Disclaimer: Harry Potter and most of the characters belong to JK ROWLING :)

Chapter Three

She opened her sunflower bag and pulled out her wand, unaware of the shadow creeping up behind her. She drew back her arm to take aim when a gloved hand firmly caught her small wrist. How could this person see through her concealment charms? She was shocked still for a moment before gathering her wits and struggling to turn around.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a silky voice drawled.

***

Hermione felt something dig into the side of her neck and she knew that whoever was grabbing her wrist had his wand pressed into her neck, ready to fire if she did anything funny. She felt her heartbeat speed up as the man none too gently tugged her to her feet and pushed her into view, causing her to stumble and land on her knees.

She gave a small yelp and quickly regretted it. She had just caught the attention of the five burly men, and they were approaching her quickly and quietly, leering smiles on their faces.

"Wait, you filthy beasts," the cold, drawling voice commanded from behind her. He kicked Hermione's butt sharply and she stumbled forward, getting a face full of sand. "She's not harmful. Just a stupid witch in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"But Captain!" one of the men protested. "I haven't had a good round in the sack in forever!"

Murmurs of agreement filled Hermione's ears and she filled with dread. If "round in the sack" meant what she thought it did, she was royally screwed. She steeled her nerves and decided what she would do, even though she would probably be caught in the end.

"No, Leslie," the cold voice snapped. "Look how tiny she is. She'd probably break the first time you entered her. Guess you'll just have to keep using your hand."

The men doubled over in laughter. Hermione didn't find it funny at all. Her mouth dropped open in embarrassment and disgust. To just openly talk about this crude, revolting stuff – how... how unsophisticated! And she wasn't tiny. She had taken tae kwon doe classes one summer - bracing her mind, she leapt up from the sand and turned as quickly as she could, deciding how tall the 'captain' was and attempting to punch him in the face. Sadly, her estimates were slightly off but she still gave him a solid cuff in the throat, sending him stumbling backwards.

He didn't seem hurt in this slightest, but he did seem surprised and caught off guard. Her knuckles popped on impact and she took another step and suckerpunched him in the stomach, saying engravosso in her mind, which made her punch ten times stronger. The captain doubled over, surprised and caught off guard at Hermione's sudden attack. She took off, sprinting across the sand and sending stupefy's behind her every other second.

After her fourth stupefy, she heard a thump and a grunt. Yes, her first hit. The men were chasing after her and yelling obscene things. If they caught her… she suppressed a shiver and kept on running. Then she heard something that chilled her to the bone.

The man, the captain, she had struck was gaining, and gaining fast.

"Drop back!" he commanded to the other wizard/sailors. "She's mine."

***

Hermione squealed in fear and veered to the left, breaking through the leaves of a tree, and found herself running through the forestry green that the island held. This time she wasn't looking out for magical flora and fauna, but instead she was running for her life. Hermione could hear the cracking and grunting of the man behind her, and she kept firing stunning spells back at him. She did not hear any loud thumps and the sounding of running was getting louder. She kept missing her target, and each time she turned to shoot she was losing more and more time. Suppressing another whimper, she carried on running through the trees, ducking under vines and dodging large, odd-looking plants. Who knew how skilled the captain was at magic? If she turned and faced him, she could fire maybe a couple shots, but he could always deflect them if he was a decent witch. What spells what spells? Hermione was at a loss and she felt panic grasping her heart. This wasn't some dream she could wake up from. She was trapped on an island with a scary man chasing her who would probably kill her if she gave him the chance. Why wasn't he firing any spells, though?

A jet a red beam shot straight over her shoulder and she got her answer.

"Stop running, little witch!" the cold voice called mercilessly. He didn't even sound like he was beginning to feel tired. "I can keep running like this forever, but you - you'll give up soon! Stop running, witch, and I may spare your life!"

Hermione pointed her wand behind her without looking at shouted ENLARGO. There were a few popping noises and a muffled curse, and Hermione dared a glance behind her. Large vines and roots and a whole tree trunk had grown in the path behind her, trapping the captain behind her. She didn't pause for breath and kept running, feeling sweat drip down her brow and a familiar clamping in her legs. How long had she been running for? Fifteen minutes?

God I am so unfit! she moaned in her head.

She stopped for a moment and turned to face the path she had just barreled through, breathing heavily. It was a bad idea. As soon as she raised her eyes, a blurred thing slammed into her, sending her flying back about ten feet. However, she did not fly alone. The thing, whatever it was, was still clutching her around her stomach and landed like that, on top of her as they skidded along the dirt.

