T/W Mentions of controlled eating and domestic violence.
-xXx-
"Well. Fuck, Pet," Bellatrix curses. "What the fuck are we going to do with you now?"
Hermione feels her stomach bottom out, like she has just missed a step and stumbled down several stairs. Heart in her throat, her mouth opens, but no words come out. What can she say? It's not difficult to see where this is heading. Should she plead for her life? The Captain is hardly going to put a stranger's safety over the lives of her long standing family, friends and crew. She closes her mouth again, dropping her eyes to the floor as she blinks back the moisture that gathers there. Her borrowed clothes hang uselessly in her hands and she wonders if she will need them now.
She has her own suitcase somewhere on the ship. It's a case filled with crisp white blouses and tightly fitted skirts, high-heeled shoes and make-up, as is befitting the wife of a politician. It had taken her less than a minute of meeting the crew to understand that she could not have been less prepared for life on board The Black Serpent. The Captain had no doubt guessed as much, prompting the woman to offer items from her own wardrobe, and Hermione feels an unexpected pang from the idea that she might not get to experience the simple freedom of wearing clothes like this.
Bellatrix lets out a heavy sigh, running her fingers through long, black curls. "Come on, Pet. Get changed, and then come and find us. Your shower can wait, we all need to talk about this."
Hermione lifts her head in time to see the Captain turn on her heel and stride out of the cabin. She looks around at the warm, polished wood, illuminated by the dim lamps attached to the side walls. This is not what she is used to, having come from one of the nicest apartments on Port Solis, yet she has felt more comfortable here since she woke up, than she ever did at home.
She strips out of her clothes, watching dispassionately as the blood-stained items drop to the floor by her feet. The denim Hermione has borrowed from Bellatrix feels soft against her legs, as she pulls the fabric up to sit comfortably around her hips, fastening it there with a single button and a short zip. She pulls the black vest top over her head, and then stares longingly in the mirror. Is this who she is? Or is this just another disguise, hiding her true self from the world? Does she even know who she is underneath these clothes? Will she have the freedom to find out, or is she going straight back into the lion's den before she has a chance to really discover herself?
Hermione picks up her clothes and adds them to the laundry basket in the corner, marvelling at the way literally everything on this ship is attached to the wall or floor, bolted down for safety.
With a deep, steadying breath, she opens the door and walks along the small corridor, heading towards the sound of idle chatter and occasional laughter. It opens up to a space with a large table, which has a row of seating along the two long sides, curving to meet along the far end of the table.
"Welcome to the common room, Hermione," a small, redheaded woman calls out, with a cheery wave.
"Common room?" she asks, unsure what else to say. Truth be told, she's a little intimidated by the crew, considering she's heard tales of their reputation since she was a child. She recognises a few of the faces from when she arrived. Harry and Draco are talking to each other and haven't even noticed her arrival, and Andromeda is talking to a blonde woman she hasn't met yet.
Bellatrix walks in from a side entrance to the room, and guides her into a seat on the left hand side of the table. "Common room. It's what we call this area, here. This is where we eat meals and the crew hang out during their downtime. I've always said I feel like the headmistress of a boarding school, surrounded by annoying kids." The Captain rolls her eyes with a good natured smirk, and it's easy to see how fond she is of the assortment of people around the table.
"Oh." Hermione knows she should speak. Should plead her case, even, but she can't think of a single thing to say, let alone physically get the words out.
Bellatrix leans in close as she takes her own seat at the end of the table next to her, speaking softly. "Don't be so nervous. We just need a conversation, that's all."
To the rest of the crew, she calls out. "Quiet!"
When she has their attention, which Hermione notes is the very instant she speaks, the Captain continues. "Everyone, this is Hermione McLaggen. Yes, she is the wife of Cormac McLaggen, President of Port Solis."
The table erupts into noise, and Hermione hangs her head, her hands fighting nervously in her lap. It's obvious that the crew know exactly who her husband is and probably a great deal about his reputation. He's powerful and vindictive, thriving off of the profits earned by his corruption and greed.
Bellatrix bangs on the table and the room falls silent. "Hermione? Do you have anything you want to say?"
Hermione shakes her head despondently. "I don't really think there is much I can say at this point. Where is my daughter?"
The blonde woman sitting opposite her smiles gently. "Luna has her up on deck, and is probably answering a hundred and one questions about what it's like being the ship's seer," she informs her, the amusement clear in her tone. "I'm Narcissa, Bella and Andy's sister. Have you met everyone else yet?"
Hermione allows a small smile to reach her lips at the thought of her daughter making her way around the crew, learning as much as possible. "No. It's nice to meet you, though."
