Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 23: A heart is broken..
"Hermione once told me to 'never meet your heroes'. It was something I didn't fully understand until I was confronted with a dire example. We have a tendency to put people we admire on a pedestal and think the best of them in everything despite never even having met them. Sometimes actually meeting the person you admire will be the remembrance of a lifetime. Sometimes it will be a bitter pill of disappointment. Is it better to never take that risk? Never meet your heroes indeed."
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
For Hermione, there was nothing quite like waking up with the warmth of the girl she loved pressed against her, arm wrapped around her waist and leg hooked around hers. In many ways, Bellatrix was a gift she often felt she didn't deserve, but held on to her with all her might just the same. Here, on this ship, surrounded by the frozen wastes, her warmth and love was like a life-saving beacon. Hermione could not imagine her life without her.
And when Bellatrix' eyes fluttered open to gaze upon her groggily, it was as if the sun had come up and shone directly into her soul.
That was, until her eyes grew wide, her chest started to heave and Bellatrix made a hasty exit from the bed. Disappointment about her girl withdrawing from her made way for worry when Hermione witnessed her running towards the toilet. She only just made it in time to hunch over it and hurl up whatever content was still in her stomach. Considering it was morning, it was likely awful bile.
"Again?" said Hermione when rolling to her side as Bellatrix finished up her unfortunate discharging. "I thought you'd gotten your sea legs by now."
"Ugh, need to get the taste out of my mouth," Bellatrix muttered and reached for her toothbrush. "I… probably ate something which didn't agree with me."
Hermione watched her girl for a moment as she stood naked in front of the mirror. Her girl was still sculpted with impressive abs. Not being able to ride brooms for weeks hadn't changed that as she had kept up with her exercises. Every bloody day, sit-ups and push-ups counting into the hundreds in the morning. Though Hermione knew Bellatrix was a bloody show-off, one certainly couldn't argue with the results.
Bellatrix was apparently in agreement, looking at herself in the mirror from the side while sliding her hands over her stomach a couple of times.
"Don't worry," Hermione spoke in a sultry tone. "You still have a very, very impressive physique. Haema's cooking hasn't spoiled that."
Bellatrix shot her a wink before Hermione turned to the door.
"I wonder if Dumb and Dumber are still stood out there," Hermione sighed. Seriously, the past few days those two annoying half-naked Viking-women had been following Bellatrix around as if she was a mother hen. Of course, Bellatrix was a vain enough creature that she couldn't quite get enough of it. Not yet anyway. At least it was here in their cabin that the two of them could finally get some peace and quiet.
"They are called Svari and Gudrun, Hermie," said Bellatrix as she returned to the bed and slipped under the covers where Hermione swiftly embraced her. A gentle brush of lips became a passionate open-lip kiss.
"I love you so much, Trix," Hermione whispered. "I want you all to myself."
"Hmmm…" sounded Bellatrix' throaty chuckle. "And now that you have me all to yourself, whatever shall you do?"
It was a challenge pure and simple. A challenge Hermione answered by flipping a giggling Bellatrix on her back and rolling on top of her. In the past five years, ever since meeting Bellatrix, Hermione had become an expert lover because of plenty of practice. As such, she knew exactly what Bellatrix liked and how to make her swoon. Hermione knew that Bellatrix loved it when she would nip at the nape of her neck, or gently nibble on one nipple while massaging her other breast, or run her hands down her sides and tickle the side of her hips, or flicking the tip of her tongue around her belly-button. Hermione did all of those things in slow succession; her girl already being naked actually being a detriment as slowly undressing her girl and sliding the fabric over her skin added to any build-up considerably. But she would have to make do.
With hands around her girl's thighs, Hermione teased mercilessly. Nibbling and kissing her inner thigh and then that wonderful sigh of frustration when Hermione deftly avoided her most sensitive spot in her trail of kisses to go back to her stomach or to her other thigh. Anticipation was mounting as poor Bellatrix was growing more and more moist. And when Hermione decided when she had suffered enough, the touch of her tongue was enough to make her quiver with pleasure. The tip of her tongue teased mercilessly, roving back and forth with ruthless abandon.