Hermione was winded, and the weight on her stomach, chest, and thighs were not helping her regain her breath. Her eyes weren't focusing and she was almost hyperventilating. Breathe in, out, in out. She struggled feebly to rid the weight on top of her, which seemed to be a human being - the captain?!


She let out a scream that was nothing more than a puff of breath, the weight was so heavy. She wiggled her arms, struggling ineffectively, and tossing her head from side to side. When she finally stopped, and weight above her shifted. The first thing she noticed was how close their faces were - his nose was a mere inch above hers. She almost went crosseyed trying to focus. The next thing - he had piercing grayish blue eyes, icy and mysterious and blazing at the same time. Long, pale eyelashes. A straight, aristocratic nose and skin smooth and pale over high cheekbones. And the full lips curved up into a smirk that was so familiar - Hermione's eyes widened as the pieces clicked in her mind, all the facial features finally assembling to make a real face.

The little breath she had in her lungs whooshed out as she recognized him, and it hit her that their position was quite provocative - he was somewhat sitting on her lower stomach, his legs on either side of her stomach, bent as if kneeling. His arms were on either side of her head, propping him up but not so much, his chest was still pressed flush against hers. And their faces were almost touching.

Draco Malfoy was straddling her, Hermione Granger. Straddling.

***

Draco's eyes scanned over Hermione's body for a brief moment before finally resting on her face again. He pulled back, away from her nose, although he was still straddling her. Hermione could feel the blood pounding through her body where their bodies met - but it was from disgust, she told herself. It had nothing to do that she could feel his lean and muscular stomach pressing against hers, or that his hips were very close to being directly on hers.

"Granger?!" Malfoy spat disbelievingly.

His eyes had flickered from muddled to confused, then completely shocked, and then downright livid. He leapt up and away from her as if he was burned.

Hermione sucked in a giant breath, still feeling limp and disorientated. She propped herself up on her elbows, sucking in precious air.

Draco was looking at her and looking back. He had hopped back on his feet quickly, his long blond hair catching the sun, making it shine like a halo around his fine features, which were twisted into deep thought. Hermione judged that he was probably thinking of the fastest way to dispose of her. Oh god, oh god.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He snapped, pointing his wand at Hermione's ruffled form.

Hermione was too shocked to do or say anything. She couldn't believe it… the chances… How could this happen? There was no way that the man pacing before here could be the Draco Malfoy nobody had heard from in god knows how long.

He gave a frustrated growl, furrowing his brow. "So unnecessary," she heard him mutter. After a few tense, silent seconds, he began to get edgy and fidget.

"What the- bloody hell - never expected - this - stupid-" Draco muttered to himself, pacing around the dirt floor, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe…no… but we need – no. Should I?"

Hermione looked at him nervously and shifted her position very gently, to be able to spring up from the ground, give him a big kick in the groin, and sprint. She would run back to The Marianne, even if it meant fighting the five – now four, since she stunned one – men who were waiting there. She would rather take her chances with them then with this highly unpredictable, dangerous man.

"No, you sit back down." Draco commanded. He was a very commanding man. He pointed his wand and Hermione felt herself forcefully bent back over, till she was sprawled on the ground once more. Crude… but effective.

She glared at him and tried to say something but she couldn't open her mouth. Sodding Malfoy. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would be ten feet underground – but here he was, walking in little circles, his boots crunching over fallen leaves and broken twigs.

He looked different, Hermione thought to herself. She'd look over him now so she could tell where his weak spots were. Purely professional, she told herself, purely professional. He was wearing navy robes above a white button down shirt that almost seemed fancy, with a neat collar that was open and intricate swirls along the buttons. A large, rather ostentatious belt held up his slacks, which disappeared into large, brass buckled boots, which nearly went up to his knees. Hermione's mouth dried as she saw the large black gun tucked into his belt. Draco Malfoy, with a muggle killing device? What had happened to him this past seven years?

He sure filled out well, a rebellious part of her mind leered. Hermione's eyes widened at the stray thought and she squashed it quickly - too late, her cheeks were already heating up. Stupid, stupid, stupid mind. She was in no place or state to be thinking about her possible killer's attractiveness.