Narcissa goes around the table, pointing to each person. "My sister, Andy, who is our healer, but I know you've already met. Then we have Ginny and Ron, our newest crew members. Brother and sister, of course, as if the red hair doesn't give it away. Neville, who is our herbologist. He grows a lot of our food and everything we need for potions. Then we have my son Draco who is our navigator, and his boyfriend, Harry, who is our chef. Anathema deals with communications and of course you know Bella, our Captain," Narcissa finishes off. "As I said, Luna is up on deck, and is our resident seer. It's not an exact science, but she manages to keep us out of trouble, most of the time."
A lot of them seem to have specific roles, and Hermione is curious. "And what do you do?"
"Legilimens," Narcissa replies proudly, as if that should mean something to Hermione. She wants to ask more, but the Captain takes over their meeting again.
"Right. We need a plan. It's not every day we have the wife of a politician on board."
"We've got to change that hair," Draco speaks up for the first time. "Cut it short. Something with layers will make all the difference in the world."
"The clothes help," Harry adds, eyeing Hermione's outfit with a calculating eye. "She looks like a different woman, already."
"Set her to work and teach her about the running of the ship so she blends in," Ginny proposes with a twinkle in her eye. "Would be nice to have some decent help around here." She glares pointedly at her brother who shrinks sheepishly into his seat.
"What are we going to do about Cormac?" Andromeda asks. "Dealing with Hermione and Rose is easy, they'll fit right in, I'm sure. We need to stop him from looking, once and for all."
Anathema, the woman Narcissa had pointed out with gloriously dark skin and tightly cropped hair is the first to speak up. "He's determined to get her back. He seems… unstable."
"Rose said as much," Ginny cuts in, catching Hermione's eye with a sympathetic smile. "She's seen a lot more than you realise, Hermione."
"I'm guessing she let slip who I was?" Hermione asks. It's not like she had explicitly told her daughter not to say anything, though in hindsight, maybe that would have been a good idea.
"It wasn't Rose," Bellatrix corrects her, with a shake of her head.
"Then… how?" Hermione asks, her stomach knotting into a heavy mass. How had they discovered her identity so quickly? Is Cormac already on his way to pick her up?
Andromeda flicks her wand, summoning ten glasses and a bottle of firewhisky. "I guess that answers that question, then."
"What question?" Hermione wonders, her eyes searching out the middle Black sister, her brow furrowing.
"Whether or not you were deliberately hiding who you were," Andromeda replies, but she doesn't look angry and Hermione feels herself relaxing.
"Anathema got a call over the comms channel. Cormac's offering an obscene amount of money to bring you home," Narcissa explains. "She hadn't seen you, but she knew we picked up someone with the name of Hermione at Port Solis."
"And of course he came to us," Bellatrix says with a smirk. "There's no one better."
"And you told him I was here?" Hermione guesses tiredly, looking at Anathema as her shoulders slump. "I don't blame you. I know how much money Cormac has and just how much he might be offering. It would make a big difference to you, I'm sure."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bellatrix says exasperatedly.
"It's the obvious choice," Hermione defends. "You don't even know me."
Bellatrix turns in her seat and Hermione finds herself staring into black orbs, hypnotised by the swirl of emotions that she can see there. They finally settle on anger, and Hermione gulps.
"Hermione, do you really think there is a sum of money large enough, that we would take a woman back to a man who beats her to a fucking pulp every other day? That we would ever send a child back to that?" The way the Captain speaks to her, the tone derisive and filled to the brim with condescension, irritates Hermione, and the words leave her mouth before she can think better of it.
"I think that you're pirates and you have a reputation for accepting all kinds of jobs, as long as the price is right," Hermione shoots back.
Bellatrix throws up her hands, a snarl curling up the corner of her lip. "I can't even- Nope! Cissa, Andy, deal with this please." And with that, the Captain stalks from the room, and disappears up on deck.
"Don't mind her," Andromeda says cheerfully. "Always been a fiery one."
"I don't understand, what did I do?"
Narcissa snorts. "You don't know what you did? You offended her honour, and that is something Bella takes very seriously. You suggested that she would send you back to that monster, and that's just not what we do here." Narcissa flicks her wand to nudge the glass of firewhisky closer towards her with a pointed look. "You joined the crew and that means you are under our protection, Hermione. All we ask is that you pull your weight, and extend the same courtesy to any of us should the situation arise. You protect us the way we will protect you."
"But you only just met me," Hermione says in a small voice, half to herself rather than to either of the Black sisters sitting opposite her. She stares down at the table surface, eyes tracing over the grain that's just visible through the worn varnish.
"Why does that matter?" Andromeda asks, shaking her head in a way that sends her curls tumbling over her shoulders. "You're a woman that needs our help and we're not in the business of screwing people over, no matter what you've heard."
