A/N: Hello! Happy late thanksgiving. Merry Christmahannukwanzikah, and Happy Early New Years. Phew, now that the holiday greetings are out of the way...
I'M SORRY! VERY SORRY! I'M A HORRIBLE UPDATER, PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I AM NOT WORTHY! (bows humbly) I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY, I'M SOOOOO SORRY!
really, though, i am. If you can find it in yourself to forgive the long wait, i can tell you that i will try a LOT harder to update, and that that will probably make my chapters shorter. I plan to finish this before school lets out for summer. Hopefully a lot sooner than that.
Thanks to all my loyal reviewers. I'll stop with the individual review responses, but if you have a question, i'll be happy to answer! oh, well, hope you like the next chapter! I tried to put in some action, and set up something.
Happy reading!
Disclaimer: don't own it, don't sue me.
Chapter 9: Storm Rage
Sunday, May 17- Hermione- Pirate ship
Hermione dangled her legs over the rail of the ship, and watched the waves tumble by as she rocked with the rhythmic motion of the sea. The wind had begun to pick up all that night, and now the sky began to darken at the wrong time of day. Ferocious black clouds overcame the sky and the sun finally gave a dying breath of light, before retreating in surrender.
"Hey! Girlie! If you know so much about ships, why don't ya come and help us with this?" Hermione turned and grinned at the sound of Thor's voice. Without looking, now, she could tell when he spoke. His voice was a strange deep slur, as if he were drunk all the time.
"Yea, ok, I'm coming," she shouted back. The wind was getting serious now, pounding through the air and picking up more quickly than ever. First things first, when she came to Thor. He gave her a rope with the other end tied to the ships main mast, and she tied her end around her waist. That was her lifeline if a crashing wave was determined to throw her overboard. Her only lifeline. Luckily she was used to it by now, and knew how to keep her feet firm, and a steady grip on… anything.
First, they reduced her to making sure the lifelines were safely attached to everyone. But when the wind grew steadily stronger, and loud enough to shout over, they gave her a more serious job.
Memphis was the one assigned to climbing the rigging and pulling up the sail. And, as it were, he was already swinging back and forth above them, rushing to secure the white mass of canvas. But, if the boat rocked too much, a job like that would be dangerous, and they would get him down before the he was finished.
Thor double checked the rope around her waist, and then sent her up. She was skinny, lithe, and strong enough to make it quickly up. Once up, she got in as comfortable a position as she could, then looked about her.
The world was an angry purple-blue, like a massive bruise. It churned and threw the sea where it pleased. From atop the ship, she felt as if she was atop the world. A world that looked as if it was being torn apart.
When Memphis threw her a bunch of rolled rope, Hermione finally came to her senses. And, at first, her inexperienced fingers slipped along the water-slicked rope. It took her three attempts to finally fasten the canvas. She had been through storms like this, possibly even worse ones. She'd seen the practiced sailors hands efficiently tie up the canvas, but she was never before permitted to help. Harry and Ron never let her climb up the rigging, afraid she'd break her neck.
They never believed she had it in her. They only thought of her as "bookworm Hermione", or "Lady Hermione". They didn't realize all that she could do. They were so tied to tradition, and the law, that they refused to understand women. To understand her.
Hermione pulled her hair back wishing fervently that she had thought to tie it up before. Without realizing it, wrapped in her recent past, she had finished her side of the mast, and it was time to come down.
Glancing over, Memphis was already descending, but she hesitated to follow. It was wonderful up in the sky! With nothing but churning water surrounding you! Nothing but open air waiting for you to jump and fly! Nothing but freedom, almost tangible in the air.
Hermione smiled at her own childishness. It seemed that pretty pictures could still capture her heart. Likely that only one other thing could affect her more.
The brunette in the sky sighed and looked down to find Memphis yelling at her to get down, and Montague speaking with Draco at the helm. From so far away it was hard to see their faces, but the movements of their hands spoke of worry, and anxiety.
This storm was gonna be a killer.
Hermione swatted her hand at Memphis, a signal that she would come. It was getting dangerous up there. Every new gust of wind threatened to tear her away, and rain was beginning to pour. But, nevertheless, she hesitated again, sighed again, and began climbing down.
