Hermione took great satisfaction in reading Captain Snape's ridiculous animal husbandry book overnight. When she presented it to him the following day, asking for another, she had also vastly enjoyed the look of shock on his striking face. As the wind had yet to pick back up, they were still anchored at sea, and the captain had had no choice but to procure another tome for her. This time it was a compendium of Caribbean flora and fauna, which Hermione found fascinating. It only took her two afternoons and one evening to devour, however. After that, she had the distinct impression that Captain Snape was making an effort to avoid her at all costs, no doubt out of reading material and unwilling to entertain her endless amounts of questions.
So she turned her attention to other pursuits, the first of which was discovering what exactly the sailors were doing while the ship was immobile. It did not take her long to track their shouts down into the far reaches of the hold, where they were apparently engaging in bouts of sword fighting and fisticuffs. She supposed they thought they were hiding from the captain, but Hermione had no illusions about that: Captain Snape likely knew exactly where they were and what they were doing.
Hermione crept closer, being careful to keep herself out of sight. She didn't want to risk being thrown out of the action before she'd even had a chance to observe. Partially hidden behind a large crate of oranges, Hermione watched, fascinated, as Weasley and Malfoy faced off, swords drawn. Ronald was more muscled than the quartermaster but there was a mean gleam in Malfoy's eye that indicated trouble.
"Sure you don't want to surrender now, Weasel?" the second-in-command taunted. "Oh, I forgot—you need the prize money!"
A few of the assembled men laughed, but Weasley only grinned at his rival. "What, and miss my chance to mar that pretty face of yours, Malfoy? I don't think so!"
Some hoots rang out in the hold at this, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys were so ridiculous—all this prancing around and insulting one another. If she'd been engaged in this fight, she'd have already had her blade to Malfoy's nether regions. It was most assuredly the quickest and easiest way to victory.
"Bet your mother would still fancy me," Malfoy threw back.
Weasley's face turned an unbecoming shade of purple and he responded with a suggestion that made Hermione blush. But as the two combatants continued to circle, an idea blossomed in Hermione's mind. Why not participate? She was a decent shot and comfortable with daggers—surely she could handle a larger weapon as well. And besides, if she was going to soon find herself in the pirate capital of the Caribbean, she ought to be able to defend herself properly, oughtn't she?
Edging around her crate, Hermione stepped up next to a few of the men at the outer perimeter of the ring, her mind made up. The two armed pirates were still baiting one another, so Hermione pushed her way to the front before their swords started flying. "I challenge the winner," she announced.
—0—0—0—
The uproar that followed her sudden appearance took at least fifteen minutes to die down, and another ten minutes were spent bandaging up Ronald's shoulder. While he'd stared at her, agog, Malfoy had taken advantage and lunged. Judging by the outrage smoldering in Weasley's eyes, he wouldn't forgive her any time soon. Hermione inwardly cringed but there wasn't much time to dwell on the situation now—she was face to face with the ship's quartermaster, and he was sneering at her in a wholly unacceptable manner.
"Are you sure about this, princess?" he asked, his chosen nickname for her grating on her already-fraught nerves. The cutlass they'd handed her was swiftly becoming rather heavy and Hermione frowned at Malfoy as she hoisted it upwards again.
"Scared, Malfoy?" she shot back, feeling a bead of sweat run down her spine. She jabbed the sword at him, eager to get this over with, and he easily blocked her. The clang of their swords seemed to catch everyone's attention, and immediately bets began to volley back and forth. Hermione tried to ignore the cacophony, mostly because it seemed no one in the audience was wagering that she would win.
Malfoy circled her and Hermione chose to turn in place rather than move about. Her gown was proving to be a hindrance and distractedly she wished for a pair of breeches. Her opponent must have noticed her inattention, though, because he lunged forward and sliced one of the pert little bows off her shoulder. The quartermaster was laughing with the onlookers—it was obvious he didn't take her seriously. She decided it was time to remind him just who had bested whom the last time they'd met.
"I happened to like that ribbon," she growled, diving forward and cutting downward, tearing Malfoy's whole sleeve open. His eyes widened and all traces of good humor vanished from his features. Hermione feinted to the left, pressing her advantage, and used the tip of her cutlass to nick his opposite arm, the spots of blood blooming red against Malfoy's pristine white shirt.
Immediately a flurry of money began changing hands, and Hermione heard with great satisfaction that several of the crew were now betting on her. "If we'd wagered first blood, I'd've beaten you just now," Hermione pointed out.
Malfoy scowled. "Lucky for me we settled on surrender then, isn't it?" he drawled, but Hermione could see that his confidence had been severely shaken. As quick as a snake he advanced on her, chopping and jabbing in rapid succession. Hermione parried as best she could but the cutlass was much larger than what she was used to and she was growing tired. Not to mention, she was becoming tangled up in her skirts, and her corset did not allow for much freedom of movement.
And Malfoy knew she was struggling. Before she could prevent it, he had forced her to spin and twist, then easily knocked her weapon from her hands. His arrogant grin returned but Hermione reached for the dagger strapped to her ankle. Malfoy must have thought she was about to faint, for he made the mistake of stepping closer and reaching out a hand to grab her. Hermione straightened and pressed the smaller blade to his throat, feeling a rush of victory as the hold erupted in cheers and catcalls and Malfoy's smug expression fell. But her happiness was short-lived.
"Someone please remove our captive from the sparring ring," boomed the displeased voice of Captain Snape from the doorway. Crewmen were scattering quickly, some diving behind crates and others pressing themselves against the wall, no doubt trying to become invisible. Hermione frowned at him, about to argue, when he continued. "And one of you, for Merlin's sake, teach the girl how to properly handle a cutlass. Using a secondary weapon may not be cheating, but it is generally frowned upon."
Hermione scowled at the captain's unyielding form as he stood there with his arms crossed. Malfoy gave her a hard shove and stormed out of the hold, muttering unflattering aspersions on her character as he went. A few of the crewmen shuffled out, as well, but several slid back into place near Hermione. One—Neville, she thought his name was—piped up.
"I'll train her, Captain," he croaked. Hermione smiled at him encouragingly but she couldn't help noticing that his hands were shaking. Perhaps she ought to find a more courageous tutor—
It seemed that Captain Snape agreed with her private assessment. "Thank you, Longbottom, but on second thought, I shall train the little minx myself." He stared calculatingly at Hermione. "Report to the upper deck tomorrow at sunrise," he ordered, the beginnings of a smirk on his face, "and I'll show you everything you need to know about handling a large weapon."
A/N: To the reviewer who asked for more Snape lines ending the chapters—voila. Please enjoy.
