A/N: Due a combination of factors, including sickness and a big homework load, I didn't finish Day 4's prompt. Here's something that I wrote a while back and forgot to post instead. :)

This is just another night
And we've had many of them
To the morning we're cast out
But I know I'll land here again
How am I gonna get myself back home?

-Get Home (Bastille)

He held the sword to the other man's chest and wiped away the blood that dripped into his eyes.

'Go check the holds,' he said to two members of his crew, turning his head but keeping his gaze fixed upon the man in front of him. 'Make sure this is all of them.'

They did as he asked.

'I've heard of you,' the man spat. 'James Potter, the youngest bloody captain elected in ten years, and the youngest crew as well. Practically children.'

'And yet, you're the one on the end of a sword.' James replied evenly, nicking the front of the man's shirt for emphasis.

'You've got a lot to learn. Pirates don't attack pirates, boy.'

'It's a good thing this is a slaving ship, then.'

'It's a pirate ship.'

'Now that's just a disgrace to the name.' James shook his head sadly for a moment. 'I've heard of you as well, Mulciber. You've got a reputation that spans England to the Americas and back, and it's as bloody as the sea is deep.'

'Rumours. There's no evidence of slave trading on this ship.'

A sudden commotion drew all eyes to the ladder leading up from the hold. Sirius, the navigator and first mate, clambered up the steps. He locked eyes with his captain for a moment and then bent down. A hand, filthy and caked with blood accepted his help.

They all watched as a girl who couldn't have been older than seventeen rose to her feet. Her red hair fell in tangles around her face, hiding it from their view. She had Sirius' coat wrapped around her figure, but the hem of her dress fell out underneath. It was brown with dirt, ripped and shredded to pieces that hung around her bare ankles.

'You were saying?' James said, working hard to keep the wrath out of his voice. Mulciber watched the girl for a moment, expression impassive, and turned back to the Captain.

'She doesn't count. She's not a slave.'

'Shite.' Sirius declared, his voice harsh and furious. 'Complete and utter shite.'

'And that's that,' said James quietly. 'Now listen closely. We are going to leave your ship. We're close enough to land that someone will notice you drifting here aimlessly. The Navy will be out in a couple of days, make no mistake about that.'

Mulciber's eyes bored into his, full of hatred. His crew around him shuffled their feet and whispered among themselves.

'And if I ever hear of you slaving again…well, you'll wish you were in the clutches of the Navy once more with a rope around your neck.'

The crew of the Maruaders made quick work of rendering the enemy ship unable to sail. In groups, they all descended down to their boats waiting below until James, and the enemy crew were the only ones left.

'I'll see you again someday, Potter.' Mulcibler snarled, his lip curling over his teeth in a way that was almost inhuman. 'Mark my words, I won't forget this.'

James raised an eyebrow and twisted his mouth into a smirk. 'I look forward to that day,' he said and away he went.

He dropped into the boat with a thud, turning around to face the enemy ship as soon as he caught his balance. 'Go,' he ordered the sailor, a man named Davies. He did as he was told and the short distance between the two ships was quickly closed.

'Captain,' the quartermaster called as soon as James come onto the deck. James cut him off with a gesture.

'Where did she go?' When no answer was given, he impatiently dragged a hand through his hair. 'The girl, Remus. Where did you put her?'

'Ah. We left her where you told Sirius. She's in your room, but—'

'Good. I doubt she would want to sleep below decks with the experience she's had. How many men are hurt?'

'Two dead, three with serious injuries, but no more than that gash on your head. Merlin, James. Where did that come from?' Remus asked, coming closer and peering at the wound.

'Mulciber got me with a knife.' He said evenly, swiping away at the blood once more. Remus frowned.

'You need to go see the surgeon.'

'It's merely a scratch, Lupin. I don't need to be doctored up.' He told him, nearly shouting.

'No,' Remus fired back, 'but he uses a poisoned sword. Who's to say his dagger's not either?' The man crossed his arms and James let out a whoosh of air.