He definitely had, though. His shoulders were broader and he was leaner, sleek but still muscled - she felt that when he had been lying atop of her. His hair was long, and plaited, falling down to his lower back, and secured with a black piece of string. It was still the color of white gold - that interesting lightness that always singled him out back at Hogwarts. However, it was no longer slicked back and stiff, but long and silky. It seemed so soft and light that Hermione wanted to reach out and - WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Hermione snapped at herself. This was Draco Malfoy, her sworn enemy since she was eleven years old. It didn't matter if he was never truly bad but always on the good side, as he was always a double agent for the Order of the Phoenix – he disappeared for five or so years, and was likely very dangerous.

She struggled against his invisible hold, but quickly stopped as he turned to face her, his gray eyes alight.

"Hullo Granger," he smirked evilly. "How would you like to become part of my crew on the Mare Maris Bellator?"

Hermione's mouth would've dropped if she weren't under that stupid curse.

Draco gave his wand a flick and Hermione found the binds on her had released. She collapsed onto the ground below.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked nervously. "I don't think I heard you correctly…"

She did hear him correctly, though. Her heart was about to palpitate through her chest. For once, Hermione really had no idea what she was going to do. She looked around, praying for some poinstoads, a poisonous mushroom that if squeezed let out a knockout gas that could have you wiped out in 5.6 seconds. Nothing. Just trees and bark and leaves, nothing that she could use to get away.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "I think you heard me perfectly, Miss Granger."

Hermione shook her head, hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her and spilling forth. Her words rushed out in a jumble. "You… you can't be serious? Me? You're your ship? I d-d-don't… you wouldn't! People – people will come looking for me, this isn't right – this is some sort of sick joke, you-you sick bloody arse!"

"It's not a choice," Draco snapped. "You either come with me now, or I kill you."

When she didn't answer, he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to her feet. Hermione's eyes began to water and she swallowed audibly, her arm squeezed tight from where Draco's gloved hand was gripping it. Her mind was reeling. This could not be happening. If she were less bright, she'd wonder if she was in the middle of a bad dream or something, and possibly try to pinch or slap herself out of it. But to Hermione, this was all too real. The man pulling her along the dirt path was definitely not a dream. The sunlight filtering through the trees wasn't a dream; she could feel the warmth on her skin. So here she was. Hermione wasn't stupid. She wasn't going to risk running again, not with Draco. She knew and remembered from Hogwarts of his athletic skill - although it was definitely hyped up and the spoken word made it a lot harder to believe, Hermione could see how strong and fit he was whenever he played Quidditch. He was also taller than her and would definitely be able to outrun her.

As Hermione stumbled over a root, Draco grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, hard. "Try anything funny, Miss Granger, and I will not pause before I slam your head into the side of a tree." His voice was light and conversational, as if he was talking about the weather instead of smashing heads into trees.

If she tried to attack him, he probably wouldn't hesitate in killing her. He had gone missing for several years and just randomly showed up out of the blue on this island. She had no idea of his capabilities anymore. But of all of the islands… why this one? She felt the unfamiliar bubble rising in her throat, a sure sign that she was going to cry. She tried to push it back down, but the situation was too overwhelming and a tear trickled down her cheek.

She thought about the terrible, unbelievable, incredible facts she had just learnt. Draco Malfoy was the captain of the Pirates, which made him the one who was killing all of the ex-death eaters. It was most likely to get back at Voldemort in the only way he could, and get revenge on his father. She still couldn't believe that it was Draco Malfoy who was behind all of the attacks and the killing and the looting… This information she had just learnt would help the ministry in more ways than she could imagine. What about Harry, and Ron? And Ginny? What would they say if they could see her now… dirty and held captive by none other than their arch enemy, Draco Malfoy. The longing for her friends grew substantially and Hermione felt the familiar stinging in her eyes and a surge of fury.

"Stop thinking about a way to escape, Granger." Draco commanded in that icy smooth voice.

"What, no mudblood?" Hermione spat, another tear trickling down her cheek, trying to disentangle her hair. "What happened to the old Malfoy, eh? The one I punched back in third year? The one who tried to kill HARRY? Who hated us dirty, low blooded muggle-borns?"

Draco paled slightly, and his lips pulled back in a fierce growl. "I'm no longer a Malfoy, so I have no longer have the need to act like one. Although I do admit my actions when I was a child were… slightly rash, I have grown up, Miss Granger, and I suggest you stop dwelling on the past and look at the future. I have made some grievous mistakes and you have probably done the same, but I am slowly rectifying them. I have no preference over mudbloods like yourself or purebloods like me – in the real world, Miss Granger, you have to learn that people don't care of blood status anymore. It's all about survival."

