Author's Note: I am apparently very bad at keeping update schedules. The chapters just come when they want. At this point, I feel like I need to get this story out into the world faster so my brain can stop obsessing because I really just need to sleep. Haha.


Harry gripped her waist and pulled her close before pushing open the door of the Scrum and Chum.

The inside was pretty much exactly what Melody imagined. A dark, smoky tavern filled with all kinds of foul-smelling clientele doing gods knew what in every shadowy corner of the place.

And her heart swelled because she knew Harry would love it.

He hid his smile though, under that very well-practiced pirate bravado, so she buried hers just as deep as they strode toward the bar. Harry pulled out a stool for himself and plopped her down right between his legs to share the same seat.

And looking around, she could definitely see that Harry was taking a try at blending in. Most of the men had their women on their laps at the very least. At the most? Well Melody would definitely never be comfortable with what the lanky pirate and his much younger counterpart were doing on the back table at the moment. Well, not in public that is.

The barkeep squinted an eye at Harry and grunted. Maybe the pirate version of 'May I take your order please?'

"Rum." Harry said flatly. "One for me and one for the wench. And whatever yeh got to eat, too."

"Catch o' the day or bean stew. That's all that's left," the man barked.

She hoped Harry remembered she didn't eat fish but it would seem too forward for a wench to speak up, so she sat silently.

"Stew," he said.

When the barkeep left to carry out Harry's request, she pinched him on the thigh for the wench comment and rested back against him.

"It's a good thing you'd look cute in an eyepatch," she said.

Harry scrunched his brows together in confusion. "Why do yeh say that?"

She leaned over toward the cup of silverware on the bartop, grabbing a fork and gripping it menacingly in her fist. "Because if you ever call me wench again, you'll have to get used to wearing one."

He blew out a laugh between his lips and hugged her close. "I fell right into that one," he admitted, burying his fingers into her side, tickling her into a small fit in retribution.

"You get a few points for ordering the stew, though," she said, catching her breath.

In a minute, the barkeep returned with two very large cups of amber liquid and two steaming bowls. Harry laid down a few copper coins of a type she didn't recognize before they ventured deeper into the bar.

They chose a dimly lit booth in a far corner and she slid across the bench seat. She was glad for the low light, all the better to hide the myriad stains speckling the coarse wood.

Melody sniffed at the bowl in front of her, doubting whether it was really edible, but she was starving by now so she dug in. It was warm, and a bit too salty, but it was edible and it filled her belly.

When they'd finished, Harry scooted closer on the bench seat next to her. Their backs were against the wall so they could watch the comings and goings of the entire tavern. Who needed dinner and a movie when you had this?

The laughter in the bar was non-stop, especially when one younger pirate was acting out a recent battle and mimed walking the plank on the table in front of a grizzled-looking, bearded man. The younger pirate stepped on the bearded man's dinner plate and all hell broke loose. Eventually, more fists joined the fray, until five grown men were rolling around on the ground. It wasn't long before the bearded pirate limped out, dinnerless and defeated.

"Fancy a scrap?" Harry asked with a few eyebrow raises. "A wee rollick?"

"I'm a lover not a fighter," she said.

"I will nae attest to that," he said. "Yeh, my little sweet gills, are both."

He squeezed her waist with one hand and brought his other into her lap, running those fingers up and down the top of her leg under her skirt. Just touching, tracing, bringing tingles to the surface of her skin and a tightness to her chest as they continued their extreme sport of people-watching in a pirate dive bar.

Harry's eyes had now settled on a group of bedraggled looking men who were leaning against the far wall. One had skin like wet toilet paper, soggy and wrinkled. And she noted, somewhat ruefully, that the pirate life seemed to leave no time for a well-balanced skin care regimen.

"We should go," Harry said, suddenly.

"What? Why?" she stammered. "We just got here."

She lifted her eyes back to the group of pirates, trying to see what Harry was so concerned about. She could make out three figures, all with the same weathered complexions. The pirate in the middle lifted his eyes to hers as if sensing her gaze.

A cold chill snaked up her spine.

Harry's hand on her leg stilled.

But before she or Harry could react, the grubby threesome was moving off, heading toward the door of the pub and Melody felt a little silly. Really, there would be no way anyone could find Melody here. Not even Zach Sparrow and his crew. No one knew she and Harry had been planning on a visit to Skull Rock. She was just being paranoid, reacting because Harry had seemed so jumpy.

