By the third day of vacation, it became clear to Gwen that her mother had obviously not forgotten what happened last August. No cracks in her surveillance this winter break. Her mother and Mrs. Wood never left the house unless their husbands were home. That said, it was hard for Gwen and Oliver to get some alone time. Especially since their mothers kept checking in on them.

This afternoon, the pair were in the study at Oliver's house, working on a History of Magic essay. A fireplace stood at one end of the room, a warm fire crackling within its bounds, and a heavy wooden table was set in the middle of the room. Books covered its surface, most of which sat open, along with rolls of parchment, bottles of ink and quills. Cleaning dried ink off the nib of her quill, Gwen couldn't help but think of what a wonderful invention the ball point pen is.

"Bloody ink dried again," she muttered.

"Then stop dipping your quill when you're not ready to write," Oliver replied absently, flipping pages of a book on famous witches and wizards.

"Have you found that article on Wendelin the Weird yet?" she asked. Oliver, engrossed in his work, didn't answer. In fact, Gwen didn't think he heard her at all. "Oliver?"

Nothing.

Now, she knew there were several ways to get his attention. She could repeat herself more loudly, kick him, bite down hard on her lip, or... Slipping her foot out of her shoe, she slowly brought it up between his legs, careful not to brush him until her foot was right where she wanted it. She stroked gently, and Oliver's back immediately stiffened in his seat.

"Now that I have your attention..." She moved to withdraw her foot, but he held her ankle, convincing her to continue her ministrations. Suddenly, an image bloomed in her head: Oliver sweeping everything off the table with one arm and lifting her onto it with the other. Herr mouth dropped open when she realized that that hadn't come from her imagination.

"Are you trying to catch a fly?" Oliver asked.

"I saw that," Gwen breathed.

"Saw what?"

"You sweeping everything off the table."

"What?! What do you mean you saw that?" he demanded.

"I don't-"

"How's it going in here?" Mrs. Wood asked, making her way into the room.

Right on her heels, Gwen's mother added, "Hard at work, I hope." Ever so slowly, Gwen lowered her foot to the floor and slipped it back into her shoe.

"Everything is the same as it was ten minutes ago," Gwen said in a poor attempt at meekness.

"Exactly the same?" her mother asked, peering over her shoulder.

"I added another two inches to my essay," Gwen amended quickly.

"What about you, Oliver?" Mrs. Wood inquired.

"I was doing some reading," he answered.

"All right. We came to tell you to get some lunch," Mrs. Wood said.

"It's about time." A loud rumbling from her stomach punctuated Gwen's mutter. She and Oliver had been working since breakfast.

In the kitchen, Gwen fixed herself a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich on wheat with a glass of milk to wash it down. Oliver sat across from her at the table with his own sandwich.

They only got halfway through their meal before Gwen's mother walked into the kitchen.

"Your Aunt Kathy and Uncle Arthur are hosting a New Year's party," she announced.

"Go figure," Gwen mumbled around her sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. This year, it's a costume party."

"That actually sounds fun," Oliver said.

"Well, start thinking about costumes," her mother advised before leaving the room.

"I'm not wearing tights!" Oliver exclaimed quickly; Gwen nearly choked on her sandwich laughing.

Back in the study, they sat at the table to resume work, but Gwen recalled what happened just before lunch

"Oliver..." she began. "About... what I saw..."

"Oh. That." He cleared his throat. "I pictured it, aye, but I don't know how you..."

"Do you think maybe..." As she trailed off, her hand reached for her right shoulder. "I don't remember reading anything about that sort of... thought projection... in Grandma Wendy's book."

"No, but we haven't read it all. Maybe she didn't know," Oliver suggested. "Where's the book?"

"At the house," Gwen groaned. "Fat chance Mum will let us go. Not by ourselves anyway."

"Then we'll just have to take them along."

Standing on the balcony off her bedroom, Gwen admired the moon's reflection on the bay below. She had just come upstairs from the party celebrating her father's appointment as governor. It was late, and she really should have been getting ready for bed.

Walking back into her room, she went to the stand mirror in the corner. She could see the maid turning down the sheets of her four-poster bed behind her. Looking at herself, Gwen adored the new dark gray silk dress. The split-front skirt revealed a lighter shade of gray beneath, which also trims the square neckline.

She sat at her dressing table and pulled the silver combs and pins from her hair, letting it fall in auburn waves down her back. Just as she reached for her brush, she heard a loud boom and felt the house shake. Throwing back her chair, she ran to the balcony, brush in hand. Down in the harbor, she saw a large ship with black sails, the skull-and-crossbones unfurled at the mast.

"Quick, Mistress!" the maid shouted. "We've got to get you hidden!"

"Why?" Gwen asked.

"Because you're the governor's daughter," she said, wide-eyed.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"They say Captain Flint always kidnaps the governor's daughter."

