shivered and Harry growled.

“I want my map,” Harry snarled, stepping closer to where Hermione was and shielded her body with his. The Bulgarian had no choice but to look at Harry now.

“Fine. If you want it so badly, you can take it; it’s there on the desk top,” de Krum waved his hand vaguely, lifting the other to take a swig of the Firewhisky. Harry warily moved towards the desk, the pistol still on the man’s chest when he turned to glance at the desktop. It was that moment that de Krum needed to launch himself at Harry and tackle him to the ground.

Grunting with pain, Harry dodged a blow to his head and retaliated with a punch to de Krum’s side, before tossing him off with a roll. In the background, he dimly noted Hermione screaming at him to get up and fight.

He frowned and then wondered why she didn’t just jump in and help him, if she thought it was damn easy.

Rubbing the back of his head, Harry stepped to the side as he and de Krum began circling each other. A chair was knocked towards Harry who nimbly danced out of its reach.

“Hermione! Damn you, wench – give me the pistol!” Harry roared as de Krum charged again at Harry, who only managed to twist away in time to face a pale and grim-faced Hermione.

Hermione fumbled with the pistol but managed to toss it to Harry who caught it and cocked the firearm.

“Stop where you are, de Krum, and you may live,” ordered Harry, sounding every bit of his pirate and roguish self. Hermione felt herself start to swoon and managed to stop herself.

De Krum stopped, his eyes dark and still as he glared at Harry.

“What is it that you want, Potter?” he finally asked.

“I want to know where you got my map,” Harry replied.

De Krum shrugged. “Won it in a game of vingt-et-un down at the Hog’s Head.”

“From whom?” Harry persisted, motioning Hermione to get the map piece.

“I don’t remember his name. He was a boisterous man, though – loud and fond of his drink. Very big too – reminded me of a giant,” de Krum shrugged again, and made for his Firewhisky, which Harry allowed him to drink from. “That’s all I can really tell you, Captain.”

“Do you think he might have more information regarding the other pieces?” Harry asked evenly.

De Krum frowned. “Can’t say, really. Seemed to think he knew your parents very well, but he doesn’t look like the seaman type. More like heavy labor on the mainland.”

Harry frowned. “Anything else to tell us that might be helpful in the future, de Krum?”

“Yeah,” the foreign man snarled. “Learn to knock.”

>><<

“Well,” smiled Hermione, “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

“Save it, Princess, we’re not out of the woods yet,” Harry replied, glancing this way and that as they exited de Krum’s room. When Harry made no move as to leave the hallway, Hermione frowned.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I need a place to hide my map.”

“Put it in one of your pockets,” she suggested, bored and ready to head to this Hog’s Head to find a man who knew Harry’s parents.

“If I get robbed, wench, that’s where they’ll look first and I’ll not lose a piece of my father’s map that I just found!” Harry replied hotly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And where am I supposed to keep it, Potter? My garter belt? Down my corset?”

A wicked smile graced Harry’s lips at the very thought. He turned to Hermione, who backed away in surprise.

“Oh, no, no you don’t, Harry,” pleaded Hermione, “You are not stuffing a piece of paper down my – Gah!”

Harry had grabbed Hermione by the strays of her gown and tugged her towards him and then pressed her tightly against the wall. He pulled out the map from his hidden pocket in his leather belt and folded the paper into a tiny square before looking pointedly at the flesh that showed around the bodice of Hermione’s dress.

“Don’t even think about it,” warned Hermione, glaring at him. “You might have my hands pinned with one of yours, but if you think that it’s entirely proper or decent or”—

“Or gentlemanly or even nice,” Harry finished. He looked up and grinned at her. “Don’t worry so much, Mione, no one has complained about my touch before. In fact, I think most rather enjoy it.”

“Oh?” Hermione simmered. “Like that Cho?”

“What about Cho?” Harry asked absently as he loosened the strays at the front of her bodice that held the gown’s shape around the corset. Once they were loose he tugged the dress away from Hermione’s chest and concentrated on his task.

“Cho – did she enjoy your touch? Is she your whore?” Hermione asked bluntly, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and the electrifying touch of his fingers sweeping across the swell of her breasts.

Harry’s hand stilled. “My whore?” he glanced up and found Hermione’s eyes dark – with passion and anger. “Nay, she was never my whore. Wanted to be, and I thought her bonny enough as well, but I never bedded her, if that is what you’re asking.”

“I am,” Hermione replied.

“Well, then the answer is nay, Mione,” he winked. “So quit your chattering and look thoroughly kissed, we might have some company soon.”

“With me dressed like this?” Hermione near shrieked. “No! I will not be found like—”

Harry cut her off with a bruising kiss, his chin rubbing against hers and creating a whisker burn. Hermione heard someone start up the stairs near them, and chuckle as they walked by. But, she lost all thought when she felt Harry’s hand slide down between her breasts and tucked the piece of the map into her corset.

He then leaned away and began doing her strays up again, tugging enough to get the gown back in shape. Once he was done, he leaned back in and gave Hermione a chaste kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he near whispered.

“For what?” Hermione replied.

“For not blowing our cover,” he responded.

Hermione frowned. “I would never do that, Harry. Never.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I swear it, Cap’n,” Hermione said again, this time in a perfect imitation of his pirate crew. Harry laughed and stole another kiss before taking Hermione’s hand and leading her down the steps.

“Aye, I know you won’t,” he told her once they reached the bottom. “And I don’t think you ever will.”

Hermione smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Come,” he chuckled, “its time we find the Hog’s Head and this man who gambled a piece of my father’s map.”

“What will we do when we find him, Harry?” Hermione asked, turning to face him as they began their walk.

Harry’s eyebrows drew into a V. “I’ll question him about the map, then my parents, and his loyalty to them. One would never gamble a piece of the map away if they cared about my parents.”

Hermione said nothing but allowed him to tuck her to his side. He draped his arm possessively around her shoulders and leaned down to inhale her scent.

“Ah, ‘Mione, what did I ever do to deserve you?” he rasped.

Hermione figured that that was as good as it was going to get and smiled up at the pirate. “Nothing,” she replied, as they disappeared into the shadows around them, unaware of the pair of gray eyes following them.

>>*<<

AN: Okay, sorry for the lack of updates (A month! Ack!) But real-life caught up with me with a vengeance. Had to drop a class, and with tests coming towards me like crazy, I need to study! Anyways, more clueless Harry that will soon start to clue in, some more characters, and of course, more Draco! BIG-BIG Thank you to everyone who reviewed at Fanfiction.net, Portkey.org, or anywhere else and I just don’t even remember where this story is posted now. *Winks* Read, review and enjoy, Kneazle [Nov.20.03]

PS: Thanks to am who noticed a Severus-problem from chapters 2 to 4. Noted and changed! Also, thanks more to Katie for beta’ing. Always.

6. Skulls 06

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Six

The Hog’s Head was loud, smelly, and completely dirty. There was smoke hanging low around the heads of sailors and merchants, with dust coating the bottoms of trousers and shoes. Hermione spotted beer being sloshed around in mugs, and rancorous laughter filled nearly every space.

She loved it.

Harry kept a hand on the small of her back, guiding her expertly through the tables that were just placed randomly about the inn, and moving her towards the bartender. He was skinny with balding brown hair that was combed to look like there was more hair than he had.

“Hello,” Harry began pleasantly, “Perhaps you can help us?”

The bartender’s wary eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry’s sword. “Pro’ly not. S’ry.”

Harry’s eyebrow rose. “Really?” the hand that wasn’t on Hermione’s back fished around his pocket before he pulled out a couple of guineas. “Maybe this will change your mind.”

The bartender’s eyes gleamed. A bony hand grabbed at the coins and they disappeared behind the counter. “Now yer talking. Who’re yah lookin’ fer?”

Harry leaned forward, shielding Hermione slightly as he did so. He placed a comfortable elbow on the bar. “A fellow that goes by the name Hagrid.”

“Not ‘ard ta miss,” the bartender crowed. “‘E’s the tallest man ‘ere.” A skeletal finger pointed to a man that was nearly the size of a giant. Hermione felt her mouth drop open at the sight.

“Wow. Looks like de Krum was right!”

Harry shot her an unreadable look before letting his right hand, the one on her back, slip down and then –

Hermione yipped, turning to glare at Harry. He gave her an innocent expression in turn, raising one black eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“You pinched me!” she hissed, glaring at him. “You pinched my… my…”

“Lovely bum? Buttocks? Arse?” Harry gave Hermione a roguish grin. “Yes, yes, I did.”

“Why?!” Hermione demanded, sticking her lower lip out in a pout.

Her chin tilted and Harry knew he was done for. After all, they had been together on the same ship now for over a month and he could easily read her – well, most of the time. And right now that delectable pouting lip and tilt of the chin told him that she wanted answers and she’d go into Princess mode if he didn’t tell her what he was planning that second.

“My darling Hermione,” he began, while leading her toward the giant, “It’s best if you keep your face completely expressionless until I’ve figured out what we’re up against. I’d hate to give away what we know this early in the game.”

“What game?”

Harry glanced at her. “The pirate’s game, Mione.” Before she opened her mouth to ask what the pirate’s game was, Harry was explaining. “Pirate’s Game is where I withhold information to see if someone is lying to me or not.”

“How would you tell if they’re lying? What incentive is there to tell the truth?” Hermione asked, frowning as she pondered a way to get someone to tell the truth. She could only think of slipping someone poison and then having the antidote with her after they spill their secrets, but that wasn’t very nice.

“Incentive to save their life. What else are swords used for?” Harry asked rhetorically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. How about, cutting things down in your path, defending yourself from someone with no scruples, the likes.”

“Where’s the fun in those?” Harry asked, before drawing up next to where Hagrid sat, occupying two wooden chairs. Empty tankards littered the tabletop, but it seemed that the man wasn’t too far-gone in the depth of alcohol.

“Who be yeh?” he asked, squinting as he took in the smaller forms of two young adults standing before him.

Harry raised a black eyebrow. “My name is Harry Potter. Captain Harry Potter, that is.”

“Blimey and Mary Mother of Gods,” breathed the giant, his eyes now wide. A smile graced his face as he crowed with laughter. “Yeh look jus’ like yer dad.”

Harry’s cocky expression slid off his face. “Pardon?”

“Yeh look jus’ like yer dad,” repeated the giant. “Knew ‘im, I did. When he was a lad back in London. Yeh look like him… but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes.”

Hermione pursed her lips slightly as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. They certainly weren’t expecting this. “Well, what do you say, Harry? Thank the man.”

Harry turned to look at Hermione, wondering what she was doing, but he played along. “Fine. Thank you for those kind words. And now to get to the point. I want my map.”

“Yer map?” Hagrid frowned. “I thought I gave that piece ta Dumbledore.”

“Who?” Harry questioned. “If you gave it to this Dumbledore or whomever, then why did Viktor de Krum have a piece?”

“I had two,” explained Hagrid. “Yer godfather, Sirius, gave me his piece one day, a long time ago, to make sure that nothing happened to it. I always knew he would join yer dad in battle on the high seas, and Remus Lupin hid his piece, so it was only safe ta assume that Sirius would give me his.”

“For safekeeping?” inserted Hermione, seeing the dark expression cross Harry’s face. She studied him, watching as his thoughts turned inward and his eyes began to lose some of their sparkle. How close were Sirius and Harry, really? She wondered, before turning her attention back to the other man.

“Course,” nodded Hagrid. He swept off the hat he was wearing and placed it over his heart. “Damn good man, he was.”

“Yes, he was,” agreed Harry in a very quiet voice, swallowing hard. Then he took a deep breath and forced a tiny smile. “So where is the other piece?”

“Well, Dumbledore had one, and I had one. I gave Sirius’ to Dumbledore, and me own was… eh…” Hagrid trailed off sheepishly. “If yeh’ve spoken ta de Krum then yeh know where the other piece is.”

“Indeed, we do,” answered Harry, slipping back into his old, cold self. Hermione inwardly sighed in disappointment. Minutes ago he was looking livelier and then – he fell back into his depression.

Harry nodded curtly and turned to leave. Hermione paused a moment, watching as he slowly made his way towards the bar. She quickly turned back to talk to Hagrid in a hushed tone.

“Hagrid,” she began, silently weighing her options of going against Harry like this, “Do you have any idea where the last piece is… the one that you gave Dumbledore?”

Hagrid thought before answering. “I think I do,” he finally said after some time. “Dumbledore… that’s Duke Albus Dumbledore of Brighton… well, he wouldn’t keep the piece on him self… he’d give it away… and I think he gave it ta someone named… Oh, what’s his name now?”

Hermione turned back nervously to glance at how far Harry was. He had just disappeared out of the main set of doors, his shoulder slumped and his head down, using his tricorn to shield his eyes from view.

Sweeping a nervous glance around the bar, Hermione found her attention drawn to the same man who had been standing outside of the Scurvy Dog Inn, the man Harry had told her avoid. Letting her gaze linger on him slightly, Hermione shook her head and faced Hagrid again.

“Hagrid, please, I don’t have too much time,” she pleaded. Hagrid nodded.

“Right. I believe Dumbledore said his name was Laird Oliver Wood. Up in Scotland.”

“Scotland!”

Hagrid gave Hermione a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, Scotland. Sorry ‘bout that, lass.”

Hermione gave Hagrid a brief smile. “It’s all right, Hagrid. You just told me the truth and now we’ll have to go find it on our own.”

Hagrid nodded. “Take care o’ him, will yeh?”

Hermione gave Hagrid her best smile, one that was often used to pacify drunken suitors or unwanted attention. “With my life,” she replied, before turning on her heel, getting ready to leave the Hog’s Head.

“Wait, girl!” Hagrid called. He dug is hand into one of his many pockets, before pulling out a faded piece of parchment. He handed it to Hermione, who opened it, her eyes widening in surprise.

“This is… this is the second piece of the Atlantic Ocean,” Hermione whispered. “The only piece missing now is the Mediterranean.”

Okay, so let’s see. When I first met Harry, he needed the piece in my book – he got it. Then, he needed de Krum’s, which Hagrid had. But apparently, Hagrid had two pieces of the map, plus a third that Sirius gave him. Harry now has de Krum’s and we’re going to go get this Scottish persons piece. That means Hagrid is giving me his extra, Hermione concluded with her logic, nodding sharply as she sorted out the confusion of the map pieces. But why didn’t he give it to Harry when he asked for it?

Hagrid grinned. “He wasn’t all that polite… Lily an’ James wouldn’t have raised him like that, so I’m giving yeh the piece ta look after fer now. When the time comes, yeh’ll give it ta Harry, right?”

“I will,” Hermione promised, slightly puzzled but willing to do what Hagrid suggested, before leaving the Hog’s Head. The map, however, was carefully hidden along with the other piece.

>><<

Well, well, thought Draco, as he glared at the Princess and her pirate from underneath a large brim hat as he stood in the shadows of the Scurvy Dog Inn. He stood with his back against the wall, his ankles and arms crossed, silently listening in and watching them carefully.

They disappeared soon from his sight, and with only one thought in mind, get Harry Potter, Draco followed, with Blaise slightly behind him.

“Where do you think they’re going, Draco?” Blaise asked quietly, staying a few steps behind his captain.

“To find someone or to talk to someone,” answered Draco, before shushing Blaise and diving back in to some shadows. From where he was squatted, Draco could see Harry with his arm around Hermione’s waist, talking to a very clean-cut man.

“Shit,” Blaise muttered.

Draco turned back to look at his best friend. “What is it?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Blaise turned his blue eyes up at Draco and then flicked them towards the man. “That’s a Bow Street Man, Drake – a private eye. One of the best in London, from the way he’s dressed.”

Draco frowned. “And what do you think they’d be talking about?”

“The map, no doubt… or you,” finished Blaise hesitantly.

“No use sugar coating it,” Draco muttered, before pulling his pistol from his belt, unlocking it. He glanced over his shoulder at Blaise to motion for him to do the same thing. As soon as Potter left… then he and Blaise would make their move.

Sure enough, Potter and the Princess turned and walked away, leaving the Bow Street man to watch them from the shadows where he disappeared. As soon as the couple had left both his and Draco’s vision, he stepped back into the moonlight before turning on his own heels and walking down a narrow cobblestone alleyway in the opposite direction.

“Now,” hissed Draco, jumping up and moving stealthily after the tall, bald black man. The task was very hard to do, seeing as the man could easily fade into the shadows along the alleyway, but Draco was persistent. He’d learn everything that Potter learnt, only with threatening the man.

With an almost imperceptible nod to Blaise on the other side of the alley, Draco jumped from his hiding place and tackled the man. Blaise almost appeared, his pistol trained on the man as Draco stood, his own pistol in the man’s back.

“Now,” he said, breathing heavily, “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Which do you choose?”

The man frowned, his fingers flexing, as they instinctively wanted to reach for his own concealed pistol. “What do you want?”

“Information, mate,” Draco drawled easily, stepping into view of the man’s gaze, “The same that you gave Potter and whatever you held back. But a name would be a nice place to start, wouldn’t you think?”

The man growled low in his throat before taking his time to drawl out in Draco’s own tone, “Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, indicating he knew who the man was. Draco grinned. Sometimes it was bloody good being friends with someone who knew a lot of London’s most recognized gentlemen and ladies.

“Well, Mr. Shacklebolt. I’m Captain Draco Malfoy,” Draco smirked, and seeing Shacklebolt tense, he continued, “I see you know who I am, excellent. So let’s make this easier for both of us and you just tell me everything I want to know.”

“And what is it you want to know, Malfoy?” Shacklebolt’s jaw tensed. “Information on Potter’s fleet? Where his hideout is located? I can’t give you those because I don’t know them.”

“Oh, no,” sighed Draco, “That’s not what I want at all.”

“Who’re you working for?” Shacklebolt asked hesitantly, before glancing at Draco.

Draco’s silvery eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Not my father, if that’s what you’re wondering, sir. This is my own battle.”

“Is it?” Shacklebolt drawled, not clearly interested.

Draco felt a muscle tick in his cheek. He stepped forward, slamming his forearm into Shacklebolt’s neck as he pushed the man up against the stone wall of a nearby wall separating two lots. “Let’s get something straight, Mr. Shacklebolt,” he snarled, his pistol finding the man’s chin easily, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I want answers, and you’ve got them. I saw you talking to Potter and the Princess. So tell me what I want to know.”

“The Princess?” the man breathed out.

Draco smirked. “I take it you didn’t know Potter’s latest whore is none other than Princess Hermione Granger of Richmondshire, missing over a month now.”

Shacklebolt tried to shake his head but stopped immediately. “What do you want to know, Malfoy? Since I won’t be released until you get your answers.”

“Where are the last pieces of Potter’s map? Where are those two heading and how can I head them off? And what did you hold back from Potter?” asked Draco in a hushed voice.

Shacklebolt breathed heavily through his nose as he acquiesced. “He’s heading this minute back to the Scurvy Dog Inn, where de Krum is staying. Apparently he won the piece in a rowdy gamble made by a man named Rubeus Hagrid, who knew the Potters. Had another piece but Duke Dumbledore has it. Most likely gave it away for safekeeping and it isn’t in his Scotland castle.”

“What else?” Blaise asked.

Shacklebolt glared at him. “I’m getting to it. There’s only two known pieces left. No one has totally seen the map when it was completed two decades ago, so no one really knows how many pieces are left. I’m guessing two, as Potter had me check out rumors of map pieces. Most likely Potter will get de Krum’s, but getting the next piece will be hard because it’s not back in the Caribbean. It’s in the Britons. Impossible for him to return because of the warrant of his arrest.”

Draco nodded. “So he can’t get it?”

“Not at all. Even if he managed to get into Scotland, find Wood – that is, Laird Oliver Wood, he’d never be able to leave if the authorities even had an inkling of an idea that he was there.”

“So what can we do?” Blaise asked again.

“Go get it yourself,” Shacklebolt suggested. “Send a small vessel to get it for you, badger the poor blighter, and then you have a piece of the map to barter with Potter.”

“As nice as a plan and foolproof as it sounds, Potter always manages to get the map and better me,” Draco sneered.

Shacklebolt shrugged. “Not my problem, is it, mate?”

Draco snarled and slammed Shacklebolt into the wall but then stepped back and looked at him carefully. “What else are you hiding from us?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Damn you, Malfoy.”

“Spit it out,” growled Blaise, unlocking his own pistol.

Shacklebolt nodded and ducked his head as he spoke. “The King knows that Potter has his daughter. Although the British – Windsor – family is having their Royal Navy searching for Potter to capture and take back to London for a hanging, the Richmondshire country navy is searching the seas to take Potter back to Port Silver so he can safely return the Princess. Had I know the Princess was with Potter I’d have told him…

“Anyway. Richmondshire is on the lookout for the Marauder for protection, while everyone else is hunting the last great pirate threat in the Atlantic.”

Draco frowned. Bloody Potter always gets the good titles. I always get overlooked.