"Ohhh…" Bellatrix sighed throatily. "You could tie a knot with that tongue of yours…"
Hermione chuckled briefly, burying herself deeper into her girl's softness. And when two fingers entered her, working in rhythmic tandem with that merciless tongue of hers, Bellatrix was well and truly lost.
Bellatrix recovered quickly, though, reaching down to gently take hold of Hermione's chin. She raised her to her and kissed her on the lips. Then, it was her turn to please Hermione. And as much as Hermione did hers, Bellatrix knew every inch of Hermione's body. Hermione let herself be rolled on her stomach and found herself being straddled. She felt the heat from Bellatrix' hips while soft hands roved over her back. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Hermione moaned lustily while on the receiving end of a lovely backrub, until Bellatrix shifted and soft lips kissed her way down her spine. Her own wetness was apparent when she felt fingers enter her with gentle strokes, crooking at just that perfect spot. She felt Bellatrix' cheek on her shoulder, her hair tickling her skin while she increased the rhythm. God, she'd been every bit as merciless as she'd been. And she wouldn't have it any other way.
Sweaty and lazy, the two girls lay spent in each other's arms while they kissed each other gently. It was moments like these that were perfect, shared just between the two of them. Bellatrix was so soft in her arms. So loving. So precious.
"I love you," Bellatrix whispered.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," said Hermione, eyes closed but smile broad and genuine.
"You're my fiancee," Bellatrix chuckled. " You'd better."
Zipper had been attracted to the commotion and teleported from his carrier on top of the cupboard to his friends in bed. He nestled in between the two of them and lazied about.
"Still snowing outside," said Bellatrix after glancing towards the porthole above their bed. "That's four days in a row now."
Hermione glanced over to the porthole above and, from her angle, saw only whiteness. No sunlight at all.
"Do you hear that?" added Hermione.
Bellatrix listened for a moment. "I hear nothing."
"Exactly," said Hermione. "Still no wind."
That was indeed worrying.
Kirk knew he was hoping against hope. He and five other crewmembers stood with their waists over the railing at the very fore of the ship, holding long thing rods poking at the ice in front of the vessel. The rods would send a jolt of sharp magic through the ice in hopes of cracking it up. The copper hull plating itself hummed against the ice, sending vibrations through it. The past few days temperatures had dropped significantly. More snow. More clouds. But no wind. Behind him, the crew tried to fill the sail with wind, but their wands were a poor substitution for a sanctum stone. In frustration, Copperhead tossed down another fireball right underneath the figurehead. Again, the ice remained solid.
What he had feared would happen, happened. With this weather, it wasn't surprising. The cold went down to the marrow and snow was coming down by the bucket-load. It took two crew members on full-time snow-shovelling duty to merely prevent the deck from becoming snowed under. And with no gust of a breeze, they simply stood no chance.
"Stop," he ordered. "It's over. You're only risking damage to the hull at this point and the ice will still freeze solid again faster than we can break it up. The Kingfisher has become icebound."
The surrounding crew fell silent, their faces glum. And it was not as if Kirk could blame them. They stood there shivering as the snow still bore down upon them, the icicles hanging from the very ropes forming the riggings. The weather, for now, had taken a turn for the worse. Ironically, the rays of the nightbound sun above them offered them all some hope. The almanac forecast for this year promised a relatively warm Arctic summer. With any luck, they could wrench the Kingfisher free from the ice as early as July when the ice would be less thick and freezing less aggressive. Maybe August. Three months from now.
Irrena looked worried. Kirk patted her on the shoulder. She was one of the youngest members of the crew and had never been on a voyage where the ship had gotten icebound.
"It's alright," said Engrim, the old codger, having noticed Irrena's distress. "We have plenty of supplies still and this kind of thing happened to me plenty before. The Kingfisher will be our nice warm haven for a couple of months. Think of it as a vacation. A vacation where Beodul will yell at us every day."
"You bet your arses I will!" yelled the parka-clad goblin. "Being icebound ain't no reason to be lazy, ye scabrous sods!"
"Paid vacation," Engrim chuckled. "Remember, Andromeda Black is still footing our bill. Loud goblins are just part of the travel package."
