I'd like to thank Balthazar23, Antar23, werewolfXZ, damadape, TheNarratingMan, WraithNX01, Vahktang, flixus, Lynix, TripsToTheRescue, fredfred, InquisitorCOC for betareading.

Chapter 18: The Prison

Godric's Hollow, Devon, Britain, July 13th, 1996

"Alright. I'm going," Lily Potter said.

James growled something in return. Which was a remarkable show of restraint on his part - she knew that he really, really loathed what she was about to do - as much as he loathed the man she was visiting, in fact.

"Don't forget to cast another Patronus Messenger," she told him.

"I won't."

She nodded. It was a faint hope, but… Harry was a clever boy, and the girl he had disappeared with was reported to be the brightest witch since, well, Lily herself had attended Hogwarts. If they were stuck behind some old protections, they might find a way out. And then the spell would find them.

But it was a faint hope. Today marked a week since Harry had disappeared. A week! If they had been trapped in some old prison or fortress, without food and water… No! They had to be alive. They had to.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and opened the door. Then she blinked and turned back to the living room, where James was sulking. "I better not catch any of our friends following me," she told him.

He jerked. Just a little, but it was enough. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "James…"

"I want you to be safe. He's a Death Eater."

"Former Death Eater," she corrected him. "And I've met him before." Not often, to be honest.

"Things are different now, with Harry missing."

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "How so?"

"We still don't know for sure if this isn't part of an attack on us," he replied, glancing at her.

"Really. According to all we've found out so far, this was an accident." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are you really worried that Severus would attack me?" Sev had betrayed Voldemort for her. For her alone, she knew - she was under no illusion that her old friend was a good man.

James sighed. "Better safe than sorry."

"And you don't think having two or three of his old rivals around might put him off helping us?"

"If he is so petty as to let old grudges keep him from saving Harry…"

She rolled her eyes again. "He's not the only one carrying grudges."

"We didn't join Voldemort," James spat. "Well, not for real," he added.

"And he spied on Voldemort as well. Albus vouched for him." Lily wasn't blind to the fact that Sev had willingly joined before - but everyone deserved a second chance. After making up for what they had done, of course - if that was still possible. She shook her head. "Call them back. I'm not going to risk losing our best way to the Averys over a decades-old grudge."

She wasn't a pureblood, after all.

Cokeworth, Midlands, Britain, July 13th, 1996

He was waiting, as she had known, in the old playground. That was their place - they had met for the first time here, near their childhood homes. Here, in the bushes, she had found out that magic was real. And that she was a witch. And that her sister wasn't a witch. And that the Snape boy was a wizard.

Sev wasn't sitting on the swings, at least - he was sitting on the bench, his dark clothes - turtleneck, despite the weather, and black slacks - a stark contrast with the clothes of two women and one man who were sitting on the next bench, watching their kids play on the swings.

She walked up to him, knowing he had been watching her since she had set foot into the playground. "Hello, Sev."

"Lily." His voice sounded a little hoarse.

She sat down next to him - not too close, though. "You didn't scare off the others so we'd have a bench for us, did you?" She was only half-joking; she knew how caustic Sev could be, and age hadn't made him mellow out.

He snorted. "I didn't have to." He nodded towards the older woman of the two. "That's Bess Cartwright."

Lily blinked, then took a second look at the woman. "That's Bess?" The last time Lily had seen the woman, she had been wearing leathers and working on a motorbike. And screaming at her parents. Now she was wearing a sundress and a hat. And a few pounds more on her waistline.

Sev shrugged. "Yes. And she remembered me."

"Ah." Lily nodded. "And she didn't want to be reminded of her… wild phase?"

"Probably?" Sev shrugged again. "We were both outcasts, but we never… you know."

"I know."

He nodded. "I've heard about Harry."

"Yes." She had expected that.

"You think I can help you find him?"

Straight and to the point. She hadn't expected that. But she could run with it. "Yes. Or rather, one of your old friends."

He tensed. "I only have one old friend."

Her. Always her.

She forced herself to smile. "Really, Sev? And are your 'acquaintances' aware of that?"