“Fine.” He turned to go, with Blaise standing beside him cocking his pistol. “Oh, one last thing, Shacklebolt.”

The tall man raised an eyebrow in return. Draco turned on his heel and fired.

>><<

“What now?” asked Ron as he rowed the princess and his captain back toward the Marauder, his brain eating at him to try to find a way for Harry to get the map piece he needed.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t have a single, bloody clue,” he answered. “I can’t go back to England, Scotland or Ireland because of that damn warrant out.”

“So it’s hopeless, unless you send a letter to this Wood character,” finished Ron. Hermione tapped a finger to her chin. Ron raised his eyebrows in question.

“Well, you could get to London, or at least, Richmondshire with me,” she finally said. Harry looked up from studying the boards at the bottom of the wherry to stare at Hermione.

“Are you daft? I can’t, because, if you haven’t noticed, I do stand out!” he exclaimed, his emerald eyes blazing in anger.

Hermione sighed. “Get out of your pity hole, Harry, and listen to me. We’ll go dressed as merchants or travelers, something. We’ll sneak onto a merchant vessel and manage to get to Scotland under false pretence. Once we’re there, we’ll track down Laird Wood and get the piece. We’ll leave the same way, until we’re somewhere in safe waters. The Marauder will plunder or do what its crew will do best!”

Ron grinned. “Oy, mate, it just might work.”

“And we’ll disguise ourselves as what, Princess? Brother and sister? We look too different for that,” Harry scoffed at the idea. Hermione fell silent again under his sharp words.

When they reached the Marauder, Hermione was the first one out of the wherry, climbing up the side notched ladder with the agility of someone doing it all their life.

“What did you go off and say that for?” Ron asked, angrily, as he stopped Harry from starting up after Hermione. “She had a valid point, Harry, and you just refuse to see it.”

“I’m not going to gallivant around the country posing as someone I’m not, Ron,” Harry hissed back, slowly standing. “I can’t be someone I’m not, and I can’t be what she wants me do be.”

“How do you know what she wants you to be? Why can’t you just get it through your thick skull that she wants you to be you? Both d’Orrlyon and I can easily see that the two of you are falling in –”

“Don’t even think about saying that word,” Harry snarled furiously. “Don’t you remember? All those I love die! I won’t allow it to happen again. I cannot love.”

“You mean you will not,” Ron snapped back, just as angrily. “Just give it up, Captain. You can’t stop yourself from falling in love, and you can’t stop her from loving you.”

“You’re over your rank, Ron,” Harry said coldly. “This is coming from your Captain to his Quartermaster.”

“And this is from your best friend to you,” Ron replied in the same tone, “open your Goddamn eyes, Potter.”

Then, Ron turned and was climbing up the ladder, over onto the deck while he let Harry stew in his own anger. Ron met Hermione at the top, standing just slightly to the side on the ladder’s deck opening.

“Is… everything all right, Ron?” she asked, frowning slightly at his haggard appearance. Hermione took a step towards him, wringing her hands out in front of her.

Ron gave Hermione a brief smile. “I think things will be okay. Harry and I just had a bit of a row over your idea.”

“Oh, Ron!” Hermione cried, “Please, no. I don’t want the two of you fighting over something I suggested. Harry… Harry was right. It was a silly idea.”

“No, Hermione,” Ron smiled gently at the vexed woman before him. He pulled her into a hug. “It was a great idea. Harry just can’t see that.”

The sound of two boots landing heavily on the deck made the two look up and blink at Harry, who stood only a few feet away, glowering at the two.

“Princess!” he snapped, “My quarters, now!”

Hermione nodded meekly and hesitantly left Ron’s friendly embrace. She walked toward Harry, and when she was level with him, glanced up under her lashes.

He gritted his teeth together, grinding his jaw as he used his right arm to point to his chambers. Hermione lowered her head again, knowing he was angry, and left without a word. Harry’s eyes, however, remained fixed on Ron.

“Stay away from her,” he hissed, eyes flashing.

Ron raised a single eyebrow. “Why? Is it because she’s your property? Get off it, Potter. I’ll go near her whether you want me to or not. You can’t call me out and challenge me to a duel. Until you tell her how you feel towards her, she’s anyone’s.”

Ron then gave Harry a wink and whistled a merry tune as he left the fuming captain on the deck.

>><<

Hermione was sitting demurely on Harry’s couch when he entered the room, banging the door when he blasted it open, and again when he slammed it shut. He stomped around the room, muttering angrily to himself under his breath, and running his hands through his already messy hair.

“Harry?” Hermione asked perplexed. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am!” came the heated response, leaving Hermione to fall silent. She thinned her lips and then let her eyes fall to the floor. She pursed her lips and tried not to jump up and curse Harry into oblivion.

Why can’t you just trust me, for once? Why do you always have to hide? She wondered, before glancing up when his pacing stopped.

He stood right in front of her, staring down at her – almost studying her. She quickly glanced down at herself, wondering if there was anything amiss with her outfit or herself. “Is there something on my dress?”

“No,” Harry replied, taking a step forward, before falling on his knees. Both his hands came forward, and Hermione, shocked, sat still. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. “Sorry, I need to get my map.”

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, hastily undoing the string laces on the bodice of her dress. The strays came loose and she reached into her dress to pull out the slightly crumpled map piece. “Here you go. Your Atlantic ocean, Captain.”

Harry nodded gratefully, and smoothed the parchment out as he placed it with its brothers on the desk. “Two more pieces.”

Hermione flushed, looking away guiltily, glad that his back was to her. She absently began to slowly do up the strays of her dress again, her eyes unfocused as she thought about what Hagrid told her. She was only to give the last piece to Harry when he was ready… but if she didn’t give it to him now, wouldn’t he be angry later?

Hermione gasped in shock as warm lips on her neck drove all thoughts of the map from her mind as they trailed from below her ear to her pulse, and from there up to her chin to settle on her lips. Millions of senses made Hermione’s mind reel with pleasure, and she moaned low in her throat.

“Harry…”

“Hmm?” the young man replied, pausing only slightly to glance into Hermione’s warm chocolate eyes. He gave her a small grin as she just rolled her eyes. “What? Is kissing you too exciting?”

“You’re a rake,” she murmured, before reaching up to the back of his neck and pressing his lips back to hers. Feeling bold, she nipped at his lower lip and then sucked at it, smoothing any possible nicks that she might have created with her teeth. She grinned when Harry moaned, pleased with having the tables turned.

“Is kissing me that exciting, Mr. Potter?” she whispered back, smiling up at him. With a low growl, Harry leaned over Hermione and forced her to lie flat on the couch. He kissed her again, this time with an intensity that shocked both of them to the core as they allowed their hands to roam over each other and their passion to overwhelm them.

Breathing heavily and with Hermione’s lips sucking gently on his neck, Harry moved his hand from her hip to the strap of her dress, pulling it down past her shoulder as he kissed the milky white skin.

His other hand began undoing what was left of the strays, before the front of the dress was loose and open. Hermione’s breasts were straining against the corset, rising and falling rapidly with her shallow breaths.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered huskily, smoothing away a flyaway piece of her corkscrew hair. “So very gorgeous.”

“And so very wanting another kiss,” Hermione whispered back, shocked by her own daring, but also very thrilled by it. Her hands roamed over Harry’s broad shoulders, the muscles tense, before running them underneath his arms and down his back. One rested low on his back, just above the end of his pants, drawing tiny circles and unknown shapes. The other continued on the journey south and gave Harry and tiny pinch.

Harry groaned into Hermione’s shoulder, before sweeping kisses across it and her collarbone. He shifted lower, kissing the swell of her breasts, running his hand from her cheek down her throat and to finally rest on one of her covered breasts.

Hermione moaned, arching her body against Harry’s, wrapping one of her legs around his waist to hold him in place, unaware that her dress had ridden up.

The hand that had previously been resting on her left breast continued downward, tickling her stomach lightly, before reaching the bare, creamy skin of Hermione’s thigh.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Please what?” Harry asked back, resting his forehead on hers, his eyes looking into hers.

Hermione arched again against Harry, relishing in the feel of the two of them pressed chest-to-chest, leg-to-leg. “Please, just love me, Harry.”

At that word, Harry froze, his hand hovering just inches from her core. Hermione, concerned when Harry didn’t reply, opened her previously closed eyes and blinked. His eyes were dark, filled with passion and want, but his body was tense and stiff.

In a matter of seconds, the mood had shifted and Harry was back to his cold self, sitting on his knees as he pulled Hermione up from the cushions to retie her stays.

“Harry?”

“Don’t.”

Hermione, shocked, bit her lower lip and turned her head away so he wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to cloud her eyes. She was so bloody close to getting him to open up… but no; he turns ice cold on her. Sooner or later she was going to snap, she was sure of it. The jerks of her dress’s laces were sharp and tight, making her let out a gasp of slight pain.

“Sorry,” Harry’s deep voice rumbled. The jerks stopped shortly thereafter, but Hermione refused to look at the man who continued to toy with her emotions. She couldn’t go on forever like this, she knew it.

Harry let his hand gently cup her cheek, to make her face him. She resisted, but he cupped both her cheeks and made her look at him, using more force than he wanted. “Don’t be upset, please, don’t.”

“How can I not be?” Hermione all but snapped. “One second you’re hot… and the next you’re cold. I don’t know what you’re thinking, and honestly, I don’t think I can go on like this anymore.”

At her words, Harry felt his still rapidly beating heart stop. Oh, God, no.

“You… you want to leave?” he asked, frozen. His eyes searched hers for any hint of wanting to stay with him on the ship, but he found only a cold gaze that was eerily familiar. Hermione…

“I don’t want to stay, Harry, if this is how you’re going to treat me,” she whispered, tears sliding down her cheeks and trickling against his callused hands. “But I don’t want to leave my friends either.”

She doesn’t think of me as a friend, Harry’s inner being wailed. Closing his eyes painfully, Harry took a deep breath before letting it out shakily. “We’ll go along with your plan.”

Hermione’s eyes shot up to Harry’s strained face. His eyes stayed closed, shut tightly in pain. “What did you say?”

“I said, we’ll go along with your plan. The one to dress up as commoners on a merchant ship,” Harry repeated, his eyes opening. They were filled with pain, but he did his best to mask them with the emotionless face he wore whenever he could.

Hermione took in a sharp breath. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to.”

“No, really, Harry. Why? You said earlier you hated the idea. Why the change of heart all of a sudden?” Hermione asked quietly.

You have no idea how big of a change of heart; he thought bitterly, before saying out loud, “You want to leave, Princess. We’ll dress up as commoners and once I get the second last piece from Wood, I’ll ask him to make arrangements for you to return safely to Richmondshire.”

He watched as Hermione swallowed, thinking the plan over. She finally nodded. “Fair.”

“Is this an accord? No plots to sneak back onboard, you won’t come back after us?” Harry asked, bending his head to see if there was any sign of her lying.

“Deal,” Hermione replied. Harry was disappointed to see that she was honest. She truly wanted to be out of his sight.

Nodding, Harry stood, his hands in his pockets. “You’d best be joining Ginny and Luna then, in the forecastle. Goodnight.”

Hermione stood slowly, watching him, but when he didn’t move from his spot, she nodded briskly and walked toward the door, opening it. With one last chocolate gaze at him, she left and closed the door softly behind her.

When the door closed, Harry swore he could feel his own heart echo the emptiness that radiated in the room.

“You’re right, Ron, I should I have just told her I loved her. I need to get over my fear of losing all those I love… because without meaning to, I already lost her.”

With a wry smile, Harry headed to his liquor cabinet, which he opened. He selected a whiskey, pulling the cork out with his teeth. He crossed his room to fall on his bed, gulping down the burning liquid.

Unbidden, the words slurred out of his mouth, “You don’t know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it.”

Seconds later he was unconscious.

>><<

Blaise and Draco came out of the dark alley brushing their hands clean of any dirt, and wiping their bloody blades on a nearby unconscious person.

With his eyes darkly determined, Draco spoke to Blaise in a humorless voice. “I want you to get ahead of Potter. Go to Scotland and find this Wood.”

“Then what?” Blaise asked, falling in step with his captain and best friend as they left the dark alleyway and continued down the dirt paths past the Hog’s Head and the Scurvy Dog Inn. They arrived in the harbor, glancing up at the Marauder, where guards stood posted.

“They’re not leaving just yet, so if you leave in your schooner or something equally as small you’ll be able to make it before them,” Draco repeated.

His eyes glittered in the moonlight. Both young men stood silent, watching the ship. Draco’s grin increased when he heard a door shut, and saw the Princess walk away from the captain’s quarters, hugging her dress top to her chest.

“Well, well,” he sneered, “It seems Potter hasn’t been just safe guarding the Princess after all.”

Blaise raised a black eyebrow in return. “Draco,” he sighed, “Just tell me what you want me to do when I find Wood.”

“Nothing,” the other man replied, his blond hair shining in the moonlight. “Just shadow those two when they arrive. Find out if they got the last piece.”

“Last? Don’t you mean second last?” Blaise asked.

“No,” the pirate smirked. “It seemed that Hagrid isn’t so daft after all, Zabini. He gave the Princess the piece he had on him. Didn’t give it to Potter because,” here he mocked the man, “he wasn’t polite enough fer it.”

Blaise snickered. “Potter? Polite?”

“Exactly,” Draco agreed. “So Wood has the last piece. We need to find who’ll have it. I highly doubt that the Princess gave Potter her piece.”

Blaise smirked. “I think I get what you want me to do, Draco.”

Draco nodded, pleased. “Good.” Then, he paused, “Oh, and Blaise?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t tell anyone about this. Take Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Higgs with you. That’s it.”

Blaise nodded, his grin almost feral in the night. “Got it.”

Draco nearly floated, he was so happy. It seemed that Potter’s luck had begun to run out when he met the Princess of Richmondshire, and he, Draco Malfoy, was going to reap in the benefits of it.

>><<

AN: Ouch! What a time delay! Sorry everyone, I really didn’t mean for it to take this long to get out, but I think it was worth the wait, huh? *winks* Anyway! Thanks to Katie for beta’ing, always – and even more so because I made her blush and cry!

So will Harry ever stop being a prat? What exactly is Draco’s plan, and is he really evil? And just why doesn’t Hermione tell Harry about the secret third map piece that no one knows about? All this and more coming up in the next chapter, including some gorgy Scots!

I hope everyone’s 2003 ended just the way you wanted it, and that 2004 will bring you everything you’ve ever dreamed off! Read, review, and enjoy! Kneazle [Dec.30.03]

PS: Like holiday fluff? Like H/Hr? Read “All I Want”, a one-piece Pumpkin Pie goody I wrote!

7. Skulls 07

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers

~*~

Chapter Seven

Harry disconsolately plucked at his gaudy green waistcoat, pulling at the adorned gold tassels.

“Did I have to wear this?” he moaned quietly, not wanting to distract unwanted attention to him. Hermione had come up with the idea that he was a rich merchant coming from a recent excursion in the Caribbean with his wife. Hermione, Harry thought, looked particularly fetching in her scarlet red dress. He didn’t know much of women’s fashion, but he knew that Hermione looked good enough for their station, but below her own princess title.

“Yes, you did,” she replied — it wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t friendly either. Harry decided that it was monotonous.

He sighed, turning his head away as he scanned the horizon, out of habit, for enemy vessels. He couldn’t help but be protective of Hermione. Ever since they started on the Morningside merchant ship, Harry had a queasy feeling in his gut. He knew he loathed giving Hermione up, but it had been her choice, and he honored it.

Instead, he thought back nearly two weeks ago when he walked in on Ron, his best mate, (Harry snorted) and Hermione.

They had been standing very close together, their breathing labored and Hermione’s corkscrew hair was messier than normal. Harry’s heart beat painfully against his ribs.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

Hermione glanced to the floor, guilty of something, while Ron grinned and stepped towards his friend. “I’m just teaching Mione, here the basics.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up and he felt the first stirrings of anger deep in his heart. “Basics, Ron?”

Ron grinned roguishly and winked at Harry. “She catches on quite fast. Eager learner, she is.”

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Did she really hate him that much that she would go to Ron instead? Go to him that soon after their fight, and that soon after she professed her love to him?

“Oh?”

Ron smiled, pleased. He then patted something next to him, resting at his hip. “I never thought I’d see the day when a princess requests to learn to fight with a sword and dagger.”

Harry was certain his heart stopped beating for a few precious seconds before he slid the stoic mask back in place. “Sword fighting?”

“Well, you never know when she’ll be attacked now, will you?” accused Ron, twisting his lips into a frown. “Especially when she goes back to being a stuffy princess, Mione might want to know that she can defend herself if she has to.”

“I asked him to teach me, Harry, be angry at me if you are,” her calm, quiet voice shook Harry to the core as he drew in a ragged breath and nodded.

“Fine. You may continue if Ron decides. You are not, however, to be hurt. I will not risk it, not when you’re so close to going home. I won’t send you back with scars and battle wounds that are meaningless,” he snapped. Then, he turned on his heels and strode out of the galley where they had been practicing, his heart weeping.

Back in the present, Harry found himself brooding, wishing the journey were already at an end so he didn’t have to look at her and remember his heart breaking or realizing what he was going to inevitably lose.

“Oh, look,” Hermione suddenly said breathlessly, her corkscrew hair flying all over the place in the Irish breeze. Harry followed her line of sight to see the green, rolling hills of Ireland to appear. They would dock and reload the merchant cargo in Belfast, and then continue on to a small port on another vessel near Ayr, where they would then take a stagecoach to Glasgow, where Laird Oliver Wood had a manor on its outskirts.

The whole journey would take another week, but for Harry, it was another, prolonged week of pleasure in Hermione’s company, even if she didn’t want him there with her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, sighing softly and resting her elbows on the wooden railing. Harry, not looking at the scenery any more, nodded and murmured with appreciation, “Yes, beautiful.”

Hermione’s brown eyes slowly traveled from the rolling Irish hills to Harry’s own emerald. How similar in colour they are, she mused distractedly, as her eyes softened.

“Don’t play with me, Harry,” murmured Hermione, glancing up at him under her lashes. “You know you want to be rid of me.”

Harry felt the lump in his throat and cleared his throat, tugging on his cravat suddenly. He accidentally made it come undone, swearing under his breath as he tried to fix it.

“Oh, Harry,” giggled Hermione, her warm fingers coming up to refasten his cravat around his neck, tugging and placing it expertly back where it was supposed to be. “Try not to fuss, now,” she finished with a smile quirked in his direction. Harry marveled at the merchant wife she made.

You two could be like this always, a nasty voice whispered in the back of his mind, loving and carefree. She doesn’t care of you past, or your misdeeds.

No, replied Harry inwardly, she doesn’t, but I don’t find myself worthy of her.

>><<

The Scotland highlands appeared soon days afterwards. Harry and Hermione were the only two passengers that got off at Ayr, and the only ones who were able to procure the nicest stagecoach to go to Glasgow in.

Inside the cozy stagecoach, it was quiet and tense. Harry silently sighed, settling down for a long and bumpy ride, while Hermione, next to him, sat upright and straight.

“You won’t be comfortable sitting like that the whole journey,” Harry remarked, glancing over at her, a slightly fuzzy figure from behind his glasses.

“Well, yes, thank you for that acute observation,” replied Hermione, pouting. She slid down in her seat as the two fell silent. Finally, she asked in a small voice, “Do you care for me, at all, Harry?”

Harry tensed, his eyes wide with disbelief that she would actually ask him that. When he didn’t answer right away, Hermione nodded, smoothing down the fabric of her dress.

“I see.”

Harry sat upright. “No, no you don’t, Hermione. I do care for you…” here he paused, swallowing, “But… not the way you believe me to care.” The double meaning slipped by without her notice. Harry had said that he cared for her, but not the way she was thinking; and currently, she was thinking he didn’t care for her at all. Feeling decidedly clever, Harry settled back with a smug smile, tipping his tricorn low over his eyes and nose to welcome sleep.

He didn’t see Hermione’s gapping mouth, or her narrowed eyes when she figured out what he meant, either.

Well, she thought, two can play that game, Mr. Potter!

In turn, Hermione also settled down for some sleep, as she hadn’t received much on the ships. When it didn’t come to her, she instead turned her head and watched the passing foliage and scenery, lost in her own thoughts.

Before Hermione knew it, Harry was gently nudging her awake and out of an semi sleep, whispering, “We’re here. Ready?”

Hermione rubbed at her eyes, murmuring lightly that she was. Harry’s eyes roamed her face — from her tousled brown corkscrew curls that flew in every direction; to her heavy-lidded sparkling brown eyes, and red lips — Harry never thought she looked more enticing than she did at that moment.

He felt his heart lurch and tug painfully in his chest. So this is what love feels like, he mused, before running a finger gently down her cheek. Hermione briefly closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, before opening her eyes and giving Harry a small smile.

“Let’s go, husband,” she whispered.

Harry gave Hermione a tight, controlled smirk. “Allow me, wife.”

