Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 6: A harbour is left…
"History is often written from the perspective of the courts of kings, generals, popes or admirals, but the accomplishments of leaders are often carried on the backs of scores of people whose names have never been recorded by history. People who often did horrendous back-breaking, denigrating or downright dangerous jobs for the sake of king and country. The soldier in the trench, the farmer in the field, the tanner at their rack. Every single one of them has contributed towards the success of their king. So let me take a moment to record the names of those who brave souls who set off with us on the Kingfisher, all equally integral to the expedition.
Captain Thomas Reginald Kirk - Ship's master
Eleanor Samantha Snowbell - Expedition leader
Chandra Raywood - Expedition machinist
Bellatrix Druella Black - Expedition chronicler
Hermione Jean Granger - Expedition Botanist/Naturalist
Old Engrim - Navigator
Tahkiwapunaki Black - Assistant Navigator
Nymphadora Andromeda Black - Quartermaster
Beodul the Non-Scabrous - Boatswain
Eliam and Oswald Eredain - Helmsmen
Daelia Shield, Copperhead, Rum-dum Riggere, Chiputec, Irrena Hammersmith - Deck crew
Big-mouth - Ship's doctor
Haema - Ship's galleymaster
Fo'c'sle, Infinite Corridor, Anchor, Seagull, Zipper (unofficial) - Ship's wasps
Without any of them, we would never have even made it out of the harbour."
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
As predicted, the bed in their cabin forced Hermione and Bellatrix to be a little cozy. Not that that was a bad thing, not at all.
The previous night, the four of them had indeed gone out to paint the town red, as it were. Dinner, mini-pubcrawl and out dancing in a nightclub. Though Hermione really didn't like loud noises on a good day, having a few drinks… admittedly one or two too many… did help mitigate that. Hermione didn't quite remember how and when she got home. But she did remember Bellatrix dancing in the club with the grace of a cat, the two of them giggling through the streets of Newcastle, kissing all the way from the gangplank to the door of their cabin, tossing themselves on the bed and finding out said bed, though small, certainly wasn't a barrier for mad passionate love.
In retrospect, what she had just remembered sounded so unlike her, Hermione briefly chuckled at the thought. The studious Hermione Granger, the borderline workaholic always so focused on research and gaining ever more knowledge, being out drunk dancing in a nightclub while first dry-humping in public and then actually humping her girlfriend thankfully behind closed doors.
The warm body of Bellatrix pressed against her back as she stirred. She felt her warmth, her belly, her breasts pressing against her back. A soft hand started stroking her arm, working its way up until it started running through her long brown hair again and again.
Perfection. This moment was sheer perfection.
"Hmmmm…." Sounded the groggy voice of Bellatrix. "What's so funny this early in the morning?" she asked.
Hermione chuckled again. Bellatrix' hangover, however slight, was rather obvious. The morning sun cast its rays through the portholes and illuminating them both in bright, warm light as they lay underneath the soft blanket.
"You know," said Hermione. "I have a lot of problems in my life. I know I'm broken and will never be fully fixed. I still have nightmares from the war, I have bouts of depression, insecurities, throw myself on my work to forget and worry about everything. Sometimes I think my therapy is barely helping. But then… there are moments such as these. Fleeting, but precious moments of sheer perfection. Moments that remind me that life will always be worth living."
"Hm, what brought this on?" asked Bellatrix with a bemused tone of voice. "Was it our night of drinking and clubbing, perhaps? Because if it did, we are going to do it more often. Especially if you ravish me again like your ravished me last night."
Hermione chuckled at that and rolled to face Bellatrix. In this bed they were so close together that they instantly locked eyes. A beautiful, radiant and smiling Bellatrix, with messy dark curls spilling over her cheek and the pillow. Hermione raised her hand, the silver prosthetic, until it emerged from under the blanket to lay it on her girl's cheek. Hermione smiled: she couldn't imagine spending her life with anyone else than her Bellatrix. She gently rubbed her cheek and slid it down over her neck towards her shoulder. As she pushed the blanket down a little in the process, she did get a bit of a fright.