Kirk snapped his fingers and, immediately, three parka-clad wasps appeared in front of him, waiting for his command. Kirk took out a notepad and wrote a short message. An application of magic duplicated it and he gave one to all of the wasps. "Everybody, both crew and expedition, is to gather in the conference lounge immediately! No exceptions," he said. The crew on deck nodded in glum understanding while the wasps flew off to inform the others. Scant five minutes later, everybody had been gathered below decks, in the warm embrace of the ship though most were still wearing their parkas regardless. Everyone was looking at him expectingly while quietly murmuring, Eleanor and Chandra looking to be most upset already. With quartermaster Nymphadora being the last one to come up, Kirk wasted no more time.
"Some of you know already, but I will bring you the bad tidings without the sugar-coating," said Kirk after motioning for silence. "Weather conditions have taken a turn for the worst and, as a result, the Kingfisher has now become icebound. We are dealing with icefloes that are simply too thick to penetrate. Floes in this area consist of nearly 2 meters of ice with a meter of snow on top that's very compact. The Kingfisher is simply unable to break free. What this means exactly is that we cannot move from this very spot until we get closer to the summer months when the ice becomes thinner again to the point that we can escape. Our course of action will be to batten the hatches and wait out the weather until the summer months. To that end, we still start rationing our supplies accordingly."
"UNACCEPTABLE!"
All heads turned to the raging Eleanor. The normally so elegant and gentle old explorer was now a hurricane of rage as she stepped out of the crowd. Chandra was equally annoyed, but merely showed it through glares and crossed arms. "Are you suggesting we just sit here and do nothing?!" yelled Eleanor.
"That is exactly what I am suggesting," said Kirk. "This has become a matter of survival."
"Hyperborea is less than 20 miles away from us. 20 miles! A mere trivial distance away from us lies the birthright of every witch and wizard who has ever lived and shall live!" she raged.
"Trivial?!" laughed Eliam. "If you want to walk 20 miles in some of the harshest conditions known to man, be my fucking guest! Oh and carry all that excavation equipment on your back while you're at it, mum!"
Enough of this nonsense. "Eleanor!" Kirk yelled sharply. "Like I said, this has become a matter of survival now! And when it comes to matters of survival for my ship, crew and passengers, I will have final say! These are the terms both you and Andromeda Black agreed to! In case you haven't noticed, you are a passenger too. We will not be launching any missions on foot or by broom until this ship is moving again at that is my final decision. Nymphadora? I want you in my quarters immediately so we can assess our supplies."
Nymphadora nodded grimly, but Kirk could see that Eleanor was not quite done being livid. He braced himself for more outrage. "YOU!" Eleanor shouted. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"
The outburst was not aimed at him, to his surprise as much as anyone else in the room. A very stricken looking Bellatrix froze as she bore the brunt of Eleanor's rage. The old witch pointed a trembling accusatory finger right at the wide-eyed girl. "IF YOU HADN'T PULLED OFF THAT HARE-BRAINED NONSENSE WITH THE SANCTUM STONE, WE WOULDN'T BE IN THIS MESS!"
Bellatrix uncharacteristically trembled at the sudden burst of rage from the woman whom had been her idol since her youth. "I… I…" she stammered, her lip trembling.
Unbelievable. This woman was unbelievable. Kirk was about to launch a tirade of his own, but his very own crew beat him to the punch.
"OI!" sounded Daelia. "She only saved all our lives, you daft old cunt!"
"Yeah, she's a good kid!" Chiputec moved his large body forward through the crowd to stand by Bellatrix' side.
"I didn't see you up in the skies being chased by a dragon the size of a… really large dragon!" Copper-head protested.
"You dare disparage the accomplishments of the Mortal Valkyrie?!" sounded the furious red-haired Gudrun.
Eleanor ignored all of them, still aiming all her rage at the now trembling young girl. "YOU ARE THE RUIN OF THIS EXPEDITION! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER HAVE BROUGHT YOU ALONG!"
"You act with dishonour!" Sunniva pressed.
"Jesus! Bitch! What the fuck is your problem?!" Tahki shouted.