The driver opened the carriage door and Harry stepped out, shielding his eyes from the bright sun, reflecting on his glasses. He turned, brushing the tails of his waistcoat away from his hips as he did so, extending his hand for Hermione to grasp.

Her dainty gloved hand fell onto his, tightening as she stepped out of the carriage and down onto the gravel that served as Wood’s pathway to the house.

The man himself was standing alone on the veranda, holding what appeared to be a drink in his hand, and stood unmoving. He was too far away for Harry to get a good look, but he could tell that Wood was broad shouldered and would have been easily mistaken for a ruffian, had he been wearing rougher clothes or was on a pirate ship.

“Is that him?” Hermione asked, standing next to Harry as she raised a hand to shield her own eyes. Harry nodded.

“That’s him all right.” Harry paused. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Hermione.”

Hermione glanced up at the tall, rigid man standing beside her. “Harry?”

Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and bowed his head before turning to look at Hermione. “I can’t protect you once I leave this place. I just want to… to make sure that you’ll be okay.”

“I thought I was a thorn in your side, Mr. Potter,” remarked Hermione, raising a single eyebrow. Harry felt the corner of his lips twitch.

“That you may have been, love,” Harry growled, bending towards her slightly, “but I can’t help but feel slightly…”

“Relieved? Excited?” Hermione prompted.

“…Fond, I was going to say,” he grossed. “Whatever happens Hermione, this is it. You’ll be back to being a princess, and I’ll go back to sailing the seas.”

“Is that what makes you happy, Harry?” Hermione frowned. She took in his gentlemanly appearance. “Is that what you want out of life?”

Harry turned away and slowly began to walk towards Wood. Hermione followed, skipping slightly to keep up with his strides.

“It’s the only life I know, Hermione,” came his terse reply. “I don’t think I can have any other.”

Only if you want it badly enough, you can, Harry, Hermione thought sadly, following her ‘husband’ silently.

>><<

Oliver Wood could be described as stocky — he looked like his Scottish ancestors, heavily built and broad shouldered, with dark brown eyes and light brown hair that gave the message he wasn’t a full-blood Scot.

He wore a simple pair of black trousers and a pale green linen shirt with the cuffs open. In one hand was a brandy, and his other hand was in his pants pocket.

“Who’re you?” he asked, when Harry and Hermione came close enough to hear his Scottish burr.

Harry stopped, entering a formal bow that only members of the ton did so perfectly, and said, “Viscount Harry Potter, my lord.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows in response. “Potter! You know there is a bounty on your head. The Crown wants to talk to you about some nonsense kidnapping.”

Standing again, Harry quirked a smile. “Allow me to introduce my companion, Wood.” He turned and swept a hand toward Hermione. “Princess Hermione Granger of Richmondshire.”

Hermione fell into a deep curtsey and smiled benignly at Oliver.

“Sweet Holy Mother,” breathed Oliver, before dipping into a bow himself. “Christ, you two! What’re you, daft? Standing out here in the open…” muttering to himself, Oliver ushered Harry and Hermione into the grand entry of his mansion, before leading them to his library.

There, he placed down his brandy and offered one to Harry. Declining, Harry found himself sitting on a comfy red couch, warily watching Hermione as she walked around the library, hesitantly touching the spines of novels she found enthralling.

“So what’re you two doing here?” Oliver finally asked, settling across from Harry in an armchair.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he began to speak. “Oliver, I need the piece of the Marauder’s Map that was given to you.”

Oliver looked at Harry shrewdly. “And why should I give it to you?”

Harry sighed, running his hands through his black hair. “Because it’s mine.”

“Harry!” admonished Hermione from a corner where she leaned against a bookshelf, reading a book she had found. “Tell him the truth or he won’t help. I think he’ll be kind and give you it anyway, but still. Where are your manners?”

Harry grumbled, but complied. “I’ve been lead to believe that Tom Riddle wants the map for himself so he can rape, pillage and plunder the world without having to worry about being caught.”

“After, of course, he gets his hands on your family treasure, which is hidden — and it’s only location can be shown on the last map piece,” finished Oliver, steeping his fingers together as he crossed his legs. “You realize my piece is the second last.”

“Second!” Harry jumped out of his seat, astonished. “Then where is the last piece?”

Oliver shrugged. “No one knows. But, if you have the most of the map, then it’s likely no one else will be able to find the Potter treasure.”

“But that’s not for certain!” Harry exclaimed, beginning to pace. Hermione watched worriedly, placing her book down.

“Harry…”

“Not now, Hermione!”

Oliver watched the exchange. Finally, he said quietly, “I know you’re upset, Potter, but having the majority of the pieces is better than none, believe me.”

Harry turned on his heel. “So you’ll be giving me the piece then?”

Oliver looked bemused for a moment. “Um… no.”

“Why ever not?”

Oliver grinned. “I’ve heard that you are an excellent swordsman, Potter — and here in the Scottish nobility realm, I find that my peers aren’t exactly… shall we say… up to my skill level? I’d like to challenge you to a fight. You win; you get your map piece. I win, you still get the map piece but I get bragging rights I won the great Harry Potter.”

Harry thought it over. “You’re telling me that you can’t find anyone to duel with – at all – in all of Scotland?”

Oliver paused. “Well, no – I can find people. It just so happens that I beat all those people, so I’m looking for a bit of a challenge. I don’t know if you know, but my father happened to be quite the swordsman. He passed along his skills to me, and you can say that I’m just a little bit obsessed.”

Harry raised a single eyebrow. “A little bit obsessed?”

Oliver blushed slightly. “That’s an understatement, all right? I live, eat, breathe and sleep the art of swords play and I would be honored if you would duel against me.”

Harry grinned.” When you put it that way, we have an accord — only if you promise, no matter what — to help get Hermione back to Richmondshire. We split ways here.”

Oliver looked surprised, glancing between Harry and Hermione. Finally, his eyes narrowed and he nodded. “I accept.”

Harry and Oliver shook hands, smiling knowingly at each other before dropping the joined hands and stepping away.

“Would you like some time to freshen up and change into some fight clothes, perhaps?” Oliver asked, taking a sip of his previously discarded drink.

Harry nodded. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you, my lord.”

“Ah, no,” Oliver grinned, “thank you, Viscount.”

>><<

“You’re bloody insane, that’s what you are!” shouted Hermione, stomping around the room that Harry was given. He stood behind a dressing screen, tossing his trousers, shirt, waistcoat and breeches over the rail.

“You’ve been around my crew too long, princesses don’t talk like that!” he called out in a teasing voice. “Now, hand me those trousers Oliver sent up.”

“I can’t believe you scared that poor maid away — and the groom too! All they wanted to do was help you,” Hermione continued mumbling. “My God, Harry! A swordfight! I can’t believe it!”

“Well, you ought to!” he retorted, “Because you’re going to be there, watching. It’s not to the death anyway, Mione, it’s just who can knock the other’s rapier out of his hand first. Sure, I’ll be cut up a little, but nothing more than a scratch.”

With an unearthly shriek, Hermione flung all of Harry’s new cloths over the rail, making them land on his head.

“Hey! Hermione!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Harry Potter!” shouted Hermione, stomping around the screen to wag and point her finger at Harry. He gawked, before hastily buttoning up his trousers. Oblivious to his semi naked state, Hermione continued to rant and rave.

“All you’re going to do is get into a big, bloody mess and who’ll be there to watch and only moan and shout out to watch yourself? Me, that’s who! You don’t even take care of yourself properly, thinking you’re this big, mean pirate that doesn’t need to be cared for — well, listen to me now, Harry — you do need to be cared for!”

Harry was amused but now exasperated by Hermione’s speech. He sighed and moved towards the young woman.

“And furthermore — Harry! What are you doing?” she stopped suddenly, watching him advance towards her. “Harry?”

He wrapped his arms around Hermione’s figure, pulling her toward him. “Did anyone tell you that you worry too much?” he asked.

“No,” grumbled Hermione, “Because I never had anyone to ever worry about before. Until, of course, you came along one day.”

Harry chuckled, the action felt by Hermione through the layers of clothing she wore. She felt her cheeks flush and her body temperature rise.

“I like feeling worried over,” Harry confided in Hermione, “but not if it’s all you think about.”

“You’re such a rake!” Hermione shouted, swatting him as she caught his meaning.

Laughing, Harry released Hermione, tweaking her nose. “Let me dress, then lecture me, all right, Princess?”

Hermione crossed her arms and went to sit on his bed, pouting. Minutes later he emerged, silent, and sat next to her. His weight cause the bed to dip and she tilted towards him slightly.

“You never got that walloping I promised you,” Hermione said suddenly.

Frowning, Harry remembered Tortuga. “That’s right. You promised to wallop me, and I said…”

“‘My dear Princess, the day you wallop and trounce me is the day I agree to be your husband,’” both Harry and Hermione finished, grinning at each other.

“Well, you’re my husband now,” teased Hermione, “so does that mean I can wallop and trounce you?”

Harry laughed, slinging his arm over her shoulders. “Does it mean that much to you, seeing as this is our last day together?”

Hermione fell silent.

“Hermione?”

She turned to look at him. “Yes, Harry, it means that much to me.”

He smiled at her, smoothing down her hair. “Then go right ahead.”

Hermione smiled back, before wrapping her arms around his middle and tackling him. He laughed as they fell into the bed’s pillows.

Hermione then rubbed Harry’s head, making his hair messier than usual, and proceeded to tickle him.

“Hey!” he exploded between gasps, “I thought I was to be walloped!”

“This is the closest I can get to walloping someone, Harry,” Hermione revealed, “Because I’m a lady.”

“Like hell you are,” he growled softly, before pulling her down beside him on the bed. He traced the line of her jaw, his eyes following the movement. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He propped his body slightly over hers, using his elbow to keep his weight off her body.

Hermione blushed, a pretty pink staining her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I bet you hear that all the time at court,” he continued.

“No. I don’t,” she replied.

“You should. You should be told that you’re beautiful every day. When you wake up in the morning, and before you fall asleep,” he whispered feverishly, cupping one cheek.

“Are you going to kiss me one last time, Harry?” Hermione wondered, aloud.

“I am,” he replied, before dipping his head and brushing his lips across hers — then back again. He smiled gently, brushing some hair away from her eyes, and then pressing his lips against her soft ones tenderly.

The kiss wasn’t fast or hurried, or even really romantic; rather, it was a soft, lingering kiss that left you feeling like you just had the most wondrous day of your life. It spoke of promises, love, and want, but also of respect and admiration.

The kiss itself was a goodbye.

A knock on Harry’s door made both of them swivel their heads to the noise.

“Mr. Potter, sir? Master Wood says I’m to take you to the dueling room. Are you ready, sir?” the servant asked through the door.

Harry kissed Hermione once more, this time on the forehead. “Go to your room, love. Don’t watch us. Do this for me.”

“For you,” Hermione replied. “And only this once, Potter.”

She rose, following Harry to the door. He opened it, revealing a young Scottish boy, who glanced at Hermione.

“Miss.”

Harry turned back to Hermione.

“What are you waiting for? Go.”

Hermione nodded, turning her head slightly, and walked down the hall. Harry waited until she closed and locked her bedroom door behind her. He then turned back to the boy and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, forcing his mind away from the captivating princess, Harry breathed out, “I’m ready.”

>><<

“So, you finally showed up,” Oliver grinned from where he stood in the white marble room. He wore black trousers and a white shirt, like Harry, but wore black leather cuffs to keep his shirt cuffs from getting in the way. His boots were polished and shined in the fading afternoon light.

They both picked brother rapiers, twins in size and blade width, before saluting each other gamely.

Harry ran his blade against Oliver’s, going into a proper fencing stance. Oliver copied Harry, and soon lunged at him, swishing his blade.

Harry waltzed away, feeling the air moved as the blade narrowly missed him, and the whizzing sound that accompanied it.

The two skilled fighters danced around each other, lashing out and dodging, parrying and thrusting, both of an equal match.

“Getting tired yet?” a sweaty and slightly fatigued Oliver panted.

“Not nearly,” replied Harry in the same tone. He thrust one last time, catching Oliver’s right wrist and knocking the rapier to the ground with a clang.

Oliver took a step back, his eyes showing that he was pleasantly surprised. “Well, Potter — it seems to me you earned the map piece.”

He bowed, ending his part of the game, and Harry did the same, handing Oliver back his sword. “It was an excellent work out, sir,” Harry replied.

Oliver grinned and motioned for Harry to follow him into the study, a room filled with two couches and an armchair, and a desk and cabinet for Oliver’s drinks.

Harry sat on the armchair, rolling his shoulders to work out some kinks he received. Oliver went to a cabinet and unlocked it, then went to a small cabinet inside of that one, unlocked that one, and reached inside.

He retrieved a part of the map and locked the two cabinets before walking over to Harry and handing it to him.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, settling on the couch.

“Yes,” Harry replied, smoothing it out as he looked over Mediterranean. “Just the Atlantic now, and the location of the treasure.”

“Out of curiosity,” began Oliver, “how would you find the treasure?”

“There are hints or coordinates written on the back of each map piece,” Harry said, flipping the new pieces over to show a scribble of numbers.

“When put all together, you’ll find the treasure. Technically, I can do a part of it now, as the Atlantic piece has the last hint as to where the treasure is located, but the islands’ location is plainly seen by the remaining pieces.”

Oliver looked impressed. “Intelligent idea.”

“I thought so too,” Harry replied. They sat silently, their bodies cooling, before getting into the serious matters.

Finally, after putting it off for a while, Harry sighed. “So. How do I get back to the Marauder?”

Oliver frowned and began to think. “Same way you came, I should think, but in a new disguise. Where is your vessel going to make buff?”

“Ayr, where we were dropped off.”

“Excellent. No unwanted questions. The English still avoid Scotland,” Oliver grinned suddenly. “I’m afraid we’re not always the welcoming hosts, either.”

Harry chuckled.

“I’m very well aware of the battles between the English and Scots, Oliver,” he said, “My mother herself was Irish, and my father English… imagine the societal gossip for that courtship!”

Oliver nodded. “Very well, then. Stay here tonight and be gone tomorrow morning.”

Harry shook his head. “Oliver… it would be best if I leave now.”

“Why?”

Harry shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“Don’t tell me it’s because of Hermione! She’s harmless. She won’t chase after you, she knows her duty,” Oliver answered. Then, a thought came to him. “Och, no… wait, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a wee thing like her!” Oliver chortled cheerfully, before giving Harry a benign look. “Unless you’ve fallen in love with her?”

Harry bristled. “I have not fallen in love with her!”

Oliver burst out into laughter. “You have, so! Well, well. The great Harry Potter is human after all. Excellent, excellent.”

“Do you always say words in pairs?” Harry asked glumly.

“Don’t be so down, lad! Love is a wonderful feeling,” Oliver smiled. “But, if you want to leave tonight, I can’t stop you.”

They both rose.

“How is Hermione going to…” Harry trailed off. He didn’t want to think about her as a princess. To him, she’d always be that defiant little chit that had stolen away on his brig, stating quite clearly she wanted an adventure.

“Return home?” Oliver finished. “I’ll travel with her to the boarder of Richmondshire. She’ll be safe the minute she steps back into her country.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, shaking Oliver’s hand.

Oliver smirked. “You’re welcome, Viscount.”

Harry then turned, opened the door to the study and left the room, heading straight for the front entrance doors.

“You were going to leave without a goodbye?” a voice floated down from the second story overhang.

Harry paused, glancing back up to see Hermione wearing a white nightgown, a saddened expression on her face.

Harry bit back a rude retort he was going to make. Now wasn’t the time for a mask — it was time for the truth.

“Yes,” he answered plainly, knowing it was breaking both their hearts to hear it.

Hermione lowered her head slightly. “I see.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I — thank you, Harry. When we met I asked for an adventure and you gave me one. I experienced things I would never have had a chance to if it wasn’t for you.”

“You’re welcome, Princess,” Harry replied, his voice soft.

“Are we back to formalities, Harry?” asked Hermione forlornly. She rested her elbows on the banister and leaned forward.

“Captain Potter, please,” Harry choked out. “And, yes, we are. It’s… safer this way.”

“For who? You?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Why, Harry thought bitterly. It’s always why, and never a chance to say goodbye easily. “I can’t answer that, Princess. Go back to bed. It’s late.”

Hermione nodded, although Harry had turned his back on her, his shoulders stiff.

“All right then,” she said. “Harry. Goodnight.”

“No, princess,” Harry replied in a surprisingly strong voice. “Not goodnight. Goodbye.” Then he walked briskly forward, opened the front doors, and stepped into the night, disappearing from Hermione’s life. Her heart became as empty as the great hall, and the door that Harry had closed had closed for her heart as well.

>><<

A shadowy figure, hidden behind a large bush on Oliver’s grounds, sighed in relief. “Finally, that Potter’s left the building. We can move in now.”

Blaise had been sitting in the same spot with the Lestranges for nearly six hours, waiting for Potter to leave so that they could go in, and kidnap Hermione.

Now dark, Blaise was appreciating his dark Italian looks that would become an asset to his latest task.

“Are you two ready?” he asked, turning to glance at the couple over his shoulder. Panic began to grip at his heart and throat when Blaise saw that there was no one behind him. The Lestranges went rogue.

“Blast it!” Blaise swore, standing and beginning to look around the grounds for them. He moved cautiously across the grass, keeping to the shadows and listening for non-animal sounds. A snap of a twig made him whirl, only to have something hard connect with his skull, rendering him unconscious.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out of the shadows, her face graced with a small smile as she stared down at Blaise Zabini’s crumpled form.

“I hope you didn’t kill him,” came a deep male voice from her right. The man who stepped out of the shadows there was tall and skinny with a black moustache and beard, and cold blue eyes.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “You know I didn’t kill him. Wish I could though.”

Together, the couple tied Blaise up and left him under the bush where he was previously sitting. They stripped him of his pistol and sword, and checked his pockets for any other news or items he had been keeping from them.

Then, they headed towards the house.

>><<

The inside of Wood’s mansion was dark, with only a few candles lighting the hallways. Shadows danced and flickered as the two figures moved stealthily through the wood-encased hallway.

“Which room is she in?” Rodolphus asked quietly. Bellatrix shrugged.

“We’ll know. He’d most likely put her in the guest room,” she said. There was no fear of being overheard by servants — they were all taken care of. Most wouldn’t be waking until later that morning, near noontime, thanks to those nasty bumps they mysteriously received during the night.

“So the opposite wing?” Rodolphus stated, moving up the stairs before turning left. Bellatrix followed quietly, her hand resting on the handle of her pistol while her husband’s rested on the hilt of his engraved sword.

Bellatrix felt her lips twist into what one would believe to be a smile, but to her it was feral. Her hand was milky white in the moonlight that filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the hallway, overlooking the Wood family land.

Bellatrix gripped a glass doorknob, glancing over her shoulder at her husband, her straight black hair falling over one shoulder. “Ready?” she mouthed.

He nodded, pulling his sword out of its sheath. Bellatrix smirked, opening the door quietly and slipping inside the room.

The princess lay in the middle of the bed on her stomach, sprawled out with the bed sheets tangled around her legs. She wore what appeared to be a man’s shirt instead of a nightgown, and there were a pair of trousers and boots left by a chair near a changing screen.

Bellatrix raised one eyebrow when she saw them, knowing they were of a masculine origin — what woman wears men’s wear for fun? Especially a royal? — And that they were left for her purposely. Her nightgown that a maid must have left out was still folded neatly on a hope chest placed at the end of the bed.

“Is that her?” asked Rodolphus in a hushed whisper. Bellatrix nodded.

With a practiced ease, Bellatrix moved to the edge of the bed and leaned over the sleeping young woman, pulling her pistol out at the same time.

“She will be so frightened to see the pistol she’ll faint dead away,” she whispered to her husband. Rodolphus nodded but didn’t lower his sword.

With her back to her husband, Bellatrix unlocked the pistol and pointed it at Hermione. Then, she used her free left hand to reach and shake her shoulder.

Hermione eyes popped open in surprise, and she immediately twisted on the bed, swinging her left arm out in an arc to knocked Bellatrix’s pistol away from her face. On reflex, Bellatrix fired. A puff of blue smoke hung in the air, and in the dead quiet of the room, the bang from the pistol echoed.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” asked Hermione, her eyes narrowed and clearly brushing her sleep off as she stared at Bellatrix with fury. Her eyes were rimmed red and they were puffy, but she was quickly growing conscious of the presences in her room.

She then shoved the woman away, jumping out of the bed and reaching for a discarded sword Harry had left for her — a parting gift he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — give in person.

The blunt edge of a sword tapped on Hermione’s hand, enough to sting, when she reached for it. Rodolphus’s grinning pointy face appeared in the darkness, coming close to Hermione as she backed away.

“Tsk, tsk, Princess,” he began in an oily voice that reminded Hermione of her dear tutor, Severus Snape, “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” His smirk told her that he enjoyed mocking her and throwing her words back in her face.

Hermione inaudibly gulped, stepping back again, but the sharp jab of Bellatrix’s pistol in the small of her back made her stop.