Sounds of screaming and more canon blasts rose from the street below, and the maid grabbed Gwen's arm and dragged her from the room. She took Gwen down the back stairs and into the kitchen, but just then, two pirates came out of the pantry, barrels of wine rolling in front of them. The grubby men seemed as surprised as they, but wasted no time in seizing Gwen's arms. Wasn't there a maid with me?

"The Cap'n'll want to see you," one chuckled, half of his teeth missing.

"Aye," the other agreed, pieces of food stuck in his scraggly beard. "You'll be the Cap'n's special guest." Gwen had no choice but to go with them. What happened to my hairbrush? What an odd thing to think of at a time like this.

Once on board, Gwen could see smoke and fire rising from the city, people running aimlessly and screaming. A shady figure emerged from the ship's cabin, slowly moving into the lantern light. Shadows playing on his face only added to his sinister appearance.

"You can release her arms, you lazy louts," he said to the men on either side of Gwen. Addressing her, he grinned, revealing teeth crooked enough for any troll. "I am Marcus Flint, Captain of the Sea Serpent. You will be a guest on my ship for as long as I feel like keeping you."

"You will return me to shore at once," Gwen demanded, drawing herself up to her full height.

Flint laughed.

"Put her in my cabin," Flint said, and the two men grabbed her arms again. She started screaming and struggling, trying to kick her captors. Her efforts were redoubled when she realized that the shore bound fires were already in the distance. Her hairbrush reappeared in her hand, and she threw it at Flint.

Suddenly, the men holding her were struck down by beams of red light and Gwen was scooped up into the air. She sat sideways on a broom, with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. Not daring to look down, she turned her head to the left and saw Oliver, a triumphant grin on his face. She wrapped her arms around him, fingers closing on scarlet Quidditch robes.

"I knew you'd rescue me," she breathed, and found herself on the deck of another ship. Oliver stood in front of her, wearing a scarlet coat with gold buttons, the tops of his black leather boots turned down. His hair was longer, too, gathered at the nape of his neck by a red ribbon.

"I am the Dread Pirate Roberts," he announced. "Welcome to my ship."

Looking around, Gwen spotted two red-haired pirates, patches over opposite eyes. They lifted the patches, revealing perfectly normal eyes, and winked at her.

"Would you join me in my cabin for dinner?" Oliver asked, half bowing and extending a hand.

A smile creeping onto her face, she took his hand and accepted the invitation.

He lead her into the cabin and pulled a chair out for her, a seat to the right of his. Candles in the middle of the table were already lit, and lanterns on the walls added to the ambiance. The two red-haired pirates carried in dishes covered with silver domes. Oliver waved them away when they set them down.

Gwen looked down at her empty plate, wondering when she ate. "That was delicious," she said. What was delicious?

"I thought you might like it," Oliver said. "I hoped you would, anyway. Sometimes the twins cook well, others... Not so much." They both laughed.

He stood from the table and took her hand again, leading her to the windows at the back of the cabin. He opened them and gestured for her to look outside. Leaning on the windowsill, Gwen peered out and saw the moon's silvery reflection on the gently rolling waves. She was so busy appreciating the view that she didn't notice his hand snaking around her waist.

"Breathtaking," she said.

"Yes, I agree," he said softly, turning her face toward his. His hand cupped her face and she leaned into it, looking up at him through long lashes. He started leaning in, his hand sliding into her wavy auburn tresses as their lips made contact. Then his hands were reaching around to undo the buttons of her dress and she was pushing his coat down his arms. She was backing toward the bunk...

In her bed, Gwen smiled in her sleep and snuggled down in the covers.

Yawning and stretching, Gwen swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet on the floor. She grabbed her bath robe and put on her slippers, shuffling down the stairs to breakfast. She sat at the kitchen table and her mother put a steaming plate of eggs and toast in front of her.

"Where's Da?" she asked sleepily, reaching for her juice glass.

"He had to go into work early today," she answered, sitting down to her own plate.

"Oh. Well, Oliver and I need to go to the house today." Gwen shoveled eggs onto her toast and took a bite, trying not to seem too anxious for her answer.

"For what reason?" she asked.

Gwen unconsciously fingered her necklace with her left hand. "I need to check something in Grandma Wendy's book."

"All right. We'll take you later."

Gwen knew that was coming. They couldn't go anywhere by themselves. They've got a good reason, though, she reminded herself.

After breakfast, she showered then dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a Weird Sisters hoodie. Leaving her hair loose to air dry, she headed back to her room.

"Oliver?" Gwen pushed open her bedroom door and saw him hurriedly close her jewelry box. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he answered, a little too quickly, whirling to face her. "They sent me up to get you. Ready to go?"

"Uh... Yeah," she said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously. "Just let me get my shoes." What did he just slip into his pocket?

Downstairs, their mothers waited by the large fireplace in the kitchen. Mrs. Wood Apparated first, then Gwen and Oliver traveled by floo powder, and her mother Apparated behind them. Coughing from the dust, Gwen brushed her clothes off in the kitchen of her house. Just two more months until we start Apparition lessons, she told herself.