There was a big bruise on Bellatrix' shoulder. A deep brown-blue mar on her porcelain skin. The bruise… had the shape of a hand. Instantly, Hermione withdrew her silver hand as if it was on fire and held it in front of her mournfully.
"Sssh, it's alright," Bellatrix said, sensing her distress. The dark-haired girl grasped her silver hand and gently kissed the back of it.
"I hurt you," Hermione replied. "Again…"
Bellatrix shrugged. "I hardly feel it. You were a little tipsy, I got a little rough. Accidents happen."
Hermione closed her eyes. "That's not an excuse. I lost control. I could have easily crushed every bone in your shoulder."
"But you didn't," replied Bellatrix. "You always worry too much about things that could have happened."
"Trix."
"Ssh," said Bellatrix as she leaned in for a kiss. "Hush now."
The smell of Bellatrix' hair, the softness of her skin and the taste of her tongue went a long way in easing Hermione's guilt. Just as Hermione pulled Bellatrix closed to her while kissing her back, she felt something tickle up her stomach. She was almost startled to see two antennae poking up from the blanket. The two of them broke the kiss and skidded to the side to a point that both of them almost fell off either side of the bed. Zipper, whom had been wriggling himself up from the foot end to their pillows, popped his head out from under the blanket.
"Hey," Hermione made a face. "You have you own bed!"
"He's just exploring his new surroundings," said Bellatrix before planting a kiss between the antennae. "Besides, it's time to get up."
"Bellatrix Black?" said Hermione just as Bellatrix slipped out of bed. "Getting up before ten in the morning? Must be some sort of miracle."
"Got a meeting with Eleanor and the Captain, remember?" said Bellatrix as she made her way to the shower… a trek which was only a few feet away. She slid open the door and reached for the faucets. Meanwhile, Zipper curled up on Bellatrix' pillow, but not before grabbing the edge of the blanket with his mandibles and pulling it over himself. Hermione made a mental note to put another blanket in Zipper's carrier.
The water was pouring down on Bellatrix now, though pouring was perhaps not the correct term. The tiny shower was moreso… piddling down water on Trix. By the look of things, Bellatrix was struggling to get her hair wet so she could apply her shampoo. Hermione watched her for a few minutes, and from her position on the bed she could see right into the shower. Ample opportunity to admire Bellatrix' now glistening wet form.
Glistening wet sculpted form. Bellatrix was, after all, in tremendously good shape. Back at Hogwarts she had the body of a Quidditch player, and she still had. Despite her lazy tendencies, she spent a lot of time at the broom course or in the mansion's fitness room. When she was not writing anything, she was usually in said fitness room or said broom course to order her own thoughts. Bellatrix herself said that she often came up with her best plotlines or dialogues while working out. Not that Hermione was complaining: those sporty abs of hers were to die for, after all. If only Hermione could muster to tear herself away from her research to join her in the fitness room more often.
"Like what you see?" Bellatrix asked, giving her a cheeky grin while looking over the shoulder.
Instantly, Hermione felt heat rise to her cheeks. She'd been caught?
"A blush? Really?" Bellatrix laughed. "Hermie, we're getting married in a few months, you see me naked almost every night and we've been shagging for years! If it's not okay to look now, when will it ever be?!"
Well. That was emboldening enough to prod Hermione into action. The brown-haired witch slipped out of bed, making sure to leave the blanket covering the snoozing wasp and quickly crossed the distance between her and the shower before Bellatrix could respond. Hermione was swift to pin the now giggling Bellatrix into the cubby underneath the shower. Water… piddled… down on both of them now and with nowhere to move to, Bellatrix was literally with her back against the wall. So, her dark-haired fiancee did the only thing she could. She reached for the bottle of soap. Hermione closed her eyes in delight when she felt two soap-covered hand roaming over her body, her shoulders, her neck, her arms, her belly… and of course Bellatrix spent much longer time than necessary at her breasts. And Hermione would repay Bellatrix in kind.