The older woman’s silky voice whispered, “Now that we’ve proven we’re in control and you aren’t… why don’t we take a walk?”

Bellatrix twisted around Hermione forcefully until she was facing the other woman. The pants that Hermione wore while working on the Marauder were thrown in her face.

“Put them on,” snapped Bellatrix. “We’ve got a ways to go tonight and I won’t be hindered by a pampered princess.”

Hermione frowned but did as she was told, tying the drawstrings and reaching for the boots, tugging them on as well. When she stood, she glared at Bellatrix, mustering as much hate as she could for the woman to see in her eyes.

“You’re despicable. I don’t even know who you are,” the princess all but snarled.

Bellatrix mock-curtseyed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Highness. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Bellatrix Lestrange, second in command of the Dark Mark, avid follower of Tom Riddle.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, her mouth opening wide to let out a blood-curling scream.

Bellatrix took a step forward, so she and Hermione were millimeters apart. Hermione’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Her full lips twisted into a smile, and her icy blue eyes widened a small amount.

“Tom wants to meet with you.”

“Me?” Hermione asked, scoffing. “What interest would he have in a princess from a small country that ran away from her own kingdom?”

Bellatrix’s smile grew in size. “Why, the Marauder’s Map, Princess. And that piece you have.”

>><<

Blaise knew he was still alive because of the pounding in the front of his head. It was a quick staccato that was in tune with his heartbeat, and he was seriously hoping that he would get some lithium to dull the pain.

“You all right there? You have a nasty bump on your head,” a Scottish voice said near his ear, making Blaise’s eyes pop open. The Lestranges — the Princess — Scotland. Everything came back to Blaise and he shot up off the couch he was resting on.

Oliver Wood watched him warily from the armchair he was sitting on. When Blaise swayed dangerously, Oliver gently pushed him back onto the couch.

“Want to tell me what you know?” Oliver’s voice was smooth and friendly, but the icy coolness of his brown eyes made Blaise rethink any lies he was about to make. Wood was not someone he would want to cross.

“The Lestranges — Drake’s father wanted them onboard and they must have… must have…”

“Mutinied.”

“Yes. I need to warn Draco — and —”

“You need to warn Harry as well, Mr. Zabini. He loves her,” Oliver’s cool admissions of Harry’s feelings were like icy water being poured on Blaise. He shivered.

“And the Lestranges’ have her. Oh, shit,” he moaned, resting his head on a pillow. “I’m in no way able to move and head back to Tortuga to tell Draco the problems here.” He started mumbling to himself, staring hard at the polished wood floor. “The Captain’s going to kill me – he’ll feed me to the crows’, oh bullocks… I’m a pirate, how could I let this happen?”

“You’re right, you’re not going to be able to go to Draco and tell him what’s happened, but you’re sure as hell not going to be bird food.” Oliver replied, standing, and shoving his pants in his pockets. His broad shoulders blocked out the bright afternoon sun as he moved toward a window. His body silhouetted the room, making Blaise squint, as there was suddenly darkness. “But I can.”

“But — he won’t trust you!” Blaise protested weakly, wanting to stay awake.

Oliver turned. Blaise couldn’t see his face, but he could imagine the visage. Not many people survive an angry Scotsman attack, Blaise knew.

“He won’t trust me, that’s right. But a letter would take too long. We need someone to get the letter immediately to Potter and Malfoy.”

“And the Royal Family.”

“Which one?” Oliver’s question made Blaise pause. Blaise knew that the British Royal Family had a warrant for Harry Potter’s capture out. His privateering license had been revoked, and there was now a price on his head. He himself had written the missive to the Hanover family about Potter on Draco’s behalf.

However, he didn’t know anything about the Granger royal family and whether or not they had their fleet out searching for Potter as well, since the Granger and Hanover family were friends.

“I…” Blaise trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly,” snapped Oliver uncommonly. “We don’t know who to trust, but if what you say is true, then it isn’t just Hermione or Harry in danger — it’s your Captain as well.”

Blaise paled. “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said weakly, before licking his dry lips. “All right.” He nodded firmly. “What do you need me to do?”

Oliver began pacing. “Get your fastest ship and sail to Draco and tell him what happened. Find Potter — he’ll know what to do.”

“And then?”

Oliver’s eyes flashed as he turned to Blaise. “And then we wait and see.”

>><<

Draco had been peacefully lying on a hammock in the crew’s area of the Dark Mark, daydreaming about kicking Potter’s sorry arse when he noticed the cheer that rose from the crew above him. He didn’t particularly like his father’s friends, or his father at times, but he did adore his mother. She was currently in their French ancestral home, chateau foi malade, literally “the house of bad faith.” And of course, she was enjoying the winery and wonderful weather while he, Draco, was stuck onboard a ship filled with cutthroats and thieves.

Not like he wasn’t one himself, it was just that he didn’t take as much pleasure in killing, raping and plundering as these men — and one lady — did.

And of course, there was the fact that most had seasickness. That just grossed him out.

So, with his daydream now interrupted, Draco rose and stretched, making his way up the rickety stairs, lifted the hatch and vaulted himself up onto the main deck. As he stood, he caught a glance of his father’s triumphant face and Riddle’s gleaming eyes, making him shiver.

And then he saw her: Granger, Potter’s love.

Draco’s jaw dropped and he wanted to rub at his eyes, wondering if salt water had entered them and made his vision all bit funny, but no — Princess Hermione Granger was onboard the Dark Mark, tousled up with a red mark faintly seen on her cheek and the men’s shirt she wore ripped at the sleeves. Her hands were bound by rope in front of her, but she stood tall and straight, her unmanageable hair swaying in the breeze.

Oh shit, Draco thought. This bungles things up a bit.

Above that, Riddle was preaching to his crew about having the final piece of the Marauder’s Map.

“Gentlemen!” Riddle was shouting, “We have it. After searching for all these years since that guttersnipe James Potter rose up and formed his own crew, and plundered and got all the gold that was rightfully mine, we finally have it. The final piece of the Marauder’s Map — the piece that James’ dear son Harry needs.”

A deadly hush fell over the crew. Draco was in horror as he realized what Riddle was talking about.

Riddle continued on. “I took that Potter in, gentlemen. Did you know that? His father was Lord Potter — a notorious drunk and womanizer who happened upon a pretty serving maid in the Potter mansion. And what did he do? Why, he had an illegitimate son. Who was that boy?”

“James Potter!” the crew shouted in unison, as if they had been practicing and had heard the story hundreds of times over.

Hermione looked shocked; her face was pale and she was visibly trembling from where Draco stood. He wanted to get close, wanted to make sure she was okay, but he knew he couldn’t because it would have given too much away. Instead, he turned his attention to Riddle who looked smug and gleeful and superior.

“But James’ dear ol’ daddy wouldn’t take him in or take care of the young boy. Young James was cast out into the streets of London, where he picked pockets and stole for the living — until he tried to steal from the wrong person,” Riddle’s pale faced practically glowed in the moonlight. “And who was that wrong person?”

“You!” the crew shouted.

Draco felt the bile rising into his throat.

Riddle smiled, casually resting his hand on the hilt of his bloodstained sword. “Like I said, I took in James Potter. Taught him the art of piracy; he had a natural talent for it. Why, many of you were around the same age as he was, and you all knew him! Some of you were even his,” Riddle sneered, “friends. But then, while in London, he met that common girl, Lily Evans. And we all know what happened next, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do!”

Riddle began pacing the deck. “James betrayed us! He sold us out to work for King George! He grew tired of our plundering and our ‘ruthless’ ways of pirating. He didn’t like it. Said that Lily thought it was horrible. So he turned his back on us! Gave our names to the King, made us hide and wait while the Crown searched us out.”

Hermione struggled against her bonds, only to be held back by Avery and Dolohov. “You liar! James Potter was an honest man! A good pirate! He never worked for you!”

Riddle turned to her, a smirk on his thin lips. “Oh, really, Princess?”

He stalked to her, his unnatural red eyes locked on her brown ones. Leaning close, he whispered, “Then how did I know where the Potters were that fateful day? How did I know James’ every move and weakness?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Riddle leaned closer, almost resting his cheek against Hermione’s. He breathed into her ear, “Because I was the one who taught them to him,” before stepping back. He then said to Dolohov and Avery, “Lock her below. Tonight, we celebrate and tomorrow we hunt.”

With a dismissed hand wave, Avery and Dolohov picked Hermione up.

“No!” she screamed, twisting and kicking her legs out. “No! Stop it! Let go of me!”

The crew laughed as they watched the princess be taken below and ultimately locked into the brig’s prison cells. Draco stood off to one side, wondering if he could free her or find that missing piece.

“Surprising, wasn’t it?” a voice asked.

Draco jumped, surprised, and saw his father standing a few feet away. In the background, the crew was cheering, drinking; singing and laughing, and someone had brought out a lute to play on.

“What was?” Draco drawled, leaning casually against the railing.

Lucius raised a blond eyebrow. “The Captain’s story. I don’t believe you knew about James Potter’s illustrious past. I’m quite sure that the son doesn’t know either. You could lord it over him when you see him.”

“I won’t be seeing him, though,” Draco automatically replied.

Lucius gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “Don’t be too sure. In fact, Captain Riddle has a mission personally for you. Come.”

Draco followed his father to Riddle’s personal cabin. The hallway leading in to the Captain’s quarters was dark, with only a single chandelier swaying above them to the ocean’s waves.

Lucius knocked once on the door marked Captain. A sharp voice answered, “Enter, Lucius.”

Lucius opened the door and fluidly stepped in, while Draco followed at what he hoped was a leisurely pace. He prayed that the men couldn’t hear his heartbeat.

“Ah, young Malfoy,” the serpentine man smirked, standing slowly from behind his mahogany desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Draco sat in a vacant chair while his father stood slightly behind him. Draco’s eyes returned to Riddle, who was now sitting back in his chair. Riddle had his fingers steeped, and was watching Draco carefully.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Draco asked, trying not to fidget and to not stare at Riddle too long.

Riddle lowered his hands. “Little Dragon, I believe your father calls you at times.”

“Yes,” Draco wondered where this conversation was going. He let his ice coloured eyes wander the room with interest, noting the excessive amount of torture devices.

“I have a job for you.”

Draco’s eyes whipped back to look at the Captain. Riddle continued on, enjoying his shocked expression.

“Oh, don’t be so surprised. I know you have failed to bring the Potter boy down in the past, but I believe that giving you another chance is only fair. Mind you, it is your last chance, Draco. After this, why,” here Riddle gave a little sigh, “your punishment for failure is to be decided by your father and approved by me.

“Enough said. Allow me to tell you of my little trap. A trap that will have Potter fall right into my very hands…”

>><<

Draco was pacing, his hands tightly clenched behind his back, his head bowed. Over and over he heard the plan that he was to help spring on Harry Potter, his nemesis. And to spring the trap, he would have to go onboard the Marauder and convince Potter that he turned against his father and was essentially ‘good.’

But he wasn’t. Draco wasn’t a good person, and he hadn’t turned against his father, not really.

He didn’t like the bugger that much, but he also didn’t like Potter, which made things a bit more complicated.

“Would you stop that? You’re giving me a headache.”

Oh, and then there was the other, annoying part of the trap. To tell Potter that his lovely princess had been captured and was to be executed the following week unless he gave himself and the Marauder’s Map up.

Draco glanced over at the young woman who sat with her legs crossed on the floor of the dirty cell. Princess Hermione Granger wasn’t anything what Draco expected. When he had come down into the cells, he thought he would find a hysterical, crying, screaming princess demanding to be let out.

Instead, Hermione Granger was sitting on the floor, carefully studying her surroundings and the lock. She hadn’t yelled or fainted when he walked in, and she hadn’t tried to pick the lock either. She was calm.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Draco muttered sarcastically. “I didn’t mean to give you a headache.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s obvious that you’re thinking about something important. Something you don’t really want to do. But do you think you can do it without the pacing?”

Draco sneered. “You’re the prisoner. You shouldn’t be making demands.”

“Please?” she replied in a sickeningly sweet voice, batting her eyelashes.

Draco choked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and stretched her legs out in front of her. Draco eyed her clothes with distaste.

“Who ever heard of a woman — a princess — wearing men’s clothing?” he drawled, hoping to hit some sort of sore spot with her.

Hermione shrugged. “They’re comfortable. You wear them, too. And it’s not like I’m back at the Palace anyway.”

Draco fell unceremoniously to the floor in front of Hermione on the other side of the cell. “Whose are they?”

“Harry’s pants and top. I tried to wear Ginny and Luna’s clothes, which worked at first, but then they got really dirty from all the work I did onboard the Marauder, so Harry lent me some of his,” Hermione replied casually, as if she was talking to him at a masque and not in a prison cell.

The two fell silent. Then, Hermione spoke again, but this time her voice was serious and quiet. “You have to go to Harry, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” answered Draco.

“You have to trap him?”

“Yes.”

Hermione paused. “Can… can I write to him, please?”

Draco looked up from his boots to the young woman in front of him. She didn’t look so strong now, Draco thought. Biting his lower lip, he wondered what harm would come to anyone if she wrote to Potter.

“Only if I can oversee what you’re writing,” he finally decided. “That way, nothing incriminating gets let out.”

Hermione laughed, agreeing. Draco went off to find some parchment and a quill, while Hermione contemplated what she was going to write. Soon, Draco returned.

He handed her the items through the bars, and watched as she dipped the nib in the ink and then positioned it over the paper.

Out loud, she read to him what she was writing. “Dear Harry,” she began, “Currently I am a prisoner of Tom Riddle. He plans on using me as bait — he wants the map and believes that it is rightly his… that is a long story in itself. Please don’t come after me. I would rather die than have you be killed on my account. Find the treasure and take it. I only wish to tell you again that I love you, and that I want you to be careful.”

Here, Hermione looked at Draco. He caught her staring at him and asked, “what?” rudely. When she didn’t say anything, but continued staring, Draco raised an eyebrow and stared right back.

Finally, she sighed, and dipped the nib back into the inkwell. “Please,” she wrote, “listen to Draco Malfoy, for both our sakes. Hermione.”

“Why would you write something like that?” Draco asked, gathering the supplies and her letter. He tucked the letter into his pocket and placed the supplies in the bag he had brought down.

“Because,” Hermione said in a small voice, “I think there’s more to you than what you let on. And because I think I can trust you. Can I?”

Draco let her words sink into his brain, wrapping themselves around him. Finally, he answered, “I don’t know.”

“You will deliver the letter, won’t you?” Hermione asked, playing with the end of the beige shirt.

Draco nodded. “I’ll give it personally to Harry. I promise.” At her look, he continued, “A Malfoy never breaks his promises.”

Hermione nodded, satisfied. “Thank you, Draco.”

Surprised, Draco could only nod, before scrambling out of the brig’s holding cells as fast as he could.

He was on the Dragon in record time, issuing orders and commanding his crew to his will. He didn’t even know where to start looking for Potter, but he figured he’d be around Tortuga as well. He wouldn’t have gotten too far.

>><<

Harry was moping. He was depressed and sad and he missed Hermione like hell. He shouldn’t have left her in Oliver’s care back in Scotland, but he knew he had no other choice. It just wasn’t safe for her to be with him — what would her parents say? Think? Her people? They would attack her like rabid dogs and he couldn’t let that happen.

“You’ve got it bad,” commented Ron, grinning gleefully on Harry’s couch in his captain’s quarters. “C’mon, say it. You’re in loooove.”

“I am not,” Harry replied childishly. He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, sticking his feet on top of his desk. He assumed a masculine pose. “I just… miss her. That’s all. It’ll be quiet around here now.”

A cry of alarm sounded, and gunfire erupted. Ron glanced at Harry, a twinkle in his eyes as he did so.

“You were saying?” laughed Ron, as the two jumped up and made their way on to the deck, their swords drawn and pistols cocked and ready.

The two burst out onto the deck, their pistols aimed at the young man with pale blond hair. He had his hands in the air and was glaring at Harry’s crew maliciously.

“Potter!” Draco shouted, “Call off your bloody guards. One of those numerous Weasley’s took my sword and pistol, which I want back undamaged, by the way.”

Harry frowned, pocketing his pistol and lowering his sword. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

Draco took a single step forward, only to have Ron’s sword point prick his neck. “Oy, Potter. Give me a break here.”

Harry nodded. “Lower your weapons, gentlemen.”

“And ladies!” Ginny piped up somewhere in the back of the crowd surrounding Malfoy. The crew chuckled, but other than that, their wary eyes were trained on the blond.

Draco managed to get close enough to Harry to reach into his shirt. Ron tensed again and placed his sword against Draco’s neck, but Draco shot Ron a look and removed a letter instead of a weapon. Ron’s sword dropped and Draco growled.

“If there is any blood on me, Weasel, I swear to all that is Holy you will be needing a peg leg and eye patch when I’m done with you!”

Harry’s mouth twitched in amusement but he covered it quickly with a cough. “What’s this, Malfoy? A letter giving me my privateering rights back? How kind of you to deliver it in person when you were the one to out me.”

Draco sneered. “Think again, Potter. It’s a love letter from your dearest Hermione.”

Harry paled, his sword falling from his lifeless fingers as he grabbed the parchment and broke the seal. His eyes darted back and forth as he read it, his knuckles turning white as he did so, and a muscle began ticking under his left eye.

When he was done, he folded the letter back up and swore softly, pushing his glasses further up his nose with his index finger.

“Is it really from her?” asked Colin fearfully.

Harry nodded, turning to look at Draco. “How’d you get this?”

“She gave it to me. She really is Riddle’s prisoner, and yes, they’re going to use her as bait. I am to tell you that I’ve gone all ‘good’ and I want to help you, which means help you find the treasure as well,” Draco explained, crossing his arms.

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked, frowning. His emerald eyes flashed with annoyance as he snapped, “If this is only for the treasure…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter. Yes, of course it’s about the treasure, but it’s more than that. You’re got something I’ll never have — someone to love. And you know what? She really loves you. She loves you enough to tell you not to come, because she’d rather die. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Harry swallowed. “Why are you betraying your father and Riddle?”

Draco snorted. “Riddle’s daft. He’s bloody mad. All he wants is to ruin the Potter name and get the treasure. As your princess says, it’s a nice, long story that you can discuss with Riddle when you fight him later. As for my father…” Draco trailed off and shrugged. He glanced away. “We don’t always see eye-to-eye.”

Harry nodded. Thinking carefully, he tucked Hermione’s letter into his waistband, and took a deep breath. He stared at Draco much like Hermione had done earlier that morning, reading him.

Finally, he asked, “Do you know what they’re planning?”

“Yes,” he replied, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Does that mean you trust me?”

Harry nodded, despite Ron’s “Harry, no!”

“Hermione says to trust you, and I will,” he answered, turning his back and motioning him to join him in the captain’s quarters. “But mark my words, Malfoy — if you try anything idiotic, I will have your guts for garters.”

Draco nodded. Harry continued, “You’ll help find my treasure, Malfoy, and we’ll go along with this crazy charade that Riddle planned. Do we have an accord?”

Draco frowned. “I require sixty percent of the treasure for my assistance.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “And you’ll only get twenty.”

“Done!”

The two faced each other and shook hands. Then, Draco grinned. “Let the games begin.”

>>*<<

AN: Whew! All right… so I wasn’t sure when I’d get the real chapter 7 out, but here it is! Thanks to lovely Katie for her wonderful beta’ing. And of course, for the guidance at my school for giving me a spare, which means I come home every day at 12:30 now! Whoopee! I thought that I’d be doing a lot of work, but it appears that I needn’t just worry… the next couple of weeks will be a doozie.

So. Seventeen pages of pirate goodness! Wow. Thanks to everyone who is wishing me luck to get into the University of Toronto – I’ll let you guys know (if you care) by late March-April, when a next chapter will be out. Also, if you’re looking for news or updates on this story, or any other you found you liked, check out my fanfiction and real LiveJournal found on my bio page. Smooches. Read, review and enjoy, Kneazle [Feb.11.04]

8. Skulls 08

Skulls and Crossbones

By: Kneazle

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate and Hayes, Disney’s Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Princess Bride, Disney’s the Little Mermaid, Disney’s Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island, The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three Musketeers.

~*~

Chapter Eight

Draco stood leaning casually against the smooth wood rail that was near the ship’s pilot. Harry stood next to him, his eyes scanning the rolling blue-green waves.

“So… where are we going?” Draco asked.

“Devil’s Inlet.”

Draco nearly got whiplash from moving his head to face Harry. “Excuse me, mate? I thought I heard you say ‘Devil’s Inlet.’ I know you could not have said that, because no one goes there and survives.”

Harry merely grinned. “Well, obviously someone did, because that is where my father’s treasure is located. Somewhere on Devil’s Inlet.”

Draco grumbled. “Well, it doesn’t help that you don’t have the last piece.”

Harry stilled. His emerald eyes became fixed on Draco. “What did you say?”