"What a pleasant surprise for Pinkie," the house elf said, bobbing a curtsy in her clean blue towel worn like a toga. "Pinkie will put the kettle on."

"That would be lovely," Gwen's mother said, taking a seat at the table with Mrs. Wood.

"We'll be in the library," Gwen announced, dragging Oliver from the room.

Once in the library, Gwen pulled her necklace out and, clutching it, concentrated on the book. Great Expectations floated off the shelf toward her, glowing momentarily as it transformed into her grandmother's notes. She grabbed the book and threw herself on the couch, her back against the arm. Oliver lifted her arms and sat between her legs with his back to her, then pulled the book-- and Gwen's arms-- down in front of him. She had to look over his shoulder to turn the pages.

"There's a lot of information in here," Oliver observed. "Maybe we should take it home with us."

"No, it belongs here," Gwen answered absently, searching for the pages she needed. She skipped over the pages she had already read, pages about her necklace, pages of information on faeries themselves...

"Wait, what was that?" Oliver asked. "Go back a couple of pages. There, that one."

"While researching faeries," Gwen read aloud, "I came across one elderly couple living in the Irish country side. Being Muggles, it was difficult to get any definitive description from them, but there are a few things I could figure out.

"Aidan and Fiona mentioned an occasional sharing of dreams. These dreams, they said, were more vivid than others and seemed to be really happening."

"We've already figured that bit out," Oliver said.

She hushed him before continuing. "The pair also told me that in times of great distress, they could hear each other's calls for help. For example, once, Aidan fell off a ladder and broke his leg. He was five miles away, and Fiona heard him calling for her in his head."

"Something else we already know," Oliver interrupted. "What about that... What did you call it? Thought projection?"

"Be patient," she admonished, and nipped at his ear. She instantly regretted it. It really wasn't nice to provoke him like that when they couldn't be alone. "Sorry." For payback, he twisted around and kissed her neck. "Point taken." She involuntarily tilted her head so he could kiss her better.

"Okay, I get it. That's not fair..."

Abruptly he turned away and fixed his attention on the book. "Now you know what it's like to be teased. This looks promising." He stabbed a finger at a paragraph a few pages from where they were.

Taking that as her cue, Gwen resumed reading. "Aidan and Fiona seemed reluctant to discuss their odd relationship, obviously fearing to come off as completely mad. I regret having to use some magical coaxing, but I was able to find out about another attribute of their faery bond. After a few cups of tea, they told me of a sort of thought projection. Not mind reading, or telepathic communication, exactly, but more like dream sharing, only while awake. They could sometimes pass images between them, but seemed to have little control over the ability."

"Maybe we could," Oliver said. "With a little practice."

Setting the book down, Gwen crossed her arms over Oliver's chest and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I think it could come in handy, especially since our mother's won't leave us alone."

"How do you mean?" he asked. She concentrated on the image she got in the library the day before and tried to project it to Oliver. This time she added to it, imagining herself peeling off his shirt... A sudden flash of heat told her that he received it. "I see."

"That wasn't so difficult," Gwen said. "Then again, my head is right next to yours. C'mon, let's go have some tea."

She practically had to push him off the couch, but, eventually she got up and put the book away, then went to the kitchen. Gwen and Oliver took seats at the table, and she poured a cup of tea.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Mrs. Wood asked.

"More or less," Oliver replied. "Enough for now."

"And have you thought any more about costumes?" Gwen's mother inquired.

"I've got an idea, but we haven't discussed anything yet," she said.

"There are those trunks of clothes in the attic, remember?" her mother reminded her.

"How could I have forgotten?" she exclaimed, jumping up from the table.

Oliver followed Gwen upstairs and on to the attic, a layer of dust over everything and cobwebs in the corners. There were boxes and trunks around the room, along with a couple of dressmakers' dummies.

"I'll start with this trunk. You take that one over there," Gwen suggested, pointing to a large trunk across the room. Opening the steamer trunk before her, Gwen immediately spotted a scarlet coat with golden buttons. "Oliver... I was thinking we could go as pirates."

"Or I could be the pirate, and you could be the governor's daughter," he said lightly.

She froze where she stood, half bent over the trunk. "How much of that did you see?"

"Oh, I saw plenty. I especially liked the ending bit."

Cheeks heating, Gwen slowly straightened, and turned to look at him. Oh, yes, she recognized that grin. The article in his hands immediately grabbed her attention: A dark gray silk dress. She could see the split front hanging open, the same lighter shade of gray beneath.

"We'll come back to how bizarre that is later," she said. "As for the suggestion... I hardly think it's a good idea to advertise that sort of relationship in front of my family, especially our fathers."

The grin slid right off his face and he nearly dropped the dress. He put it back in the trunk, then closed it hurriedly. "Okay, two pirates it is then."