Hermione stays quiet, mulling over her words as she desperately tries to make sense of what is going on. Why would they go out on a limb like this for her? She's no one special. She's not rich in her own right, she doesn't have any qualifications, and absolutely zero experience to offer when it comes to sailing or a life at sea. What can she really give this crew in return for her safety?
Cormac has told her time and time again that she is worthless. Ugly. Unlovable. He's told her often enough just how much she deserves the punishments he gives her. That she brought it on herself. She closes her eyes, trying to block out his words, but the image of his face won't leave her mind. Her mind replays the memories of him shouting those hateful words as she lays broken on the floor. She can still smell the stale alcohol on his breath, feel the drops of spittle landing on her as her own blood trickles down her face.
"Hey, you okay?" Andromeda asks, snapping Hermione back to the present.
"I'm sorry. Lost in thought, I guess." Hermione shrugs, embarrassed to have zoned out mid-conversation.
Narcissa smiles gently at her, her soft words an unexpected warning that's filled with compassion. "Don't let him get in your head."
Hermione's eyes flick up, registering the knowing look on the blonde's face. "How did you know?"
Narcissa shrugs. "I've been there. I know exactly what men like that say, to keep women like us down. To control us. The words they use to make us believe that we need them. That we can't ever leave because we won't survive without them and no one else will want us."
"How did you? Leave him, I mean?" Even as she asks this question, Hermione isn't sure if she really wants to know the answer. Bellatrix had mentioned something about Narcissa's ex-husband, and his ship sinking.
"I killed him," Naricssa replies with a wink. The blonde leans back with a self-satisfied grin on her face, and Hermione realises that she carries no guilt whatsoever about the death of her husband. If anything, she's proud of it.
Andromeda snorts. "That's not exactly what happened. It took a long time for her to be ready to leave, and even then, it was almost impossible for her to do on her own. The murder came later," she jokes, raising a glass to her sister. "And that's worth drinking to. Cheers."
Narcissa raises her own glass, clinking it against her sister's. "Cheers." They both take a long glug, swallowing the amber liquid as though it was nothing stronger than water.
Hermione stares at the two women with wide eyes. She's always known that city life is sheltered, but are these women really joking so openly about killing Narcissa's husband? She can't imagine ever being so blasé about something like this. Does death not mean anything to these people?
"You're gonna have to toughen up, Love," Andromeda warns, knocking back the remaining contents of her glass with barely a grimace before continuing, "At some point you're going to get your hands dirty."
"But first, we need to sort out your appearance," Narcissa cuts in, roaming critical eyes over Hermione. "Draco was right. The hair has got to go, it's far too recognisable."
She becomes aware of the rest of the crew again, each of them wearing a sympathetic smile when she meets their eyes. It hits her then, that she might actually be safe. That she might have the chance to start over. Rose has the chance to experience a life where she is not living in fear of finding her mother dead on the floor. She sucks in a shuddering breath, shakily raising a hand to her hair self-consciously. Cormac had used her hair as a weapon, a way to hold her down or drag her from the room. The thought of cutting it off is an act of defiance that she likes the sound of, and she offers them a genuine smile.
"You're right, the hair can go," she agrees, her stomach flipping over with a bubble of excitement.
"Couple of tattoos and some piercings would also help," Ginny suggests, with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.
"Let's ease her in gently," Andromeda chides. "You'll look like a new woman when we're done with you."
"I can't wait," Hermione replies, surprised to find just how much she means it.
-xXx-
Hermione goes in search of Rose, momentarily distracted by the sight of the Captain leaning casually up against the railings, a flask in her hands. She cautiously approaches, an apology ready to spill from her lips, but Bellatrix glowers in her direction, stalking off to the mast and climbing up to the crow's nest; the one place on board that makes it impossible for Hermione to follow. With a scowl of her own Hermione turns away, locating her daughter at the bow of the ship still chattering to Luna.
Both are smiling, sitting side by side on a bundled up sail, staring at a set of small wooden sticks in front of them. It's difficult to tell from this distance, but Hermione thinks they are Ogham staves, probably carved with runes for divination. It's one of the things that she was taught in school when they covered the subject of witches and wizards. It's not a well taught subject, and what information they were given she knows is very biassed, not painting magical people in a good light at all. So far, from her limited experience of them, she can tell her lessons could not have been further from the truth.
Knowing that Rose is safe and happy, she crosses the deck. Her eyes flick up to the crow's nest where Bellatrix is standing, a smirk on her face as she meets Hermione's gaze. Ignoring the smug Captain's games, she heads downstairs to where Draco is waiting, scissors in hand. He cuts confidently, stripping back her bushy curls until she is left with soft, sleek layers that make her feel a million times lighter. He deftly runs his fingers through her hair, checking that it's even. His movements are rehearsed, obviously born of muscle memory, and she meets his eyes in the mirror.