Carelessly, Draco repeated himself. “I said, it doesn’t help that you don’t have the… last…”His eyes widened and he realized what he had just slipped.

Harry’s fingers sprawled across Draco’s neck, crushing his windpipe. His eyes blazed in the fading twilight and a scowl replaced his normally stoic features. “Tell me everything. Now.”

Draco was trying to claw Harry’s hand away from his neck, all the while calling out hoarsely, “Riddle. He has the last piece. It was on the Princess.”

Harry’s fingers twitched reflexively but he slowly released Draco, anger radiating off of him. “What do you know?”

Draco gulped in deep breaths of air as he backed away from Harry. “Nothing else. Look, Riddle has the piece you need, but you have everything else. You’re safe!”

Harry frowned. “No. I’m not. He has Hermione.”

“So you plan an attack. You’re safe there, too.”

“Like I said, no, I’m not. He has Hermione, and he has the final piece. I’m not safe because I don’t – and won’t – risk Hermione. Is that clear?” Harry frowned. “Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked.

Draco sighed, rubbing his neck gingerly where he was sure there would be some odd bruises later that day. “Potter, do I really have to tell you, or are you that daft? We’re mortal enemies. We’re going to find a fabled treasure that only your father knew about. A fabled treasure that apparently makes peasants kings and kings Gods. I want that treasure. I want to kill you.”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there,” Harry said dryly, raising a single eyebrow. He crossed his arms and cocked a hip to one side as he listened dispassionately to Draco as he spewed out his monologue.

“But,” Draco flashed a feral grin, “but to do all that, I need to help you first. You can go and kill Riddle, I’ll be fine and dandy with that – but then it’s you and me.”

Harry shook his head, letting the tip of his chin rest against his chest. His shoulders shook with sarcastic laughter. “Let me get this straight – you’re going to help me find the treasure. Okay, fine. Then, you’re going to help me take out your father and Riddle. I understand that too. But then you think you can kill me? Me, the notorious Harry Potter, the one you fought before and lost to?” Harry paused, before smiling. “You’re on, Malfoy. We have an accord.” His eyes were narrowed and fixed on the blond before him. “Don’t betray me. Savvy?”

Draco gulped audibly, noticing Harry’s glinting eyes. “Savvy,” he replied in a breathless voice.

The crew of the Marauder waited patiently until dark, coasting through the thick, murky water that surrounded Devil’s Inlet. The brig dodged boulders that jutted out of the black water, like fingers of skeletons that led them to their death.

No stars shone in the black sky, as clouds coiled and gathered, and the rumble of thunder was heard in the distance.

“Will they be there?” asked Ron to Harry, standing by the pilot.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m going to Devil’s Inlet with my crew and we’re going to look for Riddle’s camp. Once there, we’ll take his map and find that damn treasure. If Hermione’s there, it’s an added plus; but I wouldn’t put it pass Riddle to leave her onboard the Dark Mark.”

“Did you just say, ‘damn treasure’?” Ron’s incredulous voice rose over the silent deck. A few members glanced up at them, but Harry’s angry glare had them going back to their work.

“Yes, that damn treasure,” repeated Harry, a frown marring his face. “I don’t want that anymore, Ron. I just want to make sure Hermione’s safe.”

“Aha!” the redhead cried. “So you finally admit it. You love her.”

Harry bowed his head. “And I’m going to lose her if I don’t do something to save her.”

Ron frowned, confused as to why Harry didn’t say that he loved her, after his obvious announcement, but sighed. “Well, if you’re going to save her – and that’s a big if she is on the island – you’re going to need a plan.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. Ron grinned.

“And that’s where I come in.”

>><<

The island’s foliage was dense and thick. The air was heavy with heat and the ever-present thunderclouds rolled leisurely above the island; if one of the crewmembers were to look up, they would barely have a chance to see the puffy, dark gray clouds, because the trees were so thick and abundant in the jungle.

Harry led the crew with Draco and Ron behind him. In his hand, Harry had his cutlass and pistol; he systematically cut the large, star-shaped leaves out of his way, his eyes narrowed with determination. All he wanted to do was to get to Hermione, and make sure she was safe. He hoped that she wasn’t too hurt, and that she was on the island to make things easier, but he knew, deep in his gut, that Riddle wouldn’t make things easy. He liked to make Harry suffer, and he didn’t show mercy. While it was important to get to Hermione, (after all, Harry did care for her) Harry knew that Malfoy was the weakest link in the chain of Harry’s crew. One wrong move, and Harry would know where his loyalties lay… something Harry wasn’t too sure of.

After a while, Harry began to slow down. The burning pain in his arm showed that he had been relentless to the greenery around him, but that he was using too much energy too fast.

“Why are we stopping?” asked Ron, in a whisper.

“Because of that, Weasley,” drawled Draco, pointing between two hibiscus bushes and at the flickering firelight. Ron glowered at Draco, sneering lightly before turning his body so that a shoulder was between the two. Draco’s eyebrows rose and he rolled his eyes in response.

“Would you two stop acting like children?” snapped Harry, with uncommon anger. “We’ve got a dangerous mission to do and you two are acting spare!”

Draco just dragged the toe of his buckletop boots across the dirt, shuffling in apology, while Ron mumbled, “S’rry.”

Harry nodded, pleased with their actions (for now), and spoke up. “All right. I want Fred and George to take six members and head around to the north side of the camp to cut them off. We’ll block them in. The last ten of you, I want you to split up and each take the east or west side. Decide now. Draco, Ron,” Harry looked at them. “You’re with me. No funny business, now.”

Ron gave Harry a look, but Draco openly sneered. Then, they slowly moved forward, careful to not get caught on any overturned or loose ground, roots, or snakes. The three of them moved steadily forward, until Harry was sure they were in a prime position to see the whole camp. He glanced back to see Draco behind him, but Ron was staring at something near his face with a look of terror etched on it.

“What is it, Ron?” he hissed.

Ron visibly gulped. “There’s a spider, and it’s right. In. Front. Of. Me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and Draco audibly moaned, “Oh, Lord, not this, not now,” but moved forward, swiping at the spider who had dropped down on a thin web from a hanging branch.

“Grow up, Weasley,” snapped Draco. “We’re here to save the bloody day, not get scared by silly little spiders.”

“It was a big spider,” argued Ron, narrowing his eyes. “Not little.”

“Enough!” Harry whispered furiously. His eyes glittered in the dark as he looked at the two. “Enough with this petty quarrel. Either end it now with a scuffle or get over it. Savvy?”

Draco glared, but Ron nodded. Satisfied, Harry nodded once and then motioned for the three to follow him. The closer they got, the more nervous Harry became. What if Hermione was there and she got caught in the crossfire? What if she was hurt?

“We only need one person to go in there and get the map. Any idea of where it’ll be, Draco?” Harry asked, raising a single eyebrow.

Draco nodded; “Nott’ll probably have it on him.”

“On?” Ron asked. Draco scowled. “Yes, Weasley – on. He’ll probably wear it around his neck for safekeeping.”

“So how do we get it off him?” Harry asked, instead, hoping to diffuse any future verbal attacks between the two.

Draco tapped his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll probably have to use a knife to lift it carefully, and then cut it from his neck.”

“Difficult,” murmured Harry. He was silent, thinking, while Ron nervously looked above himself to make sure no spiders were going to drop on him, and Draco picked at the dirt under his nails.

“Are we going to be here all night, or what?” Draco finally sighed.

Harry turned to him slowly. “I was thinking who would be best to go down there, but I think you just volunteered yourself, Draco,” Harry replied.

Draco stopped cleaning his nails abruptly, blinking at Harry owlishly before moaning, “Bugger.”

>><<

Draco crept silently into the camp, careful of the popping embers in the fire that could arouse any of the sleeping men around it at any time. Draco was sure that the final piece that Harry and he wanted so badly would be in one of the makeshift tents that were erected. Nott, one of the higher up members of Riddle’s crew, would most likely be in one of the rooms.

On the balls of his feet, Draco moved stealthily into the first of three erected tents and allowed his eyes to adjust to the complete blackness around him. Whoever was in there had not left a candle burning for light. A shiny, polished pistol and cutlass were placed within easy reach of the person lying on a mat on the dirt floor.

Draco kneeled slowly, careful of any noise his clothing could make, before glancing at the man’s face. Hollow eyes, taunt skin pulled over cheekbones, and pale brown hair let Draco know that he had made it on the first try – Nott lay before him, asleep, judging by the snores the man was letting out.

Letting out a silent sigh, Draco began to pull out his dagger from his boot. A thin strap of rope lay in an obvious pile at the base of the man’s throat. Draco had the tip of his knife under the coiled rope and slowly pulled it up to see the final piece of the map attached to it through what looked like nail-sized opening.

“Got you,” he breathed, taking two points of the rope and methodically cutting it apart. Once that was done, Draco stood and pocketed the map into his boot, along with the knife after it.

He then turned and left the tent, making sure to check the other two, in case the princess was in any of them. He was sure Potter would ask. In the second tent was nothing but crates of food, ammunition, and pistols. Draco left it after taking two new pistols that looked to be in much better shape than his present one.

In the third tent were maps. Hundreds upon hundreds of maps showing locations that Draco had never heard of, and some he had. Draco let his eyes fall onto the one nearest him, his eyes widening in recognition. It was a map of Devil’s Inlet – a crude one at that, but one nonetheless. Narrowing his eyes, Draco immediately took in all his surroundings and felt a shiver run down his spine. It was time for him to leave the camp, as soon as possible. Now, actually, would be nice.

With that in mind, Draco turned on his heel, carefully scuffling along the dirt floor so that his boot’s soles were not imprinted on the ground, and disappeared into a nearby bush.

>><<

“I didn’t expect Potter to fall for it so easily,” a tall man with blond-white hair and cool blue eyes commented idly.

A pair of red eyes narrowed. “It does not matter. He has the final piece now.” The man smiled and glanced around the camp where his crew was faking sleep. Their eyes were open, but remained unmoving in case some of Potter’s crew was still looking on.

“What now, sir?” Lucius Malfoy asked, his hands folding neatly together behind his back.

Tom Riddle glanced at him. “We follow. We attack,” he grinned. “We take.”

“And then?”

Riddle’s red eyes glowed unnaturally. “We win.”

>><<

Harry’s eyes glowed triumphantly when he saw Draco return, a smirk plastered on his face; however, his eyes did betray the worry and concern that he held. Harry decided he would ask him about it later.

“You’ve got it, I presume?” Harry asked, smiling slightly. “Excellent job, Draco.”

“Thank you, Potter,” he replied stiffly, handing Harry the final piece.

While he had been in the camp, the others had been gathered and Harry was now ready to storm either the camp, or find his long-awaited treasure.

“Brilliant, mate!” Ron crowed, before he realized whom he was complimenting. “I mean, uh, that was easy. Anyone could have done that.”

Draco rolled his eyes, before nodding at Harry. “We’d best hurry up.”

Taking the hint, Harry’s eyebrows rose slightly before calling out, “Let’s go, crew! We’ve got a treasure to find!”

Harry, leading the way, pulled his cutlass out and began to cut a path through the palm trees and bushes, feeling happier than he ever had.

No, he thought, that’s not right. I’m happier than this when I’m with Hermione.

Hermione…I’ll save you. I promise.

With determination in his eyes, Harry continued at a brisk pace, Draco and Ron behind him, the latter who seemed to be humming something under his breath.

With a groan, Harry realized just what song it was. “Ron! This is no time for your ‘yo, ho, ho’ song,” he sighed.

Ron just looked wounded. “But, Cap’n,” Ron whined, but a teasing glint was in his sapphire eyes. “It’s a pirate’s life for me!”

Harry groaned and Draco shot Ron an unreadable look.

Instead, Draco asked, “What does the map say?”

“Twenty-eight paces from the Fist of the Gods,” recited Harry patiently. “We need to find this Fist of the Gods.”

“What’s that?” asked Ginny. Everyone looked perplexed.

“A bush, perhaps?” asked Seamus.

“Maybe a marking of something?” tried Ron. Luna, however, remained smiling.

Harry caught her glance and his lips tweaked. “Well, Luna, why don’t you share what you know?”

Luna smiled gratefully, casting a quick glance at Ron before pointing slowly on an angle slightly upwards and to their north. Harry’s eyes followed her line of sight, until he saw what she was pointing at.

“Excellent, Luna,” Harry murmured, a grin on his face.

Directly ahead of them to the north, on top of a green mountain was a rock – a rock shaped like a large fist.

Laughter sounded at the back of the group, and with a renewed vigor, the crew began their pace through the damp forest to make their way to the mountain.

Once they reached the base of the mountain, Harry informed them to be on their guard in case anything would happen. He would only take Ron, Draco, Ginny and Luna up with him.

The rest of his crew nodded, accepting his decision, and settled down on rocks and against trees to wait. The climb to the top of the ledge where the rock sat wasn’t too tiring, but Harry had other things on his mind – the sooner he found that treasure, the better. Then he’d be able to get to Hermione and live the rest of his life out in relative peace, or so he hoped.

Once at the ledge, Harry returned his gaze to the map while the others scouted. Ron and Luna stood near the very edge of the platform, surveying the island.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, in an awed, whispery voice. Ron glanced down at the shorter woman, and nodded.

“It is,” he agreed, before the tips of his ears turned slightly red. He quickly let his eyes dart forward to take in the lush, deep emerald green covering. There were patches of brown around the rim of the island, dunes filled with sand and shells. And, there was a brief tendril of smoke that was rising – smoke…

“Harry!” shouted Ron, turning on his heel, and pointing in its direction. “The camp has moved! They packed up!”

Harry frowned, glanced once at Draco who gave a small nod, and his frown deepened. “Luna, Ginny, I would hate to ask the two of you, but go down and inform the others. Be careful.”

The two girls nodded and disappeared quickly into the wildlife. Within seconds, Harry couldn’t even hear them anymore.

“We quicken the pace,” Harry informed the remaining pirates. “The map says we moved seventy-five paces from the west of the Fist of the Gods.”

Ron and Draco fell in line behind Harry, glancing around them continuously. Harry began muttering the paces, cutting away methodically.

“Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty – bloody hell!” Harry’s counting was cut off with a frightened call. Ron and Draco reached out for Harry and wrapped their hands around his shoulders and upper arm, holding onto him tightly as they pulled him back from the edge.

Where his next pace was to be, was nothing. The ground gave away to a sheer, red, brown and yellow vertical cliff that delved into greenish blue foaming water that crashed against the stone with loud roars.

Ron whistled slowly. “How do you get into these scrapes?”

Harry shook his head. “Where are the final twenty-five paces?”

Draco frowned and glanced over the edge, sneering. “It looks like its twenty-five out there,” he finally said, pointing to the water.

Ron shook his head. “I doubt it. How about twenty five straight down?” a crooked smile appeared on his face and Harry laughed, clapping him on the back.

“Brilliant!”

The trio got to work, tying a thick cord rope around the base of a tree. They dragged the rope back to the cliff, glancing down more than once while Harry and Draco decided to wrap themselves around the rope securely.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Ron, for the hundredth time. His blue eyes shone worriedly, and he bit his lower lip until it bled.

“I’m sure,” Harry answered. “Get ready to hold our weight. I know you can do it, Ron.” And with that said, he jumped off the ledge and began to skim it slightly with his body inching down.

Draco, he saw, did the same from a few feet above him. They counted as they went down, and when they reached seventy-five, their feet landed on a tiny ledge that was no more than three inches wide.

Before them was an oval, gaping entrance to a darkened cave.

“You find anything yet?!” shouted Ron. Harry tugged on his line to indicate yes, and Draco’s eyes glittered.

“Shall we swing in, Potter?” he asked. Harry nodded, and together they used each other as momentum to swing into the mouth of the cavern.

When they safely landed on the cool rock, Harry and Draco untied their ropes from their waists and looked around.

“Fairly dark, isn’t it?” Draco commented, narrowing his eyes in hopes of seeing further.

Harry wrinkled his nose, wiped at his glasses, and then pulled out his pistol. Draco jumped.

“Christ, Potter, watch where you’re pointing that thing!” he snapped as the barrel grazed over him slightly.

Harry just gave an innocent smile in return, before firing. Immediately a couple yards ahead of them a pile of dried leaves burst into flames.

Draco stared in amazement. “What the bloody hell was that?” he finally shouted.

“‘Let the dead ones guide you; light their fire,’” recited Harry, glancing down at the map. “Apparently, that was a dead body, and we were supposed to ignite it.”

“Apparently,” echoed Draco, rolling his ice-cold eyes. “Let’s continue this, then.”

Harry stepped towards the burning pile of leaves and found a pile of kindle just behind it. He took one branch and lit the end, motioning for Draco to follow him. Harry started moving towards a large gap in the rock, which was dark.

The rock around the gap was light brown, with puddles of water here and there; some droplets of water snaked down from the ceiling’s rock formations and gave a tiny drip-drip as they fell into the puddles. They crept slowly through the passage, which got narrower as they continued on, shivering as cool breezes wafted over them, and when skittering noises were heard behind and in front of them.

“What next?” whispered Draco, one hand placed against the smooth surface.

Harry glanced down at the map and read, “‘Fall down into the belly of the Gods, where you will find what you seek.’”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Draco, frowning. His voice suddenly took on a hard edge.

Harry could only shrug. “I don’t know. I’m only reading what it says here, and it says belly of the Gods. Savvy?”

Draco swallowed. “Where are we supposed to go now?”

Harry turned around, sighing in annoyance. “How am I supposed to know, Malfoy? I’ve never been here before!”

“You should know, this was your father’s!” snapped Draco back. He took a step forward, invading Harry’s personal space, and Harry took one back to keep space between them. His eyes suddenly widened, and his hands windmilled, before he disappeared, letting out a loud cry.

Draco paused. He glanced around, looking for Harry.

“What the hell?” he wondered out loud, before taking a step forward to hopefully crunch Potter’s glasses; instead, he stepped on air and found himself falling face-first against a slippery incline, sliding down a tunnel slide of some sort. When he finally stopped, he landed in a pool of water, inhaling it. He shot to the surface immediately, spitting out the water.

“Damn you, Potter! You always find trouble, don’t you?”

Harry, who was treading water only a few feet from him, glared. “Trouble finds me, I don’t go looking for it!” he replied hotly. “Besides, have you looked around, Malfoy?”

Draco, who hadn’t, did so now. Gold light sparkled off the dark walls, and a few beams of moonlight came filtering from above them, highlighting and landing on a mound of gold and colour only a couple meters away from them. Around the pile of gold was a smooth, flat surface.

“Where are we?” whispered Draco.

“In the belly of the Gods,” Harry replied smugly. “And in the secret cavern where my father hid the treasure.” He pointed upwards, visibly from where they were, at the wall behind the treasure. “The Potter crest.”

Sure enough, there was a picture of two swords crossed and a phoenix rising from between the two. Underneath it, were words indented into the stone. Draco was rubbing his hands together, gleefully, as he stared at the large amount of gold coins, scepters, jewels, and other miscellaneous items there were. He took a couple strokes toward it, mesmerized.

“Malfoy. We don’t have all day. Come here and we’ll start to divvy the gold up; we can’t bring all of it to the Marauder in one go,” said Harry, who had already swum to the far side of the pile, on the smooth rock surface.

“Why should I?” Draco asked slowly. He pulled himself up onto the ground, out of the water, dripping wet and still managing to look dignified.

Harry frowned. “Why should you what?”

Draco flipped his fringe out of his eyes and smirked. “Why should I help you?”

Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Excuse me?”

“You heard right, Potter,” sneered Draco, “Why should I help you, my enemy? We don’t even like each other very much.” He turned and glanced at the gold, the light reflected in his eyes. “After all, you have this large fortune on your hands, and why… I’ll just have to… relieve you of it.”

“You dirty bastard!” shouted Harry, yanking his sword out of its sheath at the side of his left thigh. “You double-crossing little shit-nosed piece of scurvy fungus!”

Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Thank you.” He drew his own sword, the thin streaks of moonlight hitting the metal. “I did always say that I wanted to be the one to kill you, Potter. No one else. You and me.”

Harry glared and took a crisscrossing step over his left, keeping his eyes on Draco.

“One wrong move,” he mouthed, while Draco openly laughed, charging at him. He thrust, and Harry parried; Draco took a step back and lunged again, grazing Harry’s right arm, making him hiss in pain. He took a quick step forward, jabbing at Draco and managing to get the man’s sword arm as well.

“Damn you!” snarled Draco. Harry gave him a cheeky grin, saluting him with his heavy sword. “Tit for tat, Malfoy – tit for tat!”

With a cry of rage, Draco swung the sword through the air, arching down on Harry’s. He did it three times; back and forth, right to left, back to right. Harry moved up with each swing, blocking expertly.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” he crowed, then froze at the déjà vu words that came out of his mouth: they had been Sirius’ last words before he had died.

