Warning: Mentions of torture.

"Kiss me."

"Willingly, my lady." Roger reached forward and slipped his fingers under Rouge's chin, then with gentle pressure, tilted her face upward. Automatically he shifted his body and pressed into her smaller form. Reaching out with his free hand, Roger braced his weight on the wall behind Rouge. As he did, Rouge's cheeks heated, and her eyes dilated, causing him to smirk.

The two of them were hiding in an alley-way like a pair of teenagers, the thought made Rouge giggle. He grinned fondly at her, delightedly by her laugh. Rouge fluttered her lashes at him in response, a clear intent behind the look. The pair of them existed in that moment; they were two soulmates sailing the endless seas, free and wild. They could go anywhere they wanted on a whim. It was a dream, his dream, and hers. This moment was what they'd both desired from childhood, to be endlessly free and utterly in love. The only thing that could make it better was if he wasn't- but no, they didn't have to think about that now. Not now.

Roger pressed his lips to Rouge's and felt her hands sink into his hair to cradle his head. He cupped the small of her back as she did it, Rouge's eyes fluttered closed, and she smiled into his lips. In return, Roger kept his own open for a moment. He took an instant to take in her face, to memorize the moment before it inevitably ended. She was beautiful, his lovely soulmate. Her freckles, the twist of her lips, the tint of her hair, the way she held him close like he was her entire world, like he was her treasure.

Finally, he pulled away slightly. Rouge automatically hummed a few bars of one of her more favorite songs to call him back. It was something Roger was hard-pressed to resist even if he desired too. After all, by the time he met her, Roger could sing the entire thing by heart. "My lady." He grinned, boyish and youthful. "Shall we retire?"

"Oh, how daring." She laughed in return, attempting to keep a straight face, "do you think that pitiful heart of yours can handle it?" A taunt at his disease. So she had noticed it had been bothering him, damned woman. He made a face at her, spurred by the dig; a side effect of his oppositional personality, now Roger wanted to prove to her he could. So many would be scandalized she'd joke about such a thing. But those same people didn't know her or them. Because he was not offended, only encouraged, pushed forward by the comment. She dared him, and he loved a challenge.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe I can't." He pulled slowly back and saw the fine glare form in her face, she hadn't expected that now had she. He laughed in his head, victory was his once more. "Perhaps I ought to go find a new wench to fill my bed, one that can… do all the work… after all, my poor heart cannot handle the exertion." His tone slipped upward, pitched higher to copy a woman's, and that broke her.

"Ah!" Rouge's mouth opened in a circular shape, and she slapped at his chest. Neither of them could keep a straight face after that, and they both burst out laughing. "You're terrible!"

"You started it." He swooped down and scooped Rouge off the floor, he tossed her over his shoulder and gave her a light bounce. Rouge squealed in delight, pushing her hands against his chest to both grab and steady herself. "Taking shots at my heart, what a cruel soulmate I have been matched too."

"Oh, I'm the worst." She fluttered her lashes at him, "you'll have to punish me then, Captain."

"Do make up your mind Rouge, I can't be an invalid and a sadist at the same time."

"Not with that effort, you can't."

He laughed long and hard as he carried her through the streets. Rouge basked in the moment as he did, Roger was rarely so public with his affections for her. He usually kept all public displays to the bedroom or the ship. Rouge knew this was because Roger didn't want her to carry a bounty, he wanted her to find eventual peace in life after he died. He wanted her to have a future and was the one to insist on her disguises when she went into battle. Rouge personally avoided thinking about the future for as long as possible and otherwise just did as requested. She didn't mind the disguises, not when it eased his heart, not when she had much better things to focus on than an argument about it.

The two of them passed several streets, and Rouge caught sight of a few members of their crew. Some waved, others didn't notice them as they focused on what they were doing. A couple were heading toward the beach and the feast that was going to occur there once night hit. Humming quietly, Rouge pointed out: "The boys might miss us at the feast."

Rouge knew the party would be starting soon, it was supposed to be an enormous event. The crew had been excited by it, even Rayleigh, but he'd elected to remain on the ship to guard it.

"Bah, we'll send Rayleigh. He'll be happy to go, and we'll get the ship all to ourselves."

"A rare event to be sure." She reached over and pecked her lips against his cheek and the hair there. "Still, shouldn't we check on them?" Any one of them could get into trouble, it happened more often than Rouge could possibly believe.

"The crew can handle themselves." He strode onto the marina, and Rouge shot a worried glance at the island.

"What about the boys? You know how Buggy gets himself into trouble, and Shanks is hardly any better."

Roger groaned as Rayleigh, from the deck, glanced up. His first-mate was reading in Rouge's deck-chair, and as they approached, he rolled his eyes. The man started to put his book away even as Roger gave into to his lady's demands. She'd never allow him to toss her into the bed if he didn't at least check. "Very well." He turned, still holding onto Rouge, who squealed when he spun in the spot and cast his senses outward. Like a tsunami, his senses coated the island as he located his crew one by one. He ticked names off mentally, ensured every one of… them… were…

"Roger?"

His eyes narrowed, and he shot out another pulse, stronger this time, enough so that those sensitive to haki would feel it. Rayleigh and Rouge tensed at the same moment, both aware it wasn't like him to do so. His haki was strong enough to drop civilians if it was too concentrated, and they weren't attacking this island.

Roger shot another pulse and tension coiled in his body as for the third time, he failed to locate them. The cabin boys were gone. Roger twisted on the spot and released Rouge, who landed lightly on her toes, tension built in her body. She spread out her own haki to discover what was bothering Roger, but she didn't have the same reach he did.

"Rayleigh, collect the men, we're setting sail now." Rayleigh nodded sharply and darted from the ship at full speed, he wasted not a second. Rayleigh vanished into the crowds calling names as he spotted them. Likewise, the men didn't hesitate, even drunk off their asses, and in the arms of the local female or, in some cases, male population. Rouge, still confused, headed for the sails to drop them the moment she had help for the two-man job. However, she couldn't help but shoot concerned looks at Roger, who turned toward the sea.

With a sharp breath, Roger pulled his haki in, tugged it close, built it in his chest. Then, all at once, it exploded outward.

People all over the island collapsed, their eyes rolled back in their heads and their mouths foamed as they dropped on the spot. In one moment, anyone unprepared was down, and the party, as a result, was definitely over. The surge left the ship, it rushed full speed across the ocean like a physical punch. Sentient ocean life suffered the same fate as the civilians as it spread onward, as far as Roger could reach. He located a large ship already hours away and felt a flutter of pain- Shanks-

Roger swore and loudly snapped. "Faster!" in the general direction of the island. The men that heard, already on their way back, tripled their speed; the rest would be left behind. Roger spied one of the men rushing up the gangplank; the man was half-dressed, shirt hanging on one arm, and missing a boot. Clearly, he'd been involved with someone when he'd heard Rayleigh calling for them and hadn't hesitated.