"Stop chorving Bella, you bint!" added Nymphadora. In the meantime, Bellatrix' lower lip was trembling as her entire body was trembling. It didn't take long for tears for burst out of her eyes to the point that it all became too much for her. The so undeniably brave and fearless girl was now bawling and pushed herself through the crowd to run off into the corridor with alarming speed. Hermione was swift to follow, calling her name while running after her. Even so, Kirk had had all he would take from this woman. "ENOUGH!" he snapped. "Becoming icebound during this time of year in these waters was always a risk! I told you as much when we left! Even with the sanctum stone, we likely would have gotten stuck in this bay! Losing it only meant that it happened sooner! You're frustrated, I understand. But take that frustration out on me and not the poor girl you just accosted."
Eleanor looked to be not even mildly placated. A final snarl later, she yelled for the crowd to get out of her way before she rushed into the corridor with Chandra in hot pursuit. It left the gathered crowd to mutter amongst themselves with hushed, angry tones. Kirk merely sighed and motioned for Nymphadora to join him. The two of them walked the corridor to the other side of the ship, just catching both Chandra and Eleanor going into her office and slamming the door shut. When he passed he could hear muffled shouts, but that wasn't important right now. The moment he walked into his quarters with Nymphadora hot on his tail, he motioned with his hand and the door slammed shut behind him.
"What's the script?" asked Nymphadora, producing a ledger from her satchel as the two sat down on the sofa near the window.
"Take inventory of the remaining supplies regarding categories of food and drink," said Kirk. "Then come up with a plan for rationing for the coming months."
Nymphadora scratched her chin. "We have enough of everything for at least six months," she said. "With rationing, we can probably stretch that to nine. That should be more than enough for us to wait out for the summer months, continue on with the expedition and then continue our journey to the Port of Churchill. Drinking water we can purify from the snow outside. It's the food I'm most worried about. I'll slap together a proper plan."
Again, Kirk was impressed with the young woman. She kept proving that she was a responsible crewmember who had a good head on her shoulders. For someone on her first voyage, even. Still, she looked rather contemplative. Pensive either. Her eyes downcast, Nymphadora fell silent.
"You look like you want to say something," said Kirk.
Nymphadora looked up again, stricken for a moment. "It's just, uhm, well… thinking about the number of mouths to feed. We took on three unexpected passengers. And… was just thinking about Riggere again too, captain. I… we're still two in the plus, but shouldn't… shouldn't be a problem."
"I understand," said Kirk. "Riggere has been on my mind too. Nymphadora, a crew is like a family. Especially in dangerous waters like this. And, as with any family, there's ups and downs. Joys and disappointments. Good times and bad."
"Right," Nymphadora snorted. "Let's not hope Beodul starts talking politics at Christmas dinner, then."
"Now that is a mental image I could have lived without," laughed Kirk. "Seriously, though, you've become a proper member of this lot of misfits and everyone loves having you around. Remember my previous offer. It still stands. We would all love to have you around for future voyages."
Nymphadora's expression changed again, looking away from him. Though he could tell that the young woman was deeply, deeply torn about something. Perhaps it was the thought of breaking away from her family and her old life. Decisions like these are rather big ones, after all and he wouldn't blame her for wanting to think it over. Again, it looked as if she wanted to tell him something, desperately so in fact. Until her worries faded into a smile. "Right. Well… let's finish this one trip first and then see if I'm still as popular as I am now when the crew's endured three or four months of food rationing, yeah?"
Kirk chuckled. "Wise words."
Hermione didn't have to look far to find Bellatrix, and when she found her in their cabin, the very sight of her broke her heart.
The girl she loved was curled up into a ball on the bed, bawling into her pillow. Hermione closed her eyes and fought back her anger for now. Bellatrix, for all her bravado and touch of arrogance, was a very fragile creature when it came to persons she loved or admired. Eleanor Snowbell had been Bellatrix' greatest hero, someone to look up to. She had devoured books of her expeditions, went to every exhibition, listened to every radio programme she'd been invited on. Hell, to this day the poster advertising one of her presentations still had a very prominent place in the room they both shared back at Catterborough Woodhouse. Eleanor 'was everything a witch should be', Bellatrix had once told her. And, with not so many worlds, it was obvious from the way she talked about Eleanor that Bellatrix had had a huge crush on her once.
Only to now be publicly humiliated and rejected in such a way as she had just been…
Zipper did his best to nuzzle her chin to try to cheer her up, but it was as if she didn't even notice. Hermione sat on the bed next to her, slowly stroking her head.