Hermione grit her teeth. "So you're rectifying your mistakes by killing people without even giving them a moment to plea, a moment to do anything? And your actions were just slightly rash? You were the most spoilt, annoying, insufferable, pompous git I had ever known and probably will ever know! This bloody war just ended,Malfoy, but you and your bloody antics are going to start a whole new one."

Draco's grip tightened and Hermione felt her hair almost pulled out of her roots. "Do not speak of matters you know nothing about," he hissed.

Hermione could feel the anger radiating off him in waves, but she couldn't stop now. She was in too deep. Hermione would anger Malfoy as badly as she could while she still had the chance. She honestly did not know how much longer she would live, at this rate.

"Killing people left and right, it's a whole new bloodbath we could have avoided! Sodding Pirates are everywhere in the news! The pirates have struck again! Four more killed with Pirate sign hovering above their houses! Why does it have to be this way? The war ended! There is no need to fight anymore! All thehate and anger – you may be right when you say it's all about survival, but it does not refer to killing all other competition! You purebloods and your filthy honor – your father is dead." Hermione knew this last bit was pushing it to the limit, but she was so angry and furious at everything, she couldn't help it. "NOTHING you do will make him proud and NOTHING you do will ever change the fact that you are just as dirty as your death-eater father!"

Draco had enough. He swung Hermione forward by her hair and struck her across the face, sending her sprawling onto the sand. Hermione hadn't even realized they were back at the beach were the boats were moored until the taste of sand mixed with blood in her mouth.

"I – you – you know nothing, you filthy mudblood.!" His voice was strained and tense and clenched, and louder than it had been in a few years.

Draco hadn't felt this angry in a long, long time. How could this tiny, frail witch wind him up this tight? He had just let out five years of anger he had trained himself to control. He had hit a woman, something he promised he would never do. What was wrong with him? Having Granger on his ship would be the end of him.

Hermione's head spun from the blow and she found herself lying on the sand, her vision slightly off. Her jaw… shit, could Draco pack a punch. The grainy grains of sand were in her mouth and she straightened up, standing up wobbly, backing away from Draco in fear. He was flushed and standing at his full height, somewhere over six feet, and was emitting waves of anger. Fortunately, he wasn't looking at her, but somewhere in the horizon. Hermione didn't know if she could take his eyes right now.

She rubbed her jaw and it sent a fresh wave of pain to her head, and she collapsed to her knees, but stood up shakily once more. That was going to bruise. The blow had been on her cheek and cheekbone, so it hadn't busted her lip, but she had bitten her tongue and the inside of her cheek. Hermione spat. The blood stained the pristine white sand and stood out, bright and unforgiving. What had she gotten herself into?

Hermione bit her lip, a habit she had gotten in to as a child, but it sent a sharp sting of pain in her mind. Raising a hand to touch the cheek, she realized that she had been a little cruel in what she said. It had been slightly uncalled for, but she had just been so angry, and her temper had gotten the best of her. A wave of guilt washed over her as she looked at Malfoy's fuming posture.

No! She cried in her mind. Malfoy is kidnapping you, and you're honestly going to feel bad about what you said? He deserved every bit of it!

Hermione steeled her resolve, but a small part of her still felt like she should've kept her stupid mouth shut.

She looked over and saw the five men walking towards her. One of them looked uneasy on his feet – he must've been the one she stunned, however all of them looked uneasy and put off by the giant bruise blossoming over her face. Eyes traveled from Hermione back to Draco back to Hermione.

"Captain? Are you okay?" one man asked. He was heavyset, with flaming red hair and bright blue eyes. "Who's the wench?"

Hermione winced at the title and narrowed her eyes. If she was truly going aboard the ship she'd have to introduce herself, wouldn't she? And she'd probably best try to befriend them, seeing as she'd be on the ship for an unknown amount of time.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione held out her hand to shake the redhead's. "Your captain has so kindly abducted me so I believe we will be getting to know each other over the course of my stay on your ship."

His mouth dropped and he looked at Draco for advice – but Draco was still staring off in the distance, his pale hands clenched into fists and blue veins popping out of his skin.

"Uhhh, I'm Thomas," the redhead stammered, looking extremely uncomfortable with the bold female. "This is Patrick," he pointed to a young man with long dirty blonde dreadlocks like a hippie, "Welsey," a burly, round man with twinkling green eyes, "Jassim," a dark skinned man with a warm smile, "and finally Leslie."