"Simmons!" The man froze on the gangplank and swiftly turned his way.

"Captain?"

"Your profession before comin' aboard… a bounty hunter correct?"

"Yes, captain." He subtly pulled his clothing on right, though the shoe was still missing. In another situation, Roger would have been amused by his attempt.

"Good." Roger shot a look at the island, "someone on this island assisted in taking the cabin boys; find out who, find out where, and handle it."

Several of the crew stilled at that, several eyes raced across the deck as if Shanks and Buggy would just spontaneously appear. They didn't. They couldn't. And the rush tripled, those boys were theirs. Those boys were Nakama, and no one took Nakama.

"Yes, captain." Simmons mild expression crew harsh, and he slipped from the deck on the mission his Captain had set him upon.

Roger then glanced at Rouge, who nodded sharply and headed for the helm. The moment enough men were on deck, they'd leave, they had plenty of ground to make up. Hours, in fact, for whoever had taken the boys had escaped with them hours ago. Hours and no one, not even he had noticed.

He snarled personally offended by that. The bastards were not going to get away with it, that was a fact, a certainty.

"Hoist the colors."

Holly bowed her head to Madam Pomfrey. Nearly twenty-four hours later, the woman had finally released her from the infirmary. As a result, the sincerity she was offering to the woman was… a challenge to maintain. Holly had been stuck in bed while singing, for hours, and had become increasingly twitchy with her lack of information. She didn't know what Hermione was doing, She didn't know if Ron had caught Lupin and didn't know if Moony had regained control. And she still didn't know what was happening to her pirate soulmate.

Face twitching, she ducked her head, "Thank you for your help miss, I feel much better." She didn't. "And I'll make sure to return if I feel weak again." She wouldn't.

"See that you do." Madam Pomfrey sniffed, before moving off as if she were in a rush, despite having no patients now that Holly was free to leave.

Forcing a smile, Holly straightened and slowly started to back off. The woman wasn't stopping her. She wasn't… and Holly spun on a heel and all but fled the room. It seemed miraculously the medi-witch hadn't noticed that Holly hadn't slept a wink due to her singing. Or that her voice was beyond raspy due to the same reason. And, Holly didn't want her to suddenly click into that information. So she bolted.

Exiting the infirmary, Holly felt a measure of relief. She took a moment to close her eyes and press her back to the closed and slightly… crispy, doors. Holly stretched out her arms and basked in it. Then, she turned on her heel and marched toward the Gryffindor common rooms. Holly had missed most of her classes that day already, so there'd be no point in heading to catch the last hour of potions - and who honestly would considering the professor? Likewise, Holly had already been given food by the house-elves, so she had no need to head to the Great hall or kitchens. Therefore, Holly marched toward the tower.

The halls were empty as most of the students were in class. Holly's trainers padded at the ground, a clear sound despite the occasional voice. The silence in Holly's head was eerie. It allowed her to pick out a boy singing the Hogwarts song to himself, a pair of girls tittering about something or another, and a few hushed conversations from the paintings. It was rare for Holly to be able to pick up sounds like that with her frequently singing pirate. He had always been a constant background noise, and Holly had adjusted to that. But now that he was silent, and the castle halls empty Holly found she was picking up far more information.

She had no idea how loud her shoes could be on the castle stones. Or that her own worried heart could make noise.

"-I just don't understand it. Why fire him?"

Holly stilled. She was feet away from a branching hallway, steps away from revealing herself to someone talking around the corner. The voice made her pause because she knew it. Nasally, familiar but usually crooning about Malfoy- ah, it was Parkinson. But what were they talking about?

"It's Dumbledore; he does what he wants to the typical," answered a cool feminine voice. Holly searched her mind for the owner but couldn't recall anyone with such a tone. "A right shame though, Lupin's the most skilled defence professor we've had in years. Petra, the seventh year, you know her? She claimed he's the best in since her first year."

That shot a brutal pang into her chest. There it was then, Lupin was gone, and he hadn't said a word to her as he left. Well, she'd expected that even if it hurt. Because he… he should have been her family, Moony should have stayed, he should have been there… but he wasn't, and really had he ever been? No adult ever had really. Well, maybe the Weasley's and… Moony, when he was just Moony. But did that really count? It didn't, not when she couldn't count on him.

"Why do you think he was sacked though?" the unknown girl continued, "it can't have been because he's a werewolf?"

Wait… what? The Slytherins knew that Lupin was a werewolf? They knew about Moony? But- but then- no… what? Why hadn't they given Moony up then? Holly was sure that only Hermione knew after that essay Snape set, but if… if the Slytherin's knew then she'd might have misjudged them. Might have.

Pansy made a scoffing sound, "Of course not, Dumbledore definitely knew what Professor Lupin was. He had professor Snape supplying his wolfsbane potions. No, I think it's because of Potter."

Holly jerked backward even if the two couldn't see her. Pressing against the wall behind her, Holly strained to listen to the conversation that now suddenly involved her.

"Potter?" The other sounded confused, "why?"

"Don't you know anything? Lupin was one of James Potter's best friends at Hogwarts."

"What does that have to do with this?"

Pansy clicked her tongue in exasperation, "Black is her godfather but betrayed the family. His claim to her would have been pulled by magic the moment he betrayed his oath. Therefore, Lupin would have a claim to Potter instead!" Holly reached up and covered her mouth. Pansy was acting like that was common knowledge, but to her, it was brand new. Was it true though? Could Lupin- Moony really have adopted her… no, wait, Sirius was supposed to be innocent. So he'd stay as her godfather and maybe no one could tell? Holly didn't know, she'd have to look into it with Hermione, to find out how a god-parent in the magical world actually worked.

"In Circe's name, you think he raised her?"

"Of course not, with how the man was dressed? Please. Potter wears some pathetic clothing during the holidays, but her uniforms are top quality, Lupin could never afford that."

"They could have used her trust fund." Holly nodded along to this point, she wouldn't have minded that cost so long as she'd been raised by Moony.

Holly was well aware Moony wasn't well off by any means, one look at his robes could tell her that. But Pansy apparently had an answer for it. "Please, no adult is going to use Potter's trust to buy her clothing. The whole point of a guardian is to provide for their child." Pansy's shoes clicked on the floor; she must have shifted, "no, Lupin didn't raise Potter."

"I'll concede the point, but once again… what does this have to do with Lupin being fired and Dumbledore involvement?" Yes, Holly would rather they returned to that as well. She was dying to know Pansy's thoughts on what happened, especially since Pansy was a Slytherin.