'Fair point.' He admitted grudgingly. 'Where's Longbottom?'

'Down in the crew's quarters, attending to the three.'

'They're alright?'

'Fine, just a bit scratched up. But Saunders and Turner were left on the Salazar.'

'Shame.' James said, trying to keep the guilt he felt out of his words. 'I doubt Mulciber'll give them a proper funeral.'

'Captain!' A loud voice shouted and he whipped his head around. A shorter, brown-haired man strode towards them, looking determined. 'Black told me you needed attention.'

'Other people need it more, Frank.'

'Not particularly.' He said, dropping his back and frowning up at the wound. 'Sit.'

James did, collapsing on a box behind him. The surgeon fixed him up quickly, ignoring his captain's hisses whenever he was particularly rough. James snatched the bottle of whiskey Frank was using to clean his forehead and took a deep swig.

'Enough of that.' Longbottom said sharply, grabbing it back and handing it to Remus. 'You're not in danger of bleeding to death anymore, but you do need to go lie down. You've been awake for twenty-two hours and that's not going to help you heal.'

James glowered at him, but did as he was told. He was immensely tired in any case, and as his feet took him towards the oft-travelled path to his cabin, he thought fondly of his bed.

Pushing the heavy door open with a sigh, he was immediately greeted with a gasp. His half-closed eyes flew open and all the blurriness in his mind went away.

The girl they had rescued was sitting on his bed, watching him warily from the centre. She was still wearing Sirius' jacket and seemed so small swimming in it.

'Right,' he said, rubbing his eyes with his hand. 'You're in here. Merlin, this is bloody amazing.' He moved to the bed almost unconsciously and stopped when she gave a squeak. He looked at her and was startled to see her eyes huge with panic. She knotted her fingers into the blanket on his bed, her limbs shaking.

'Miss, are you alright?' He asked, coming towards her slowly. She darted up and was over by his desk in a flash. A dagger gleamed in her hand; she had snatched it up as she had gone.

She spoke, and he couldn't tell if it was fury or panic that was more prevalent. 'Don't come any closer.'

He stopped in his tracks and tilted his head to the side, confused. 'What…'

Her face seemed to tremble, but she held the knife with an iron grip. As he tried to work out what was happening, she clutched at the front of the jacket desperately.

Understanding hit him.

'Bloody hell,' he swore, feeling a flush creep up his neck and anger boil in his stomach. 'You think—Merlin. You've got this all wrong. I did this all wrong. Bloody hell.'

'You mean I'm not here as your prize to ravish as you wish?' She asked, cocking her head to one side mockingly.

'Blunt, aren't you? But no, of course not. It was a mistake.'

'Sorry if I don't believe you,' she said harshly, 'but there's no reason for me to trust you.'

He put his hands up in the air and took a step back until he was against the other wall. 'I'm a pirate, but I do have morals.'

'Debatable.'

'You don't even know me.'

'Again, sorry, but I was taken to your cabin and left here. What am I to think otherwise? The pirate captain wanted tea with me?'

'It was the safest place for you at the time. And the most comfortable.' He protested weakly, his exhaustion coming back to him in waves.

'I've learned that a man's room is hardly ever the safest place for me,' she said in a low voice, absentmindedly brushing aside the hair falling in her face with a hand—the hand that had been holding the jacket closed. He could see the top, or lack of much top, of her dress. It was muddy and ripped in unfortunate places. Stains marred parts of it, stains that looked uncomfortably like blood.

She caught him looking and held it shut once more. 'Watch your eyes,' she said frostily.

'I wasn't—'

'Sure you weren't. Just like I'm not here to 'get rid of some of your tension' or however else you would like to say it.' She was shouting now and advancing toward him in her rage. The tip of the knife hovered near his throat, alarmingly close. If she took one more step forward, he would have another hole to breathe through.

In one deft motion, he slipped the dagger from her grasp and into his belt. She stood motionless for a second, gaping and flexing her fingers.

'Give me back my dagger!' She yelled, her tone almost hovering on hysteria. When he refused, she slapped him across the face. His hands quickly wrapped around her wrists.