Their soapy bodies now pressed together underneath that weak piddle of lukewarm water, Hermione pressed her lips on hers. Bellatrix swooned and leaned in, taking a moment to playfully nibble on her earlobe before whispering. "Ravish me like you did last night, Hermie."
Well. Hermione didn't have any qualms other than some serious lack of space, but she could use that to her advantage. Hermione had learned the hard way that Bellatrix had a tendency to go weak in the knees when climaxing in a standing position. Here, however, she could support herself against the wall without risk of the both of them falling into a heap on the floor like they often would in the spacious showers back home. Hermione grinned, gently kissing her way down until she sat in front of her girl on her knees. Bellatrix looked down with lustful eyes, her chest heaving in anticipation. Hermione snaked her arms up Bellatrix' thighs and grasped her hips to keep her in place and struck without mercy.
Two hands reached down to grasp her brown hair. Hermione could hear quickening breath turn into a moan as she curled and twirled her tongue in a steady, but unpredictable rhythm. Faster and faster she went, pushing Bellatrix against the wall to free up one hand. Just as she slipped two fingers inside of her beloved girl, there was a knock on the door.
A yelp and two startled girls fell out of the cubby shower and into a heap of wet limbs on the floor of the room, which was more difficult that it sounded because of the lack of empty floorspace. A startled wasp shot up from the pillow and started buzzing circles through the room with alarming speed.
A knock sounded again and a female voice sounded. "Miss Black? Miss Granger? Sorry to disturb, but we have our meeting with the captain in just a few minutes."
"So sorry! We'll be right out out. We were just…"
"… taking a shower," finished Bellatrix.
The girls just gave each other a mournful look. "Fuck…" muttered a disappointed Bellatrix.
"Don't rub it in," Hermione sighed.
"You were rather deliciously 'rubbing it in' just a few seconds ago," Bellatrix smirked.
"Hush!"
After magically drying their hair and getting dressed in record time, both girls found themselves stood in the corridor outside of their cabin. In front of them stood Eleanor Snowbell, whom had patiently waited for them. The grand old silver-haired lady wore a rather simple grey smock. Though Hermione had never met her in person, she was a far cry from the larger than life figure she had been in her youth. On the posters still hung in their room back home, she was a defiant and powerful witch always clad in jodhpurs and looking dapper. Here she looked a lot more… frail. Bellatrix didn't seem to be any less star-struck, though.
"Ah, miss Granger," said Snowbell, expending her hand for Hermione to take. "So pleased to finally meet you in person. Though I feel as if I know you already from the lively descriptions in miss Black's wonderful book."
At that point. Bellatrix looked as if she was about to melt into a puddle.
"Likewise," said Hermione, deciding to throw some more oil on the fire. "My girlfriend always speaks so very highly of you."
Bellatrix shot her a grateful, if somewhat stricken look. God, the crush was real. She would definitely tease the life out of Bellatrix later. If anything, Bellatrix was lucky Nymphadora or Tahki weren't here to see this or she'd never hear the end of it. However, the three women wasted no more time with chit-chat: they were already late for their meeting with the captain. And since the captain's cabin was conveniently located right at the end of the corridor next to their cabin, it didn't take them all that long.
The captain's cabin was indeed spacious, even if the ceiling was a little low. A bunk with a bed much larger than in their cabin was built against the hull of the ship on the starboard side. Opposite to the port side was a very cluttered desk with all manner of instruments, scrolls and quills with cupboards and storage spaces behind it. The back of the ship had windows offering a lovely view of the harbour, while there were sitting spaces right underneath the window. In the middle of the room was a table currently sporting a large map. The centrepiece of the room was a large old-time globe. A very well worn and well loved old-time globe. A painting of the Kingfisher at full sea hung above the bunk.
The captain himself stood at the table. He was a lanky and grizzled man, clean-shaven with shoulder-long brown hair spilling from underneath a white hat, looking to be in his late forties. For some reason, Hermione was expecting him to wear a tricorn and an old-time blue naval uniform. Instead, he simply wore a woollen sweater. In his mouth was a smoking pipe, and around the man was an aura of tobacco.
