Chapter Four

Jack had rummaged through his "affects" for a while before finding a small box with a piece of flint and a piece of steel in it. He started with a spark and some furry stuff he had pulled from a palm tree, fed it with twigs, and soon they had a wonderful bonfire on the beach. They watched the sun set in silence, though they kept sneaking glances at one another.

When it was fully dark and all the stars in the universe were proudly displaying themselves just for the purpose of being reflected in Hermione's eyes, he turned to her, still a bit slurring and clumsy. "Hermione," he said, drawing out each syllable. "Such a lovely name. Lovely name for a lovely girl."

She blushed, though it wasn't visible in the dim light of the fire. "Thank you, Mr. Sparrow."

"You should call me Jack." He settled back into the sand with his hands behind his head.

"I should?" She did the same, but bumped his elbow with her own as she lay down. Quickly she shifted a bit further away.

"You should." He turned to face her and couldn't keep his eyes off her rich brown hair fanned out around her on the sand, the rise and fall of her chest, the small strip of skin that showed between the top of her trousers and the bottom of her camisole.

Hermione shifted so her head lay on one arm and she faced him. "All right. Jack. Mm, Jack." She'd had more rum than she thought.

"There, isn' that nice?"

"Yes…" Their gazes locked and it was a long while before she broke it by sitting up abruptly. Ooh, that did bad things to her head.

"All righ' love?" he asked, sitting up more slowly.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, raising a hand to her forehead. His hand rested on her bare shoulder, warm against the cool breeze that blew in off the sea. Almost without realizing it, she leaned toward him.

Jack didn't protest, only slipped his arm around to her opposite shoulder, his fingers drumming softly against her bare skin. She scooted closer and lay her head on his chest with a great sigh. "Whatsa matter, love?" he cooed, leaving his rum bottle in the sand to brush a strand of hair from her face.

She sighed again. "Oh… I'm just thinking that sooner or later I'll have to go back." Jack decided to ignore the fact that they were marooned without a ship and there was no way to go back.

"And is that such a bad thing?" She smelled so good, like… like apples and some kind of little purple flower he couldn't remember the name of.

"Probably." She sat up then, realizing she had been in his arms. The thought sobered her, but only for a moment. "I left to get away from my parents."

"Ahh," Jack said wisely, bringing the bottle to his lips again. He really did have nice lips, Hermione noticed, even if they were rather chapped. "Been givin' you a spot of trouble, eh?"

"Yes, you could say that." She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, shivering slightly. Jack felt around behind him for his discarded coat and draped it around her small frame. "Thanks," she said with a weak smile. The tears in her eyes made them shine all the more beautifully.

"Wanna talk about it?" Jack took another swig.

Why not? Hermione asked herself. "I… they want me to go to a… a different school than the one I've chosen." Somehow she thought saying "a Muggle school" would confuse him, so she simplified things.

"Ah." He nodded. A woman going to school? he thought wondrously. There was nothing wrong with teaching little girls to read, but someone Hermione's age going off to a real school? Practically unheard of! Jack himself hadn't much use for letters. He could sign his name if necessary, could read any map set before him, and he knew how to read the names of over two dozen brands of ale, but that was his limit. He never thought it necessary to learn more.

"And the thing is, they just won't listen to reason!" Hermione took a gulp of rum. She was getting worked up again. Shouting made her head hurt, though, so she spoke a bit more softly. "I mean, I know wherever I go, I can get a scholarship, so it's not about the money. And they're bl-bloody dentists, it's not as if they can't afford it if I didn't get a scholarship." She stumbled over the swear word, unused to the syllables on her lips.

Jack just nodded and sipped from his bottle. He had no idea what she was rambling on about, but it seemed like a good idea to at least appear to be listening.

"My mum's gone completely mad about it, but my dad's almost worse! He just sits there quietly, nodding and nodding… And then that line, that line I hate! 'You do what you want, Hermione,' but you know that's not really what he means. He has this look, you know, that look that parents have?" She was off now. "Did your parents ever give you that look?"

Jack nodded sagely. "Aye. That's what made me run away when I was a lad, was that look. Didn't want t' be a blacksmith like me dad."

"You ran away?" Hermione swigged her rum as her eyes filled with half-drunken tears. Her words slurred together ever so slightly. "That's terrible. That's so, so terrible." Gulp. "Terrible. You poor thing." She leaned closer to him, propping herself on one arm and tilting her head to one side. She was lost in his soft brown eyes. His warm, soft, deep brown eyes that were so… soft. And warm. And inviting. She wanted to kiss them, feel the lashes on her lips. But no. No, you weren't supposed to kiss strange men on their eyes. Hm. Where were you supposed to kiss them? Their lips! That was it! She tried to focus on his lips and succeeded after a moment. Mmm…

Jack's eyes widened. The girl had a look about her. He'd seen that look before, though not nearly as recently as he would've liked. She breathed a sigh and warm, rum-scented air washed over him. He set down his bottle and leaned toward her. "You all right, love?" he asked in a whisper.

She nodded and his face swam amongst the stars. She blinked slowly, once, twice, took a few small sips from her bottle. It was nearly empty. Her eyes wandered all over his body, his face. Blue-black tattoos peeking out from various places beneath his shirt, the brand on his arm marking him a pirate, his black-lined eyes, the beads in his hair glinting in the firelight. His beard looked so soft, the stretch of skin revealed by the V in his shirt looked so warm, his rag-wrapped hands looked so… so capable of doing so many things…

"Love?" he asked, softer still, his head canted to one side.

"Yes, darling?" she slurred.

"You're drunk."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "It feels weird." She pushed herself into a cross-legged position and held one arm out, index finger extended, then tried to touch her nose with the tip of her finger. She missed and hit her mouth. Trying again, she hit her cheekbone, then once more. She nearly put her eye out. "Guess I wouldn't pass the test."

"What test?"

"Doesn't matter," she whispered. "I'm not driving anywhere anyway." She stretched her legs out in front of her and raised her arms up over her head to stretch and yawn. She felt sleepy.

Jack couldn't tear his eyes away from her skin. Gods, he thought, I never knew a woman's navel could be so ruddy tantalizing. He gulped and looked away. Musn't take advantage, mustn't take advantage…

Hermione let her head hang back, hair spilling over her shoulders, to gaze at the salt-sprinkled night sky. "Would you like to kiss me, Captain Sparrow?" she asked drowsily.

Not taking advantage if she asks, he thought as he settled his bottle in the sand. "Mmm, maybe." He examined his dirty, gnawed-on fingernails nonchalantly. "Would you like me to kiss you?"

"Yes, I think I would." She lost her balance, lost among the stars, and toppled onto her back in the sand. "Yes please."

Jack really admired a woman who knew what she wanted. "All right," he whispered. Slowly he lowered himself onto one elbow to lie alongside her. His other arm went around her, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach. She looked up at him, a pure, sleepy, curious look. "Hermione." He murmured her name before his lips fell upon hers. He was hesitant at first; though many would say otherwise, Jack Sparrow was, at heart, a gentleman. He kissed all along her mouth, from one corner across to the other. After he had pulled back for a moment, her lips parted and he returned to them, more strongly and with more enthusiasm than before. Her arms slid around him, moving the hem of his shirt out of the way so she could run her palms over his bare back. The tips of their tongues flickered back and forth and a low sound of pleasure came from Hermione's throat. She arched her back, pressing against him, and then…

And then…

Her eyes fluttered closed, her arms went slack, her mouth ceased to caress his.

Hermione Granger had passed out.