'Don't do that again.' He snarled, squeezing slightly for emphasis. She yelped and tried to jerk out of his grip.

'Ouch, no, Merlin—Don't touch me!'

He didn't listen, but slipped his fingers down her arm so he could see her wrists. They were rubbed raw, bloody and hot to the touch. It's a wonder he didn't notice before.

'What did this?'

'Chains.' She said bitterly. 'Ropes. A belt once or twice.'

He switched his grip so he was holding both her wrists in one hand. They were incredibly small and she was weak with hunger and malnourishment at the moment. She pulled, but he was too strong.

'On your ankles as well?'

'Not so bad.' She managed through her nervous, heaving breaths. He let go of her and she started to calm down.

He exhaled loudly and rubbed his eyes again. 'We need to get you to Longbottom.'

'Pardon me?' She demanded, squeaking a little in spite of herself. He threw her a rakish grin, guessing at her thought process.

'Frank Longbottom is our surgeon.' He explained, opening the door as he did so. 'And a good one at that. If these are left for much more, they'll fester. We need them cleaned. '

'We?' She asked as she passed in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest.

'We,' he confirmed, 'and it stays that way as long as you're on my ship. I'm responsible for you.'

'You don't have to be.'

He didn't bother answering. It would start a fight and he didn't have the energy to insist he was right. He just led her to the galley, where the surgeon would undoubtedly be.

Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she kept her head down and made herself as small as possible. If a sailor's head turned to look at her, she shrank away as if their gazes could cut into her skin.

'Diggory!' He barked at one man who leered with particular interest. Diggory snapped upright, startled, and then bent back over. 'Get back to work.'

'Yes, Captain,' he muttered, flushing. The girl pressed her lips together and glared at James.

'I can take care of myself.'

'I know. I just thought I would help you.'

She turned her back on him and did not shrink back from men's eyes again. They entered the kitchen where, sure enough, Longbottom was sipping on some rum.

'Captain.' The cook, a man by the name of Fenwick, called to him cheerily, waving a wooden spoon. Frank lifted his bottle in greeting and frowned.

'You're not in bed.' He grumbled, shooting the captain a warning look. 'And you can barely stand upright. Why are you not in bed?'

'I'm perfectly fine, and she's the reason.' He answered calmly, nudging the girl. She started, her eyes flying to his and then back to the ground. She seemed to shrink before his eyes. 'She's got wounds for you to tend to.'

The cook clanged a pot, irritated. 'Not in my kitchen. Blood and food don't mix.'

'On the deck, then.' James ordered, turning on his heel and stalking outside. He marched to a quieter corner of the ship where plenty of boxes or barrels stood. Sirius was there, also throwing back a bottle of alcohol.

'What's this?' He cried, sitting upright.

'The girl's got some injuries we're to take care of.' James said, jerking his head at her. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

'Injuries? Where?' He asked, jumping off the box and striding towards her. She started again and hastily backed up, matching his steps with ones of her own. He was faster, though and his arms were longer. He reached out and grabbed her elbow.

'Her wrist.' James told him. Sirius, much like James had done, turned over her wrists and swore when he saw the results.

'Bastards.' He breathed and he hiked up his jacket sleeve. On her arm were marks of different colours, yellow and black and purple, that stood out against her pale skin. 'They're bruises,' he said and carefully laid his hand on them. They fit the shapes of his fingers.

James could feel the anger boil in his stomach again. 'Which one did this?'

She didn't answer; she was shaking too hard and feebly trying to pry Sirius' fingers away.

'Let her go, Sirius.' James ordered and the other man looked down, surprised that he still was holding her. He let go and she visibly relaxed, taking three steps away. Frank surged forward.

'Can you take off the Jacket, miss? They're getting in the way,' he asked kindly, but she shook her head. 'Miss, I promise we won't hurt you.'

