Author's Note: Hey all! Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. It's been quite the month. I've been a little stressed. But I wanted to make sure you all got an update, so here it is! I'm currently in the middle of trying to move into a new place and stuff, so it might be a little while longer for another update, but I'm trying. I'm also working on a new story in co-collaboration with a friend of mine, so be on the look out for that if your into Hetalia! Anyways, I won't keep you all any long, since I know you want to read this, so enjoy Chapter 3!
Harry sat on the edge of the bed in the lower quarters rooms he had been placed in. His wand had been taken away, his ship was under the command of his childhood enemy and he had no idea what the fate of his crew or his friends was. Harry was not a happy captain. Why? He had asked himself that question several times in the three days he had been trapped there. Why did it have to be Draco fucking Malfoy, of all people? Harry growled in frustration and stood to pace around the room for the umpteenth time that day. He had been isolated from the rest of the world. Malfoy knew just how to get to him.
He was tired, he hadn't slept properly. How could he? His one true joy in life had been snatched away from him, and he was heading to his hanging. Harry was sure that Malfoy was having a fucking joy fest with this. How could it get any better for the Slytherin scum? He had his school days rival locked in the lower quarters of his own ship. He could see the paper's headline now: Infamous Harry Potter captured on his own ship. Most pirates were smart enough to at least get caught on land. And if they knew that they were truly in shit, they would sail to Tortuga. At least they could die with their own kind.
Harry heard footsteps coming towards the room. It wasn't meal time- not that he could call the mush he was being given, a meal- so what could possibly be happening? The door was unlocked, and in walked a familiar feminine face. "Hello Potter."
"Hello Parkinson," he replied coolly. He would only let his anger release in front of Malfoy. Maybe he would would be lucky enough to frighten the man- he doubted it. "What brings you to my lovely abode?" He indicated the tattered hangings and curtains on the small magical window that showed the ocean expanse beyond the ship. He had done quite a bit of damage in his first rage.
Her smirk didn't diminish, as he had hoped, in fact it grew. "The Commodore wishes to see you in his quarters."
"My quarters, you mean," he said through gritted teeth. "And I don't want to see the git." He turned his back to her.
"I don't believe you were given any options in the matter, Potter." She roughly grabbed his arm and led him up the stairs to the main deck of the ship where he saw that it was already night. Four days, now. He thought grimly as Parkinson pulled him to his former quarters. He could imagine himself falling into the feather bed and sleeping for a week after this whole debacle was over. He had to find a way to get the bloody Slytherins off his ship. Parkinson knocked on the door and there was a muffled call from the other side. She opened the door and pulled Harry along behind her.
Inside Harry found that nothing had changed in his room, and he found himself breathing a sigh of relief at the sight. He had been worried that Malfoy would change everything he had created to make the room his. Harry found himself wondering what the Slytherin's own quarters looked like. Probably green and silver, just as Harry's was red and gold. "Ah, thank you Pansy, I can handle Potter on my own. I'll call when I want you to take him away." Pansy bowed her head and left the room, there was a click behind Harry. Malfoy was sitting behind his desk, a smug smile on his face. Harry imagined that it had been permanently stuck there since his capture. "How are your new quarters treating you, Potter?" Malfoy started. "I know that all the quarters on this ship are quite comfortable in their own right. Magic is a wondrous thing, isn't it?"
"I would rather have my own quarters back, Malfoy. And I would rather you be off my ship, so why don't you move along. I've got things to do, places to plunder, and all that," Harry retorted. While Malfoy was on his ship, he wouldn't be keeping his anger in check as he usually did.
"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here with me," Malfoy stood and steeped closer to Harry. Harry did everything he could not to move from his spot. He was going to stand his ground. "There is more than enough room on your bed, and well, we won't be seeing land for quite some time," Malfoy leaned in to whisper in his ear. Harry held his breath. Malfoy smelled more delicious than he could have imagined. "I'm sure both of us will want to relieve tension every now and then. What do you say, Potter? Care to have a little adventure?"
Harry steeled himself. It had already been awhile since he had relieved any tension, and Malfoy was beginning to look like quite a prize. "As- uh-" Damn, he was stuttering. What happened to holding ground. He took a breath and rallied. "As tempting as that sounds, Malfoy, we actually will have to land at some point," There, he would just pretend that Malfoy hadn't offered anything at all. Now if only he could ignore the growing stretch in his pants, then all would be well. At Malfoy's confused expression Harry smiled. "You know, for supplies? You kind of ruined my trip to Port Royal. I wasn't there just to see the Weasley's. I was there to gather food and other provisions for my sail to the south."