"Why…" Bellatrix sobbed. "Why did she say those things to me? What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing," said Hermione. "You didn't do anything wrong. Trix, you saved the ship and everyone on board. Everybody sees that. Back there, at the conference lounge, everyone was outraged at what Eleanor said to you. Everyone was on your side."
More sobs. Her poor body was shaking. "Why, then? Why…" she muttered into her pillow. "She's… she's not supposed to be like this."
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "Never meet your heroes," she muttered. "Trix. You are one of the bravest and most magically skilled people I have ever met. What you did to defeat that monster in the sky, I couldn't have pulled off in a million years."
"R-really?" Bellatrix said.
"Trix, have you ever seen me on a broom?" Hermione snorted. "Harry and Ron used to tease me relentlessly because I always kept bumping into things. Up to and including farmer Maggot's prize pumpkin on the Hogsmeade outskirts. It cost me about a month's worth of pocket money to pay for the damages and I was picking pumpkin seeds out of my robes for a week."
Not one of her finest moments, but at least it served to cheer Bellatrix up a little, judging from the giggles.
"Don't you think on it, Trix," smiled Hermione while stroking her curly hair, the same comforting words Hagrid had spoken to her so long again in his hut after her confrontation with Malfoy during her second year. "Don't you think on it one bit."
Hermione took out her wand and waved it over Bellatrix. Magic covered her like a soft blanket, sending the sobbing girl into a quiet soothing sleep. Hopefully, Bellatrix would feel better after getting some rest. It had been a very emotional moment, after all. Hermione took a moment to pry the pillow out of the sleeping girl's arms before winking at Zipper. The wasp stood at attention, antennae twitching eagerly. "Zipper," she smiled. "You have one job."
Zipper understood perfectly and took the place of the pillow in Bellatrix' arms. As the wasp lay in her arms, he started fluttering his wings to again make a soft purring sound. The sight of Bellatrix and Zipper made Hermione smile.
But when she turned to the door, all the anger came flooding back to her like water into a cistern. A cistern of rage. After leaving the cabin behind her, she stalked the corridor to Eleanor's office and swished her wand at it. The door flew open violently and it seemed Hermione had caught Chandra and Eleanor in the middle of something. But honestly, she couldn't give a toss about whatever liquid was in the syringe Chandra had put into the side of Eleanor's neck as she was seated behind her desk. She was far too blinded with rage to care.
"YOU!" Hermione shouted at Chandra. "GET OUT!"
Chandra seemed stricken for a moment, withdrawing the syringe and quickly putting it away.
"I WON'T ASK AGAIN!" Hermione roared. Chandra shared a look with Eleanor, who gave her a quick nod. A few moments later, she was out the door, leaving the two of them alone. Hermione rushed forward and slammed open palms on her deck, leaning to angrily gaze into the seated Eleanor's side. "How… dare you!" she hissed,
"I presume this is about Bellatrix?"
"You're bloody right this is about Bellatrix!" Hermione narrowed her eyes, pushing herself from the desk and starting to pace back and forth. "As long as I've known Bellatrix, she's held you in abject reverence. She always told me how smart you are, how clever and brave and how resourceful and wise. I've seen none of that today. Utterly none of that! Do you even realize how happy Bellatrix was to be invited along on this expedition?! Oh, let's just ignore the fact that you were only too eager to use her adoration for you to get your expedition funded in the first place! As if that wasn't egregious enough, you thank her by insulting her and crushing her spirit!"
Eleanor looked on coldly. "Are you quite done?"
"I haven't even begun!" Hermione snarled. "How dare you?! How dare you use my Bellatrix, crush her gentle spirit… to make up for your failure to do proper research!"
Well, that got her attention just fine. Attacking Eleanor's own pride was effective enough. "I beg your pardon?!" Eleanor rose from her seat and angrily slammed her fists on the desk. "I have spent the better part of thirty years combing through sources from all over the world, from all eras from both worlds! I have been researching Hyperborea for longer that you have been alive! It is you who ride on my coattails, not the other way around, Granger!"