"Merlin Daphne, do I have to explain everything?" Daphne? Oh! It was that blond girl, the 'ice princess' of Slytherin. The one who spoke to absolutely no one outside Zabini, the girl who was always glaring off into space. Holly heard Lavander say once the girl had a 'resting bitch face,' which Holly personally thought was slightly rude even if it seemed to be accurate. "Dumbledore is far too interested in Potter! Everyone's seen it, he stares at her constantly, he's obnoxiously invested in her."

"Oh." Daphne breathed, and Holly momentarily disagreed. There was no 'oh.' What did Pansy mean that Dumbledore was too interested in her? She hadn't noticed that-… had Dumbledore really been staring that much? Was he- how much had Holly missed while focused on her pirate and Voldemort?

"'Oh' is right!" Pansy agreed like a gossip, like Petunia with a piece of juicy information that absolutely needed to be passed on, "My galleons are on this; Lupin tried to pursue his claim to Potter and Dumbledore fired him to separate him from her before Lupin's claim grew too strong or the public noticed-"

Holly didn't listen to anything else. She turned straight on her heel and fled. Holly left the hallway, backtracked blindly so she could go another way to Gryffindor tower without the Slytherin girls seeing her. Her thoughts were a swirl of chaos, her feet pounding on the stone once more.

Once was a coincidence. Holly's own thoughts, paranoia and insecurity were one thing. But now two Slytherin's agreed, without even knowing the entire situation? That was another thing entirely.

Now Holly just needed to figure out what to do about the ideas put forth to her.

Left behind in the hallway, Pansy paused mid-sentence as she heard pounding feet fleeing their corridor and sighed. Daphne looked equally displeased, but then, she always did.

"We didn't get the chance to imply we'd side with her." Daphne pointed out with a hand at her hip.

Pansy clicked her tongue, "We'll have to do it later, she's spooked I think; this will have to be a long term project." She'd have to review the latter half of her staged conversation with Daphne. The second half was, as Daphne said, all implications that she and Daphne would be willing to work with Potter, to ally with her. But Potter hadn't heard it, she'd fled too early. A shame, but one Pansy could work with.

"Do you really believe she can be turned?" Daphne mused as they headed back toward the dungeons. Poor Potter had been too out of it to realize that Daphne and Pansy were absolutely in the wrong part of the castle. They had no business in that hallway except to intercept Potter herself. But that was Gryffindor's for you. They didn't notice when they'd been subtly nudged on a specific path, or manipulated to hear a particular conversation that no Slytherin would normally allow to be overheard.

"Absolutely," Pansy said with full confidence, "she's already a gray witch, she just doesn't know it yet."

Daphne didn't comment on that, but the girl didn't often speak overly much when outside the common room, so Pansy didn't mind. Pansy was instead just pleased Daphne was willing to assist her with her plans to turn Potter, then Weasley, and potentially Granger. Just as Blaise was.

"Hog-warts, hog-warts, hoggy, hoggy, blah blah."

Speaking of.

Blaise rounded the corner with a drained look in his eyes, "I hate that song," he told them plaintively.

Pansy rolled her eyes, "You didn't have to sing it." Blaise joined them on as they started down the stairs, they moved as a trio as was required by their house, "you had dozens of options, and you choose that?"

"I ran out of ideas," Blaise made a face, "you're probably right though, my lovely mate is none too pleased with my choice." He rubbed an ear, and Pansy cackled a bit. Apparently, Blaise's soulmate was now singing quite loud in retaliation to his choice. Well, it was his own fault, even if he'd done it for Pansy's plan. He really had countless song choices to go through, and he'd chosen that song?

"So, how'd it go?" he asked.

Daphne flipped her hair out of her face, "We got through the main ideas, but she left before we could let her know we'd ally with her, we'll have to stage another conversation for that."

"Best give it some time then," Blaise said, "don't want to spook her."

Pansy immediately grinned and swatted him playfully, "that's what I said!" They turned a hallway, and she added, "I think we'll start in September, let her stew for the summer."

"That'll do, as long as no one changes her mind about Dumbledore by then."

"Oh, I doubt it," Pansy thought, thinking back to Ron's comments, "I feel we'll be far better set up by September, rather than the opposite."

Blaise shrugged to that, then he changed the topic asking about their last bit of studying before their potions exam. They fell into comfortable conversation, while floors up Holly near yelled at the Fat Lady to let her in. She strode stone-faced, straight through the few Gryffindor's within the common rooms and vanished into her dorm. Holly rushed for her bed, and hurled open her curtains, and then Holly flopped onto her back. She cast an arm over her eyes and breathed.

Slowly she calmed.

"I have no proof," Holly said to herself, "So… I need to find some." She lowered her arm, dropping it to her stomach. Holly would find out the truth of Dumbledore's involvement in her life, she'd figure out what the deal was with Padfoot. Then she'd… she'd figure out a way to contact Lupin and would force him to give her the information she wanted. And… and she'd continue her plan to find her pirate soulmate…

Holly felt herself smiling slightly. A soulmate she could now communicate freely with, Merlin, no one was going to believe she could do that. She barely believed it herself, and she'd done it… though, it was painfully one-sided so far.

"I'll have to find a way to help you… until you can escape yourself." Holly didn't know what was happening to him, but she assumed he'd been captured somehow. As a pirate… maybe by the police of his world? She hoped not. Execution would be a definite concern then, and Holly obviously preferred her soulmate alive.

Reaching up, Holly rubbed at her throat. Now that she was thinking about it, her pirate hadn't sung at all that day. Holly could feel he was conscious, it was a trick Holly was pleased to be cultivating. She knew, as a result of her time-travel adventures, that her pirate was very least alive. However, she also knew that whatever was keeping him silent, was still doing it.

Holly sat up and clutching her bedsheets, "Was this how you felt?" Petunia had done the same to her, the woman had kept Holly silent for years, and yet he'd still sung at her. Had he worried she was dead? That she didn't even exist? What had Holly put her pirate through because of her Aunt's actions?

"Sorry," she whispered, unwilling to sing the word. But… she should sing something. He had asked for a distraction, and that didn't change just because he hadn't sung that day. He may not be able to ask- Holly smothered a rush of fear for that. Pushed back the idea that he'd been permanently muted- that was just paranoia, he was fine.

"You know, it's difficult to come up with a song on the spot?" Holly sang randomly, "I want to offer you the perfect song, something to ease whatever may be happening, and my mind is a blank. Perhaps Binks' Sake… or maybe Binks' sake in your language, I've been meaning to practice." She wanted to be fluent when she finally travelled to his world, no matter how far away that moment actually was.