Harry barely reacted when he saw Draco’s sword sail through the air and aim for the junction between his neck and shoulder, but his brain registered it and Harry nimbly leapt to left, feeling the air moved as the sword came down, inches from where he last stood. The tip of the blade clanged against the rock floor, making sparks fly at the impact. Harry immediately took advantage, kicking Draco’s hand that held the sword. The man grimaced, but held on tight, grabbing onto the hilt with both hands and bringing it up again, this time moving again in the back and forth motion, but Harry kept in pace, stepping back or stepping forward to deliver a hit himself.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry shouted, feeling a roll of sweat travel down the back of his neck. Draco’s normally pale face was flushed and his cheeks were tinted pink.

“Why do you think, Potter?” sneered Draco. “I’ve always wanted your treasure, your title, your everything. You’ve got all you’ve ever wanted while I’ve got nothing!”

“That’s not true! You have a father and mother – someone who loves you, might I remind you, Malfoy – and a home; you’re not an outcast, you best others in duels, so why? Damnit, why?” Harry shouted back.

Draco paused, taking in a deep breath. “Why do you think, Potter? You’re the best. I want to be the one who brought down the best – and take his treasure too, as spoils of war!”

“It’s my legacy!” Harry snarled at the blond man.

“And my future!” Draco shouted back. He lunged again, smacking hard against Harry’s blade. With his knees bent and his elbows at a ninety-degree angle, Harry gritted his teeth and pushed back with all his might.

He toppled to the floor, Draco coming down from above him, but rolled out of the way. Harry then kicked Draco in the stomach, angling his body away from the sword that narrowly missed him.

Instead, Harry swung his sword and connected with the flesh of Draco’s thigh, cutting through the pants and into the skin. Draco’s face paled some more, and he took a few staggering paces back.

“Damn you, Potter. Damn you!”

Harry slowly rose, leaning heavily on his sword. Draco, he knew, was a worthy opponent, one that studied and got better in time. But then again, so was Harry. The two stared at each other for quite some time, before the sound of clapping startled them.

Draco fell backwards into the pool of water, and Harry spun around facing the source, his pistol drawn and aiming at Lucius Malfoy.

His eyes were cool, and a smile played on his lips. He stood clapping slowly, a slow, tempo: clap… clap… clap.

Beside him stood the one man Harry wasn’t ready to face yet. The one man he hated more than anything in the world, and the one man he swore he’d fight and kill one day. The one man whose name was Captain Tom Riddle, pirate, murderer, and scallywag.

“So, we finally meet again,” he said, in his soft, hiss-like voice, his unusual red eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Harry Potter… the prodigal son of James Potter.”

Harry said nothing; he continued to watch Riddle to see what he was planning to do. It had to end now, Harry knew; he was in the same room as his father’s treasure, it would never be safe until all the occupants in the cavern were dead or under blackmail, in Draco’s case.

Riddle took a couple more steps forward, but Harry’s pistol did not waver. “Put it down, boy, you’ve lost this battle. Accept it.”

“I won’t,” he said instead, tilting his chin up in defiance.

Riddle glowered. “Silly boy; you aren’t James. You don’t have his talent. I know your every move, boy. Put it away.”

Harry didn’t; then suddenly there was a loud bang and then a clang as something hit the blade and wretched the sword out of Harry’s hands. He looked from them in shock to see Riddle standing only a few feet away with a smoking pistol in his left hand.

“I did tell you,” he said. With a nod at Lucius, he continued, “Tie them up and bring them to the Dark Mark.”

Harry turned to face Draco in the water. “You little scallywag! You knew! You led them here!”

“I didn’t!” Draco shouted, his eyes wide with fear, horror, and something else. “I swear to God, Potter, I didn’t lead them here, I didn’t know!”

Harry sneered at him, only to find two crewmen of Riddle’s crew at his sides, pulling his arms back and lifting him off the ground. “You’ll pay, Malfoy! I swear it, you’ll pay!”

Draco’s eyes were wide, unstaring, as his father fished him out of the water, cuffing him on the back of his head as he did so; two other crewmen appeared and roughly handled Draco the same way Harry was being treated.

As Harry passed Riddle, he took the chance and rolled the spit in his mouth before hawking it up and letting it fly. The ball of spit landed on Riddle’s cheek, dripping down slowly.

“I’ll see you in Hell before I let your greedy hands on my father’s treasure, you bastard,” sneered Harry.

Riddle coolly wiped the spit from his face, using a white lace handkerchief. He gazed coldly at Harry, saying, “Then we’ll meet again soon, Potter,” before his fist came sailing out of the corner of Harry’s eye and then he knew no more.

>>*<<

AN: Wow! What a delay between the last update and now? *Hides* Sorry everyone! There were some real important real-life issues that I had to deal with and then there was an early acceptance from one of the universities I applied to! Of course, it wasn’t the one I wanted, but hey! Better than none.

Now, I know my beta reader was saying, “Well, it would be nice to know where Hermione is…” it would, I agree! The only thing is that she’s a prisoner on the Dark Mark, right? Anyway – you’ll have your fill of Hermione in the next chapter, and the one after that! There’s going to be some wonderful Harry/Hermione interaction, and oh – a Riddle/Harry and Harry/Draco battle scene. Guess what? Even Fudge makes an appearance too!

So, there are only two more chapters plus the epilogue to go – the latter that is already finished. I feel so Rowling! Hang on tight – Skulls and Crossbones will be done by June, and July marks the beginning of the extremely long-awaited Harry/Hermione “Reincarnated Sins” epic. For more information, check out my fanfiction LiveJournal (fallensupernova as my username) or drop me a “hello” at my RL LiveJournal (kneazle).Read, review, and enjoy! Yours, Kneazle [Apr.10.04]

9. Skulls 09

>>*<<

Chapter Nine

Hermione was sitting with her back against the wood paneling of the Dark Mark, staring ahead of her. She was staring at the keys that were hanging on a peg on a post that was directly opposite her cell. She was hoping that if she stared hard enough, the keys would magically float toward her, land in her hand, and she would be able to get off the blasted boat. She was not going to use proper nautical terms and say or merely think, ‘ship.’

Thinking of proper nautical terms had her thinking of Harry, as he had been the one who had taught her them. Thinking of Harry made her heart ache and her breathing become shallow and come in painful, tiny gasps. She had just got to know him, to have him open up, and now she was going to lose him – from her own folly! Thinking she, the daughter of a king, could take on two of the most ruthless and bloodthirsty pirates the world had ever seen.

Hermione was lost in her thoughts, so deeply that she barely registered the sound of someone’s footsteps. They were clunking down the steep, wooden stairs that led down to the brig where she was currently kept in. Quick and soft, Hermione wondered if it wasn’t someone who would try to take libertines with her. They were acting like they were going to get caught and punished for being down in the brig with her. Hermione quirked her eyebrows and then rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like she could do anything to stop them, anyway.

To her surprise and shock (she was expecting some yellow-teethed, slack-jawed mongrel with leery eyes), it was a small man, no taller than herself, with beady and watery eyes. He was quivering visibly and his hands trembled as he reached for the keys to her cell.

“Who are you?” Hermione demanded in her best royalty voice.

The man glanced up at her, squeaked decidedly like a rat, and dropped the keys. He grumbled slightly under his breath, but picked them up and tried to place them in the lock. Instead, they scraped the keyhole, hitting everywhere but the actual hole.

“Are you trying to play with me, or do you really want me to get out of here?” Hermione finally sighed, after watching the man bumble about.

The man offered Hermione a blatantly annoyed glare, but Hermione, with a huff of impatience, reached her hand through the bars, grabbed the keys, and placed the right one into the lock. She then twisted it and listened to the click that signaled her freedom.

“There!” She smiled, “Was that so hard?”

The man took three quick steps back in succession, twisting his hands together as he regarded the young royal. “Most of the crew is sleeping. You should be able to find somewhere to hide.”

Hermione raised a quizzical eyebrow, and took a guess as she spoke. “And why exactly should I believe you? You’re a part of the crew that kidnapped me! You’re a part of the crew that slaughtered my love’s parents and left him orphaned!”

The man winced at the accusations. “I… I never meant for it to happen.”

Hermione paused. “Excuse me?”

“I never wanted James and Lily to be hurt – for Sirius to die! Oh, God, no. Never!” the man practically wailed.

Hermione scrutinized him, finally putting a name to the man who is had recognized only slightly – but enough to know that he did something wrong. “You’re Peter Pettigrew. You’re the one who knew where the Potters’ were going to be that night.” She fixed him with a hard stare as she hissed, “You sold them out.”

Pettigrew clutched at his sides and slid to the floor, keening. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t!”

“It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t, they’re dead,” Hermione said bluntly, standing with her hands on her hips. “And I want to know why you’re helping me.”

Pettigrew took in a deep breath and then laid his head back to rest against the wall. “You love Harry. I took all that once made him happy. I will not take you, too.”

“So you’re helping me escape… slightly?” Hermione clarified as she looked around the brig’s dungeon for some sort of weapon.

“Yes!” the short man nodded enthusiastically. “I always knew Harry would pick a smart one!”

Hermione looked to the heavens before finally asking, “So what now?”

Pettigrew looked stumped. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Pettigrew fixed his beady eyes on her, lingering. What he said next made shivers run down Hermione’s spine.

“Riddle has Harry.”

>><<

Ron watched from behind the boulder he was crouching beside, as his best friend and worst enemy were leg shackled with irons and then tousled likes turkeys. Harry’s head was lolling about, and Ron clearly understood that he was unconscious. Draco, he was surprised to see, was glaring furiously at his father and Riddle (No doubt wondering why he was also shackled, Ron thought).

“You’re sick, you know that?” Draco snarled. Ron started in surprise, nearly falling on his behind. He glanced down to place his hand somewhere secure but his breath caught in his throat when he spied a giant tarantula slowly creeping toward his spot. Whimpering under his breath, Ron counted to ten, picturing Luna in his shirt and sword belt only (it seemed to help calm him down, but caused his blood to flow in another direction entirely).

Finally, the spider moved away, scurrying across dead leaves and twigs, but Ron had missed the majority of the conversation between Riddle, Draco and his father in his fear.

“… You knew what the plan was,” snapped Riddle, “and you failed. You will suffer the consequences this time, young Dragon. I stepped in for you once before, but no longer. Now, as you decided to make your own, adult decisions, you will face your won adult penalties.”

“Potter is just a figure to you!” Draco snapped back. “All he is, is something that represents his father – someone who beat you using your own methods!”

Methods? What?? Ron pondered, wincing as Malfoy senior’s closed fist struck Draco smartly on the side of his head. Draco crumpled to a heap next to Harry.

Riddle gazed down on them for a few moments before saying, “Take them to the Dark Mark.” A grin split his face in two. “We’ll deal with them there, along with the princess.”

And then Riddle and Malfoy disappeared into the thick foliage, Draco and Harry being dragged along behind them.

Ron stood on shaking legs, his eyes darting all over the place. Odd sounds and creaks from the jungle were louder than ever, and every pop and crack sent Ron tumbling and spinning around, his pistol waving around the air aimlessly.

“Oh, hell, this is just plain stupid, Weasley,” he admonished himself quietly. He replaced his pistol and slapped himself a few times on the face.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “Harry’s captain, but he’s taken. Draco seems to be a good bloke after all. Hermione’s been kidnapped for real, and Riddle is going to use her for something.”

Ron slapped himself once more, before his eyes lit up in the darkness. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he raced down a beaten trail to where Luna and Ginny were waiting.

“Help. Help, I need help,” he said between ragged breaths. “And Wood and D’Orrlyon are just the ones for this mission.”

>><<

Oliver Wood wasn’t a pirate. He was just a simple Scottish Laird who happened to one day meet Harry Potter and the Richmondshire princess, Hermione Granger. He hadn’t asked to have Hermione kidnapped from his own home – just as he hadn’t asked for Blaise Zabini, one of the most (rumored) ruthless pirates to ever exist, stumble over his words and ramble on until Oliver realized that he was in some serious trouble.

The first thing Oliver needed, he realized, was help. And that help had come in the form of the high-ranking Duke, Albus Dumbledore. With him had been his wife, the Duchess, Minerva McGonagall-Dumbledore (Oliver had great respect for the former Scottish woman who could trace her family back to the days when the British and Scottish were at the highest peak of animosity to each other), Sir Remus Lupin and Sir Severus Snape.

Blaise, Oliver was slightly amused to see, had been very surprised at Severus Snape’s appearance, as he kept mumbling, “traitor, spy… no, betrayed?” over and over.

“We thought that something like this might happen,” confessed Remus sadly. “The King has told Severus and I that we are to do whatever it takes to get the Princess back, even if it means declaring war.”

“I will not come to that, I believe,” inputted Dumbledore. “I have a meeting with our King of England, and I can… ah, persuade him not to accept open warfare against Richmondshire.”

“Well, that’s one step in the right direction,” murmured Severus sardonically. “But that doesn’t tell us what will happen next.”

Minerva shook her graying head. “Riddle thrives on predictability. He does everything in patterns – in routine. He won’t not do routine, because he wants people to know where he is, what he’s planning. He’s never really been secretive. He knows what he wants and goes after it.” She paused, settling on what might have been a memory and continued in a softer tone, “He’ll want us to find him and try to stop him. Because he wants the attention.”

Oliver took all this in and then said, in what he knew to be a very wry voice, “Are you trying to tell me that Captain Riddle is just a little lost kid inside who wants someone to appreciate him?”

Dumbledore nodded. “In essence, yes.”

“Well, bugger me!” Blaise’s off-comment dispersed the tension in the room.

“Yes, well said, Mr. Zabini,” laughed Dumbledore. “I suppose this means we’ll have to ready the ships for battle?”

Oliver nodded. “Apparently.”

And that was why he found himself as a guest on the Dragon, watching Blaise captain the ship toward the Caribbean, hoping they could make it on time. Hermione had only been kidnapped two days ago to Oliver, meaning Harry was likely to not even know of her disappearance yet as he was currently sailing toward the Caribbean himself.

That meant that Blaise, Oliver, Dumbledore and his crew (which consisted of government spies and misfits and Riddle’s traitors) might – might – have a chance of helping should the worst happen.

Oliver thought that wasn’t very bloody likely.

>><<

The smell of salt and unwashed bodies made Harry choke and gag when he first regained consciousness. The creaks and groans of various moorings and ropes straining told him that he was on the Dark Mark, the prisoner to the man who murdered his family.

Opening his eyes, Harry took in his surroundings; four pirates who were carefully watching him were guarding him. One was even sharpening his cutlass with exaggerated, sharp movements that made Harry gulp. A groan from beside him made Harry glance to his left.

They had tied Draco Malfoy up as well. Curious, Harry shifted his body to a sitting position, leaning his back against a wooden crate that smelled of pineapples. He then watched as Draco Malfoy slowly gained his bearings and looked around.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured under his breath.

“I quite agree,” said Harry, with an amused tone. There was no point looking for an escape at the moment; he was quite content to sit and wait and see what would happen next. Riddle, if anything, was predictable, and Harry knew him. He knew that Riddle would enjoy their prolonged and torturous stay. He wouldn’t talk to them, or crow victory. He would let them rot and see how long their sanity would stay intact.

Most of the crew was lounging around the deck, picking at dirt under their nails while others slept. Harry spied at least three on the deck keeping watch, and two in the crow’s nest, which was highly unusual.

I suppose they figure that word has been sent out and that there will be people coming after us, thought Harry, confirming it with a mental nod; Ron wasn’t with them, and neither was Luna or Ginny. Clearly they escaped and got word to the right people – Remus, Severus, Dumbledore and more. The ministry and King would be involved now, especially Hermione’s. Harry paled. Hermione.

Turning back to Draco, he asked, “Where’s Hermione? Is she all right? Is she safe?”

The blond frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”

Harry sighed. He bowed his head and shifted slightly his position, but unfortunately, this alerted some Death Eaters nearby that he was awake.

They began to call out jeers and laughter; a group came to where Draco and Harry were and forcefully pulled them to their feet, shoving and poking at them until a ring of the pirates surrounded them. Harry and Draco stood back to back, glowering and holding their heads high.

Finally, the laughter died down. All that could be heard was the sharp smacks of the waves hitting the side of the Dark Mark, and the occasional caw from a seagull. Nervously, a few of the pirates moved aside, their heeled boots making sharp clacks on the floorboards, only to reveal Voldemort standing nonchalantly with his arms crossed.

“Well, well,” he said with a smirk. “How the mighty have fallen.”

Harry winced but remained emotionless.

“Come, now, Potter,” goaded Voldemort, “don’t you want to know where your precious princess is?”

“I’m sure you’d tell me even if I don’t ask,” sneered Harry through clenched teeth. He tossed his head back, similar to a horse, and stared Tom Riddle in the eye. “Go on then. Do you worst.”

Voldemort chuckled. “Oh, no, I don’t think that will be much fun.” He glanced at one of the many pirates around him. “Lucius, please go get our royal guest.”

Bowing, Draco’s father turned on his heel and disappeared down the hatch, his stride determined and purposeful.

Voldemort decided to move toward the two young men. “You know, it doesn’t have to end like this, Harry.”

With each word he hissed, his steps grew closer. Harry never took his eyes of his enemy.

“You could join me. Become one of my pirates, my crew, my family. You could be great you know; it’s all there in your head, and you by my side would help you along to greatness.”

Harry sneered. “You murdered my parents. You took away my godfather; I would rather die than join you! Nothing – absolutely nothing – will change my mind!”

Before Voldemort had a chance to reply, Lucius appeared out of the hatch, his eyes flinching. “My Lord?”

“What is it, Lucius?” asked Voldemort in a bored tone.

Stuttering, but trying not to, Malfoy said slowly, “It seems that the young Princess has… has, um, managed to… managed to fly the coup.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he turned to face Lucius. “Say that again.”

“The Princess is… um… she’s not in her cell, milord.”

“WHAT?”

Lucius bowed his head in shame, and Voldemort sneered. “Must I do everything myself? FIND HER!”

While the crew began to search the vessel actively, Voldemort took a few calming breaths and turned his unnatural red eyes on Draco, giving what he thought was a pleasant smile. “And you, my young Dragon? Have you been so turned from me for him?”

Draco didn’t say anything, but Harry felt him tense. He knew Draco was more susceptible to Voldemort than he was; he had always been fighting the man while Draco grew up believing he was the best thing since special licenses had been introduced.

“Don’t listen to him, Draco, he’ll just use you and kill you,” muttered Harry, bending his neck slightly to face Draco better. Draco said nothing, his eyes darting back and forth.

“I can give you power, fame and glory.”

“He’s lying, he can’t give you that, you earn it—”

“—You’ll always be a traitor to them, they’ll never trust you—”

“—He’ll just use you, you’re nothing to him, just another pawn—”

“—Dragon, make your family proud, make your father proud, renounce Potter—”

“—You know they’ll just hurt you, listen Draco, please—”

“—I can give you anything!”

“—He can’t, there’s nothing in the world that he has that can change your mind—like nothing can change mine…”

“Found her!” a voice called, and Hermione was shoved into view from behind some crates, the pirate grabbing her by her thick hair, while she clawed at his hand and screeched. “Let me go, let me go, you brute!”

Harry felt the bottom of his stomach disappear and knew that instant that his last uttered words were a lie. The only thing that would ever change his mind was Hermione safety: something he knew that would now be in jeopardy.

Tears were in Hermione’s eyes at the rough handling of her hair and body, as she was shoved onto her knees before Voldemort. She refused to look at him, but a quick glance at Harry’s now pale face gave her all the information that she needed. Both he and Draco looked pale, tired and worn out; there was no way either of them would be able to fight the whole crew, even with her help and the few fencing lessons she had.

“You were saying, Potter?” Voldemort asked coolly. “Nothing would change your mind?” he mused out loud, walking slowly around Hermione. She closed her eyes and counted her breathing, hoping to not become any more scared than she already was. The wrong move, the wrong word, and everything could go wrong.

“Leave her out of this, Riddle,” said Harry forcefully. “Don’t you hurt her!”

“Why, Potter? Why should I? You’re nothing but a thorn in my side, always wanting what is rightfully mine! That treasure is MINE! Do you understand that? That is my gold!” the pirate leader began shrieking. “I taught your father everything! Everything! Do you know what it feels like to have everything that you taught an ungrateful brat be used against you?”

“No, I don’t,” replied Harry. “You took that from me.”

Voldemort sneered and, grabbing a fistful of Hermione’s hair, yanked her head back making her gasp. He unsheathed his sword and looked at Harry, who was now struggling against his bonds and the two pirates who were holding him.

“What are you going to do now, Potter?” asked Voldemort softly. “Can you save her now?” He glanced down at Hermione. “Stand up, girl.”

Hermione did so slowly, never removing her eyes from Voldemort’s face. “Now, turn, and walk toward the plank.”

Heart in her throat, Hermione did so, all the time aware of Harry’s eyes in her back.

“Leave her alone, Riddle, it’s me you want, not her! She’s nothing to this, just another victim of yours! Let her walk, let her be!” Harry was shouting.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” intoned Voldemort cruelly. “You clearly have feelings for the girl, so what a better way to break you than to make you watch her walk the plank?”