A smile curved on one side of Hermione's mouth. "Are you seriously telling me that, during your thirty years of research, you have never come across anything describing that Ur-dragon we encountered? Not a one? I find that very unlikely, considering the very Neo-Vikings we now have on board have a rather vivid place in their mythology for what is obviously Hyperborea. Alfheim… interesting name. Níðhöggr, obviously a real creature now, was strongly tied to it. Are you telling me, honestly telling me, you dismissed this entire aspect of their mythos in your research?"
A rather uncomfortable look crossed her features, silver hair falling down her cheeks after shaking her head. "You know as well as I do that during research you come across dead ends and red herrings," said Eleanor. "I regarded the Neo-Vikings' accounts, of course I did. While their stories about Hyperborea under the name Alfheim are compelling, they stand in stark opposite contrast with many other sources far more credible. Let me remind you that the neo-vikings also believe that a second Ragnarok will one day come and that the old Norse pantheon is actually extant. Their credibility is beyond suspect."
"So not a single corroborating source on the existence of the Ur-dragon? Not a one?" said Hermione.
Eleanor sighed. "Several sources referenced a large 'sky-god', an element closely tied to Inuit and Native-American creation myths. Tales of the great Ithaqua, the Wind-Walker and father of all Wendigo, is another descriptor I have come across. But you know as well as I that myth and legends muddy the waters of the truth. Some elements of sources can thus be safely dismissed. Sometimes… it is hard differentiate between truth and fiction."
Hermione snorted. She was a scientist, alright. An arrogant one at that. This was all the admission of fault she was going to get.
"That still does not give you the right blame Bellatrix for your own mistakes," said Hermione. "We were ill-prepared and were caught off guard. It was her swift actions which saved the ship. The very ship you are on!"
"Don't you think I know that?!" shouted Eleanor. "This is my life's work, miss Granger. MY LIFE'S WORK! Someone like you, who gets thrown everything in her lap, who gets drip-fed money from the Black family, who is given all she desires and then whines about loss of reputation. Unlike you, I worked for everything I've earned! I've scraped together every knut and sickle! The things I have done to get this expedition off the ground, to research our destination! The sacrifices I have made! And now to be stuck a mere 20 miles away from my destination for months on end! That is what is stuck in my craw, miss Granger! But trust me, I WILL see my life's work fulfilled, no matter the cost! And I will not suffer a mere slip of a girl lecturing me in my own office! GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!"
Hermione shook her head. "Never meet your heroes," she muttered before turning around and walking out the door. "Especially when they see you like fodder to be thrown to the wolves."
The door slammed shut behind her.
Nymphadora was contemplative on the way down to the bowels of the ship. Hard to tell what the bloody time was with the sun always up, but she had spent most of the day with Kirk going over the supplies and coming up with a rationing plan. Though said plan was doubtlessly not going to be very popular with the crew, they all saw the need for it. The general mood on the ship was glum. Though they seemed optimistic at first, the situation they were all in had the spectre of death subtly looming over them and they all realized it on some level.
She and Tahki had been hanging out with some the crew, Engrim, Chiputec and Copperhead in particular, just drinking some pints and swapping stories. The two of them visited Bellatrix to see how she was doing, only to be told by Hermione that she was resting. Tomorrow, the four of them would have some fun in the crew lounge in hopes of cheering her up a little and she wondered if Hermione was any good at darts.
There'd be a lot of dart games in their near future, she'd wager.
Still, one thing did weigh heavily on her mind. Said thing greeted her with a hug when she entered the Quartermaster's suite. Rilly was wonderful as ever, her raven-hair dancing as she walked. What had she ever done to deserve her?
"What's wrong?" she asked, those green eyes peering into hers. Her Rilly was, as always, perceptive.
Nymphadora sighed and walked past her, only to plop down at her desk. "Kingfisher is icebound, Rilly."
"And that means?"
"We're stuck," she replied. "Stuck in the fucking ice. Probably for months. We're on rations. I just spent a day with the captain going over our remaining supplies."
"Stuck?" Rilly replied. "Oh, no."
"We have to come forward with what we've done. With what… I have done," Nymphadora muttered and looked at her intently. "Rilly, I won't have you hidden away down here for months on end."
Rilly cocked her head sideways. "I have been down here for almost two months. I have no issues with keeping it up. I chose for this, remember? I chose for this because I wanted to be with the woman I love. We planned this together."
