"Bloody hell! That one was a damn sight more accurate, hm?" one of her companions exclaimed as they all leaned over the railing to check the damage again.
Hermione's heart began to race as the sinister-looking ship sped closer. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the furling black sails. "What's going to happen to us? Surely they wouldn't board one of His Majesty's fleet?"
One of the men glanced over at her, apparently just now realizing there was a lady amongst them. "Er, begging your pardon, miss, but you'd best get belowstairs with the others!" He started to take her arm, but Hermione yanked it free.
"No! Shouldn't we be doing something? Fighting back? Hiding the valuables?" When all six pairs of eyes turned on her, bewildered, Hermione stomped her foot. "There must be some action we can take! They cannot simply just shoot us and—and—plunder everything!"
She heard her voice reaching its hysterical pitch, but she couldn't stop herself. Despite the delicate way ladies were treated in society, she had managed to read some books and hear some stories about pirates and their activities—and she knew what her likely fate was should she be captured. She—and Lavender, and the other women aboard—would become spoils. Nothing more than a bit of treasure, really. And then she could forget a comfortable life with her civilized husband. No, she wouldn't allow it. Even if Mr. Harold James Potter was not the husband she would have chosen for herself, he was nevertheless a gentleman, and she was going to the match reluctantly but willingly. She would not let her course be derailed by a bunch of rowdy seamen who thought themselves above the law.
At that moment, their captain strode up, breaking her train of thought. Captain Rubeus Hagrid was a big man, with a weather-roughened face and gruff manner of speaking. Still, she rather liked him. He was gentle and competent, at least in her view, and so she turned to plead her case with him.
"Miss Granger, why are ye not below wi' the other women? They be gathered in me quarters. Best ta get yerself—"
"Captain," Hermione interrupted. "Isn't there something I can do to help? Perhaps load some muskets or gather the knives or—"
"Oh, goodness me, no! Miss Granger, ye must hide yerself. I've had dealin's with the likes of them afore and they don' take no prisoners."
"NO!" Hermione shouted, exasperated. "I refuse to cower in the hold like a silly debutante! They shall take me fighting or not at all!"
Captain Hagrid and the other men exchanged glances, then the captain shrugged. "A'right. Reckon yer old enough to make yer own decisions. The women need barricadin', if yer don' mind tellin' 'em what to do; then ye can help the boys down in the gun deck. Jus' try not to get in the way."
Hermione nodded and rushed off to help the women, grateful she wasn't being forced into hiding with them. Bursting into the captain's quarters, she quickly scanned the room for Miss Brown—but her companion was nowhere to be seen. Damn, she thought to herself, feeling very bold for cursing even if it was only internally. Well, there was no help for it—she barked out some orders, helping the others identify the heaviest pieces of furniture that weren't nailed down, then instructed them to arm themselves with whatever they could find. Feeling her time ticking away, she rushed out again, racing down to the level with Lavender's quarters. As she feared, Lavender was in no shape to go anywhere, so Hermione set to work pushing her trunk and chair over to the door. She would just have to stay here and protect her fragile companion.
"What are you doing?" Lavender mumbled from her spot under the blankets.
"Nothing to concern yourself with," Hermione grunted as she shoved the trunk against the door. Just then another blast shook the boat, and the new sound of rifles being fired reached their ears. Lavender bolted upright and looked at Hermione with frightened eyes.
"What was that? Are we under attack?"
"Well, yes. Pirates, apparently," Hermione admitted, her attention more focused on wedging a chair beneath the door handle than on her companion's sensibilities.
Lavender's shriek caught her attention, however, and Hermione turned to find the ridiculous girl trying to get out of bed.
"Miss Brown. Please stay put. We don't need you getting sick everywhere." Hermione rolled her eyes as Lavender began to stuff all of her trinkets and handkerchiefs into her bodice.
Lavender simply continued screaming at regular intervals as she raced around the room, gathering up her belongings.
"Miss Brown! Please, calm yourself! We are barricading ourselves in this room, and if they want to accost us, they will have to get through me first!" Hermione emphasized her point by lifting her skirts and removing the pair of pistols strapped to her thighs.
"Are those REAL?!" Lavender squealed, backing away from Hermione and looking frantic.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Hermione grumbled, checking the pistols and setting them on the table, ready for action. "Save me from insipid women," she mumbled to no one in particular.
Thankfully, Lavender seemed so taken aback by the firearms that she remained firmly in her corner of the room. Hermione added a small stool and a crate to the pile against the door, then began collecting items they could use as weapons such as the washbasin, Lavender's silver hairbrush, and her companion's feather pillow for good measure. She could always rip it open and use the feathers as a diversion. Hermione was nothing if not resourceful.
Their room protected as best as could be under the circumstances, Hermione had nothing else to do now but wait and fret. There had been no further cannon blasts but the gunfire was still steady and it was impossible to discern what was being shouted on the deck. Lavender was sniffling softly in her corner.
After what seemed like an eternity, footsteps thundered down the stairs and Hermione's muscles tensed. Shouts could be heard further down the passageway but the exact words were indistinct. She gestured for Lavender to hide herself under her bed, and thankfully the girl complied. "Stay quiet," Hermione hissed at her, "and perhaps they won't find you!" She had little hope that Lavender would be able to remain silent, but there was little else she could do.
Then someone tried to open the door, without luck. The handle rattled as the person—or pirate—on the other side attempted to break in, but Hermione's trunk-and-chair combination was holding—for now. Lavender whimpered from under the bed and Hermione quickly yanked the bedcover over the side to help muffle the sound. The door shuddered with a sudden impact. Hermione now suspected it was pirates on the other side—any of her ship's crew would surely have announced themselves.
She picked up her pistols and trained them on the door, not knowing if she would actually be capable of shooting whoever broke through. Still, she was pleased to note that her hands were steady, and she felt a cool sense of purpose fill her. She would not submit to a lowly pirate without a fight.
Just then, the door gave way under the weight of its attacker, and Hermione was dismayed to see an entire cadre of pirates start pouring into the small cabin. She only had two bullets and there were at least seven of them in the hall with more coming behind them. She looked at the one in front—he had bright blue eyes and even brighter red hair—and fell back on her last resort.
"Parlay!"
A/N: The parlay bit is again borrowed from Pirates of the Caribbean. I just love picturing Regency-era Hermione being prepared for anything and educated well beyond what anyone would expect (or perhaps prefer)! :) I should add that I have no beta for this story because the inspiration has hit and I am just running with it. Still not JKR.