Harry sneered. “You do that, and I promise you, I will rip you to shreds.”

“I’d like to see you try,” laughed back Voldemort.

Hermione turned around, only to see the glittering point of a sword pointing at her middle.

“Walk.” Voldemort commanded. Hermione didn’t need any extra nudge. Slowly, she placed one foot behind her, edging her way to the end of the plank.

“Stop!” Harry’s voice was filled with despair.

Hermione, Voldemort and the rest of the pirates turned to look at Harry questioningly.

His head was bowed, his black hair covering his face. Draco, next to him, rolled his eyes skyward and then, too, bowed his head.

When Harry raised his head, Hermione bit back a cry. His eyes were rimmed red from trying not to cry, and his lower lip was caught between his teeth, a trail of blood running down to his chin. “I will join you if you promise to leave Hermione alone and set her free.”

Draco huffed in annoyance next to him.

Voldemort lowered the sword pointing at Hermione and tapped it thoughtfully against the wood flooring. Glancing at Hermione, he motioned two of his guards to pull her back onto the ship and bind her.

“I won’t agree to your terms, Mr. Potter,” said Voldemort coldly, “But I promise, on my word as a pirate and on pain of death, that there will be no harm to Ms. Granger until you are dead.”

Harry nodded slowly.

“In that case,” Voldemort laughed, “give this boy back his sword.” His eyes glittered madly in the fading light as a fast wind caught the crew and rocked the ship, dark clouds spiraling in from the north.

Only when Harry caught his sword and his bonds were cut, did Voldemort speak again. “And now… we duel.”

>><<

AN: [Feb.09.05] Um… *cowers* please don’t hurt me! I am SOOO sorry that it has taken me so long to get this chapter out. University is a LOT harder than I thought it would be, especially when October and December came around and it was midterms and exams. Also, I met my boyfriend at that time, and the evil TV shows like America’s Next Top Model and Lost began as well, both of which I promptly became addicted to.

This chapter is much shorter than the usual 10 pages I aim for – it’s only 6… but I hope that it’s enough to tide you over to chapter 10, the last chapter… and then the epilogue, which you all might want to know is already finished. Please excuse any style differences or noticeable changes, as the last time I wrote this chapter was probably in the summer. *cries* Since then, I personally have changed, my style has changed, and my music taste (damn my boyfriend and my close friend both!) has changed from rocker-ish to trance.

THANK YOU SO MUCH, for those who have waited and kept checking for new chapters. I hope I haven’t disappointed any of you – and I hope the next, and last, chapter will be out before exams in April. Reading Week is coming up (if I survive my first clubbing experience at Destiny 49’s “Together as 1” on Saturday-Sunday and Valentine’s!) so I hope to have more time to write the last chapter.

Cheers – Kneazle

10. Skulls and Crossbones 10

Skulls and Crossbones

Kneazle

Summary: AU. Harry seeks revenge against Captain Tom Riddle, who killed his parents in a sea battle 19 years ago. But before he can avenge them, he must return a runaway Princess to her family and find his father's hidden treasure… before his enemies do

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. Ideas are taken from Peter Pan, Peter Pan: Return to Neverland, Hook, The Adventures of Nate & Hayes, Disney's Shipwrecked, Captain Ron, Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, the Princess Bride, Disney's Muppet Treasure Island, Cutthroat Island and The Three Musketeers

--*--

Chapter Ten

It was storming. There was the fresh smell of rain mixing with the salt from the sea; Harry could taste it on his lips. He could also taste his sweat, as it ran down from his temples to his lips, and his palms were sweaty. Everything, everything he loved and held dear, was hinging on this battle against Riddle.

He wasn't stupid enough to not realize that Riddle's minion crew would help out; pirates, the majority of them, were like that.

But Harry was special.

Lightning flashed across the dark sky, streaking against the gray clouds that were rolling over them.

Riddle's eyes were a deep blood red, unsettling Harry as he tightened his lips into a thin line. “I'm ready when you are.”

Riddle smirked. “Well then, en garde Mr. Potter.”

Without warning Riddle lunged forward, the tip of his blade parallel to the floor as he closed the distance between the two. Harry, almost shocked, did not move. Instead, he watched the blade come closer and closer, ignoring the sound of the waves crashing against the hull, the squalls of the seagulls and the laughing jeers of Riddles' crew.

With the blade inches from his chest, Harry pivoted on his foot and allowed Riddle to fly by him, tapping the pirates' ass with the blunt end of his sword as a jest.

Laughing, Harry held his arms wide open and sneered, “That the best you can do, Riddle? Honestly, I've seen three-year-olds with better footwork than you!”

The boat rocked up and down, but Harry barely noticed as Riddle's eyes narrowed and with a cry of fury, the two were suddenly engaged in a life-or-death sword fight.

With all his muscle strength Harry pressed his blade against Riddle's: parry, thrust, parry, block, thrust, thrust, defend.

A sheen of sweat was visible on Harry's face and his shirt had melded to his body, damp from the sea. Riddle darted forward, and Harry moved back; Harry moved forward, lightly on his right foot as he danced back and forth, while Riddle mimicked his steps, both avoiding each other.

The battle was a dance of wills and blood and memories; Harry couldn't lose, not with Hermione's life on the line, and not with his honour. This man had murdered his parents and his godfather, and it was time for Harry to collect Riddle's debt.

He was concentrating hard on Riddle that he failed to take notice of his surroundings and the pirates around him. It was Hermione's cry of “Harry!” that alerted him that something was wrong. That brief second of hesitation caused Harry to spin and face Lucius Mafloy and the end of his boot, which slammed into Harry's stomach.

Coughing, and now with his hands and knees on the floor, Riddle laughed and gaily asked, “Is that the best you've got, Mr. Potter? Tsk, tsk, I was expecting great things from you and you are now letting me down!”

Harry glared up at the pirate with barely suppressed anger. “If you'd fight fairly, then I could show you easily how good I am!”

“Then that's not much incentive for me to fight fairly, is it?

“I want to be the best pirate in all of the waters of Earth - and I don't need an upstart teenage boy beating me or tarnishing my record as you've been doing for years, boy!” Riddle snarled at Harry. “So get up! Get up and show me what the great Harry Potter has up his sleeve!”

Snarling, Harry jumped up, his feet slipping and slapping hard on the drenched wooden boards of the deck. Riddle offered a returning snarl, and raised the steel of his sword, glittering off the fading light.

Soon, it would be dark and all there would be to light the way were the few sparingly placed lanterns.

Harry's own sword was raised over his shoulder, swinging down against Riddle's with a loud clang of steel against steel. With a tiny laugh, Riddle stepped one booted foot forward, causing Harry to move back; another step forward and another back - soon Harry found himself at the foot of the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck.

Stumbling onto his knees with a well-placed blow by Riddle, Harry placed a hand behind him, holding himself upright and holding his sword weakly in the other.

Glancing back only briefly, Harry stumbled slowly up the steps to the quarterdeck, continuing to rain blows down on Riddle, who was forced to hold his sword directly in front of him with two hands.

A well-aimed kick to the older man's chest sent the captain of the ship down to the floor. With a roar of anger, the crew began to creep toward Harry, who took the opportunity to run up the stairs.

There, he met three of Riddle's crew who drew their own swords and began to advance.

“Oh, bugger,” the teen muttered, raising his sword with a weak grin. Nott charged at him, a battle-cry issued from his throat. He swung heavily down on the teen, and Harry brought his sword up to parry the attack. Left, right, left, he swung his blade back and forth, only aware by luck that Crabbe had moved forward and was now behind him, his sword horizontal to the ground and ready to skewer Harry.

With a twist of his body, Harry grimaced as his shirt tore, but Crabbe's sword missed him. Nott snarled and deflected the other man's sword and together the two moved toward Harry, who was backing away from them and bumped into the stern's minder.

That man snarled and raised a dagger, but Harry deflected, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it; it broke with an audible snap, and Harry jumped onto the quarterdeck's railing, swinging his sword back and forth, panting with exertion and pain. He couldn't keep this up forever!

Lightning crashed in the background and Harry took a deep breath, grabbing onto the rigging belonging to the main sail. Sheathing his sword, he maneuvered up the rigging quickly, out of harm's way for the time being.

“Come down here and fight, Potter!” screamed Riddle. “You coward! Are you willing to save your own skin over that of you bonny lass here?”

“You leave her out of this, Riddle! It is between you and me, but if you can't fight without your men getting involved, we ought to wait a few minutes!” shouted back Harry, glaring down at the pale man illuminated in the growing moonlight.

“A few minutes?” asked a suddenly perplexed Riddle, just as the man in his Crow's Nest shouted, “SAIL HO!”

“No!” the man screeched. “Potter! I'll have your guts for my dinner!”

Harry laughed. “Empty threats Riddle! Come up here and get your dinner if you want it so bad!”

“Harry!” shouted Hermione in horror, and then in pain as LeStrange backhanded her.

“And you!” Harry roared, pulling his sword out and pointing it at LeStrange, “You're mine!”

The man only laughed and Harry felt his blood boil. He lunged forward, letting go of the rigging and felt the sensation of flying through the air. It was like everything fell away: he no longer had any pressing concerns other than that mast to grab onto; he would beat Riddle and win, and avenge his parents and Sirius - he knew it for certain now.

Suddenly, everything sped up and the mast came at him quickly. Harry grabbed the loose ropes, burning his hands, but didn't drop his sword or slip too far down. He then reached back with his right hand and thrust forward, catching the sail with his blade and let go of the rope.

He could hear Hermione's shrieks and Riddle's yells; but nothing mattered as he kept his eye on Riddle, the two locked on each other as he slid down the sail, the two ends now flapping in the strong wind.

In the distance, a dull thud was heard; seconds later, a large splash threw water up high in the air as a cannonball missed the ship - it was a warning.

Harry's crew had arrived.

Within moments they were level with the Dark Mark and casting grapples onto the enemy ship, and letting out war cries. Soon, the sound of crashing steel against steel was all Harry could hear - his eyes however, saw nothing but Riddle.

“Mine,” Riddle mouthed, and Harry nodded in agreement. A small circle had been made for the two.

Without warning, Riddle lunged and Harry brought up his sword to deflect; once, twice, three times and then Harry darted forward with a slashing motion and Riddle was clutching his left arm, blood bubbling up between his fingers and running down them.

“Lucky,” murmured the older man. “Now, it's my turn.”

Harry responded with a violent unleashing of downward slashes and clashes, his sword gleaming. Waves crashed against the side of the ship, and some men were unfortunately sent overboard. The water turned into a murky blue-black, with white frothing as the waves curled.

Harry blinked, forcing the salt water out of his eyes and ignoring the sting. Riddle seemed unaffected, but both were tiring. Their constant parade of slashes, parries and thrusts was leaving them panting and sweaty.

It was in a brief moment of reprise for the two when Harry spied Hermione, next to Draco who held a sword in his hands. He was fighting off his father and the LeStrange brothers - but it was in that moment that Riddle lunged forward and Harry barely managed to turn. He did, however, score a hit as his blade was covered in blood; Harry was bleeding by a shallow but long cut across his stomach.

Hissing, he raised his eyes and watched as Riddle gloated.

“Still a whelp of a boy, unable to fight back, unable to distance himself from his surroundings! You will never amount to anything, you will always be nothing!”

Harry gritted his teeth, slightly hunched over. He could see Ron's pale face against dark, wet red hair staring at Harry in horror and fighting his way toward his best friend.

Hermione was staring at him in despair, unsure if she should move from Draco's side or stay where she was.

Harry looked back at Riddle and moved; he did not think, he did not feel, he just moved and held his blade out.

“For my parents and Sirius!” he exclaimed loudly, over the roar of the waves and crashes of the waves against the ship, the lightning and booms of thunder.

“Urgh!”

Riddle's unnatural red eyes were wide. He had been so caught up in his tirade that he let his guard down and Harry took a chance - the blade was buried to the hilt in the middle of his chest, bloodied and sticking out of the other end. Warm, dark blood trickled down the hilt, onto Harry's hands, arms and shirt, staining it.

“I thought you were the Golden Boy?” muttered Riddle, coughing; a line of blood dribbled down his chin.

“Even the most perfect person has a limit,” replied Harry harshly.

With a yank, his sword was pulled from Riddle's body, which collapsed against the wood, his blood pooling around it and running into the cracks.

“Goodbye Riddle.”

Turning, Harry ignored the pain in his stomach and ran toward Draco and Hermione, his sword stained red in the moonlight. Fatigued, Harry knew what he had to do.

In the distance, he could hear the bell of the Royal British Navy, signaling their advance; his own crew, Remus's ship the Sea Wolf and what was Draco's crew on the Dragon had joined the battle and the Dark Mark was losing ground.

There was no mercy; all members of Riddle's crew had raped, pillaged and plundered ports for decades and retribution was at hand.

Joining Hermione and Draco, Harry gritted his teeth as Rabastian LeStrange's strength was pitted against his weakened form. His arm was vibrating with the force of the blow and his muscles protested - yet Harry continued on.

“Hermione,” he called back to the woman, who was holding a discarded sword. “When you have the chance, run to Remus! He'll take care of you!”

“I'm not leaving you!” she shouted back, angry and determined. Seeing Harry distracted, she swung up and caught Rabastian's arm. The man hissed and snarled at the girl, but she just swung again and again, while Harry split the man's attentions with his own attack.

Draco, he saw, was matched with strength against his own father, but it was when the older Malfoy slipped on the wet blood of a fallen crewman that Draco took the chance, and without hesitation, stabbed his father through the heart. There was no lost love between the two.

All three turned their attention on Rabastian, but it seemed in vain; when he lifted his arm, a shot rung out and red blossomed on the man's white vest. He gurgled, dropped to the floor revealing a tall, dark-skinned man with the British Navy. Draco knew him at once: Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Goddamn it, you're supposed to be dead!” muttered an angry Draco. “My shot wasn't that far off, was it?”

Harry and Hermione turned to him in surprise.

Draco looked back stoically. “What? He's a Bow Street runner; I have a history with them.”

“That you do, Mr. Malfoy,” rumbled Kingsley. “I also happen to be working undercover, and really am an officer in the Royal Navy.”

Draco blanched. “Oh, bugger.”

Kingsley grinned, his teeth white against his dark skin. “Oh, bugger, indeed. I believe that a warrant for you attempt on murdering me is out. Oh, how I'll love to be the one to bring you in!”

“Not if I get to him first!” snarled Harry, turning his sword on the blond.

“Potter, what the hell!”

Harry thrust at Draco, making the blond raise his sword in defense. “What the hell, indeed! You, you yellow-livered arse, have been bothering me since the day we met! You've been dodging my every step, making my life miserable - and you call yourself a pirate! You're a poor excuse!”

“Now, wait just a bloody minute here!” shouted back Draco, parrying and slashing at Harry, who jumped back to avoid it. Distantly, he registered Hermione shouting at him in the background.

“Stop it this instant!” shouted Hermione, moving closer but staying far away from the swords. “You're acting like imbeciles! Like complete and utter barbarians! I thought you two were friends!”

Draco ignored Hermione's screams and sneered at Harry. “You're the one who can't stomach killing people unless you need to! I'm just a deadlier version of a pirate! I'm cunning, ambitious, know what the term `pirate' stands for - and I'm damn better looking that you!”

Harry forced Draco up the steps to the quarterdeck, but Draco, near the top, forced Harry back down, nearly tripping on his feet. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Remus dragging a kicking and screaming (she was still screaming at him, for goodness sake's!) Hermione off the Dark Mark.

Harry really didn't know why he was fighting Draco, other than the fact that as a pirate, he goes against everything Harry ever stood for. He wasn't as bad as Riddle had been, but his lose morals and ethics brought another challenge to Harry, one that he was willing to fight against.

Either that, or he was just getting him back for all the shit Draco had put him through in the past.

“Better looking, ha!” offered Harry, turning back to Draco. “I have morals and codes! I am an upstanding British citizen without any deals with smugglers and cutthroats! I happen to be better liked than you!”

Draco snarled and shoved Harry forcefully, who landed on his back on the deck. Draco tossed a food crate left on the quarterdeck down. Harry brought his arms up and they exploded in pain as the wood shattered on impact.

“We're pirates! We don't have a code!” Draco raced down the steps, intending to pass Harry before he regained his senses.

Harry gritted his teeth and jumped to his feet, reaching and tripping Draco with his hand. The man sprawled to the deck on his stomach, Harry looming over him. Swords discarded, Harry lunged at the man, and two began wrestling.

Draco's hands were holding Harry back by the shoulder, and Harry was trying to land a punch to his nose.

The two were so engrossed in their fight that they did not notice Kingsley and another officer tear them apart and order roughly, “Shackle them! They're pirates. They're to be hanged a week hence!”

Sporting a split lip and bloody nose, Draco turned to Harry and grumbled, “Happy now? You'll see me hung.”

Harry, having a black eye, cut stomach from Riddle and a few slashes on his forearms because of Draco, grinned. “Not really, but now I'm the better looking of us!”

--*--

“Harry!” Hermione screamed, leaning as far over the edge of the ship as she could. “Harry!”

She struggled hard against Remus's and Severus's arms as they held her back. Tears gathered in her eyes and the salt water stung the welts on her wrists.

“Calm down, Hermione!” cried out Remus, turning his head as a wave hit the side of the Royal Doubloon. Hermione completely missed the fact that he took her advice and finally called her by her birth name.

“Harry!” Hermione tried calling again, her eyes wide as she watched the English Royal Navy round up the remaining crew of Riddle's fleet, and then turn on their allies, shackling them and whisking them to their brigand.

She could barely make out Harry's blood-stained form, but she saw Draco's white-blonde hair and knew that if he was being led away, so was Harry. She could see Ron's shocking red hair as he jumped overboard of the Dark Mark and began swimming as fast as he could against the waves to Harry's ship.

Ginny and Luna stood nearby, watching in agony as their crewmates and friends were taking in by the Navy. Hermione, while being dragged away, spotted them on the deck of the Dark Mark and with a few quick words, they were following her back on to her family's ship. The only way for a woman pirate to avoid hanging was to claim she was pregnant, and Hermione knew that neither Ginny nor Luna was. The only option they had was to return to Richmondshire with Hermione and be granted clemency.

They weren't screaming as loudly as Hermione, but they felt her anguish. Harry was fighting for his freedom - he was a privateer, after all, paid by the King to attack enemy vessels -, and fighting to keep his inheritance. It was no secret to Hermione that when found by the Navy, pirates' gold was taken into the Royal family's vaults instead.

“Control yourself, Princess!” snapped Snape, tugging on her and finally managing with Remus's help to pull her away from the rail and toward her parents who were waiting below deck. “Lupin! Put yourself to use!”

Remus sighed and looked at Hermione's pale and distressed face. “I'm sorry, Hermione.”

Then Hermione knew no more.

--*--

The Tuesday after Harry and Draco were captured was a sunny, warm day with a slight breeze. England didn't have many days like this, especially not near London where the London Fog was notorious - but in the eyes of the Brighton folk, today was the perfect day for a hanging.

Set for midday, Harry and Draco were stuck in tiny cells, counting bricks and listening to the dewy drip of collected rainwater as it slowly and steadily made a small puddle at their feet. The two were lucky; they were sharing a cell so it was easy to communicate, but a real hassle if they wanted to plan an escape instead. All they did was fight on escape ideas, routes, and how they would fight their way past the guards.

Draco wanted to kill them; Harry wanted to knock them out. Harry was all in favour for stowing away in the kitchens and being dumped out through the sewage while Draco thought it was too dirty.

Neither could agree and they were running out of time.

So, instead, they waited.

And waited some more, until finally, a guard dressed entirely in black arrived, jiggling the keys to their cells and whistling a fine tune.

He was tall and mean looking with several teeth missing, and had an overall cruel disposition.

He had already smacked a few petty thieves around a couple cells away - and neither Harry nor Draco wanted to know what he did with pirates.

The guard didn't actually hurt them, or treat them too well; instead, he did his job and with another, quiet and grunting guard, the two pirates were lead out of their cells, down many twisted and similar looking corridors, before settling in for a short ride to where the gallows were set up.

When they arrived, Harry was slightly disturbed to see such a large crowd had gathered to watch them hang. He was fairly sure his crew was not around - they all had bounties on their heads now and he wished for them to hide and start families if that was what they wished. He didn't have an escape plan, and since his crew was not around, they wouldn't be helping him out of this.

He inwardly sighed, knowing that he lost his chance to start a family. He never told Hermione that he loved her, and never got to say a final goodbye.

He could imagine, in great detail, the children they would have. There would be a little boy with curly black hair and chocolate eyes; a little girl with her mothers' brown hair but his impossible hair with his green eyes. He would teach his kids to sail a ship, read and write, dream and imagine their futures with bright eyes and hope.

Harry sighed out loud, and caught Draco scowling at him.

