By the time the ship was untied from the dock, the skies were grey with early morning sun and the smoke rolled off the town into a fog that hid their escape. Jack bid a quiet goodbye to the birds that chimed them off.
"Jack, let's get out of here for god's sake." Gibbs approached him at the starboard side after ensuring the last of the supplies had been stowed. He noticed Jack was quieter and more pensive than ever.
"I couldn't agree with you more, mate. Lower the sails and bring in the lines, let's make way in as timely a fashion as possible." Jack made his way up the stairs to the helm.
"What happened back there, Jack?" Billy came to the bottom of the stairwell.
The captain didn't budge. "How much do you know?"
Billy frowned. "Not much. Donovan is dead, the slaves have been freed. But how?"
"Mr. Kurtz, the man we were contracted to work for, magically cursed the local people into submission and intended to sell them accordingly. Hermione was uneasy about the whole matter, as was I, of course, and he knew this, I figure, because next thing I knew, everyone was fighting and I was locked in a bloody broom closet!"
"How was the curse lifted, Jack?"
The captain's eyes reverted and he muttered between chewing his fingernails. "I killed him."
"Jack, do you realize that murder is—? Selling slaves isn't criminal, but killing a man is. For all we know, the hangman's noose will be readied for our return!" Billy yelled, catching the attention of the crew and there was a flash of panic in Jack's eyes when he realized they were listening.
"No one knows how he died, Mr. Turner, and I think it best we keep it that way, aye? There was a rebellion, the whole town in blazes, and the good people have their land back; their freedom restored. A hundred of them, at least. That's what matters - that's our story. Print it out." Jack tried to be optimistic enough for all of them.
Billy looked around at the crew who had gathered around. "One more thing, Cap'm."
Jack leaned forward expectantly.
"One of the crewmen ran off. Abraham."
"Oh I couldn't stand that sop. We're better off without him, Billy… Did you run a search party?"
"A small one, sir, but we came up empty-handed."
"See, we tried. What are you waiting for, men, let's get a bloody move on!" Jack waved his hands in the air to shoo them off as he finally made his way at the helm, holding a spoke of the wheel and wiped a bead of nervous sweat from his brow.
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"Be still, Hermione. It'll hurt less."
Mr. Granger held his daughter's arm with a large hand and applied gentle pressure with astringent with the other, causing Hermione to scrunch her nose tightly, as though she were a sponge that could dissolve the stinging sensation that left her arm throbbing with pain. She wiped a tear with her small hand.
"Thank you." She sniffled when the sting subsided, studying the long cut across her arm. "I'll be more careful."
"You can always expect a fall or two when you're learning your bike." Her father's smile was warm and comforting. "As long as you get back up, that's what matters. Now, one more, okay my brave girl?"
Hermione nodded for him to continue.
He applied pressure with the rag soaked in alcohol that burned when it was pressed against her open cut.
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Hermione jolted up from the bed with a cry as the rag was placed against her open wound. Upon her eyes' first opening, she recognized the captain's cabin, and the captain seated beside her in his blouse, his sleeves rolled back to keep from getting them wet from the rag and washbasin. His eyes spoke patience as he put a gentle hand against her forehead, laying her back against the pillow.
"Take it easy, love."
She was then overwhelmed by exhaustion and despite a pounding headache and the fact that her body felt as heavy as lead she was, for a moment, at peace.
From where she rested against the pillow she observed Jack while he continued diligent work on her arm. His shirt was still orange with dirt, but his hands were clean, aside from a show of hard work beneath his fingernails. She noted his face that was focused on his task: eyebrows furrowed, and kohl-lined eyes set upon her.
"What happened?" She became overwhelmed at her memory of the night. "How did we get back? I'm - I'm so sorry I didn't get us out of there." She looked away.
"You were unconscious. I shot the bastard and killed him. The people are free. And you, Hermione, haven't a thing to worry your pretty head about."