He scoffed - but with some amusement. "If anyone amongst my acquaintances and colleagues should mistake our relationship for friendship, then they most certainly are too much of a dunderhead to be considered as a friend."

Lily shook her head. "Sev…" She cut herself off. Severus wouldn't change. He hadn't in close to twenty years now. "What about Avery?"

"A dunderhead. Not as much of a dunderhead as others of her circle." He sneered, then looked at her. "Is she behind the kidnapping?" He spoke almost casually - as if he were asking after the weather. But she knew him. Better than anyone else. Better than Dumbledore, Lily was sure. He was keeping his temper in check with an effort.

"I doubt it. But the Portkey which took Harry and Miss Granger away was stolen from Avery's attic. Years ago."

"Really?" Severus chuckled. Once. "So much for the vaunted security of her 'ancestral manor'." He spat the last words.

Lily shrugged. "It wasn't hers at the time, I believe."

"Oh, she already considered it hers. That her father was still alive was merely a technicality for her."

"I thought she wasn't…" She bit her lower lip as she trailed off.

"She wasn't a Death Eater. But she almost joined - when it looked as if the Dark Lord would be winning. But she dithered too much, afraid to cast her lot until it was a sure deal. Unlike others of her family."

She nodded. Avery hadn't been the only one, of course. Lily knew that many purebloods still sneered at her ancestry. Not in public, of course - that wouldn't do at all, not after Voldemort had been killed by Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. But she overheard enough comments at social gatherings - people really shouldn't trust the old privacy charms when Lily had crafted better ones. And people, some of them her friends, some seeking James' favour - or Dumbledore's, indirectly - relayed similar gossip to her. But she couldn't dwell on that. "It served her well, though, didn't it?" Cynthia Avery's father had been a Death Eater.

"Yes."

"And you vouched for her," Lily went on.

"Something I've come to regret," Severus replied. "If I had lied about her non-involvement, she wouldn't have mistaken my honesty for fondness."

The witch had pursued Sev? Lily refrained from showing her surprise. "You've never mentioned this," she said.

He sniffed. "It was of no consequence. A delusion on her part."

"Ah." There was more to that, of course. But Lily wouldn't touch it. Neither would Sev, of course. "You remained… acquaintances, though." At least as far as she knew.

"Her family is in the Potions business," Severus replied. "And I'm the leading Potioneer in Britain. Our interests overlap."

She nodded.

"You want me to act as a go-between? To persuade Cynthia to cooperate with the Aurors?" Once more, his tone was utterly casual.

Lily shook her head. "All I want is information. Who made the Portkey? Where did it lead to? When was it made?"

"You. Not the Aurors."

Lily nodded. "Harry is all that matters."

Severus nodded. "I suppose Albus is working on it as well."

"Yes."

"Discretion will help with getting Cynthia's cooperation, but it is by no means a guarantee. My acquaintance isn't always acting as rationally and pragmatically as she should," Sev said.

Great. "If she wants gold or a favour for this…" Lily started.

Severus shook his head. "She might harbour grudges. Irrational grudges."

Lily was confused. She didn't remember doing anything to Cynthia Avery. And… "Mad-Eye killed her father."

"Oh, she doesn't hold a grudge over that. If she hadn't been forced to maintain the facade of a dutiful daughter, she wouldn't even have come to his funeral." Sev scoffed, and Lily saw his lips twist into a… hint of a grimace? "No, she might have the mistaken impression that she's a rival of yours."

"A rival?" But Avery wasn't a spellcrafter, nor was she much of anything other than a member of the Wizengamot. So what…? No. Lily stared at her friend.

Severus had the grace to wince. Or what passed as a wince for him. "Yes. As I said, delusional."

Lily sighed. Their best lead to finding Harry thought Lily was her romantic rival?

"I will correct this - and I'll do my best to persuade her to share the information you need," Severus said.

"Thank you, Sev." Lily smiled. She should ask him not to break the law for her - but she wouldn't. Harry was too important.

Unknown Island, July 13th, 1996

"I'm glad you didn't try that on me."