Swinging her legs off her bed, Holly reached for her side table, which doubled as a small desk. Loosely shuffling, Holly hummed the first few bars of the familiar song while she pulled some of her books from the bottom shelf, then she tossed them haphazardly on her bed. Ensuring she had everything she needed, Holly settled back. Holly needed high scores to become an unspeakable - she required at least O's in multiple classes, ones like potions, charms, runes, and arithmancy. Likewise, Holly needed to receive a mastery and, by extension, an apprenticeship in Runes and Arithmancy. All this she'd learned from Flitwick after expressing a desire for the career path, he'd been both helpful and thorough in explaining what she'd need for the career.

For Holly, well, learning runes was almost as easy as breathing; she was a natural. The symbols just clicked in her head, they matched and worked together as if she was reading English. Holly's professor claimed it was because she was good at languages. Holly did even better than Hermione in the challenging course, which was saying something. As a result of her high grades, their professor also put her on slightly more advanced homework since 'skipping grades' wasn't a thing in the magical world.

Likewise to runes, Holly was a natural at Defense against the dark arts. The spells and magic came naturally to her even with the… professors she'd dealt with. However, the same couldn't be said for her other courses. She had an advantage in arithmancy because Holly had taken math in her Muggle schools and therefore had a boost compared to the magical-raised children. Then Potions… and Snape? Yeah, that didn't work well. Charms: well, her mother had been a natural Flickwick said, and he worked with her to ensure she was able to keep up.

After letting the last bit of Bink's sake slip away, Holly sang her thoughts, something she suspected she was going to get quite good at. "Anyway, I'm working on finding my way to you. And let me tell you, it's a challenge. Arithmancy is so difficult." Holly went off on a random singing tangent and did it absently as she set up her study material and waited for Hermione and Ron to finish their classes for the day. She had to talk to them both about the plans tentatively growing in her head.

She worked for what seemed like mere minutes but was probably close to an hour, until she heard a distant yelp. Holly shot a look at the door to the girls' dorm and glancing up through her glasses- it swung open. Standing there was Hermione holding fast to Ron's arms as his legs frantically ran in place. The charms in the girls' dorms was trying to get rid of him, the stairs had transformed into a slide for Ron only, and Hermione was attempting to pull him up them.

"What are you doing?" Holly laughed as Hermione finally got Ron into the room with her.

"Looking for you!" Hermione snapped, "and I told him I could just bring you out, but no! He wanted to come up."

"I didn't know about the charms!" Ron returned, but the heat was stolen by the way he was panting for breath, "do you think it'll alert McGonagall? That someone tried?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's perfectly fine," Hermione waved him off as she crossed the room to drop onto Holly's bed.

"I don't know about that," Ron moved forward like he was expecting spiders to fall from the ceiling, "Bill said he tried to get into the girls' dorm once, it wasn't pretty."

"What that's because he was probably trying to sleep with a girlfriend," Hermione dismissed, "you aren't doing that."

Red turned the shade of his hair, and Holly felt her own cheeks heat. She hadn't realized Hermione was so bold with comments like that- oh, no, her friend was only just realizing what she'd blurted. Well. They were just going to move on from that topic.

"Anyway!" Holly coughed into her hand as she set her books to the side, "why did you want to get into the dorms so bad, Ron?"

"Right!" Ron pointed at them, "I'm still mad at you two for adventuring into time without me. But that's not the point, I did as you girls asked and you were right. Lupin was sacked." He thought back on what Pansy had said and implied when she left, then decided not to bring it up. He wasn't sure what the girls would say about it. Oh… bugger, the charm, nevermind he had to talk about it. "Parkinson ended up putting a tracking charm on him."

"Parkinson?" Hermione blinked in surprise as Ron dropped into Holly's chair.

"Pansy Parkinson? The Slytherin?" Holly asked. That was coincidental… wait a minute, "they bloody staged that!"

"What?" twin voices echoed.

Holly waved a hand as her head shook, "I heard Parkinson and Greengrass talking about Mo- Lupin. They were discussing how Dumbledore was constantly watching me and was too invested in my life." She shot a sidelong look at Hermione who had her thinking face on, then to Ron, who was… unsurprised? "They think Dumbledore fired Lupin because he was getting too close to me."

"Parkinson said the same to me, and if I'm being honest, I… sort of agree with her."

"You do?" Hermione's hair swung in a arc as she twisted to face Ron, "why?"

Ron fumbled slightly, "It's instinct I guess? He does watch Holly an awful lot, and there was that whole… thing in first year, and… well, I know you're smart Hermione, but don't you think the protections on the stone were odd? They were far too simple considering it was meant to keep you-know-who out, and they were all first-year stuff! It was basically designed for a first-year. Also! The basilisk, how come no one realized what it was before you? It's been fifty years since it first appeared and no one thought 'snake?'"

Obviously, he'd given it more thought than Holly had, however now that Ron was pointing it out… he had a point. Not to mention there was the suspicious past with Sirius, which she'd have to speak to the man about and soon.

"I… well, they didn't have all the clues." Hermione tried.

Holly made a face and Ron heaved a breath unwilling to make into a fight, "it's just suspicious is all. There's no proof but… it's suspicious."

"There's also…" Holly hesitated a moment, but no, she might as well just say it. "well, Parkinson mentioned something about magic, god-parents, and oaths?"

"That I don't know about," Ron said, "that's old magic stuff, mum doesn't want me to learn about that. But… we can? Maybe it'll help shed some light on this whole thing?"

"We should get some, we should find out the truth."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, then they nodded. "But we'll have to be careful," Hermione told them both, "Dumbledore is… powerful, and he's clever, he's the only one you-know-who feared, and that's for a good reason."

"We will be… and we can probably recruit the Slytherin's to help. They'd know about that old magic stuff-" Ron suddenly clapped a hand over his own face as if horrified he'd even suggested what he just had. But… well, Pansy already implied she was willing. And while they couldn't trust the Slytherins, they could try and use them. Besides, who else would believe them about this but Slytherin's?

"Why Ronald, I didn't know you had it in you," Hermione teased, "but yes, that's an excellent idea. Not Malfoy, of course, but Parkinson and perhaps Greengrass?"

"And Zabini," Holly added in her own two sickles, "he's often part of their group."

"Agreed." Hermione linked her fingers together and leaned forward, "now, shall we talk about the whole Sirius Black thing next?"

"The what?" Ron asked as Holly blanched.

"Lets not." Holly threw her head into her hands and buried into them slightly; she badly wasn't ready for that conversation yet.

"Oh, lets," Hermione pushed on, "apparently your brother was right, Black is innocent and masquerading around as Holly's pet."