"But Donovan is dead - it's all my fault." She started to sit up again but he put his hands on her to keep her there.
"Love, you must rest. I don't know what that bastard did to you but I-" he stopped when he recognized a growl in his voice. "Rest, to air on the side of caution." He visibly retreated, his lips pressed in a firm line. "But I must ask. What happened? How can you do those" he waved his hand in the air, "things?"
Hermione averted her eyes for a moment, though his didn't budge from her. "It's magic, yes. I, I was born with it. I studied it. I know how to manage it safely." She assured him, assuming he might consider locking her in the brig indefinitely.
"And the boy?"
"The same. Though, he hasn't practiced. He didn't know how to control it."
"And Mr. Kurtz?"
She nodded grimly to which he didn't reply. Instead, he was consumed by thought. She continued, his silence overbearing to her. "I'm sorry I kept it from you, but you must understand the need for secrecy. You can't tell anyone. Please, I beg you." She sat up and this time he didn't stop her.
"Why should I trust you?" His words were merited but nonetheless crippling.
"Because… I've never crossed you, and I wouldn't. I would only use it in self-defense, as I have before." She could feel herself crumbling, stumbling over words in a panic that she'd never felt. "I would never do anything to hurt you, Jack. I care about you...r crew."
He pursed his lips but his eyes remained serious. He wrapped the wound in a bandage but left the sleeve of her shirt up. "You need to rest. Stay here." He stood, gathering his supplies, and that's when Hermione spotted it.
"Wait." She stopped him, reaching for his arm and she tugged him back down. He complied and waited patiently as she sat up in the bed and retrieved a clean rag.
Their eyes locked for a moment before she dabbed the cloth in the watery basin and applied it to a cut on the side of his face. He flinched at her first touch, but not because it stung.
"I'm sorry, I'll be gentle."
"You are gentle." He replied with a silky voice, and noticed her cheeks reddened and she averted her eyes from his gaze, focusing on the small wound.
She didn't even recognize his hand out of the corner of her eye until it touched her cheek and she stopped to find his gaze was piercing. If at all possible, her cheeks reddened further. He pulled her face to his and placed his lips overtop hers, a thumb caressing her cheek after she began to reciprocate. He treasured the texture of her lips and the taste of vanilla that drove him wild. His world seemed to spin when she leaned further into him, deepening the kiss. A small groan escaped their lips when his hands began to wander up and down her hips and waist just as before but this time he didn't pull away.
Instead, he crawled over her and intertwined his hands in hers. Their breathing labored and Hermione had never experienced anything more intense, and she felt a longing for him that she'd never fully accepted until now. He growled her name and his eyes rolled back as a single hand trailed up her side and up to touch her neck, exploring the nook of her collarbone along the way.
The entire time, Hermione was screaming inside. Whether it was because of the great emotions he brought out of her or because her rationality fought against it, she was twisted internally for many reasons.
"Jack." She said his name and he met her eyes with his intense ones. "Please." She pulled away. "I don't want to move too quickly, I-"
"Trust me, love. I'll never do anything to hurt you." He soothed, burying his face in her neck and sowing soft kisses that gave her chills. She bit her lip, fighting against the part of her that wanted him to touch her even more, but she was afraid. It was when his hand traveled along her pantleg to caress her thigh, then maneuvered under her shirt that she jolted back and grabbed his wandering hand.
"I'm not ready." She shook her head and Jack pulled away, brushing back her wild curls using his fingers. Her cheeks were flushed pink and Jack decided she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, even though he preferred her in a dress. He could only manage an adoring smile and his mouth opened to speak but couldn't form a syllable before the cabin doors swung open without warning.
"Cap'n! Colours! From the East." Upon entering, Gibbs stopped in his tracks upon seeing the captain laying with Hermione.
"What the bloody hell is the meaning of this?" Jack seemed angry as he stood from the bed and approached his first mate.