Harry Potter gritted his teeth. Granger didn't have to comment - he could see himself that that hadn't been his most successful attempt. At least the bird was still alive. Although… in its current state, that might actually not be a good thing. He flicked his wand and dispelled the entire thing, ending the wheezing noise it made, trying to breathe with lungs that weren't quite the right size anymore. Or something. "Well, you deliberately miscast the spell. You wouldn't do that with you or me."

"I deliberately miscast it so we can learn how to Untransfigure such mishaps," she retorted. "And, obviously, we need more training."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That was an exception. Most of the time, I managed just fine."

"So did I - but we both had failures. And if we can't fix a miscast spell when we're training, how can we expect to do so when we're in a stressful situation?"

"I, at least, work better under pressure," he told her. Granger wasn't as good at thinking on her feet as he was.

She frowned at him. "Leaving aside the veracity of that claim, that doesn't mean it's good enough to be used for real."

"If we don't have any other choice, it's still good enough - better than taking our chances with the pirates."

"Probable pirates," she said.

He scoffed. Softly. "And we only need to do this if we make a mistake with our Shrinking Charms in the first place." And they had those down pat. Granted, they hadn't actually shrunk themselves, but anything else worked like a charm.

"Which we aren't planning to use other than in an emergency, either," she said. She sighed and sat down on the log near them. "I don't like relying on… on spells that I haven't mastered." She stared at the ground and moved her wand between her fingers.

Oh. He cleared his throat. "Sometimes, you have to work with what you have, not what you want to have."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I would prefer not to do that when my life is at stake."

He shrugged and sat down next to her. Not so close that their thighs would touch, of course. "Well, I'd prefer that myself, but we may not have a choice."

"We could wait until we're certain that we can cast the charm perfectly under pressure," she bit out.

"We'll never be certain of that," he countered. At least Hermione wouldn't - she was a perfectionist. "Besides, we're not planning to shrink ourselves." Not today.

"And if our current plan doesn't work out? What if we don't find anything useful?" She brushed a stray lock of her hair out of her face.

He blinked, momentarily distracted by her face. "Then we make another plan."

"Like shrinking ourselves and hiding in a coconut bunker?"

He smiled. "It sounds crazy if you describe it like that."

"Like out of a cartoon," she agreed.

"Yes. Or that movie. Honey, I Shrunk the Kids."

"Oh, yes." She shook her head. "I was so disappointed when my parents took me to watch it."

"Oh?" Harry thought it had been an OK movie. Nothing great, but OK.

She snorted. "I found it so… unrealistic. The square cube-law wasn't used correctly. And the entire plot… I gave my parents an earful on the way home."

"A lecture?" He wanted to bite his tongue as soon as he had said it. That was…

She froze for a moment, then sighed and nodded with a rueful smile. "Yes, a lecture. They got me back when we were told magic was real, and I discovered the Shrinking Charm."

"Ah." He could imagine that. Growing up with her… well, raising her, in this case.

"You seem to have watched a lot of movies."

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Did she think he was an ignorant pureblood? "I visit my cousin often."

"Ah." She hesitated a moment - he saw her bite her lower lip - then went on: "I've heard that that's a little unusual."

"For purebloods," he replied with a frown. "My mum's a muggleborn."

She looked at him. "That's the reason?"

"She doesn't want us to lose contact with my aunt and her family," he explained.

"I thought only the immediate family were allowed to know about magic."

"Siblings qualify," he said. "And that includes their family." At least that was one interpretation.

"Ah. But your cousin won't be allowed to tell his family, should he marry?"

He pressed his lips together. She was correct - well, she would've read the laws. But this wasn't something anyone in the Potter or Dursley family liked to talk about.

After a moment, she cleared her throat and stood. "Let's train a bit more."

He stood as well. "OK."

The waiting was the worst. Hermione Granger could stomach swimming - at night - through waters that were infested by sharks. Well, at least one shark. She had done it before, and she'd do it again - no matter how much she… disliked the prospect. Sharks couldn't hurt her through a well-cast Shield Charm, anyway. And as dangerous as sneaking into a pirate village - suspected pirate village, she reminded herself - was, she could do it as well. They had taken steps to minimise the danger, after all. After midnight, there shouldn't be many, if any, villagers still awake. And she certainly wouldn't shy away from any necessary task in front of Potter - Harry. She'd rather… well, no, she wouldn't rather die. But she would brave any reasonable danger before she let him do it by himself. He'd be insufferable.