"First." Ron held up a hand in distress almost as if warding her off, "Fred was right? That's one thing, but Padfoot? Padfoot is Black?!" Ron shot a look between them, and Holly just groaned. They were going to get into it then. Which meant they were also going to have to get into the whole 'Padfoot killed a man right in front of them' thing. And the whole 'Padfoot the dog/man had been sleeping at the end of her bed for months. It was going to be a disaster.

Ron, however, surprised her. As the next thing out of his mouth was actually: "Where is Padfoot?"

Which was frankly an excellent question. The dog hadn't been spotted since the night before when Pomfrey kicked him out.

"He'll turn up, he's probably pranking someone," Hermione mused. Which again made sense; it must have been Padfoot messing with their potions professor all year. "Or he followed Lupin…" she hoped it wasn't the latter, they needed information from the dog before he left.

"Alright, so… we…" Ron reached up and pressed his hands to his temple, massaging the spot, "Holly, honestly, your life sometimes." He heaved a sigh, "so to recap: your dog is actually an innocent escaped prisoner, killed the actually guilty man, and… is living as a dog now. Dumbledore might be manipulating your life or worse, and we're going to work with Slytherin's to find out. Lupin is…?"

"Lupin has a split personality," Hermione helpfully put forth. "And officially out of reach."

"Right… that, anything else?"

Holly felt a measure of pleasure knowing she'd distract both her friends with what she had to add to that collection of chaos. Smile fixed, she sat forward and said, "I can sing regular words, and my soulmate can hear me quite perfectly. Also, I can sense when he's awake, unconscious, or sleeping."

This time both Hermione and Ron snapped their heads around to her, and Holly felt her smile widen. There was the reaction she had been hoping for.

"Like… rap?" That came from Hermione. Her hands were positively twitching in curiosity, and there was a light in her eyes that made Holly decidedly nervous. "Regular words but in song, with rhyme? Like rap?" Her eyes darted to her bed, where she had several notebooks hidden away. Hermione couldn't help but study soulmates and their properties, it was a topic that always excited her ever since she'd first heard a voice in her head.

Hermione remembered the first time she'd ever heard her soulmate or the first time she remembered hearing him anyway. She'd been five years old and doing a play for the school. She had been standing on stage with dozens of other children, had been at the back because her voice wasn't the best and she'd been taller than the other children. For months she'd been practicing the Christmas songs they were going to sing. Hermione remembered puffing out her chest, staring down at her parents in the crowd, and belting out the familiar words and- he'd sung along.

Hermione realized that, realistically, he'd been hearing the same song for weeks by then. Hearing it over the weeks of practice they'd done for the concert. So obviously, he knew the words. But Hermione also remembered being so startled to hear a voice inside her that she'd tripped on the spot. She'd gone crashing into the popular girl in front of her during the live concert, which had not helped Hermione make friends. But oh, she couldn't even be mad that the whole thing had been caught on film. Because her soulmate… she had a soulmate-

Hermione drowned in books after that, more so then she had before. Because she had to learn Bulgarian so she could learn Bulgarian songs. And when Hermione learned she was a witch… when she learned soulmates worked a bit differently for people with magic- she'd grown obsessed. More so with the particulars of Holly's soulmate who was so different to anything she'd ever read about.

"Is it like rap?" Hermione repeated, and she abandoned her attempts to disguise her desire to grab her notebooks. Holly and Ron accepted her for who she was, they didn't judge her as she went launching at her bed to grab something to write with. They didn't comment either, not as she threw herself across the bed and wrenched open her side-table to snatch the needed items. Instead, they were thinking hard and ready to answer her by the time she returned to her chair with frantic energy burning inside her.

"What's rap?" Ron asked when she was ready.

"Its a genre of music that Muggles have," Holly filled him in. The magical community was a bit… behind, on music genre's like they seemed to be with everything else. It was in the same way that the magic community didn't have fictional stories, they also didn't have much in the way of music. Most of the songs Holly knew where Muggle ones or ones from her soulmate. Not to mention most of the ones running across the school where from Muggle-borns teaching their magical counterparts the words to the Muggle songs.

Once a Ravenclaw in Charms had set Flickwick off on the topic, he'd completely lost track of his lesson. He'd passionately spoken of the stagnation of historical civilizations and how each one had collapsed vanishing into time. Flitwick explained that their 'culture,' as the pure-bloods so firmly preached about, was important. He then countered that and said if new ideas continued to be denied, magic and their community could collapse like those civilizations. He'd also spoken of how important it was to adapt and had eventually gone off about Vampires and when Vampires, as a species, were a clear sign of where they'd end up in a few centuries. They were basically the poster species for stagnation, considering their inability to adapt to changing eras.

Holly found it thoroughly fascinating. The long and short of the lesson had been that they as a people needed to adapt or they'd go extinct. Though very few had taken Flitwick's words to heart, and didn't that just prove that it may be too late.

"It's… sort of sing-talking, I… don't know how to explain it," Holly hedged, "but… that's not entirely inaccurate, I suppose." It was an interesting thought, was she just rapping with a slightly different manner to the typical? She wasn't rhyming really, she was just talking? But did it count? "Can Muggles hear rap songs from their soulmates?"

"Yes," Hermione answered immediately and scribbled quickly, "Muggles hear them, but it's proven that soulmates cannot hear specific details no matter the genre. I just never imagined you could just talk-sing like that, but realistically, it should have been obvious. Singing is just… stringing words together, so why couldn't we do that?" the only thing was, why had no one done this before? Unless they had? But then why wasn't it common knowledge? "Regardless, the theory is that if I rapped right now about Hogwarts, my soulmate wouldn't hear it. There's a limitation on it, though no one knows why. It's the same with rap as it is with any old song. You cannot sing about your name or your direct location. Nothing that gives off too obvious a hint to where you are."

"You-" Ron made a face, "we've sung the Hogwarts anthem though, isn't that obvious enough?"

"And there's where I get confused!" Hermione pointed her quill at him, "we can sing anthems for locations, but I can't sing out the words 'I live in London,' or 'my name is Hermione,' and no one knows why!"

"But I did," Holly frowned, or did she? Her pirate wasn't exactly able to respond to her right then, so maybe he'd just heard parts of what she'd sung and not everything? Merlin, she couldn't even ask either. Not with him still in the same situation. "Or maybe not..."

Ron leaned back on his hands, and he rested against her bed frame, "Try now?" he suggested.

"You just want me to-" she blushed, "to just sing?" with them right there? Without a song?

"Excellent idea Ronald!" Hermione's head snapped to her, "Do it!"

"Bu- I- hold-" she winced, "fine!"

But what did she start with?