Leslie was a tall, muscular man with a square jaw and a face that looked like it had suffered one too many punches. He leered, and Hermione knew instantly that he would be trouble.

"Cap'n, we've collected all the necessary items for the potion, now we just need someone to brew it. We'd best be off to the ship again, there's a port not far from Wallsdare where we can hire a potion master." Thomas said professionally.

Draco launched into action as Hermione watched, perplexed. Patrick, the hippie with the dreadlocks, slouched over to where Hermione was and grabbed her arm. His long, odd dreadlocks suited his narrow face. Although his appearance was disheveled and slightly dream-like, his blue eyes were sharp.

"I know you're gonna try and escape, lass. I suggest you don't try it. Draco here is very good at tracking, and he doesn't really wait before he kills someone. He prefers muggle weapons too. Guns, swords, anything. You'd best be careful around him." Patrick said in a low voice.

Hermione looked at him with grateful eyes. A man, a man who wanted to help her! Oh the joy. "Thank you," she whispered, unable to say anything louder in fear she would start crying again.

Draco suddenly turned and pointed to her. She noticed his eyes were still smoldering with anger, and although 'smoldering' fit his eyes perfectly, they were more like sheets of ice instead of flame.

"We don't need a potions master. Miss Granger," He spat her name, "will brew our potion and save our fellow crewman."

Hermione's eyes widened and she felt her jaw clamp. "What if I say no?"

Draco laughed, but the sound was not pleasant at all. He was definitely still angry at what she had said, and she didn't half blame him.

"Then I shall strike a deal with you. Make the potion and I will set you free when it is done and if it's made correctly. If you don't agree, I will kill you. I suggest you take my offer."

Patrick leaned towards her ear. "Take his offer. This is the most generous he's been to a hostage before. The potion will not take long to brew and you can go home."

Hermione thought quickly, and slightly intimidated by Draco's powerful aura and his icy fury, she nodded. "I'll make your potion and then you swear on your mother's bloody grave that you'll let me go?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he smiled a thin lipped, predatory smile that sent shivers up Hermione's spine. "I do swear, Miss Granger. I wouldn't want your filth on my ship any longer than it is necessary."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but it seemed like he had cooled off some, and for that she was thankful. Draco was extremely scary when he was angry. He swept away, dignified and collected once more.

Thomas, the redhead, quickly followed Draco, along with Leslie. They flanked either side of Draco, talking to him in low voices, making their way towards the wooden boat next to The Marianne.

Patrick and another one still standing by her, Wesley, grabbed her forearms and began tugging her in the direction of the small wooden boat, albeit gently. Jassim, the dark skinned one, stood behind her, bringing up the rear. As they passed Ben's motionless body, Hermione suddenly realized that they couldn't just leave him there, could they?

"Wait!" Hermione called to Draco. "Malfoy! What are you going to do with Ben?"

Draco turned around swiftly. He had cooled off some, but he was still obviously stiff. He thought for a moment before he pointed his wand at Ben's motionless body and hissed, "Somnus eternus spondeo!"

A silver string shot out of Draco's wand and wrapped around Ben's body, forming a cocoon, wrapping firmly around his entire body, from his feet to his head. Hermione couldn't believe it – she had read and heard about spells like these, they were dark magic that most people didn't know. They required more than one participant, though – what was Draco playing at? Eternal sleep?

Suddenly she felt a prick in her shoulder and turned to Patrick, who was holding a large knife, which now had a small bubble of Hermione's blood on it.

"Here cap'n!" Patrick called, and flung the knife as hard as he could at Draco's form. Draco, still holding his wand pointed at Ben's cocooned body, didn't even look at the knife before his hand snapped out at wrapped around the hilt. Hermione was impressed. That showed how in tune Draco was with his body while performing magic at the same time, which was actually a pretty hard feat to do. Still, she was more irked at Patrick for drawing blood.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized a moment too late that her blood was part of the spell, her mouth forming a "No" as Draco levitated the knife over to the cocooned body and let it drop, where it plunged deep into the body. The moment the bloody knife touched the silver substance surrounding Ben, red spider-webbed across the silvery material, branching down until it was no longer pure white but a luminous blend of white and red streaks. It was horrifying and picturesque at the same time.

"Intereo una!"

Hermione felt her heart contract as she was magically bound to the body on the sand. She knew this curse. Now Draco would add his own blood, and he could control the fate of both of them. This was old, old dark magic. He added a drop of his own blood and sneered as it dropped to mix with the red and white streaked cocoon to make the whole thing pure black.