"Ah, there you are. And with you two on-board, our little crew is complete," greeted the captain. "Excuse me for not introducing myself yesterday. I spent most of the day at the harbourmaster's office sorting out the paperwork for loading our supplies."
The captain wasn't the only person in the room. A woman looking to be in her late thirties with long-jet black hair stood next to the captain. With her pale porcelain skin and her ruby red lips, she made a rather fetching sight. Of course, she also wore a dress not quite functional for a ship, but it did put a rather impressive cleavage on display. The names Morticia Addams or Elvira came to Hermione's mind when looking at her. From the trajectory of her gaze, Hermione could see that Bellatrix had noticed the impressive cleavage too.
"Ah, welcome," said the woman with a light melodic voice. "Chandra Raywood, at your service."
"Ahum," said the captain, shooting the woman a glare. "Captain Thomas Reginald Kirk, owner and master of the HMS Kingfisher."
Hermione's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "Wait. Captain… Kirk?" she said, almost grinning. Her dad was going to love this.
The captain, however, was less amused. "I do not like Captain Kirk jokes!" he said, his voice raising. "This ship is not the Enterprise, there are no Vulcans on board, nobody is going to beam anyone up and we sail the sea not the 'final frontier' thank you very much. And don't try to be clever with your puns, because I assure you I have heard them all!"
Hermione bit her lip. "Right… sorry… didn't mean to offend…"
"Touched a nerve, I think!" Bellatrix whispered in her ear.
Captain Kirk relaxed slightly. "In either case, I will be your captain on this voyage. The Kingfisher has made plenty of trips through many straights of the arctic waters for any number of reasons. I assure you ship, crew and captain are experienced to a fault and will be your shelter during this expedition. While Eleanor is expedition leader, I will be in charge when it comes to matters of the ship, its crew and the voyage itself. It is my job to keep us all safe and I will take that job very seriously."
"Captain Kirk is very reliable and comes highly recommended," said Eleanor. "I will gladly leave matters of the ship in his hands."
"Hmph," said Kirk. "If you truly believed that, you would have listened to me when I told you that it was not wise to head into the depths of the Arctic during the winter months. Those waters are far less dangerous in summer months for obvious reasons."
"I told you, Thomas," said Eleanor with a sigh. "I don't have that long to wait."
Kirk sighed. "I suppose not. Regardless, I happy to finally meet our chronicler and our naturalist. I suppose you will want to take notes?"
"I do?" Bellatrix said before her eyes grew wide and started fumbling for her notebook and quill. "I mean, I do!"
The captain walked over to the map. It was a map showing Europe, the Atlantic Ocean, North America and, most importantly, the Arctic circle. A route had been jotted onto the map. "Right," said the captain. "Our first leg of the journey will take us from Newcastle to Nova Scotia. We'll sail along the Northern tip of Scotland and onto the Atlantic, giving Greenland and a wide berth. Our trip to Nova Scotia will take about two to three weeks. Once we dock in Halifax, we will resupply and take on the final batch of equipment. After a few days, we will continue on with the second leg of the journey. We will head north through the Gulf of St. Lawrence, pass the Strait of Belle Isle and sail close along the coast of Newfoundland, through the Hudson Strait, past Baffin Island and through the Gulf of Boothia…"
Hermione studied the map for a moment, tracing her finger over the route. "Wait, is that… the North-West Passage you're talking about?"
"The what?" asked Bellatrix.
"You know your maritime history, miss Granger," said Captain Kirk. "But instead of going south past King William island, we'll be heading North towards Price of Wales Island. Once there we'll settle around a search pattern and determine our route based on instrument findings."
"That's where I come in," said Chandra with a melodic tone. "My machines will determine the rest. If there's so much as an iota of magic residue out there, I'll be able to find it. If the lost city of Hyperborea is out there, that is."
"It is!" said Eleanor. "I'd stake my life on it."
"You rather are," said Chandra with an oddly ominous tone.
"Wait, wasn't it Tahki's job to help find the city too? That's why she's on the ship," said Bellatrix.
