[Author's Note: Still not bashing the author. Still not bashing the characters. I am, however, dragging this story along in a desperate attempt to bring a little more humor to the world. I'd say this is going to be the last chapter, as I've gone and utilized most of my ideas, but there's a small (very small) chance a fourth installment will be coming along, depending on whether or not I feel guilty for ending things rather abruptly. After all, Hermione still doesn't have any dialogue, but I'm a little bit leery to try it, given how much her character changed. Kudos to all the readers who have taken the time to read my nonsense! ^_^]
A Word with Paul Jones - The Third Chapter in Which Quality Takes a Hit
by: Azure
Dear Diary -
Harry paused.
Dear Journal -
"No, no..."
Dear Manly Book of Masculine Thoughts -
"What are you doing, Cap'n?"
Harry dropped his quill at the sound of Ron's voice, glancing up from his Manly Book of Masculine Thoughts to see his first mate lingering at the doorway. "Poetry," he said, not having anything else to say, wincing the moment the word left his lips. "Uh..pirate poetry, that is. About..looting. And women. And..things." He twirled his cape for dramatic pirate effect.
"Right," Ron said, nodding, moving to come sit close to the table. "Not to interrupt the creative juices, Cap'n, but I've a small problem I was wondering if you could help me with."
Harry shook his head, not answering immediately, deciding he could die quite happily so long as he never head Ron say 'juices' ever again. "Go ahead," he said, a moment later, wincing again as his voice came out sounding strangled and weak. He had the distinct impression, nonetheless, that his first mate's problems revolved solely around a certain bushy-haired girl.
"My problems revolve solely around a certain bushy-haired girl, Cap'n." Ron's face was extraordinarily straight. "Shiver me timbers," he added, seemingly as routine.
Okay. No more hanging out with Ron. "Creepy," Harry said, at first, before redirecting his attention to his friend, who was now looking suitably morose. "Are your petty arguments and emotional scars not working?"
"Nope," Ron said, sighing. "Girl's acting a bit bonkers. Started talking about vomiting just the other day - "
"Ah, yes," Harry said, feeling the first twinge of hope in what felt to be years - that, or the duration of the sixth book. "S.P.E.W.?"
Ron looked distinctly confused. "S.P.E.W.? Sounds..familiar, aye, but it's not ringing any bells. Yarr!"
"You're right," Harry agreed, the voice of reason. "It was thoroughly ignored during the Half-Blood Prince." He paused, his newfound wisdom fading entirely. "Uh..don't know why I said that."
Ron simply nodded. "Right. Well, anyways, she was talking about spewing, and then something of Aragog. Shivered my timbers, that. Name sort of tells me to run away."
"Well, you're sort of a coward," Harry said, quite reasonably. "But Aragog - wasn't that the giant man-eating spider you used to have nightmares about?" His only response was a very shrill scream as Ron fainted on the spot, which, though highly entertaining, was enough to have Harry glance at his companion with great alarm. "Ron?"
His concern was temporarily abated at the sound of footsteps down the corridor - and then a fierce cry that rang out through the woodwork. Whirling, he found Ginny at the doorway, managing to look collected and yet still thoroughly pissed off. It was an amusing contrast, to say the very least.
"Harry," she said, coolly. "The time has come to settle this." She didn't seem worried at all that her brother had collapsed into a decidedly painful position on the floor.
"Uh..it has?" Harry asked, even more alarmed than before. He had the distinct impression that Ginny could be quite dangerous - especially her Bat-Bogey Hex! "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, already knowing the answer, though at a complete loss nonetheless as to why his former girlfriend was after his blood.
"No, of course not, Harry," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I'm simply taking over your ship so I can wear a cape too."
Harry didn't smile. "That isn't funny."
"Don't you see?" Ginny asked, coming a few angry steps forward, her voice coming out as more of a shriek, the flower still above her ear shifting dangerously. "You care more for that blasted cape than you ever did for me! And Hermione - oh, don't even get me started on darling Hermione!"
Harry was beginning to wonder, dimly, why every girl he was attracted to inevitably started acting insane.