Hermione fell to her knees, feeling her heart pound against her ribcage. No… no… how could Malfoy be able to perform magic like this? Now… now she had no choice than to do what he said unless she wanted Ben to die. The knife that entered the cocoon was hovering somewhere over his heart. With Draco and Hermione's blood combined, and Draco's as the spell caster, if Hermione didn't do what Draco wanted, the knife would plunge straight into Ben's heart and he would die. The cocoon kept him motionless and in a zombie-like sleep, and he would only awake when the curse was lifted or when requirements were met. Draco could literally ask her to do whatever, and she couldn't say no unless she wanted Ben to die.

It was a good spell if you wanted to see how far you could bend a person before they'd sacrifice their friend's life to save their own. And Hermione could just tell that Draco was going to have a lot… a lot of fun with this spell. It also hurt, just to add another extra bonus, whenever the knife lowered a bit, because it pierced Hermione's soul and she would feel the pain as well.

Hermione struggled to her feet, feeling as if she had just been winded. She screamed in outrage. "This is not fair, Draco Malfoy! You said I could leave after I made your potion! What the bloody hell was that?"

Draco turned to her, drawing himself up to his full height. "Granger, unless you want this Ben to die, I suggest you stop talking now. I will remain true to my promise; you will leave once you make the potion. This is… just in case I need to use force. Yet… this may come to be an interesting bonus when I am bored."

Leslie, the ugly one, sneered, "Test it! Make her take of her dress!"

Draco smirked at her, apparently his anger dissipating at the chance to embarrass her greatly. Prude Granger… this would probably be the naughtiest thing she'd ever done. "Well, you heard what the man said. Do it."

Hermione's mouth dropped in outrage and disgust, while Leslie catcalled. Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. Patrick groaned and turned away. Jassim and Welsey just kept walking towards the wooden boat, where they began untying it and pushing it further in the water.

"Perhaps you should assent to his request some time this century," Draco sneered, holding up his hand and snapping his fingers.

The hilt of the knife slipped in a little lower and Hermione doubled over, gasping in pain. It hurt, all right, and she quickly slipped out of her sundress, feeling mortification set over her pretty features.

Draco looked her up and down, sneering. "Just what I expected from you, Granger – all your volume has traveled up into that bushy hair of yours."

Hermione just sneered back at him. The nerve. She had grown out of the petty insults they used to throw at each other, and it didn't affect her nearly as badly as it did before. It stung, but she could hide it well. This had been embarrassing, yes, but she wouldn't let Draco know that. Leslie laughed, but the rest of the men just looked around awkwardly. The tension between these two – it was overwhelming. They coughed and quickly got to work untying the wooden boat.

"You can put that back on now, Granger. I've seen enough. To be precise, I didn't see much, but at least the curse works." Draco mocked.

Hermione shoved her arms through her sundress and stomped past Draco, doing something that no one had ever done to Draco before. She hit the back of his head as she walked by him - her arm swinging out and her hand connecting with the back of his head with a sharp crack.

The Pirates all stopped and stared at Draco, who had stiffened visibly, shock on his face. Hermione didn't stop walking. She simply shouted back, "Oh, grow up Malfoy."

The most amazing thing: Draco didn't respond. His hand came up to touch the back of his head where Hermione's hand had messed up his carefully plaited braid. He would've been angry, but her face when she stormed past him was caught in his mind. Hermione's face had been set in determination and anger, and she had the cutest scowl and that fire in her eyes… The nerve of that girl, how dare she? Was she over confident or just stupid? Did she know who he was?

Draco was tempted to throw a spell or even slap her back, but his gut clenched when he thought of what he had done to her back as they came out of the vegetation. The brutal hit was a mistake. What she said had stung, but he shouldn't have lost control of his anger. His head spun.

Draco snapped out of it only when they reached the boat. His hand went, once more, to the place where Hermione had firmly thumped him. He had always told his crew never to touch him. He didn't like physical contact, as he lacked it all throughout his childhood. He had been raised to despise muggle-borns and mudbloods and was told that if they touched you, you would be dirty and it would feel disgusting and you would have to bathe for days. Hermione's hand had not been dirty or disgusting. It hadn't even hurt. He remembered the weight as she pulled back and her fingers unintentionally drifted across his shoulder when she walked past him. It had been light and uncomfortable but not unpleasant.

What had Draco gotten himself into?

***