Gibbs hushed his voice as though it would subdue the captain's panic. "Cap'n, the Royal Navy is upon us, sir."
"Abraham. The bloody rat!" Jack leapt from the bed and stormed toward his effects that were laid on the nearby table and shrugged them on with urgency. Gibbs left to attend to the crew and make ready for conflict, or so that's what Hermione heard him say.
"Battle?" Hermione interjected.
"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best." He placed his hat on his head with assurance, giving her a clever wink before leaving the cabin.
"But, Jack, you can negotiate," Hermione followed behind him, her gown trailing along the each step as she pursued him up the stairwell toward the helm, "Tell them the truth, they are the navy, after all - we're all on the same side. I can vouch for you."
"Bitter truth, love: There are more grey areas at sea than you think." His eyes narrowed out to view the ship that followed them, decorated, indeed, with the colors of the English navy.
"Heave to and prepare to be boarded!" Jack bellowed from the helm. The first mate echoed the captain's commands to frantic sailors at the front of the ship, scrambling to unfurl a frontward sail in order to gather more wind speed. The sail flapped and tossed as Gibbs and Billy fought to tie the line down at the railing, but the wind was too sporadic. The sun was about to be enveloped in rain clouds that looked so heavy that they could break at any moment. No gust was straight nor true, causing the sail to lose wind as quickly as it caught it. The captain saw this and knew that one more hand was needed.
"Hermione!" Jack called out to her.
"What can I do, Jack?" She approached, craning her neck to see that the British ship was gaining on them.
"Steer." Before she could protest he had pushed her to the wheel by the small of her back and left.
"No, no, JACK!" She had no idea how to steer a ship. The wheel controlled the rudder at the bottom, right? Or was it the boom? But it was too late. He had already rolled up his sleeves and was heaving the sail alongside his comrades, reining in and eventually tacking the sail tightly to the railing, bracing himself with his foot against the rail, securing it tightly. Hermione attempted to hold the ship steady as the ferocity of the waves increased only, this time, not at all by her influence.
"Mother's love, Jack, what have we done?" Gibbs was also the first to realize that the British ship was not a trading vessel or even a small naval operative, but instead a large warship; one that could easily overtake the Wench, a sitting duck compared to the pirate ships she was probably used to combating.
"Give the Wench a chance, Gibbs." Jack remarked, casual but nervous. He rubbed his hands together to soothe the rope burns that had printed on his hands.
"Since when was luck ever a sailor's fighting chance? And in this rain? Not to mention, we're now short of hands. We'll need the Gods." Gibbs turned to leave, exasperated, barking orders at the crew.
Jack returned to Hermione at the helm, who had barely turned the wheel since he left her there. She only held her steady. "Mighty well done, 'Mione." He gave her a smile before accepting the wheel from her again. He began to turn the ship sharply around after calling out "hard to starboard!", the following movements causing Hermione to lose her balance and fall to the deck, much like the crew who also hit the wooden ground with a thud as the ship turned violently. "All hands to the main irons!"
"Jack, we can't fight her!" Billy ran to the helm, his eyes flashing in fear. The look in Jack's eyes told him he was dealing with a madman. "We're honest sailors, honestly! I don't figure my wife will fancy widowhood much, Jack!"
"Don't worry about death right now, my friend. Worry about your life, it's all you've got. It's all we've bloody got! The British Navy is upon us." Jack bellowed out to the crew, "Now, we can be taken like sitting ducks or we can catch her by surprise and stand a fighting chance. Aye?!"
"Only more will come, Jack!" Hermione ran to his side. "You- we can't take them."
There was a cloud on his horizon. A small dark cloud with a barreling, purple underbelly. From it, lightning struck the ocean that began to churn with righteous indignation. The good fight was not yet won.
"Could this be a trap, Captain?" Billy hollered through squinted eyes as thick rain now fell from the sky.