Malfoy growled and stepped away from Harry and moved back to the desk. He looked at some of the maps on the surface. "There's no land for miles Potter, and I'm certainly not going back to Port Royal, considering the friends you have there."
Malfoy was more dense than Harry had thought. There was one place that was actually only a month away from them. But, surely, Malfoy knew of that. He had been a pirate before, and every pirate knew of Tortuga. There was something that the blond was hiding.
"You're over looking one place Malfoy-" Harry started to say, but he was cut off by Malfoy's malicious glare.
"No." He growled. "I will never step foot on that Merlin-forsaken sand ever again."
Harry was taken aback by the bark that was in the blond's words. What was it about Tortuga that seemed to -dare he think it, frighten- the man? The man had gone instantly from trying to seduce him, to nearly hexing him. Harry took note that Malfoy's wand was in his hand, and Harry was unfortunately unarmed. He could fight the Muggle way fairly easily, but there was no way he could get in a good hit from this distance. He decided a diplomatic approach would be best, and would probably appeal to the now Ministry-clad man that stood before him. "What do you suggest Malfoy? There's no other land that close besides Port Royal. You know that as well as I do."
Malfoy sunk into the chair behind the desk with less grace than Harry had ever seen the man pull off. Harry briefly wondered if anyone else had ever seen Malfoy in such a state of distraught. Probably not. Harry sighed. "Look, I'll make a deal with you, Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked up, his cold steel eyes meeting his own emerald ones. "Who says you're in any position to be making deals with me Potter? Look at you," he gestured at Harry's state of dress and position. He had a point. Harry's clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. His hair was in a state of disarray that was worse than usual, he was unshaven and his wrists were held together in steel braces. "You're not quite the Captain that your crew looks up to, are you?"
Harry growled, hoping to bite back some of the anger he was feeling. "Look, Malfoy. You don't want to even dare to go into Tortuga, but we both know that it's your only choice," Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off. "Here's what I'm proposing: we dock in Tortuga, and you send some of your crew on land with me to gather the necessary supplies needed to make it all the way back to London."
Malfoy's usual blank mask took on a thoughtful expression. "I'm willing to acquiesce to this proposal-" Harry nearly sighed in relief. Malfoy hadn't even heard the rest of his terms and was already close to accepting. "-but, what do you want in return?" Harry's body stiffened. "I'm certainly not going to let you walk free as soon as we land in Tortuga or London. So what do you want?"
Harry smiled. The man was clever. He only hoped he could be more so. "I want to be able to walk my ship freely. To come and go from my room as I please. I also want my crew- or those that you have left on this ship- to walk freely as well," he was blunt but it was his only tactic. "and be free of these shackles. They chafe."
Malfoy chuckled and flashed Harry a smile that nearly made him swoon. Nearly. "You drive a hard bargain Potter," he joked. "All right, I acquiesce. You and your friends will be free to wander as you please, without the bindings. The ship is protected with anti-apparition wards. My only stipulation is that you will take your meals with me in the mornings and evenings."
Harry sighed. That wasn't expected, but it was better than being holed away in his temporary quarters for a month. "Very well Malfoy. I accept your stipulation."
"Excellent!" Malfoy stood and waved his wand and Harry found that the shackles around his wrists were gone. "I'm not happy about having to travel to Tortuga, but since I won't be going on land, I suppose I'll have to make do."
Harry rubbed his wrists and stared at the man as he made this confession. "What about it frightens you so much Malfoy?" The look the stole over the blond's face made Harry take a tentative step backward.
"I'm not afraid, Potter," he hissed. Then, as if realizing that he was letting his anger go, Malfoy composed himself. "The place brings bad, unwanted memories." He shook his head as if getting rid of the memories. "Now go away Potter. You have your freedom you requested, and I will inform my crew of what is going on. Your friends were freed as well. I'll call on you when breakfast is served." And he ushered Harry out of his own room, whispering a few words to Parkinson, who had been standing just outside the door and then shut the door in Harry's face.
"I'll have my eye on you and your friends Potter. So don't even think about trying anything." Parkinson hissed at him. He flashed her his most false, but charming, smile.
"Wouldn't dream of it." But he had a plan. Malfoy had practically served the idea to him on a silver platter.