Shanks kept his hands' palms up in his lap. His eyes were closed, but he was listening carefully to cover for that. The position helped his aching shoulder a bit, what also helped was that Shanks had brutally shoved it back into place an hour or so earlier. Shanks generally knew how it was done thanks to Crocus, and had chosen to do it after the deck above them started to grow louder. The sound of the working crew above him had covered his gasp of shocked pain before he'd smothered the sound.

As yes, the working crew. Shanks had realized, quite unfortunately, that he and Buggy had been placed on a ship shortly after what Shanks assumed to be sun-up. The sway underneath him should have been familiar from the start, but Shanks missed it due to the concussion he was suffering from. On the upside, the working crew was loud and, therefore, covered the hush conversations the prisoners - he refused to refer to any of them as slaves. The people captured with him had clearly gotten their imprisonment down to an art. By observing them, Shanks avoided further suffering.

Watching his fellow prisoners, Shanks came up with a few fundamental rules for his imprisonment.

Rule one, no singing.

Shanks fully intended to break that one as long as he could disguise it, he had a thousand questions for his witch, and it seemed daylight was the best time for it. The night though, that was the worst. The slavers, their jailers, were listening carefully. The men were just looking for the excuse to torture them, especially those considered 'new.' Which involved Buggy, Shanks, and the gaped toothed moron to Shanks' other side. Though that didn't stop the slavers from snatching older prisoners either, so long as they were remotely healthy. A great many of the prisoners had been taken at sun-up and dragged to work. Buggy and the gapped tooth guy had been two of those, though Shanks hadn't due to his injures. Guess the slaver had been correct, they didn't actually want Shanks dead yet.

Buggy still hadn't returned either.

Shanks breathed in slowly, meditating as he tested his chains again. Haki likely could have broken him free, and now that Shanks was calmer, he could actually control it. The downside, they were on a ship - which also explained why Roger hadn't found them yet. Because it was a ship of unknown size, Shanks would have to break free, beat down an entire crew, and sail the boat alone. That just wasn't feasible. So Shanks was playing the waiting game. He'd escape the moment there was an opportunity, or they hit an island, he'd grab Buggy, and he'd bolt.

Now it was just a waiting game.

He breathed out, feeling the edge of sleep, and he pushed it away. The last time he'd let himself sleep, he'd been awoken to burning liquid tossed across his entire body. Everyone asleep had been hit, and his skin was still bright red from it. Shanks suspected the liquid hadn't just been water either. Not with the way it ate through his clothing and continued to brutally sting his open wounds hours later.

Rule two. Don't let the slavers catch you sleeping.

What time was it? He had no idea. How long had it been? Shanks didn't know that either. But time seemed to last forever, and his soulmate had been silent for a long time. She was fine he knew. Probably just sleeping. He reached a hand up and pressed his fingers to his throat. Shanks could still feel the vice the slaver had put around his throat, could still feel it tightening, feel the razor-sharp prongs nudging at his skin and hear the threats. Just a little tighter, and his jugular might be cut. Just a little more, and he'd bleed out. Just a little more and oops, they might damage his voice box permanently.

He breathed in, and it scraped brutally against his throat. Damaged by that liquid, likely the same tossed onto his body, as it was forced down his throat. Shanks could still feel the hand over his mouth stopping him from catching a single breath unless he swallowed-

'Shit,' Shanks thought and opened his eyes and tried to still his shaking hands. He tried to focus his mind on his escape; because he was going to escape. Shanks was going to survive and finally ask the questions he was dying to. He was going to escape and find the island somewhere out there where his little soulmate was waiting for him.

He was going to escape.

Hours passed. The day wore on, and no one came to check on those left in the hold. One of the men rested, a woman silently wept, and Shanks meditated. Shanks didn't think about the numbness in his arm or how the burn in his open wounds only seemed to be growing. He didn't think about the infection setting or how his head was beginning to pound- he clamped his eyes closed when the world spun, and he focused on his breathing.

Sometime in the afternoon, his soulmate started to sing once more. She was raspier than usual and still singing regular conversation. Clearly, that hadn't been a fever dream of his own making and Shanks was relieved for that.

Shanks listened to the rise and fall of the awkward singing, she wasn't yet managing to make talk-singing sound like actual song. Not that Shanks minded. Not as she sang softly about her classes and what she learning, which Shanks found fascinating. The night before, Shanks had been exclusively paying attention to her voice then, now, he was paying attention to the words.

She sang of math classes, of 'runes,' potions, and the difficulty in her classes. She sang in greater detail when Shanks managed a soft, 'explain,' without getting caught. His soulmate was quick to elaborate, to sing about toadstools mixing with bat-wings. Shanks made a face thankful he hadn't been given any food since his capture… or water. He grimaced and tried to meditate again, so his throat stopped burning with need-

"Anyway, runes, I find much more fun. It's… it's hard to explain, you just match symbols, which creates a type of language in magic."

Magic. That's what people called devil-fruit users, and Shanks could believe she was a devil-fruit user, but he didn't. It was far more likely that the people of her island possessed some sort of energy like haki, and used it to create what they considered magic. Which made sense, 'magic' and 'witches' had to come from somewhere. The terms didn't just pop out of thin air.

"Witch." Shanks more rasped than sang with utter fondness during a particularly loud exclaim from the deck above. It hurt- it hurt- but he wanted to-

"Exactly so! I'm a witch!… Does that bother you?"

'As if,' Shanks thought to himself as the pain ebbed. He instead thought her ability was fascinating, he wondered how she could do what she could. How her 'runes' could create real effects. He couldn't wait to see it in action. "Love it," he dared to sing and regretted it. Wincing, he reached his hands up to grab his throat, and it sent a brutal pang through his injured arm. It left him speechless in pain and gasping. His throat seized, it tightened on the wounds and he couldn't- breathe-

The world squeezed around him- he couldn't breath- and the pain grew- his vision darkened at the edges- he was going to pass… out…

"Calm down!"

Calm down- how did she know-

Shanks forced himself to take in a breath, and it felt like he'd swallowed glass. His lungs struggled as he pulled in air, but bit by bit, he relaxed. He regained his breath, and his vision slowly returned. The other prisoners were staring at him, none of them had moved to assist him. It was just as well, they probably couldn't reach him anyway.

"There… are you alright?"

"H-how-" he choked with a bitten off a swear. His throat couldn't handle it, he could not keep trying to sing. He had to stop-

"Figured it out, I can sense when you're awake." She can what?! "I felt you losing consciousness… and I guessed?"

Shanks internally made a distressed noise, he punched his leg slightly out of frustration. His witchy soulmate was making all these discoveries about their connection, and he couldn't take advantage at all. How was that fair?! First, the talk-singing, and he couldn't actually use it to ask questions. And now she could sense when he was awake? What? How did she even do that? Neither should be even remotely possible, Shanks certainly hadn't heard of anyone doing what she currently was. And he couldn't even ask. Was it an application of haki? Was it because of her 'magic?' was it something they could just do? Did it grow from their connection?