"Are you kidding? I was raised by bloody pirates. I think everything could be a trap, which is why I'm still alive." He grinned widely as the last of the sun crossed from one side of the sail to the other, the ship now turned around almost completely. "Hermione, barricade yourself in my cabin."
"No. I'm staying here. I can fight, you know I can." She defended, her hair now wet from the rain.
He neglected the wheel for a moment and grabbed her arms in order to yield her full attention.
"Hermione, I need you to listen to me, just this time. I will not lose you." Was all he said, but her defiant stare rejected his order again. Without warning, he bent down and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Billy, man the helm."
Jack carried her, despite her protest, down the stairs and into his cabin. He promptly threw her on his bed. She bounced back up immediately, chasing after him but it was without avail. He turned around and grabbed her by the wrists.
"Let go of me!" She fought him but his grip was stronger.
He held her still. "You'll be safe in here, love."
"I can defend myself and you, too." She argued as he let go of one of her wrists, pulling her toward the desk as he went and opened a drawer, retrieved something from inside, and brought her over to the bed.
"You'll give yourself away and doom us all, that's what you'd do. You see, love, perhaps I can negotiate ourselves out of last night's fiasco, but I can't negotiate saving a witch. Best keep your secret, as you said yourself." Jack locked something cold around her wrist and she didn't recognize what he'd done until he raised that arm and secured the other shackle to the bedpost.
"You know I can get out of this." She raised her brow at him.
"Yes, but I figure it'll keep you occupied long enough for me to secure the door," he planted a kiss on her cheek and gave her a sly wink that made her blood boil before he left once again and proceeded to lock her in from the outside with a sword strung through the exterior doorhandles.
She tugged on the iron shackle a moment, seeing if she could slip her hand out of it but the ship rocked violently as it turned once more, the furniture scraping across the floorboards and Hermione felt herself dangling sideways from the bedpost. The wooden ship creaked dangerously as it did.
"Fuck!" She complained and concentrated on alohamora, working successfully without her wand, falling hard on the ground when it released her.
She ran to the door, tugged on the handles and banged on the door with her fists after attempting alohamora, but it was to no avail: it was not just locked. She was stuck. If only the British ship was still behind them, she could watch the progression of events from out the windows, but with the Wench now headed toward battle, Hermione was agonized by her cluelessness.
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"Stash your weapons and prepare to be boarded! We have but one chance, gents, and I expect your full compliance." Jack commanded his crew, pacing about the deck, watching as the battleship neared them. "We likely won't win a battle of arms, seeing as none of you are trained in combat whatsoever, thus, let the captain do the speaking and follow my lead - aye?"
"Jack, this is madness." Billy shook his head, earning a glare from the captain.
"Might save your life." Was Jack's cold reply. "We are sailors - there was a slave rebellion and we are escaping the town. Simple as that."
"But what about Abraham, sir? What do ye reckon he's told them?" Gibbs placed his arms on his hips. "And Granger, why did you lock her up? Don't ye think they'll find that a wee bit suspicious?"
"Nonetheless, Master Gibbs, lettin' 'er out would be a mistake." Jack's tone changed.
"God's mother, Jack, this isn't all because of her, is it?" Gibbs measured the captain with hesitant eyes.
"No - 'Course not." Jack frowned. "Now get back to work, the lot of ye! Act natural and trust the process, and all that."
The rain slowed to a sprinkle when the opposing ship neared, the front sail came up behind the Wench before it came parallel to it. Each ship lowered its sails and dropped its anchors, and a plank was lowered from the larger Naval vessel for the navy men to board one by one, taking armed formation along the deck while Jack and his crew waited in anticipation for the other captain to come aboard.
Jack recognized the silhouette of an admiral cross the plank and approached him.
"Well, well, if it isn't Johnathan Teague. Are you a Captain now, really?" The Admiral jested to Jack whose face turned dark with a scowl.