Draco sank onto the feather bed and sighed. How Potter had talked him into sailing to Tortuga was beyond him. Maybe it had been the defeated look in his eyes, or sad state of dress he was in. Whatever it was, it had Draco's nerves stretched thin. And the words that had spilled from his mouth! Practically pulling Potter into the bed and fucking him right then and there! He was almost positive that Potter was dating that red headed shrew, but Draco had turned straight men before, granted they couldn't have been very straight to begin with if they had chosen to sleep with him. Why would Potter have been so different? Oh, yes, because they hated each other.
Draco hadn't been lying when he suggested it to be for relieving tension. Draco had plenty of sexual tension built up in his groin he would probably fuck anyone at this point. Potter was just the only good looking one out of his choices.
He knew that Potter would try and escape at the first chance given, but he would also try to take back his ship at the same time. He was cunning like a Slytherin, Draco had seen the gears working in his mind as the Gryffindor had worked out a plan the entire conversation. Draco would have to be on his guard while in the company of the dark haired man. He could hold out. At least he hoped so.
Potter had gotten to see Draco in a state that very few had gotten to see. Actually his parents were probably the only people who had ever seen him in times when he could act as himself and not as society dictated he act as someone foreign even to him.
It was going to be a long month. And Draco hoped that it would go by extremely uneventfully.
He sighed and sank further into the bed, allowing the downy softness to claim him and he fell into a sleep wrought with images from his past.
When Draco woke the next morning, the sun hadn't even risen above the horizon. It was still too early for breakfast, so he stood stretched and dressed. Once he felt that he was ready, Draco examined Potter's desk more thoroughly. He had been searching it for the Captain's log, which even a pirate kept.
Digging down into one of the lower drawers, he found what he was looking for in the form of a medium sized leather bound book held together with twine. Draco opened it to more current dates and found ones about the times that he had been following Potter's ship:
Captain's Log, H. Potter, January, 20th, 17xx
Waters are rough today, had the crew batten down the hatches. I fear a storm is rolling in and I can only hope that we find some land to anchor near and take refuge on.
Once again the ship with emerald sails is following far behind us. Hermione insists that it's just a trade ship, but I don't believe it. It's followed us through three stops for supplies already, and hasn't veered off our course once. Though maybe Hermione is right, and I am just paranoid.
Draco read on further and found more about his 'emerald sails' ship:
Captain's Log, H. Potter, March 12th, 17xx
This is becoming more and more ridiculous. Now I know I'm not paranoid, and even Ron admits that it's bizarre that this emerald sail ship is still on our course. It's most certainly not a trade ship. Though it certainly can't be a part of the Ministry. I've never known them to hail emerald sails, though they could be hiring privateers now. Wouldn't put it past them to use every means necessary to bring my body back to them, dead or alive.
Come Hell or high water, I will lose that ship.
No matter how much it reminds me of a Slytherin I once knew.
Draco's hand paused. His ship reminded Potter of him? Maybe he just meant another Slytherin. Potter was bound to know a few of them. He flipped back a few dates to see what else the pirate had said about him and his ship:
Captain's Log, H. Potter, February 19th, 17xx
I don't like this. Not one bit. Those sails have to be of a Slytherin brood. The ship sailed close enough to my own to see the silver trimmings and all. Only one group of people would sail a ship with those colors.
A Slytherin.
And if I'm not mistaken, I could guess what Slytherin.
Draco Malfoy.
Damn, I haven't thought about that man in almost five years. Not since I had returned his wand to him and left that land behind. What could he be up to? I know that he left the pirating world, but what would drive him to work as a privateer? Of course; money. I nearly drove his family poor with my first raid. It was completely intentional to rob the Malfoy's, but never my intention to drive them to the poor house. Especially their son.
I would never tell Hermione this, nor Ron or even Ginny, but I felt that on some lower level, Malfoy and I were connected. All through school we had been enemies, but perhaps we used that as a ruse; something to hide what we truly felt for one another because of who we were, and what families we hailed from.
But we're adults now. I'm sure if Malfoy and I saw one another again, we could let bygones be bygones and put the past behind us and look to the future.
When had a Captain's Log become a diary? Draco set the log down with a shaky hand and sat down. Potter had felt a connection with him? In school? Draco remembered feeling nothing but hatred for the scraggly boy of eleven when they had started at Hogwarts and Potter had turned down his offer of friendship.
But Potter was right. They were adults, could they just forget the past and perhaps be friends now?
No. Draco knew that, now, they would never be able to be friends, not after Draco had captured him on his own ship and was leading the brunette to his own death. No, there would be nothing but animosity between them. And it would hold true all the way to London.
Draco groaned. He put the log back in the drawer. He could always read more later. Now it was time to summon Potter, and try to make it through breakfast without trying to kill the man.