But waiting? That was torture. Sitting in a bush, waiting until the sun had set, not even a book to read, with a dangerous trip waiting for her...That she couldn't stand. She wanted to do something - anything - to prepare for the night.

"Calm down, Gr-Hermione," Potter suddenly said. "It's still a few hours until sunset."

"I'm perfectly aware of that," she shot back. As if she hadn't memorised it!

"Then rest. Nap. Sleep. You can't do anything productive right now."

She pursed her lips. She could go over the route in her mind. Again.

"Look, it'll be fine. Just a dip in the sea, then we go for a stroll and send up a few birds. Easy."

"You shouldn't assume that our opponents are idiots." Underestimating your enemy was a recipe for disaster.

"I don't. But I also don't assume that they have thought of everything and are already preparing an ambush for us." Potter grinned. And "who dares wins."

"You aren't in the Special Air Service," she told him.

He blinked, then snorted. "Figures you'd know about that."

"Of course I do." Really - it was one of the most famous regiments of the British Army, after all. Back during the Gulf War, the newspapers had been full of speculation about what the SAS was doing in Iraq.

He shook his head. "I bet it must annoy you a very great deal when you encounter something you don't know."

"I know my limits." And her weaknesses.

He shrugged again. "Just sleep. You need to be rested later. Tired people make mistakes."

"I'm aware of that."

"So, why can't you take a nap?" He sounded honestly concerned.

But he had sounded honestly concerned before, in front of McGonagall, after he had cast that Tongue-Tying Hex on her. Still… She clenched her teeth, then took a deep breath. "I hate waiting. I'm not the most patient person."

"Ah." He nodded. "And you always study right until the test starts."

Of course he would be aware of that. "Yes."

"Well, we did all we could. And now we need to sleep. Just pretend it's the evening before the O.W.L.s."

"I studied halfway through the night," she told him.

"Oh."

She rolled her eyes. Really, it was nothing special.

"The whole two weeks?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yes."

"No wonder I got you so easily afterwards."

"A small price to pay for good O.W.L.s. Not everyone can count on family connections," she shot back.

"My family would never do that!" he retorted. "Besides, that's not how it works in Quidditch!"

She rolled her eyes. Potter and Quidditch! "Just because there's one venue for muggleborns to advance without having to fight bigotry doesn't mean everything's fine. For a decent career, I have to outdo all the purebloods by a wide margin." She clenched her teeth. Even that arrogant numbskull Malfoy would have a much easier time than her.

"Well, you're outdoing almost all the purebloods by a wide margin, aren't you?"

"Yes. Because I cram until the last moment."

"Well, this is different. This is more… think of it as sports. You need to be well-rested and limbered to give your best."

She glared at him, but she didn't have a retort handy. Not before he grinned at her. "See? Just need to look at it differently."

She scoffed. But he had a point. If she considered this as a physical challenge - which, to a great degree, it was - she should be able to convince her subconsciousness to let her rest.

Probably.

"One of us will still have to keep watch," she said. "We're close to the village."

"Right. I'll do it. I've been resting enough already."

She wanted to dispute that as well, but he was right. Again. This was going to become a habit.

But she did manage to rest with him on guard.

Swimming through the darkness was the worst, Hermione Granger thought. She couldn't see the ground - so close to the new moon, she could barely see the rocky peninsula in the dim starlight. And if she didn't follow very closely, she would lose sight of Harry - it wasn't as if his dark hair was easy to spot above the water. They should've taken some string to link them, she thought - trusting a Summoning Charm aimed at the cords around their wrists to let them find each other had sounded fine on the beach, but now, in the dark sea…

Had something moved ahead of them, in the water? She couldn't see anything, certainly not a fin, but that didn't mean anything. Sharks didn't have to swim near the surface for an attack. And in the darkness below her, anything could be hiding.