"Listen," he began, quite calmly, raising his hands in what he thought to be a placating gesture. "If this is about the monster in my chest, I assure you that I'm thinking only of your safety. And besides, 'tis only temporary; I'm sure once I manage to find Hermione, she'll know how to fix it -- " He realized he had said the wrong thing right about the time Ginny's hand met his face.
"Enough! Come with me, Harry, dear," she said, still looking quite angry, though it actually came out as somewhat amusing, given her red face, red flower, and red hair. Harry chose to ignore that her eyes looked rather red too. "There's something on deck I'm sure you'll want to see."
Harry followed with some trepidation, not knowing what to expect and wondering how on earth he would ever manage to convince Ginny to calm down. He briefly contemplated tossing her overboard, but, on the other hand, that would require quite a bit of effort, certainly more than he wished to exert so soon before dinner. "Is this going to take long?" he asked, as they wound their way up towards the deck, feeling just a tad irked with the notion of stepping outside when the sound of rain was coming very clearly from above.
"No, not long," Ginny said, with a false cheerfulness. "Think of it as a parting gift before I steal your ship."
Women. "Honestly, I don't why you'd want to. It isn't easy being the Captain, after all, despite the fact that I never really do anything besides yell at McLaggen - "
"Who?"
Harry blinked. "Never mind," he said, and followed her up onto the deck, where, as predicted, it was raining an amount thoroughly suitable for a dramatic outdoor encounter. "Right," he began, rubbing his hands and adjusting his cape, "I'm ready for the dramatic outdoor encounter. What's going to - Hermione?"
He had caught, in the random yet well-placed flash of lightning, a hint of bushy hair, and, moving closer, was appropriately surprised to find her to tied to the mast, looking angry and wet and generally very displeased with the gag that had been jammed into her mouth. "Why is she tied to the mast?" he asked, turning to Ginny, finding only an odd look drawn across her face.
"I put here there, Harry," Ginny said, rather as if stating the obvious, her hands placed on her hips. "Honestly, how could you miss that?"
"It's the way I was written," Harry pointed out, not in the least bit offended. "I tend to need anvil-sized hints or things go unnoticed. After all, I've been best friends with Hermione for a very long time and I've never really considered her in a romantic sense, which, in some circles, would likely make me - "
"Gay?" Ginny had a look of sudden understanding.
Harry frowned. "No, not quite the word I was going for, there. But that's not important - why did you tie her to the mast?" He wisely chose to avoid Hermione's line of sight, given that she looked ready to kill - that, or flirt with Ron, both of which Harry found fairly undesirable.
Ginny sighed. "You don't appreciate me, Harry. At all. Do you - do you know how difficult it is to replace Hermione's character? I have to be smart and pretty and understanding and - you just don't appreciate it!"
"Did you even stop to consider splinters? Or the injuries she received in the Ministry of Magic?" Harry, now notably irritated, swirled his cape imperiously and gave Ginny a very serious frown.
"Did you completely ignore everything I said? This is what I'm talking about! Oh, Merlin - wait, what injuries?" Ginny's self righteous ranting was momentarily abated as she turned towards the mast.
Harry checked himself. "Oh, yes, that's true. I forgot they weren't mentioned at all in the last book." He paused, then shook his head. "Don't ask," he said, wearily, though this only managed to incense Ginny further.
"That's exactly it! I feel like I hardly know you at all, despite the numerous times we snogged - but I'm going to give you a choice. I'm going to give you a chance. Stay here, with me, and we can have something fantastic, Harry. We can have an actual relationship! Or you can run to darling Hermione, there, and throw it all away - Harry?"
He was gone, already, to the mast, his hands working rapidly across the ropes, entirely mindless of Ginny's ranting, catching only the occasional pirate curse and blasphemy against a certain cosmic author. "Just a little more, Hermione," he said, undoing the knot, and, with a thud as the rope fell to the deck, she was free - and in his arms, hugging him tightly, blessedly mindful of his cape and shivering in the cold.
Harry had the glorious feeling that he'd just found a long-lost friend.
"Mff," Hermione said, on a whim, bringing him closer.
Harry simply smiled. "Yes, I know my cape is utterly sexy." His hands snaked their way up towards her mouth, intent on removing the gag, though he halted a moment to look her straight in the eyes. "And you owe me a ship."
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