A muscle ticked in Harry's jaw and he swept his eyes across the room several times before he finally relaxed against the cracked wooden backrest of their booth. It was another minute before he seemed to remember he needed to breathe and exhaled loudly.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Aye, I just thought… I 'spose I'm a wee bit on edge," he admitted.

"I know what can help with that." She pulled her drink under her nose to sniff at it. "I've never had rum before."

"I didnae order it to drink, just to blend in. Yeh can dump it on the floor if yeh like. Dinnae think anyone'll notice."

She shot him a dagger of a look. "I will not! I'm here to have a good time and if I'd like some rum, I will have it."

"It's strong stuff," he warned, walking his fingers down her leg and pretending to jump them off, as if her knee was a plank. He mimed a splash afterward. "The goal wisnae to have yeh completely blootered."

"Aren't you going to have some?" But she didn't wait for him to answer before deciding for him. "Let's have a drink. We're so far away from anywhere Sparrow would think to search for us. Just one?" Then she held up the cup offering a smile. "To us?"

He exhaled loudly, this had obviously not been a part of his plan. "Okay Melody, but before we drink, we should do some of that talkin' thing that our friends say is important."

"Do we have to?" she whined.

"Aye, 'cause I want to know what yer comfortable with before yeh get any of this in yer blood."

She wanted to tell him she was ready. To experience everything, to feel him everywhere. But there was a little niggling doubt in her mind. Maybe they shouldn't do that here, tonight. It didn't seem quite right. And she knew as soon as he started touching her, and put those lips on her, that she would want all of it.

Now, how to put what she wanted into words without turning a bright shade of crimson.

"We've touched, a lot," she said, swallowing against the thick sensation in her throat when she saw his sly little half-smile in response to her words. "I'd like to taste you next."

His eyes widened and he leaned in closer. "Yeh sure about that?" He was biting the inside of his cheek and seas, she was ready to follow through with those words right now.

"I've been sure about that one for a while," she assured him.

"Och," he said, sounding like he was truly in pain. "Now yeh tell me. Could've snuck away on break, the pub's broom closet locks from the inside, boss would've never -"

She slapped his shoulder, pairing it with a play-scowl that he probably knew very well by now.

He tipped his head back and laughed into the room, uncaring and completely free. She loved him like this, no limitations, nothing holding him back. No Auradonian eyes to keep him in line, no cultural expectations of proper etiquette in a restaurant. He was just her pirate and his joy was infectious.

"To a night in the company of the most beautiful fish in the sea," he said, raising his cup.

"To the dashing pirate who teaches me what it's like to live in the moment," she said.

They clinked their cups together and took a swig.

Harry hardly made a face, but Melody coughed on hers immediately. Once it got past her throat though, she actually enjoyed the way it burned all the way down to her stomach, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. And she really enjoyed the light tingle it brought behind her eyes a few minutes later.

"Just remember to drink plenty o' water or yer head'll hurt in the mornin'," he said.

"I learned that when I snuck a bottle of wine once. Ouch," she said.

He made his signature Harry hum of approval and took another gulp.

They drank and they talked. They talked about her life, about the time she'd been tricked by Ursula's sister into stealing her grandfather's trident when she was a kid. About how she would have done anything to keep the fins given to her by the witch because of how awkward she was on land, how bad she'd been at making friends with humans. She described her joy when her grandfather had gifted her the locket, allowing her to go between both worlds as she pleased.

He listened intently, stroking her back softly in acknowledgment of her feelings. Even though her experiences weren't anything close to as horrible as what he'd been through, it didn't matter to him. He treated her like she was the most important thing in that moment.

Then the conversation turned back to the night they'd stolen the pixie dust. How Harry had felt under the black of the ocean with only Melody to guide him.

"That was when I knew I was startin' to trust yeh. I wisnae afraid."

Their eyes fixed on each other, that tension pulling tight again, and she started to touch him. Slowly, like he'd been doing, she stroked down his leg as they talked of their friends and they planned for the masquerade in just a few days.

When the rum was gone, Melody found her hands were needier, her words were more honest, falling from her lips without a second thought. But she enjoyed the buzzing sensation that had now spread all across her skin. She liked how Harry's touches magnified those feelings and she was now leaning into him trying to get her hands under his shirt to feel the glorious ripples of muscle across his stomach.

In this place, it didn't matter. They were just blending in. And Harry leaned back, letting her have access to his body, closing his eyes to savor her touch.

"I can't believe I get to put my hands on you whenever I want," she was saying. "It seems so villainous."