Dammit. Shanks was so curious! Thankfully she was in the mood to elaborate.

"It happened because I used a time-turner- that's uh… it's a necklace that can send the wearer a few hours into the past. It cut off our connection for me when I was in the past, and when time caught back up-" She was making zero sense, what? Shanks scowled into space, feeling his frustration grow, "No, wait, you're a Muggle… hold on, how do I explain this..."

Shanks recoiled slightly, what?! What in the Blues was a 'Muggle?'

The nearby door slammed open, and Shanks jumped slightly. The slaver was returning the exhausted slav- prisoners, back to the hold. The man had officially stolen Shanks' chance to ask for his witch's name… for the time being anyway. Shanks might not be escaping yet, but eventually, he would, and he knew the first words that would come out of his mouth once he had.

Shanks instead stared at the door avoiding contact with the slaver, it was a different man than the one who'd tortured him, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. Not as he chained up each prisoner one by one. Every one of them was dragging their bodies. None argued or resisted as they were shoved into place, not even Buggy, who was pale and… and was sporting several new bruises. Shanks' friend was now missing his shirt, and there were several brutal cuts now revealed with its loss. Buggy was also beat red and already pealing… he must have been forced into the sun. Did that mean they were approaching a summer island? If that was the case, then the sunburns would get worse Shanks knew, depending on how long their journey was. Buggy might potentially know, he was quite skilled with their navigation lessons.

Shanks wasn't going to be able to ask though, not as Buggy was chained on the opposite side of the hold. Not as he turned immediately toward the wall and curled up, hiding his body from the world. Shanks bared his teeth to that, to how meek these slavers had made his loud, obnoxious friend. They'd suffer for that.

The slavers left without looking at him, a good thing because Shanks' expression was hardly friendly. If they had Shanks was confident he'd be dragged off for a second session. And as the door closed, Shanks stared at it, it was made of wood and metal, but Shanks was confident he could break it open with haki-

"Shanks,"

He jerked in surprise and shot a look across the room toward Buggy. He and the half a dozen other prisoners watched as Buggy uncurled his body and lifted his face. Shanks exhaled sharply as he caught sight of his friends' face. Buggy's eyes were burning.

"Buggy?" he rasped, feeling an energy build between them.

It seemed he should have had more faith.

"I'm going to kill them," Buggy swore.

"You'll have to-" he choked slightly and struggled through it, "-beat me to them,"

They exchanged a look, and Shanks knew it right away… it was on.

Simmons pressed his barefoot to the neck of the slaver and heaved a sigh. He never had reclaimed his shoe. The woman would likely toss it… then she would also be unconscious for several hours thanks to Roger, so maybe he could retrieve it after he was finished here? That was a decent idea.

"You- fuck-" Simmons pressed firmly downward and cut off the slavers no doubt violent words. As he did, he lazily fished his mini-den den mushi from his jacket pocket, the same Rouge had tossed his way before he'd left the Jackson. Idly Simmons dialled with bloodied fingers- ah, he could also shower in her apartment, she - what was her name? Hell, he forgot - probably wouldn't mind. The den-den mushi rang as Simmons tossed a look around.

He was surrounded by bloodied corpses, fools who refused to talk and had a rather small amount of critical thinking. Simmons didn't need them. He only needed one of them to speak, and the rest were disposable. It was funny how few people realized that he'd just kill them if they failed to tell him what he wanted. It took six men before the one under his boot decided to talk, though two more had tried to stab him in the back when he'd been asking his questions. They were tied nearby, they'd also enjoy his personal touch when he was finished passing on the needed information.

Roger, well, Roger called him a bounty hunter, but that was strictly… accurate. Simmons had been a bounty-hunter, but his skills ran more toward… information gathering.

"Speak to me," The lovely Rouge answered the call and Simmons immediately felt himself bow to her order. She was second to Roger, her word as Roger's was law. Rayleigh may be the first-mate, but Rouge was the captains equal, and the intelligent treated her as such.

"Ma'am," he answered, "I've found the culprit… it's not great news."

On the ocean, Rouge hailed Rayleigh and Roger, the former moved close to hear. The latter nodded to show he was listening even though his attention was ahead of them. The weather had not worked with him during this chase. Snow-storms, tsunami-like waves, and lightning had drastically slowed their pursuit. The Grand-line was against them; she stalling them, but not halting them. The latest difficulty? The wind had died, ensuring the men who took their boys put more and more distance between them.

Oh, the ship was still well within Roger's senses, but an actual rescue had to wait until they caught up. Which meant Roger was left tracking the enemy, left to sense what was happening to the kids and going off his expression; it wasn't anything good.

"Tell us," Rouge ordered.

"It was slavers, no surprises there, only they'd be so ballsy as to take from us." The snail sneered as Simmons did, and Rouge's expression matched. "They used a girl their age to lure them away from the streets, made the kids think they'd found their soulmate."

"That couldn't be Shanks'" Rayleigh said from Rouge's side, "not with the language his mate speaks. He'd have tested her."

"No, it wasn't Shanks, the kid described was Buggy."

Rouge nodded along, that fit a bit better. Few realized, with how overwhelming Shanks was about his soulmate, how much Buggy cared about his own. Buggy was filled with dreams about the girl that would one day match him, and he was quiet about them, unlike Shanks and his loud declarations. "Is the girl still there?" she asked.

Over the line, Simmons made a thoughtful noise, "I can sense her nearby… I believe she's a slave herself." He'd have to handle that somehow, especially if she was marked. Simmons had a few ideas on what to do though, and knew the crew wouldn't mind his delay, so he didn't bother Rouge with them.

"And the slavers?"

"They have a base on the island, had a base anyway," the snail's expression turned blood-thirsty, Rouge didn't doubt the man was going to raise the place to the ground. The Roger Pirates blatantly disapproved of slavery, and she knew Simmons had more reasons than most to hate it. "Good news, they've got a few set bases and are likely heading to Sabaody, you'll be able to head them off there… bad news, they trade with Dragons."

"We'll have to hurry," Rayleigh spoke up, the same thought racing through his head as Rouge. An automatic fear was built into the undercurrent of their world, a terror and wariness of Celestial Dragon's and their power. It would no surprise either. When a single corrupt noble could have an entire island destroyed on a whim. When so much as looking at one wrong could call a whole Marine armada. Anyone sane wouldn't mess with them, and if they wanted to avoid that, they'd have to get the boys before a celestial dragon became involved. There was also…

Celestial Dragon's slaves always had two things in common. The hoof mark burned into their slave's skin and- and often had… missing tongues.