Sunday, May 17- Pansy- Pirate ship
Pansy fingered the hilt of the dagger hanging on her belt, and peered through the rain that had begun to fall. Her target was just where she wanted her. It was perfect. All the occupants of the ship were rushing about, making sure everything was prepared. All but herself, of course.
What could she do about the upstart, flirting with HER man? There was plenty she could do, and one that she could do to finish it now. Pansy strode confidently through the roar of the wind and the pelting rain to the end of the rigging attached to the ships side. Hermione was halfway down now, confidently descending.
Pansy's arm went up, savoring the moment. No one would know, and no one would care. Just a moment. Almost.
Her arm made a wide arc, severing the rope attaching the rigging to the boat, and making it flail wildly around and up into the wind, as its occupant let out a screech. She slipped away from the scene, before anyone could notice her.
She grinned.
Pansy had already untied Hermione's lifeline.
Sunday, May 17- Draco- Pirate ship
The yell was loud enough to penetrate through the roar of the waves. He squinted through the wind and rain. His heart skipped a beat.
Hermione was clinging to the rigging, which was only hanging by a thread to the mast. Shock took only a moment to freeze him. Action came just after.
"Montague! Take the wheel!" And with that, he sprinted across the deck, grabbed an extra piece of rope, and began climbing the rigging on the other side of the mast, determination in his eyes.
All he saw was her.
Sunday, May 17- Hermione- Pirate ship
Hermione closed her eyes, and bit back another scream. Her left hand was slipping- the rope was wet and hard to grip. She could feel herself flying around in the air, and somehow, she knew the rope around her waist was no help to her now.
Hermione tried to shut her mind out completely, and concentrated solely on her grip.
God save me, she thought as her left hand slipped off.
Sunday, May 17- Draco- Pirate ship
"Hermione! Hermione!" Draco was screaming himself hoarse, but it was useless. She either couldn't hear him, or had tuned out the world. He was up at the top of the mast where the rigging was barely holding on.
He planned to throw her the rope, but she would have to see him first. He crept as far along the elevated wood as he dared, as if that would make any difference at all. His eyes were intent on her, willing her to look up, to hold tight.
A large wave took them head on and the ship rocked dangerously back and forth, taking on water. He saw one of her hands slip.
Dear God, no. "HERMIONE!"
Sunday, May 17- Hermione- Pirate ship
Hermione. Hermione. Someone was calling her name. Help. Help me. She had to open her eyes, but she couldn't. She knew what she would see. She knew what would happen.
"HERMIONE!" Some one was calling her. And with a terrifying whoosh, the world flew back to her. She had fallen into a semi-conscious state of fear. But, she came back into a fully conscious world of fear.
Somehow while her mind blanked out, her body refused to let go. Her right hand was still gripping the rigging. But it was slipping. She tasted salt in the rain. Her hand was numb. She couldn't hang on much longer.
Hermione.
She forced her eyes open, determined to live through this. Some one called her. Someone. She looked up as the world spun about wildly, and saw him. He was at the top of the mast. He had called her. Suddenly his face flew out of view.
She let out a scream as pain exploded in her back. A gust of wind had taken the rigging (and her with it) straight into the mast. Nothing was broken, she could tell, but her pinky had slipped and only three fingers and a thumb kept her from the mercy of the raging sea.
Pleadingly, she looked up into the face of the man who had called her. He threw her something. Rope.
It landed perfectly beside her, and she tried to gather her strength. But, it was too much. She couldn't move.
"Grab it! The rigging's about to break!" It was the man. Her mind was so fuzzy; tired. Break? What?
Hermione swallowed the salty rain and forced her left hand up just as she felt her right hand slip. Somehow she was able to grasp the rope. Somehow she was able to cling to it until she was lowered. Somehow she was able to stay conscious, until the deck came up beneath her, and she fell into blackness.
Hope ya liked it, I'll update before New Years, but it'll be as short as this chapter. Sorry again for the wait! byebye, and please review. (I broke fifty! Wow! I'm so excited. Thanks to all my reviewers for helping me! you rock. maybe if i'm lucky, i'll get to 100!)
Peace Tastetherain