'I can't. I can't—'

'Here,' James said, realizing her dilemma. He shrugged out of his over shirt and handed it to the girl. He turned his back, jerking on Sirius until he did the same. Together, with Frank at their side, they formed a barrier between her and the rest of the ship.

'You can turn around now,' she called softly, patting down her hair. She had pushed the sleeves up to her elbows and she presented her wrists to the surgeon. 'Fix me, please.' He bent over her arms and muttered to himself, effectively dismissing the other two sailors.

'Mate, you need to go take a nap.' Sirius told James when he let out a humongous yawn. 'I'll take care of everything, with Remus' help. We need to check with Peter about the guns anyways.'

'But—'

'Frank will take care of the girl. She can go clean herself up in my cabin. Go to bed.'

James did as he was ordered to and hardly remembered the trek to his room. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

It seemed like it was only minutes, but it had to have been more when he woke up. Dragging his aching body from the bed was a form of torture, but he'd slept for too long and there was that bloody banging on the door.

'What?' He groaned as he threw it open. It was the girl, standing there and looking determined. Someone had helped her wash up and given her a new set of clothes.

'Can I come in?'

He grinned at her tiredly. 'Demanding entrance to my cabin, now are we? Isn't that contrary?' He teased, stepping back to allow her entrance.

'Shut your mouth,' she replied as she marched in and he followed. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. 'I need your help.'

'Oh?'

There was a red tint to her cheeks. 'I need to get back home.'

'And where would that be?'

'London.'

He looked at her for a moment and burst out laughing. 'London?' He asked in between his chuckles. 'You want to go to London?'

'Why are you laughing?' She demanded. 'Stop it.'

He managed to contain his mirth. 'Call it an error in judgement. We can't go to London. Absolutely not. Pick any other place but there.'

She scowled at him dangerously. 'You are making no sense. I need to get back there. Why can't you take me?'

'Well,' he said, shuffling his feet and mussing his hair, 'we're pirates.'

'Obviously.'

'And we just came from London. Or, more accurately, escaped from the constables in that general area.'

'I don't see what the problem is.'

'If we go back to London, I'll hang and the whole crew with me for piracy. I'm not going to take that chance.'

At his words, she seemed to crumple into a much smaller version of herself. 'You don't understand. This is a life or death situation. I absolutely have to go.'

'Can't we drop you off in Bristol or something like that? Wait, not there. They think we're going to that port. Perhaps Dublin—'

'NO!' She all but shouted, startling him into silence. 'I can't go to Dublin.'

He regarded her curiously and she flushed more under his gaze, nervously twisting her hands together.

'Why not?'

'Why can't you go to London?'

'What's your name?' That stopped her in her tracks.

'What?' She asked, confused. He smiled at her tightly.

'I'm not going to keep calling you 'girl', so what's your Christian name?'

She looked at him for a moment, trying to figure his game, if he had one. 'Lily.' She said slowly. 'My name is Lily Evans.'

'Right then, Lily.' He pulled out the knife he had taken from her earlier, plus a scabbard. 'Since you're going to be on this ship for a while, here's this back. The crew won't hurt you—they wouldn't dare—but in case they do…' He handed it to her and she took it, smiling at him gratefully. Tucking it into her belt, she took her entrance.

'Lily,' he called as she reached the door, 'who gave them to you? Mulciber?'

She paused, fingers on the handle and glanced back at him. Her eyes were almost dead; their green glow extinguished and lifeless.

'Why do you want to know?'

'Honestly?' He asked, sighing. 'So I can kill him on sight the next time I see him.'

'Sometimes Mulciber.' She said quietly, sadly. 'Or Avery or Nott. Whichever one got there first.' She laughed bitterly, but it still brought no emotion to her face. 'And usually he was the drunkest of the lot as well.'

She slipped out the door, leaving a furious James behind her.

'Lily Evans,' he murmured, feeling very strange. Unsettled, almost, like she would bring him pain later on.

Suddenly he felt older than his young years, older than the earth itself. He had been through hell today and still others had lived through worse.

He sighed, running his hand over his hair and then down his neck. 'I need a drink.'