She had cast a Shield Charm. There was nothing in the water that could hurt her. Not a shark, not a jellyfish, not a snake or crocodile. Not that there should be crocodiles in the ocean west of Africa, nor sea snakes. Then again, this was a magically hidden island - who knew what kind of bestiary the founders of this village had brought along? They had a wyvern after, all. Not any more, she reminded herself, baring her teeth for a moment.

Whatever lurked below the sea here, Harry and she would deal with it if it got in their way. They would have to.

She told herself that a few more times as they rounded the peninsula shielding the pirate village from view.

She stopped swimming when she laid eyes on the houses. They were lit up quite brightly. Shouldn't they have seen the light from the jungle? This complicated things.

She saw Harry was pulling ahead and sped up until she could touch his leg.

Harry Potter felt something grip his ankle and jerked, whirling around, hand going to his wand, before he realised it was Hermione. Clenching his teeth at his own reaction, she quickly closed with her. "What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"The village is illuminated," she replied.

Of course it was - he could see just fine; his glasses were not only covered with an Impervius charm but also under a Bubble-Head Charm. "Yes?"

"We can't just sneak into the village like that," she snapped.

"We won't," he replied. "It's still before midnight; they might dim the lights in a few."

"And if they don't?"

He grinned, even though she couldn't see it. "Then we'll use that against them. They won't be able to see anything in the darkness."

"Everything we want to investigate is illuminated, though," she pointed out.

"We'll find out once we get there." It wasn't as if they had a better plan, and turning back wasn't an option.

She huffed but didn't say anything else, so he turned and continued to swim towards the village - though now he was aiming at the edge of the lit area, where the peninsula began.

They gave the ship anchored in the middle of the cove a wide berth - there would be a watch on board, or should, as far as he knew - and after some struggle with the currents - probably the tides - they reached the rocky beach.

They dashed through the surf, bent over, and hid behind a rock there. Harry forced himself to breathe slowly and calmly - he had to lead by example. Hermione was already nervous enough. "So… let's take a look," he said with a smile.

"A careful look," she whispered.

He slowly rose until he could look over the rock. From this close - barely outside the cone of light cast by the spell at the waterfront - the large prison building looked even more imposing. Definitely not fit for a fishing village. He couldn't see a guard outside, but… someone was moving inside; he could see the shadows on the ceiling of the first floor from this angle.

"Not many are on the street," Hermione whispered. "But that building there seems to be a tavern. Third from the right."

He took a look. The building was a little larger than the other houses in the village, and if he listened closely… "Yes. I think I can hear some laughter and some singing, too."

"From that direction, at least," Hermione said.

"Yes. But we can see people moving inside. And it's more brightly lit than the rest." He snorted. "I wonder if they're drinking alcohol. Drunk pirates would be easier to avoid - or deal with - than sober ones." And while Caribbean pirates were usually portrayed as heavy drinkers in movies, he wasn't quite sure if that applied to Barbary Coast pirates.

"I don't see a mosque," Hermione replied. "That doesn't have to mean anything. Given the village's size and age, and the size of the buildings, they could've afforded one easily - but then again, they might have a mosque and just didn't bother with a minaret. Or they belong to the wizards who converted to another faith following the Statute of Secrecy."

"In short, we have no way to tell," Harry summed up. He cocked his head. "Then again, they do sound drunk."

"They do sound remarkably like the Gryffindor common room during a victory party," she commented.

He snorted. "Right."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know." He snorted again and heard her sigh.

Hermione Granger took a few deep breaths. They were in the village. Hiding behind a rock at the beach - and would need to wipe out the tracks they'd left in the sand, once they moved. But it didn't look as if the villagers had posted any guards. And they were close to the prison.

But were there wards on the building? And what kind? It was possible that only those with a key - an amulet, for example - could enter or leave the building. That would be a very safe way to handle things - but it would also be a hassle for moving captives. And people, be they wizards and witches or muggles, preferred solutions that made things more convenient for them. And one witch at least had managed to escape, though since she had managed to get a wand, she might also have managed to acquire a key. On the other hand, replacing a key would require a Curse-Breaker familiar with the wards.