"Fitzy, its been a long time, hasn't it?" Jack played with his old adversary, but didn't lose his frown. "I go by Sparrow, officially. Captain Jack Sparrow - full title."
The Admiral scoffed. "Let me guess, you couldn't escape your father's shadow? Is that why you're," he chuckled his condescension, "a merchant captain? Say, isn't this one of the ships belonging to the Beckett family? The Wicked Wench?"
"I was contracted by Cutler Beckett, yes. And let me guess," Jack mocked him, "You or your dad couldn't manage to capture my father after all these years? Anyway, lets leave our dads and old times behind us - might we conduct ourselves in a more ruly setting? Discuss things like adults? Or have you not grown, Fitsy?"
"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" The Admiral charged him.
"With." Jack corrected him.
"Excuse me?"
"Talking with - I'm talking with you, not to you - this is an exchange." Jack teased the Admiral, but recognized he'd gotten off track and was not on his way to saving his skin. "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of your carbuncle?"
"You know very well my reason for being here, Teague - Sparrow." The Admiral corrected himself. "A member of your crew claims to have witnessed the murder of one of our nearby noblemen, a Mr. John Kurtz? Does the name strike you?"
"It rings a bell, yes." Jack crossed his arms.
"Your sailor, Abraham, is aboard my ship. Says you murdered the man and freed his slaves that you were contracted to transport. Thus, with much joy, I place you and your vessel in the custody of the King's navy."
"Oí!" Jack called out to the sailors who moved to arrest them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Is that a threat, Sparrow?"
"Not in the slightest, Fitsy, but I should make you aware that my crew and I have done no wrong. I witnessed this murder firsthand, as well as or better than dear Abraham did, and I can tell you all about it if we could manage a private setting to discuss and allow me to defend my honor - and the honor of my crew." Jack hid nervousness with a cool gaze.
"The brig would be as good a place as any." The Admiral spoke with a long face and waved for his men to move. "Arrest them."
"Admiral Dalton," Billy stepped out from the crowd but was stopped by the men in uniforms. "Please allow Jack to explain himself."
"Ah," The man approached Billy, "William Turner - Still sailing under Sparrow, then? You still look seventeen - you both do."
"Sir, nevermind that you betrayed us - dear William and I - as kids, but as adults allow us to conversate as such, defend our dignity." Jack reasoned with him while attempting to bury old anger.
"You? Sparrow? Dignity?" The Admiral turned to leave, but stopped when he saw a sword wedged through the cabin doors. "What is this?" He started to move toward the doors. "What are you still standing around for? Arrest them!"
Jack moved to evade the navymen's grasp but they managed to grab him by the shoulders and force him to his knees.
Before the Admiral proceeded to remove the sword from the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of fists banging against the door and the voice of a distraught woman. He withdrew the sword and opened the doors, causing Hermione to stumble forward mid-hit. "Jack Sparrow I swear I'll-" She had said before she fell forward, but caught herself before she hit the ground.
"What is this?" The Admiral gazed at her in great curiosity, noting she was wearing men's shirt and pants, turning to look at Jack before back at Hermione who stood up.
"What's going on - who are you?" Hermione moved back but it wasn't before the man grabbed her by the arm where Jack had bandaged her wound. She cried out and Jack struggled from the sailors' hold.
"Madam, I am Fitzwilliam P. Dalton the Third, Admiral of the King's Royal Naval Services of West Africa." His face was charming, but rigid, and he wasn't much older than Jack and herself. His face was clean shaven and his eyes were green - yet there was something about him that was unsettling and she couldn't quite place it. "Who are you?"
"Hermione Granger. Of the Granger family. London." Afraid of saying too much, she kept her words brief. To her relief, he released her.
"My apologies, Miss." He stood tall, leaning forward to take her hand. "I'm sorry to inform you that this ship is now in the custody of my command, as well as your Captain and adjoining crew. But, rest assured, you're already in safer hands."