"No offense to the other miss Black," said Chandra. "But I'd rather trust the read-outs on my expertly calibrated machines rather than some twenty-something's sense of… intuition."
The word was spoken with clear disdain. The kind of disdain Hermione had for such vague subjects as divination. It was obvious that Bellatrix really didn't like that answer, from the way she crossed her arms and imperiously raised her chin. "I'll have you know Tahki agrees," challenged Bellatrix. "And could probably work those machines just as good if not better than you could. If not, then why did you even bring her on board?"
"Doubtful," Chandra narrowed her eyes.
Eleanor raised her hands. "Right, right, no need for competition. We're all striving for the same goal here. The idea is that Chandra's machines and Tahki's savantic capabilities will complement each other. Remember that we're here to find the lost city of Hyperborea. And when we do, there'll be enough fame, glory and gold to sate everyone. We work together and not against one another."
Both Bellatrix and Chandra relaxed at that and Hermione had to admit that Eleanor had a way with words. Especially since she actually meant it.
"Officially, Tahki Black will assist Old Engrim with his navigation duties," said Captain Kirk. "But as we approach our goal, I expect her role to shift a little. Miss Raywood's machines are not toys, but if the things I hear about the Montana Blacks are even remotely true, she will treat your delicate equipment with the respect they deserve."
Hermione raised her hand. "May I ask how you became involved with the expedition?" she asked Chandra.
Chandra shrugged. "Same as any of us, I suppose. I was hired from the budget allotted by your Andromeda Black," she said. "And I assure you I don't come cheap. As an ex-unspeakable for the Ministry of Magic with a specialisation in magical tracking, I am uniquely qualified for this most noble of tasks."
Uniquely arrogant too, Hermione considered. She came across the type a lot in academic circles. Sometimes it was justified, other times it was not. Time would tell which of the two categories Chandra would fall into.
"Alright, alright," said Kirk. "Calm yourselves. Keep in mind we'll all be sharing a ship for the coming months and there will be nowhere to go to get away from each other. Best to get along from the get go, yes? Especially since the Arctic is still a very dangerous place."
There was wisdom in Kirk's words, of course. Hermione watched as a gushing Bellatrix started to chat with Eleanor about their accommodations and Hermione wondered just what lay ahead of them.
And then remembered the first horror which lay ahead of them: a press conference.
Even after all these years, Hermione was still media-shy. The aversion was clearly mutual. After winning all those defamation suits against the Ministry and their propaganda machine, the media tended to avoid her like the plague. She didn't seek them out, nor did they seek out her. This suited her fine.
So today she kept herself as much to the background as possible, here stood at the docks as the HMS Kingfisher was about to set sail to find the lost city of Hyperborea. And they had certainly gone all out with the media offensive, which was undoubtedly Andromeda's influence. People had come out in droves as Brits tended to when there was an event involving national pride. An expedition such as this, invoking the old naval traditions of the British Empire, reached even the wizarding community. A lot of bunting and Union Jacks were hung from the buildings while a massive flag was stuck at the arse end of the ship. It all seemed very… ceremonial.
Near the cheering crowd on a podium, Eleanor seemed to be quite enjoying being the center of attention again during the press-conference. Undoubtedly a welcome change from having to go from rich family to rich family to beg for money for her expedition.
Okay, perhaps that was unfair. Getting expeditions like these funded were almost as much of a tour-de-force as the actual expedition itself and the expedition leaders and members were usually not very wealthy themselves. Their own outing to the Fae Realm in relative safety and with full supplies had only been possible due to the fact of Bellatrix being utterly filthy rich, after all. This is how things always were in these circles. Still, Hermione looked at Eleanor and couldn't help but wonder what would be going through the woman's mind at the moment. Reliving past glory? Excitement over the opportunity of putting the capstone on her career? So self-assured that the city was actually out there to be found?
That was the unspoken truth nobody was willing to discuss. Even Trix was so sure that they were just going to pop off into the Arctic for a trip to a city nobody had laid eyes on for ten thousand years. If things were truly that easy, it'd been found already. Never mind the fact that the last expedition to try was lost with all hands some ten years ago. Nobody even entertained the thought that their own expedition could end in failure. Disaster only happened to other people, after all.