He chuckled into her hair. "I do believe yer a handsy drunk. And it might be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"I'm not drunk," she said.

"Well yer at least slightly sozzled," he said.

She climbed onto his lap, straddling him to whisper in his ear. "Am not," she said. "It's not my fault you're so attractive. I can't help but touch you."

And there were those words, just spilling out without stopping. But she couldn't' bring herself to care too much, because her body was screaming at her to get closer to him and it was hard to hear anything else.

She rested her forehead against his, locking eyes, letting him see exactly what she was thinking, as she dragged her hungry fingers up his chest and across his shoulders.

"Keep lookin' at me like that, lass, and I might decide this table is for eatin' more than just stew." His eyes held hers as he traced his tongue along the seam of his mouth and bit down on his lower lip. And she could swear she felt it right between her legs.

Then, Harry gripped her by her waist and pressed that filthy pirate mouth against hers. This kiss was hot and wet and she reveled in the lingering tang of the rum on his tongue. And his taste was the only thing that could quench her thirst in that moment. It was exactly what she craved. Just the soft sway of their lips, the gentle rock of her hips on his lap, and the sweet buzzing electricity across her skin magnified by the rake of Harry's fingers.

She could feel him now through his pants, so she canted her hips, finding the perfect angle to rub herself slowly against him.

"Och, lass," he moaned into her mouth. "Yeh feel so good."

And that rough voice, the friction between her legs, the alcohol burning in her veins had her doing some very inappropriate things in the Scrum and Chum. Some things she might have balked at when she first walked in.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

The desperation in his voice had her humming with pleasure against the skin of his neck, where she'd been biting a trail to his ear.

He groaned again. "Please, Melody. I dinnae think I have the self-control to get yeh off me without yer help."

She went boneless against him in protest, then slowly peeled herself off of his lap, feeling wet and uncomfortably achy under her skirt.

Ugh. That rum may have been stronger than she thought.

Harry stood and grabbed for her hand. She didn't stumble, she wasn't that tipsy, but the drink did make walking more interesting.

She perceived things differently. Touch was more raw, heightened, at the obvious detriment to her other senses. Harry's rough hand on her waist became her focus and each readjustment of his fingers was a shock to her heated skin. Vision seemed less important, coming in flashes and overexaggerated details. She noticed the color of a woman's dress, the same red as the coral she'd seen earlier. Sounds blended together. Laughter and bootsteps on the floor beneath them made a chorus of barsong in her ears. Her emotions were buoyed, uninhibited. She loved the way Harry looked at her, loved how he made everything feel like an adventure. Her heart felt like it was bursting with him.

And the rum made her do things before she thought about it.

Like jumping on Harry's back without warning.

She leaped, wrapping her legs around his waist and slinging her arms around his neck. He laughed and spun, then carried her out of the bar like that. It didn't matter to her at all that she was wearing a skirt. No one spared them a second glance and she could smile as big as she wanted into the back of his jacket.

Once outside, he set her down against the wall of the bar, pinning her with a hand on either side of her head and whispering thickly into her ear. "Where should we go lass?"

She combed through the hair peeking out from below his hat and caught some between her fingers, dragging him down to her, biting and sucking at his bottom lip.

"Alright then," he said. "If that's how its gonna be. Get on."

He offered his back to her again and carried her next door toward the 'vakency' sign.

As Harry scaled the rickety steps to the inn, she peeked over his shoulder at some of the pirates slumped against the walls, drinks in hand. One pair of dark eyes seemed to track them a little too close and a cold unease burrowed itself into her stomach.

It was the pruney-skinned pirate from the bar. And he was staring right at her.

Harry was too busy navigating the minefield of broken boards and exposed nails that been cobbled together to form the front landing of the inn, so he hadn't noticed the man. She considered whispering a warning into his ear, but it had taken Harry forever to try to relax after he'd been spooked the first time and she was pretty sure she was still being paranoid.

Because after a second glance, she noticed Pruney's eyes were back down studying what was left of the ale at the bottom of his mug.

And just like that, the fuzzy hum of the drink in her blood smothered her anxiety, leaving her wondering what she'd been worried about in the first place.

Rusted hinges screeched in protest as Harry pushed open the entry door with a booted foot. She was still on his back when he slammed a few coins onto the innkeeper's counter. The small, bony man was completely unphased as he scooped up the change and stuffed it into his pants.

"Just need an hour or two," Harry said, offering a crude wink at the innkeeper.

"Third door on the left."