Assuming the villagers didn't have spells protecting the prison that required a key, what spells would they have cast? Detection and alarm spells, most likely. Anyone leaving a cell would trigger an alarm. That would be easy to implement. It would require guards, though. And it wouldn't protect the building itself. Spells that reinforced the walls and locking spells on the windows and doors would be easy as well. "We need to check the grass and growth around the building," she whispered.

"For a wardline? Yes." Harry nodded.

If there were spells on the building reaching further than the walls, the villagers would avoid coming close - and that would be reflected by the grass and other plants inside the wards growing more than those outside. But they couldn't check that from here. "Yes." She wet her lips. "We need to get closer." But not too close.

"I don't see any guard or anyone else looking our way," Harry said. "And there's a tree and a bush ahead."

It looked like a decent hiding spot - as long as no one managed to get behind them. And close enough for a better view of the prison building. "Wipe out our traces in the sand here, first," she whispered.

Harry flicked his wand, mumbling the spell, and she saw a gust of wind sweep over the beach towards the surf. Good enough.

A last check to see if anyone was around - the windows in the building that were facing them were dark - and they sprinted across the sand, then across rockier ground until they could crouch down behind the tree and the bush. But up close, Hermione realised at once that the foliage wasn't quite as dense as it had looked for further away. It wouldn't hide them from the building.

She was panting, both from the dash as well as the stress, she realised. But they could waste time - she got down on the ground and crawled through the bush until she could look at the area near the building. Harry did the same on the other side of the tree.

The grass - scarce as it was - looked the same close to the building and further away. "I don't see any hint of a wardline," she whispered.

"Me neither," he replied. "It looks like they stuck to spells on the building."

"Yes." That was a fairly common way of protecting your house, after all - if you didn't care about the yard or garden. Or the park, for some manors - not that she had seen any pureblood manor herself except for pictures in the Prophet. "So, we should be fine as long as we don't try to break in."

"Yes. Let's look through the windows!"

She turned her head to glance at him, and he flashed his cocky grin. Typical. "Carefully," she replied.

"Always." His grin didn't falter. "Let's crawl - they might spot movement."

They would be exposed for longer, but he was right - crawling would let them use the shadows cast by the taller grass and some roots - the only light illuminating the building was at the front, above the door. As they had seen from afar.

But crawling over the ground was both tiresome and left them covered in dirt. Additional camouflage, Potter would probably call it.

But they reached the walls, and Hermione breathed more easily. And listened.

"I don't hear anyone," Harry said. "No one's snoring, at least."

That didn't mean anything, of course. But it was enough to risk peering through the windows of the ground floor. She rose, keeping close to the wall, and, having to stand on her tiptoes, glanced through the barred window - which lacked a glass panel - closest to them.

It was a cell. Bars forming the wall opposite the window, empty except for a cot and a bucket. She hesitated, then ended her Bubble-Head Charm and sniffed the air.

And grimaced. The air stank. Like a locker room that hadn't been cleaned for a while. Or the room of a sick person who had spent a week in bed without taking a shower. She pushed those memories away. She couldn't see much of the rest of the building - just more cells across on the other side.

She dropped into a crouch and whispered: "It's a cell. Empty. But according to the smell, it wasn't abandoned years or decades ago." She recast the Bubble-Head Charm.

Potter, of course, had to take a look himself - and smell the air - before he agreed. "Yes. Let's check the other cells we can reach on this side."

"Yes."

They quickly checked the rest of the cells - five of them, facing the peninsula, with the building shielding them from view from the rest of the village. All looked and smelt the same. There were other cells, but they were facing the village or the sea - both exposed and partially illuminated.

"We could check the first floor," Harry suggested. "You can climb on my shoulders."

She bit her lower lip. They could levitate instead - if they had a plank. "Alright," she whispered. He was already forming a step for her with his hands. She put her foot on it and grabbed his head to steady herself. That put her very close to him, she noticed as their eyes met for a moment. Then he looked away and lifted her up.

She stopped on his shoulder, having to put her hands on the wall to keep her balance, then took a deep breath and looked up. The windowsill was too far away. "Lift me higher," she whispered.

She heard him grunt in response, then felt his hands near her feet, trying to slide under them.