Flanking Eleanor was her patron, Andromeda, looking regal as ever, undoubtedly flaunting her faith in the mission. An excellent photo-op for her and the House of Black. Flanking her on the other side was Bellatrix, wearing her Sunday best black robe and her favourite floppy pointed hat, she looked positively beaming. Hermione didn't begrudge her love her excitement nor her media presence: she was a successful young author and was dependent on the media to a degree. Her storied background made her interesting to press and public and her enthusiasm for the expedition was endearing on all levels.
She just hoped her love's disappointment wouldn't be too crushing should the expedition end in failure.
Hermione was more interested in the people behind the cordons. Friends and family of the crew and expedition members had gathered to say their goodbyes before a long voyage. These were private moments for all of them, so Hermione decided to focus on her own family and friends rather than watching Irrena chatting with what seemed to be her boyfriend or Copperhead hanging loose with his mates from the harbour workers guild. Hermione eyes drifted to the gunwhale of the ship's upper deck, where all the wasps including Zipper were all seated in a neat row regarding the festivities. Ever so often, one of them would speed off and swoop down on a bit of fallen food, a trick they had undoubtedly picked up from observing the local seabirds. She reminded herself that she would have a bit of a chat with Zipper about eating food off the ground.
"… so, that's the thing really," Hermione heard her father speak as he had been orating against the patient and genuinely interested Cygnus, who was leaning on his cane. "Simulation theory in a nutshell."
"So… you claim we are living inside a machine?" replied Cygnus, rubbing his chin. "And we would not even know this?"
"Not when everything around you, including your own sensory input, is all generated by this machine. You'd never know the reality you live in is fake, because you yourself are a part of it. Think about it; it would explain magic. You need a set of operating rules or the simulation would fall apart. But magic, as far as I've seen, defies most of the set rules and, frankly even their own subset of rules."
"If I entertain the thought that what you say is true, then why would the machine allow this?" asked Cygnus.
"Plenty of reasons. It could be part of the simulation itself. Or they could be glitches. You see, an infinitely complex simulation has infinite possibilities of something going wrong. Some inconsistencies, a memory or a hardware issue. That's why people see ghosts or hear voices sometimes."
"And the purpose of all of this, Jack?" asked Cygnus again. "Why would a machine be doing all of this in the first place?"
"Most common theory is ancestor simulations done by our future descendants. Another is, well, we're basically a really advanced computer game for entertainment…"
Hermione mother, along with Bellatrix' mother, came to stand next to her. After giving her mum a smile, Hermione whispered. "So… dad's been watching the Matrix again, hasn't he?"
"Exactly that," sighed her mother before turning to Druella. "Come on, Druella. Let's keep Jack from talking poor Cygnus into an existential crisis."
Honestly, Hermione was grateful for both sets of parents to come see them off. And that they were getting along so well despite their many differences. But with Bellatrix staying over with her at her parents' house at Hampstead Heath so often, both families had grown very close. To a point where Cygnus had been awkwardly sat on the living room sofa while her dad introduced him to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan while their mothers were gossipping at the dinner table even when Druella's world was as far removed from her mother's Church circle as could be. And as far as her mother was concerned, her future grandchildren would be CofE, no debate possible. If only for the cakes on Sunday. Druella, of course, would expect nothing less than her next litter of grandchildren becoming inducted into the faithful of Cernunnos. For now, the issue of family religion was thankfully moot.
Oddly enough, Tahki was nowhere in sight. Then again, neither was that one sailor called Riggere, so Hermione had an inkling where the both of them were. Nymphadora herself had spent a rather odd amount of time talking to Goneril, the maid from Catterborough Woodhouse whom had accompanied Druella to serve as her Lady-in-Waiting for the trip. Given their close relationship, Hermione had expected Nymphadora to spend more time with her nan. Achille seemed to be serving that purpose at the moment. Though the artist seemed none to happy about being dragged out of his atelier, he often took moment to make quick sketches of ships or seabirds.