"If I had know…. If I… I would have never have done it," Nymphadora kicked the desk for good measure. "Fuck it all!"
"What's gotten into you?!" Rilly pouted slightly. "It's not… because you don't want me around anymore… is it?"
"No! Look, what it is, right, Captain Kirk's been telling me all about how impressed he is with my skill as a quartermaster, how he's seen me mature and grow into the role, how much the crew likes me and how he'd love to keep me on for more voyages," Nymphadora shook her head. "And there I am, feeling like a right proper shite-muppet cause I've been lying to him from the start of the bloody trip!"
"Dori…" Rilly said, sitting down on the desk. Nymphadora closed her eyes when soft hands lay on her cheeks and soft lips followed.
"My own bloody mother didn't believe in me," Nymphadora snorted. "And why should she? I was a fucking tea-leaf. 'Just put her somewhere where she can't do much harm', she said. But Captain Kirk. He said he saw something in me. And he made me quartermaster. I couldn't believe it. A place of responsibility and respect. And what fuck did I do? He believed in me and I still stabbed him in the back."
Rilly ran a hand through her hair. "That's a bit excessive, don't you think?"
"I just can't do this anymore, Rilly."
"I'm worried, Dori," said Rilly. "If your mother finds out… about us…"
"I'm so tired of hiding, Rilly," returned Nymphadora, picking her up from the desk. "I'm so tired of hiding you from everyone. And if you're worried about my mum, well, the crew's all good eggs and they're going to love you. And Bellatrix has known for months and hasn't said a word. Dead sound, that one. Absolutely dead sound. And so are Tahki and Hermione. And even if someone talks, well… I don't think I'm afraid of my mother anymore. And that's fucking liberating, let me tell you."
They kissed. Gently at first, passionately soon after. Rilly withdrew, only to take her by the hand and lead her to the bed. "But you are worried about what Captain Kirk will say. His opinion does matter to you."
"Yeah…" Nymphadora sighed. By now, Rilly sat on the bed and pulled her down as she moved to lay lay prone. "Rather shitting my trousers for that one, me."
Once both of them lay on the bed, Rilly kissed her again. "Dori…"
"We can't keep our relationship hidden forever," said Nymphadora. "I would have been fine with that back at the house, but it'll never grow if we can't be allowed to actually, you know, tell others about it and do shite like going to the park for a date or whatever, or celebrate solstice together. All that bloody couple stuff Bella and Hermione like to do."
"Not going to lie, I'm scared too," said Rilly. "But we won't have to come forward right away. It is late in the evening. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll go to Captain Kirk together and tell him the truth of what we've done."
"You'll be fine…" snorted Nymphadora. "I'll probably get keelhauled."
Rilly's hand found the hem of her jumper, playfully sliding under it and finding her belly to tickle. "Well, then… we should make our last night together memorable, then," she spoke with a whimsical tone. "A night to remember."
Nymphadora chuckled briefly in spite of herself. Such would be a good distraction to get her mind off her plight. So, Nymphadora rolled to her side and on top of the giggling Rilly. "Right then," she smirked. "Let me at those crackin' tits of yours then, mum."
More giggles followed swiftly.
Goneril lay on her side, gently stroking her fingers over her Dori's stomach. She remembered a time when she and her sisters would make fun of Nymphadora behind her back. And why not? On the surface, she was just a lazy waste of space sponging off her family's wealth, typical of scions of rich and powerful houses. No ambition, no goals in life and spent all her day smoking weed.
That was until Goneril dug deeper below the surface and found her to be a gentle and caring woman, who could make wondrous and beautiful things with her hands if she could only muster up the motivation to do so. The past few weeks she'd seen her grow exponentially when given the opportunity to be responsible and without having the chance to run away from it.
She lay her raven-haired head on Dori's shoulder. Her money and power-hungry mother would be over the bloody moon that Goneril had bagged the only daughter of Andromeda Black and that was all she would ever see. All her children were tools to her to gain prestige, while Andromeda protected her daughter out of love… perhaps a bit too much. It was going to be a clash of titans when their relationship would come to light. Her mother an immovable object, Andromeda Black an unstoppable force. With her, Dori and her sisters caught in the middle.