It took some effort - she heard him grunt again, louder - but he managed to push her up high enough so she could grab the windowsill and pull herself up so she could peer through the window.

All for nothing - the cell was empty as well.

Frustrated, she was about to climb down - well, to let Harry know he could lower her down and hope she wouldn't lose her balance and end up falling - when she heard a noise. A grunt. Or a moan. Someone was on this floor.

She almost called out before she realised that it might be a guard. Some prisons had live-in guards. If this was a pirate… Hermione clenched her teeth, angry at her own stupidity. She'd almost risked Harry and her freedom, possibly their lives!

Speaking of Harry… she felt the hands holding her up becoming a little unsteady.

"Oi! You're kind of heavy!" she heard him whisper.

She gripped the bars more tightly and pulled her feet up a few inches, then glanced down. Harry had moved so he wasn't directly below her any more. Good.

She put her feet against the wall, then released the bars and pushed off. She didn't quite stand the landing, tumbling into the grass, but a quick check confirmed that she hadn't hurt herself.

"So, what caught your attention?" Harry asked.

"There's someone sleeping on the upper floor," she whispered as she stood, dusting sand and dirt clumps off her legs and rump.

He froze.

"Someone's in a cell up there?" Harry Potter asked. A prisoner. Or captive. Or hostage. Damn.

"I don't know," Hermione replied in a whisper. "I only heard them make a noise, presumably in their sleep. It could be a guard as well."

"Oh." Yes, that was a distinct possibility, as Dumbledore would say. "We need to check."

"Are you strong enough to lift me up to every window?" She retorted.

Of course he was strong enough! Although… she wasn't quite as lithe as Ginny. Ron's sister would be Gryffindor's best Seeker if not for Harry since she was light as a feather and could make her broom exploit that. "Which direction did you hear the noises from?"

She pointed towards the peninsula. "That direction."

"Ah." He moved to the corner and took a quick glance around it. "That window here should be facing the whole hallway."

"And in order to peer through it, we'll have to expose ourselves to the ship tied up in the bay."

"I don't see any light on the ship," he retorted.

"That doesn't mean they won't have a watch," she told him. "Their night vision would be better without a light."

"So's ours, and I didn't see anyone on deck or in the rigging," he pointed out. "And they have no reason to hide," he added. "Quite the contrary - they wouldn't want the rest of the crew on shore to think they were slacking off."

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything, which meant she was agreeing with his reasoning. "I guess we'll have to risk it."

"Yes." Besides, she was tanned and only wearing a bra and pants. So she shouldn't catch the eye when put in front of the sand-coloured building. At least not without a spotlight on her. "Let's go, then!"

They rounded the corner, and he pressed himself against the wall, then helped her climb on his shoulders, then on his hands. And she was heavy. He was no Beater - he was a Seeker. Precision, not brute strength. But he'd rather bite his tongue than admit that to her; Calling her fat while showing a weakness was a recipe for suicide.

He grunted anyway while he kept his trembling arms pointed straight up.

"Shhh," she whispered. "I need to listen."

Oh, for…!

"Oh. That can't… those monsters!"

He felt her weight vanish - she must have pulled herself up - and quickly darted to the side. A moment later, Hermione hit the ground, feet first, and he managed to grab her hand before she fell down again. "Steady."

She scoffed, looking as angry - no, angrier, far angrier - than she had when he managed to colour her hair bright pink on the train home in third year, with no one around to fix it. Harry almost took a step back.

"I've seen their captive," she hissed. "It's a little girl!"

Oh damn. "A little girl?"

"Let's get behind the building," she snapped, rounding the corner again.

He followed her. "They've kidnapped a little girl?"

"Yes. I can't determine how old she is - I didn't see enough of her face - but she's too small to be a teenager." She was still seething.

Well, so was Harry.

"We have to save her," she spat.

She was standing there in her underwear, sand and dirt on her legs, her hair a wet mess. A girl who had just passed her O.W.L.s. Yet, Harry didn't doubt that she would do everything she could to save the girl.

She was also looking bloody hot.

And staring at him, he noticed. Belatedly, he nodded. "Yes, we'll save her."

Even though he had no idea how. Yet.