Meanwhile, Narcissa looked to be a tad forlorn. Unwilling to communicate with her muggle parents, she had no recourse but to impatiently wait for her sisters' press conference to end. Hermione was about to walk up to her when a clap on the shoulder almost caused her skeleton to jump out of her mouth in fright.
"Blimey, Hermione!" announced Ron. "Didn't figure you for a world explorer. So why didn't you go find a city that was lost in the tropics?"
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione challenged. "You don't sneak up on someone with anxieties! How many times do I have to tell you?! God, my heart's pounding in my chest!"
"Sorry," replied Ron sheepishly. Harry, stood next to him, clapped Hermione on the shoulder, apparently not having learned either.
"Well," said Harry. "You're going from wet and cold UK to a place that's only cold. That's an improvement, right?"
"Mate," replied Ron. "It's not an improvement when the cold is like, really bloody fucking cold."
Hermione sighed. "Ah, thanks for reminding me."
"Bellatrix is making you go, right?" replied Ron. "Changing your name to Whippedmione from now on."
Hermione couldn't help but let out an even heavier sigh. To which Molly Weasley pushed in between the two boys. "Go on then," said the Weasley matriarch. "Give a girl some space to breathe." Molly was holding a large box, undoubtedly a nice care package for the both of them.
By now, the press conference was over and the time to embark on the ship was getting ever closer. Bellatrix approached and was quickly glomped by her mother and sister Narcissa, as well as being crowded by Molly who was still fawning over her famous girlfriend. It left Hermione to chat with the boys. It felt good, really, reminiscing with her friends, hanging loose and talking bollocks about nothing. Though what did annoy her were the camera flashes from the crowd and the journo's, particularly when Bellatrix and her father embraced tightly and tears were in her eyes. Bellatrix had always been a daddy's girl, that much she knew. And that British journalism was decidedly yellow was another thing she knew, especially seeing those urinalists were practically salivating at the thought of capturing and publishing this very private moment.
Another rare private moment happened a few meters away from her. Andromeda and Nymphadora. In a firm embrace. Though Andromeda had a tough exterior and was considered hard-as-nails and cold-hearted by most, Hermione had gotten to know the woman well enough to know better.
"I'm so proud of you," said Andromeda as there was a three-way embrace between her, Ted and their daughter. "Never forget that."
"Still haven't forgiven you," said Nymphadora. "Not completely."
"Hah," replied Andromeda. "I hadn't expected that either way."
"I think this'll be good for me," replied Nymphadora. "I hate to say it, but you lot were right."
"You've certainly come into your own quickly," said Andromeda. "Your family's organisational skills are on full display here. Captain Kirk speaks highly of you."
Of course, Hermione earned herself a fierce embrace from her own friends and family. The reality that she wasn't going to see them for months was finally starting to sink in. It was surreal beyond measure. Especially when she considered the fate of the last expedition. Was this the final time she would see her friends, her parents? It led to hugs all around, including the Blacks, whom she considered her family too now. It was almost with stiff reluctance that Hermione set foot on the gangplank, Bellatrix by her side. It took some willpower not to grab Trix by the arm and yank her off the ship as the gangplank was being retracted.
There were cheers, confetti and even more flashes as the ship went ropes away and started ever so slightly to move as it left its berth. With Union Jack flapping in the breeze of this cheery winter day, the HMS Kingfisher left home.
Stood at the gunwhale, she could see in Bellatrix' expression that she was troubled. The tears in her eyes apparent when she waved to her family, never losing sight of them even if they became smaller and smaller in the distance. It was the same feeling Hermione felt in the pit of her stomach. Trix saw it in her too. There was no need for words in this moment. They shared the same fears, the same worries and the same dreams, after all.
Both girls embraced firmly, though Bellatrix wept harder than Hermione did.
The fact that the care package given to them contained two lovingly knitted warm Weasley jumpers, one red with a yellow H and one green with a silver B, did make them smile briefly as this expedition was now well and truly under way.