Goneril was afraid. That much she knew. She had no prestigious name or wealth; she was just a maid, after all. A maid in a playground of giants. But she knew wholeheartedly that Dori would stick with her, no matter what. This very stunt the two of them had pulled was proof of that.
She was about to snuggle up against Dori and try to get some sleep when something brushed against her thoughts. It was like a whisper, on the very edge of hearing. She tried her best to listen, but could only hear the sounds of the wooden ship, so much more quiet now that it wasn't moving and there was no wind blowing along the side of the hull. "Hello?" she called out to the darkness. "Is anyone there?"
Dori mumbled something in her sleep, but didn't wake up. The whispering continued, to a point that she felt compelled to investigate. Goneril slipped out of bed, from the warmth of the blankets into the colder air. She shivered and quickly put on some slippers and a black robe. After taking a lantern from the desk and lighting it, she opened the door and stepped onto the cargo deck. The whispers were louder now. Though she could still not understand any of the words, there was beckoning pull in them, coming from the deck above. A swift climbing to the orlop deck and the whispers got even louder.
"Hello?" she called out into the darkness again. Honestly, she should know better than to call out. Any of the crew might be about after all. But as she moved forward into the corridor, passing crates of ship-related supplies and tools, she heard sounds from the deck above. Sounds of music and celebration. It seemed like most of the crew was still up and about, working through the thought of being icebound by revelry and camaraderie, it seemed. Shared loads lightened misery, Goneril supposed. And yet the sounds of celebration did not drown out the whispers as she moved forward. On the contrary, they grew ever louder.
It was as if the whispers were inside of her own head, beckoning her forward to the loading shaft. The shaft loomed high above her, the lights of the deck extinguished for whatever reason. That was odd in itself: the lanterns were magical and there wasn't any oil to ration. As the orlop deck and the cargo deck had no portholes, Dori never extinguished the lights either. What was happening here? Her head was starting to hurt now. It was getting harder to think. The whispers wouldn't allow her to think. All that mattered was doing the bidding of the whispers, to follow their every command. And right now, they wanted her to be here, on the orlop deck.
She put down the lantern and found the place the whispers had wanted her to go: the massive crate they had loaded onto the ship in port at Newcastle-on-Tyne so long ago. Goneril had been drawn to it earlier, often passing it while helping Dori and being ever curious. According to Dori, there was some equipment inside. But she had to know. She had to see it! She had to open the crate! The whispers demanded her to.
Open the crate.
OPEN THE CRATE!
Those were not the words from the whispers, for she could still not understand them. And yet she understand what the whispers wanted from her. Shivering from the cold air, Goneril waved her hand and three crowbars flew from the shelf. After pointing to the crate, the magical crowbars flew to the crate and found the weakest spots to wedge themselves into. Magic did its thing and, before she knew it, the crate's side fell outward, hitting the deck with a loud bang which made Goneril cringe.
And just like that, the whispers were gone. The silence was both a relief and a comfort and Goneril could finally think straight again. However, that left what had been inside the crate to be revealed in all its glorious mystery.
Though Goneril was just a maid and not any magical researcher of note, she did have a fair idea what magical measuring equipment should look like. People at Catterborough Woodhouse such as Hermione or Master Cygnus had always been kind enough to answer questions whenever she'd been curious about something while working in a room when either of them were present and doing research. No, what was inside the crate was a gigantic glass bottle, taller and wider than any she had ever seen before. It almost seemed like a massive aquarium. The top was sealed with some magical machinery she couldn't fathom the use of and the liquid inside had a yellow-brown tint. Tubes led from the machine into the liquid of the glass tank, but she couldn't make out where they were going. It was hard to see through the liquid, especially in this darkness.
Curious as ever, Goneril picked up the lantern again and carefully approached the side of the giant glass container. First, she put her ear to the glass, expecting to hear whispers but in the end hearing nothing but some light sloshing. So, she raised the lantern and held it against the glass, hoping to see inside.
A massive black blob floated inside. Large and tall. But still she couldn't make out what it was. It was vaguely shaped like something she felt she should know, but she moved along the glass to try to get a better look. The black blob seemed to narrow a little from the end she was now stood at and again she held the lantern to peer inside the liquid.
Lights emerged from the blob.
Three blue lights clustered closely together.
Goneril barely had time to scream when the world exploded around her.