As Draco and Harry were led up the rickety wooden steps of the gallows, Draco glanced at Harry and sneered.

“What?” asked Harry, surprised.

“This is all your fault, you know!” The blonde stated clearly, half-snarling, half-laughing. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. Harry was sure he didn't look too good either.

Draco continued, “I completely blame you for this, Potter.” He fell silent as the guard who led them up there slipped the noose around his neck, and then did Harry's. “I expect the treasure to be split sixty-forty now, and nothing less.”

Harry turned his head to face Draco and raised his eyebrows. “Do you, now? I hardly expect you to take your share of the treasure when we're about to be hung!” he finished his sentence in a slightly shrill voice.

“Oh, please,” scoffed Draco. Both ignored the priest who appeared at their side and was reading them their list of crimes and punishment for each - it didn't matter anyway, as they were about to be hung.

“Have I told you lately how much I hate you?”

Draco grinned weakly. “Not nearly enough as you'd like to, I reckon.” He then looked down at the rusting handcuffs and frowned thoughtfully. “Wenches like pirates because we're lusty, muscular cutthroats that wine, dine and live in fine style. Do you think that the wenches like criminals in handcuffs, too? It's very kinky, I heard.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“You know you love me.”

“I wonder why I kept you alive, God's above.”

Both remained silent until the priest turned to them and asked gravelly, “Do either of you have anything that you'd wish to say?”

“Yeah,” began Draco, “Cut the noose and let me go.”

The crowd tittered and Harry just let his chin touch his chest, slowly shaking it back and forth.

“Very well,” said the priest, “If there is nothing the pirates wish to say…”

Everything seemed to slow down, as Harry watched from the corner of his eye, the guard reached for the lever that would remove the trap door from beneath their feet. Just as his hand gripped the lever, a shout from the crowd made Harry look up - in time to see Ron let a carving knife fly and embed itself into the guard's arm.

The guard jerked back from the lever and Draco and Harry immediately began to remove the nooses from their necks while the crowd screamed and ran.

“Allow me,” said an accented voice, and D'Orrylon's face appeared, smirking at Harry. “You silly Englishmen always get yourself into this kind of trouble, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, D'Orrylon.”

Draco laughed. “That seems to be your favourite line today, Potter.”

The noose was removed from Harry's neck, and D'Orrylon passed Harry a second sword attached at his belt. “Your sword is with your ship - beyond the fort wall.”

“Beyond?” questioned Draco, taking D'Orrylon's other sword.

D'Orrylon smirked at the blonde - his favourite facial expression of the day - and nodded. “Yes. Beyond the fort wall. You'll need to follow Weasley. Oh, and jump. I hope you two can swim!”

Harry sighed but turned his attention to the large group of soldiers making their way through the crowd and toward them.

“Let's get a move on,” began Harry. “We've got company.”

Draco took up a fighting stance and launched himself off the gallows platform and into the crowd, where he disappeared for a moment. He reappeared a few feet further away, coming up to the soldiers with Ron at his heels. The two began to parry and thrust against the rifles and swords of His Majesty's Royal Navy.

“Shall we join them?” asked D'Orrylon with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, yes,” said Harry, almost wickedly. “But only `cos Ron's my best mate.”

D'Orrylon sighed and took to arms with Harry, moving down the gallows platform and to the lessening crowd of commoners.

Harry could feel his adrenaline pumping and his heart beating wildly, thinking that if he got away he might be able to recover his family's treasure and take it to their ancestral home.

And maybe I'll be able to see Hermione again, another part of him added. Harry felt his heart swell and the worry of dying fall off his shoulders at that thought; the thought of seeing Hermione again would make everything all right - he just had to make it through this one last fight.

--*--

Hermione's fingers wrapped themselves tightly around her silk gloves. She was worried, horrified and angry. Her breath caught in her chest as she spotted Harry slowly being lead through the crowd to the hangman's platform. He was dirty with dried blood and grime, and had a look of weariness and despair on his face.

A part of Hermione was angry that Harry did not want to believe in love and continuously pushed her attentions away - they could have had at least one night together. Instead, Hermione mostly felt a bone-aching sense of sadness, and a wedge of guilt. Had the Dark Mark never attacked Richmondshire and the castle, coming for the piece of the map, she would never have run. Sure, she wanted to leave, get away from the pomp and circumstance that was her life as the princess, but if she never got on Harry's ship… if she never met him…

She would never have been on the Dark Mark later, and Harry would have had a clear mind to fight both Riddle and Draco. He could have got away. He would never have been arrested, and now, being lead to his death.

Hermione breathed in, a deep, shuddering breath and felt Remus squeeze her hand. She couldn't even being to imagine how he was feeling: unable to interfere in his friends' sons' hanging. If he did, he would be hung alongside Draco and Harry for treason.

Sniffling back tears of guilt and angst, Hermione watched as the nooses were placed around Harry and Draco. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

I love you, she thought, desperately hoping that somehow Harry would hear her. I love you so much that it's a hole in my chest, a pain that is digging its way into my soul. You were my one true love, Harry. Without you in my life, I am nothing.

She bit her lip, eyes still closed and waited with the swish and snap that would accompany the release of the trap door and the sound of a heavy body falling to a short stop.

Instead, screams of surprise and horror reached her ears. Hermione's eyes popped open.

She watched in awe and in horror as Harry slashed his away across the dirty ground to the fort's stone walls, near where she was standing with Remus. Together, they watched in breathless anticipation as Harry, Ron, Draco and D'Orrylon came closer and closer to them, moving quickly and in a single unit that made them look like they were performing a dance: a deadly and quick dance where the pirates would come out top, by all means necessary.

Harry dodged a sword, jumped another's low swipe, and slammed the hilt into another's nose.

“To the wall!” shouted Ron, gesturing and running. D'Orrylon, Draco and Harry were fast behind. The guards were not fast enough to catch up with them.

Hermione withheld a gasp of horror as Ron jumped over the edge with a loud, “WOOO HOOO!”

D'Orrylon, Draco and Harry jumped over as well, without pause and without ever once looking her way.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to be angry, hurt, worried, or glad they escaped. She finally settled on worried, which turned into hurt and depression. She didn't know when she would ever see Harry again.

Racing to the edge of the wall with some guards, she leaned over and watched the four men as they swam toward the horizon, where she could make out the Marauder. It was waiting for them, ready to take them to safety.

Harry hadn't once glanced her way, hadn't once noticed her. Did he honestly think she wouldn't go to his own hanging, if only to say a final goodbye? She tried for days on end to see the two pirates in their cell, only to be constantly turned away. She left Harry a piece of parchment, hoping he received it. She guessed he had not, because his eyes never scanned the crowd or sought to find her.

It was at that moment Hermione realized Harry never really needed her anyway, and Hermione felt her heart drop out of her stomach, a painful ache beginning in her chest. She could barely breath and began to wheeze, but counted to ten and calmed down as best as she could.

“Hermione?” whispered Remus in her ear. “We should go.”

She sighed, and close to tears, Hermione agreed with Remus. “Yes. There's nothing worth waiting for here anymore.”

She didn't give Harry Potter the satisfaction of knowing that she cried silently the entire way back to the Palace.

--*--

Hermione frowned into her champagne flute, arching her back as she tried to unsuccessfully get the whalebone knots of her corset to loosen. She winced as it pinched her skin instead.

“Are you all right, Princess Hermione?” asked Remus, who she was standing with, talking about politics.

“Not really, Remus,” answered the nineteen-year-old, as she continued to roll her shoulders. Under her breath, she began cursing and muttering about corsets and how they should be abolished.

Remus smiled bemusedly. “I still don't believe that that is entirely proper to say in my company, Princess.”

He took a sip of his drink, glancing around the crowded ballroom. In the center of the circular golden room, couples danced to a minuet, the candlelight of the chandelier above them making them feel like they were under an open roof.

Splashes of reds, blues and blacks swirled around the room, while others stood in small groups, talking and eating; some men were off to one side, enjoying their brandy and cigars.

“Aren't you going to go out there?” Remus asked, smoothing down the dusty green waistcoat he wore over a gold shirt and matching pants.

Hermione snorted - a very unladylike and un-Princess-like thing to do. She twirled her fan around her fingers and shifted her weight. “I don't think so, Remus. I will not give my parents the satisfaction of knowing that they got me dressed up in some ridiculous garment and that I pranced in front of wealthy bachelors.”

Remus sighed sadly. “I see. You look very beautiful tonight, Princess - but I must ask… are you still waiting for him?”

Hermione sighed. “No.”

Remus raised a single brown eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“I see,” Remus answered, smiling softly as he glanced down at the younger woman. “You truly love him, and he loves you, Hermione. I'm sure that he'll come back for you.”

“Please,” Hermione started, in a quiet voice. “The last I saw of Harry Potter was of him and Draco Malfoy fighting their way through a group of armed officers and over the side of a fort wall.” She shook her head. “He didn't once glance back at me, Remus. I'm sure that wherever he is, Captain Potter is not thinking of that stow-away Princess who helped him regain his family's secret treasure and defeat his greatest rival.”

“Come now, Hermione,” Remus scolded lightly. When she didn't reply, he gave Hermione one last pitying look before excusing himself to go talk to Severus, who stood brooding in a dark corner.

Immediately Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley attached themselves to Hermione's side, prattling on about nothing in particular to improve her spirits, and who was dancing with whom. Hermione endured the idle talk, allowing her two pirate friends to escort her over to the large floor-to-ceiling glass doors.

Hermione looked through the doors towards the courtyard and further to the sea. She wasn't paying attention to her friends, but was staring out the window, frowning.

Where are you Harry? Do you think of me as much as I think of you? she wondered, leaning closer to the windowpane until her forehead touched it.

Oblivious to Luna and Ginny's chattering, Hermione finally turned around abruptly and announced in a sotto voice so that no unwanted suitors would follow, “I'm going to the gardens.”

Ginny and Luna broke off their dialogue and looked carefully at their friend. “It's dark out, Hermione. Are you sure?”

Hermione nodded. “The servants have lit candles around the garden and in the maze, I should be fine. Really!”

Luna nodded slowly. “If you think that is best for you…”

Hermione nodded. “It is, Luna. It really is.”

Ginny sighed. “Then you ought to go. I mean, it's not like I'm not grateful that you managed to convince Luna and I to join you at your court - the food, the dresses, and the people! - it's all so amazing… but at the same time, while we still have contact with my brother and the rest of the Marauder…”

“Ginny,” warned Luna slowly.

Hermione paused, paling, as she realized that in all the time that they were back in Richmondshire, Ginny was sending letters to the crew of the Marauder. If Harry was with them (which was obvious, it was his ship), then he would know where she was and potentially, how she was feeling. She wouldn't put it past Ginny or Luna to write that she was on deaths' bed if only to have Harry come to the castle.

But instead, Hermione shook her head, realizing that she was right that day of the hanging. Harry didn't need her, or care about her.

Unaware that her tiara was now crooked, Hermione addressed Luna and Ginny, “It's not that, Luna, Ginny. It's okay that you're sending letters to your friends and family. I just had hoped… well, I miss Harry, I suppose. I thought he would try to send word, especially after everything that happened. I hadn't thought he would just stop caring.”

“It's only been two months, Hermione. Your parents are happy you are safe and that there is no war between England and against Riddle's fraction.”

Hermione smiled wanly. “I know. But I still can't help…”

“Missing him?” suggested Ginny.

“No,” Luna interrupted. “Can't help being in love with him.”

Hermione smiled at the blonde. “Yes. I think I want to be alone, now.”

“We'll make up excuses for you Hermione,” offered Ginny. “But be careful.”

“I promise.”

--*--

Hermione wandered down the high walls of bushes in the garden maze; she knew her way around it like the back of her hand, having walked it every day since she returned. She could still remember the final moments she had with Harry - watching him gaze into the crowd, listening stoically as the priest asked him and Draco is he had any last requests or words to say (no declaration of undying love there! The romantic in Hermione sighed).

She still remember watching him in a mix of horror, awe and pride as he swashbucked his way through those opposing him. He never looked around to see her, but she saw him, and watched as he jumped off the edge of the fort's wall and plunged into the murky and cold Atlantic water.

Beyond, by the horizon, the Marauder was waiting.

Distracted, Hermione settled herself on the rim of a fountain, gazing into the water and trying to ignore her reflection: it was pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and unarguably sad. She trailed a hand through the picture.

“It's dangerous for a princess to be wandering all by her lonesome self on darkened paths, you know…”

Hermione jumped, startled; water splashed onto her gown and onto the cobblestones around the fountain.

“Who's there? What do you want?” she demanded, trying to sound as brave as she could. Unfortunately, she did not have a weapon to protect herself with and even if she screamed, it would take the guards wandering the grounds some time to find her. She could even be moved by then!

A low chuckle echoed throughout the small clearing, and, out of the shadows, Captain Harry Potter emerged.

“Oh,” started Hermione coolly, sitting back down, trying to show to him that he did not affect her, “It's you.”

“Me, indeed. How are you, Princess?”

Hermione sighed. “So we're back to formality then, Captain Potter?”

Harry winced. Hermione either didn't notice, or didn't care, because she didn't say anything further; her face was still calmly mimicking a carved stone.

“Hermione… I…” Harry paused. He didn't know what to say; he was never good with emotions anyway.

Hermione crossed her arms, deliberately turned her shoulder on him, and glared down at her reflection in the fountain. She did not want Harry to see that he did still have some sway over her feelings.

“You what, Captain Potter?”

“I knew you were trouble the minute I saw you onboard my ship!”

Hermione's jaw wanted to drop open, but instead a quick succession of emotions ran through her: hurt, betrayal, sadness, and then anger. “Trouble, pirate? I thought you lived for trouble. And if you're trying to tell me something maybe you ought to leave it unsaid - you're mucking things up royally!”

“You're the only royal around here, Hermione,” defended Harry, slightly recoiling at the harsh tone of voice. He hadn't expected her to be hissing and fighting back. “Would you at least hear me out?”

With a huff, Hermione turned her back on him once more, but said nothing. She would listen.

Harry took a deep breath, and then sighed; he then ran his hand through his perpetually messy hair and frowned.

“When I saw you on my ship, I knew you'd be trouble,” he repeated. “Not because you had hidden away and everyone thought you were kidnapped… but because you made me question myself - something I had never done since I was fifteen and Sirius passed away. You made me think about your feelings, about second-guessing battle tactics and if I would put my men - you - in danger. Did I want to risk that? Were the lives of my friends less important than my need for revenge?”

Harry began to pace, but still Hermione did not look up.

“You began to worm your way under my skin; you dug up past hurts and thoughts, things I thought I had put behind me when I realized I had no one else left in the world.”

At this, she looked up, and correctly understanding her glare, Harry hastened, “Oh, I know the Weasley family loves me as their own… but they're not my blood family. And no matter how much Molly and Arthur include me, I never will be a Weasley. I am Harry Potter: pirate, brigand, heir, Lord, and most simply, a man.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him and watched as he shifted his weight on two restless feet, bathed in the silvery moonlight.

Harry looked up at Hermione then, smiling shyly, and continued.

“It was because of you, Hermione, that I changed. At first, I was scared and confused and even bitter that you were causing such havoc to me! I wanted to hurt you, punish you so you felt exactly what I was feeling. And I fear I succeeded all too well those few times I managed to coolly extract my vengeance.”

Green eyes met brown and held.

“I didn't realize that all those muddled feelings in me had a name: the anger I felt to rethinking a set way of life, the hurt I felt when you'd not rise to my bait, the rush of pleasure from tasting your lips, the worry and overwhelming fear that you'd be hurt… it had a name that I don't think I ever fully understood - and probably never will.

“Love is such a complex emotion, isn't it?” Harry openly grinned at the now flabbergasted Hermione. “One minute you're basking in the glory and affection of your beloved, and the next you want nothing more than to grab them by their shoulders and shake them until they realize your point in an argument. You want to kiss them senseless: for pleasure, for domination, to just have them shut the hell up even - but deep down, a part of you recognizes that you cannot be without them.

“You would simply cease to exist.”

Harry took a few hesitant steps toward Hermione, who stood, her hands slightly shaking and her lips tightly drawn shut; she was afraid she might do something, say something that would stop Harry's sudden cathartic release.

“I, Harry James Potter, would simply cease to exist if I did not have Hermione Jane Granger in my life.”

With a strangled sob, Hermione launched herself forward and into Harry's arms, hitting his chest and grasping him tightly.

“Do you really mean it?” she whispered against his warm chest.

Harry leaned down and stroked a finger across her cheek. “Silly, of course I meant it. I wouldn't be here otherwise. I love you, Hermione Granger.”

“I love you too, Harry, with my whole heart and soul,” the young woman whispered back, squeezing tighter and enjoying the feel of Harry's arms wrapped around her waist.

“You do realize that I'm a Princess though? And that being involved with me could be… well, different than piracy?”

Harry chuckled; a deep, rumbling masculine sound that came from his chest. “I do know what I'm getting involved with.”

“Good!”

The two enjoyed the silence and each others' company until a discreet cough alerted that they were no longer alone. A tall man and two other shadowy figures stood behind him. Hermione recognized him instantly.

“Father!” cried Hermione, jumping from Harry's embrace and turning to face him. Behind the King, Remus and Severus stood stoically, their arms crossed against their chests.

“Hermione,” the man sighed. He nodded at Harry. “And Captain Potter.”

“Your Majesty.” Harry did not let Hermione wander too far from his embrace; instead, he held on to her waist with a tanned hand. He did not speak any further; what was about to happen was between Hermione and her father.

The King shrewdly looked at Harry's hand on her waist and asked, “Is there anything you wish to tell me, Hermione?”

Hermione took a deep breath. She looked up from the ground with a blush on her face and said to her father, “Yes, Father. I am in love with Captain Harry James Potter.”

The man's facial muscles did not change. “I see. And does he love you?”

“Yes sir,” replied Harry easily, “with all of my heart.”

“And will you be taking my daughter from me, Captain Potter?”

“Father,” chided Hermione gently, “Harry isn't taking me from you - but you also need to understand that I am nineteen years old. You have me dress up and wear gowns for available nobility and wish for me to marry one of them, with no complaints - but when the man I love arrives and he says that he loves me (a love match, father!), you complain.”

“Hermione,” murmured Theodore, King of Richmondshire, “You are, first and foremost, my daughter. Not a Princess, not the daughter of a King, not a part of nobility. You are Theodore Granger's daughter.”

“Father…”

“Whatever makes you happy, my dear, makes me happy,” continued Theodore, his eyes slightly misty. “And if Captain Harry James Potter, privateer and occasional swashbuckler makes you happy, then…” He took a deep breath. “That is all that matters.”

“Oh, father!” cried Hermione, breaking from Harry's embrace to hug her father tightly. He hugged her back, just as tightly.

It was hard to see his only daughter grow up so fast before him, and take part in a pirate adventure.

“Now, my little princess,” murmured Theodore, “I believe your pirate is waiting.”

Hermione gave a watery smile, kissing her father lightly on his cheek. She turned and walked back to Harry, who stood with his arms open for her. She snuggled tight against his chest, sighing.

“So, where do you want our next adventure to be?” he asked her. In front of them, unnoticed by the two lovebirds, King Theodore motioned to Remus and Severus, and the three left the clearing in the maze quietly. Harry and Hermione were alone.

“Oh, I don't know,” answered Hermione. She joked, “What haven't you pillaged and conquered yet?”

Harry grinned roguishly. “How about we head to the South Seas? I heard it's quite beautiful there.”

“Is it? I doubt anything can be as beautiful as the Caribbean,” replied Hermione, closing her eyes and listening to Harry's heartbeat.

“Well, there are some things: the South Seas, and especially, you,” he said, leaning down to her forehead and kissing her gently.

Together, they walked through the garden maze and down toward the docks, where the Marauder waited. They boarded, with Harry shouting orders to his crew. Hermione was not surprised to see Ginny and Luna on board as well.

Hermione stood next to Harry at the stern, watching the twinkling lights of her childhood home as it slowly disappeared in the darkness.

“To the South Seas right away, Harry?” called up Ron.

Harry paused, unsure.

Hermione looked up at Harry, smiled, and asked simply, “What are we waiting for?”

“Absolutely nothing,” replied Harry, and took her hand in his, smiling.

THE END

AN: [July.25.06] It took some time, but it's done. My baby is done! *tears up* I cannot even begin to tell everyone how much their reviews and emails mean to me. Every single word was another reason for me to beat my writer's block and continue writing. It took until the second PotC movie came out, but I finished.

Thank you, to everyone who stood by patiently, waiting for Skulls & Crossbones to be finished.

A giant thank you also goes out to Katie, Cinnamon Kisses, who beta'ed this story from beginning to end and never pressured me. Thanks, Katie, you're amazing.

For those who want to drop me a line or see what else I have up my sleeves (perhaps a one shot continuation of our favourite pirates?) you can check out my Yahoo!Group, the link found in my profile or on my profile at FFnet.

With much love,

Kneazle

-->