"Locate a ship and return," Roger spoke up, giving Simmons his next order, he didn't comment on the news. To him, it changed nothing, only their heading. Not that he truly needed it, not as he carefully tracked the boys far out of sight ahead of them. As he felt Buggy's blatant terror and Shanks ruthless determination kept up despite the pain he was feeling. Roger snarled, he turned instead to Rouge and said, "Call our allies, tell them Sabaody."

"Aye, Captain." She obediently responded. Because they were soulmates, but he was still the Captain. She was a part of his crew, and while she was his confidant, and had input in the decisions of the ship, ultimately, Roger was the final word on the ocean. But not on their relationship, as she fondly liked to remind him.

Rouge hung up on Simmons and moved to call their allies. As she did, she knew, Roger was expecting a fight, and it was likely, they were about to declare war to get their boys back.

She doubted anyone would argue either.

Holly couldn't help but feel Ron and Hermione's eyes on her as they slipped from the dorms. With the dusk settling in and dinner officially over, the other girls had returned to the dorms. The other Gryffindor girls obviously wanted Ron out of the dorms, so the trio had left. They'd snuck straight out of the dorms, the common room, and then to Myrtle's bathroom where no paintings could be found. Together they'd settled, Ron against the bathroom door with an eerie reminder of the year before. Hermione on the floor with her notebooks out. And Holly against that sink.

Her friends were staring at her expectantly. All she had to do was sing her name… just one little sentence but… she was terrified to do it and couldn't explain why.

"This would better if he wasn't unable to sing back to me," Holly told her friends in a regular voice trying to stall for some unknown reason.

"Holly… just do it," Ron pushed, "worse case it doesn't work, you're still a dozen steps up from anyone else."

"Well, why don't you do it then!" she snapped, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Fine then." Still leaning against the door, he opened his mouth and sang quite calmly, "Hey soulmate, my name is Ron Weasley. I don't know what rhymes with Ron Weasley, and I don't think it really matters. But if you can hear me, sing back, because I want to know you." Then he crossed his arms and waited under Holly and Hermione's intense gazes. After a few minutes, he shrugged.

"Doesn't work for me it seems." He wasn't upset by that. He wasn't. If he kept thinking it, then he might actually believe it.

"It doesn't?" Hermione rushed to write that down before she tried herself in Bulgarian of all things. Holly hadn't known she spoke Bulgarian as fluently as Holly spoke her pirate's language. "my name is Hermione Granger, I want to know you… but can you hear me?" Silence followed her word, then her fall fell. "I suppose not, though I wonder if its the words or maybe Holly is special?" She tapped her quill to her notebook, "I… happen to like cats, mats, and books. You'll find me in the library and with a book in my face… I…" she faltered, "I… want to know you very much." There, no specifics, that had to be better?

Some distance away, a young man stopped dead and nearly walked into a wall. The people around him exclaimed, and several pictures were taken to his embarrassment, but he couldn't help it. He'd just heard his soulmate. After months of feeling a heavy sensation in his connection and now she'd just spoken-sang at him. In the gods' name, he couldn't even respond to her due to how many eyes were on him. No, he dared not sing while being interviewed, not with his fame. People would be claiming all over that they were his match. Veles' he couldn't believe this timing-

Hermione frowned deeply when she gained no response. It hurt more than she was willing to admit. She had hoped… but no.

"Nothing?" Ron asked.

"No, but that could be due to a verity of reasons; I'll have to try again later." As she said this, her hand went to the time-turner hidden under her shirt. Was her use of it the cause? Because that should have worked… had she destroyed her connection in a desire to learn-

"I…" Ron tried to sing before making a face and just saying, "have no idea how you girls are just singing like that. I can't think of a thing."

"Just sing while talking." Holly put forth even though she still hadn't tried to sing her name. She didn't even have the excuse of her pirate being asleep; she could feel that he was conscious.

"Right." Ron tapped his hip, trying to come up with a beat, "I… nope, no, I need lyrics. 'Mione gimme a page, I'm going to write something down." He made a grabbing motion for Hermione's second notebook, which she distractedly handed over. He started to scribble on a free page, preparing to put himself out there. To test and see if he could do what Holly could and seemingly Hermione couldn't… and Holly still hadn't tried to sing out her name.

Merlin. She just had to do it.

"Bloody- dammit-" Holly looked away from the two unable to bare their stares while she did this. Then she sang, "M-my name is Holly… and I already love you-" she choked a bit because she hadn't intended to say that. She couldn't even hide it either, Ron and Hermione were right there. A whimper escaped her throat as her cheeks heated up immensely. He probably couldn't even hear her, and even if he could, he couldn't respond to her.

And silence reigned in her head.

"That's it then," Holly confirmed. "He can't hear me, or at least not that." Or could he? What if he just couldn't respond… it was possible-

"Well, it follows what we know." Hermione reasoned, "now the question is, what exactly is your limit. Can you sing about…"

As Hermione spoke, a world away Shanks was staring into the darkness on his cell, unable to breathe. Nearby the slaver was picking through them, the man paying attention to others this time. Seemingly he believed Shanks was actually defeated, which worked quite well for Shanks. It did, except for the fact that he'd just heard-

"M-my name is Holly… and I already love you-"

Holly.

Holly, Holly, Holly… her name was an echo in his head, repeated again and again as he stared at a spot on the wall. His witch, his witch was named Holly, she'd given him her name and Shanks longed to belt out the word but… he didn't. Not because of the slaver, Shanks gave no shits about that man. No, because this was not the place for her name to be spoken. He refused to have the first time he said her name to be while he was a prisoner. She didn't deserve that. His Holly…

Hers would be the first word he'd sing when he was free.

Holly. Shanks hid his smile in his knees, burrowed his face into his pants. It was beautiful, his witch's name. Amusement flickered to life as the slaver passed dangerously close to him. The blasted woman, his damned witch had just- he couldn't believe she'd just done that to him now. He had a cruel soulmate, offering him such a precious word when he couldn't respond to her. One day he'll make her suffer for that. The sheer amount of teasing he'd put her through… ah, he knew what he'd do; she'd have to work to earn his name in return—the perfect revenge for this.

Shanks still smiled as he thought about it.

Soon she'd have to work for it, and one day she'd be his. His to hold, his to love. As soon as he got off this damned ship, back to his crew, and finally found her island, she would be his. They'd sail the seas together, learn every song they could. He'd introduce her to the captain, and eventually, she'd be his better half with their own crew. They'd party it up. Sing freely and openly and just live- gods, what he'd do with her, do to her.

Holly. His soulmate.

Shanks couldn't wait.