"I've been doing this for the crew for a long time," Draco answers her question before she can speak. "I nearly left to go and train professionally, but then our navigator died and I took over."
"Do you ever regret staying?"
He shakes his head, brushing the loose hair from her shoulders. "No. I would never have met Harry if I hadn't stayed. I can't imagine my life any other way now."
"You're really good at this," Hermione remarks, touching her hair carefully. This feels like an important step. The first of many that will bring her freedom, and hopefully, happiness. If nothing else, she will be content with the feeling of safety she is quickly settling into on board.
"Come on," Draco urges. "Bella told me to set you up with a new set of clothes so you can shower, and once you're done, I'll show you the laundry room."
The next hour passes in a contented blur, the feel of scrubbing her skin clean has never been more satisfying, as she sheds her old life. Standing here now in Bellatrix's cabin she feels oddly energised, though the day itself has been exhausting, despite sleeping a lot of it away. It feels like she has been on board for far longer than the twelve hours it has been so far. She feels detached from her old life, struggling to remember what she would have been doing at this point yesterday. Even if not for her marriage, Hermione now knows she could never have been happy with life in the city. Trudging through life day by day, nothing ever changing, as the years slipped by without her? She doesn't want to do that anymore. Not now she realises just how much she has been missing out on.
Dinner is amazing, and she tucks in with gusto, allowing herself to eat her fill now there is no one telling her that she needs to watch her waistline. She's skinnier than is natural for her, she knows, but that is an unfortunate trend that is currently popular in the city, and one which Cormac had ensured she adhered to. Now, without his scornful gaze, she enjoys every mouthful, going so far as to pat her stomach afterwards in a contented gesture.
Rose laughs when she does this, and Hermione grins sheepishly. "It was good," she defends, though she knows her daughter isn't being mean.
"It was," Rose agrees, patting her own stomach with a matching grin on her face. "Thanks, Harry."
"Yes. Thank you, Harry," Hermione repeats, belatedly realising the chef is also at the table with them. "That is truly the best meal I can remember."
The man blushes under their attention, a shy smile blossoming on his face as he shrugs. "It was nothing."
Many conversations spring up around the table, Hermione content to sit back and listen until her eyes are heavy and she yawns. Andromeda spots her, and nods in the direction of the door. "Why don't you two head to bed? Bellatrix will be in to kick you out at sunrise."
Hermione nods, grateful for the instruction. She's ready to sink into the soft mattress and shut her eyes, but didn't want to be rude by leaving the table before everyone else. "Good idea," she replies, yawning again as she gets to her feet. "Come on, Rose. Say goodnight."
Her daughter bounces up from her seat, apparently not even half as tired as Hermione, though she doesn't protest going to bed. "Goodnight, everyone. Thanks for showing me everything today!"
Hermione watches on proudly as the crew tell her goodnight, matching fond smiles on all their faces. Her daughter has already wooed her way into their hearts, that much is sure. With a brief 'goodnight' of her own, she guides her daughter from the room and heads to the Captain's cabin. There she finds a pair of pyjamas and a t-shirt, along with a note from Bellatrix.
Hermione,
Thought you might need these tonight, though personally, I prefer to sleep in nothing. The t-shirt should be okay for Rose to wear, for now. We'll pick up some new clothes for you both at Port Terra.
Sleep well,
Bellatrix
Well, that was an unexpected piece of kindness from the woman she had apparently insulted, earlier. The same woman who had literally run from her this afternoon, scurrying up to the crow's nest like a damned monkey. Hermione can't fight the grin that threatens to build on her face, as she strips off and changes into the offered sleepwear. Bellatrix had said that she prefers to sleep in nothing and yet the scent of the Captain surrounds her as she pulls the top on over her head; they are unmistakably hers.
Hermione adds this to every other piece of information she is storing away for future consideration. The Captain is a mystery she wants nothing more than to unravel. First, she has to get the stubborn woman to talk to her again, though. She climbs into bed next to her daughter, tired muscles grateful to have a real bed to sleep in for the night. Rose flicks off the light and it's only minutes before they both fall into an easy sleep.
-xXx-
The next morning, Hermione is woken by the door to the cabin being thrown open and a soaking wet Bellatrix stumbling inside. It's only then that she notices the swell of the ship, rocking violently from side to side.
"Did you sleep through that?" Bellatrix asks, eyebrow raised as Hermione blinks sleepily at the Captain. She yawns, covering her mouth with her hand, turning to look out of the small porthole at the end of the bed.
"I guess so," she replies, her own brow furrowing as she takes in the churning waves crashing against the stern of the ship. She shakes Rose's shoulder. "Time to get up, Sweetheart."
Rose sits up, sending a beaming smile at the Captain. "Hey, Captain Bellatrix. Why are you wet?"
Bellatrix snorts, shucking off her coat and hanging it in the corner. "Because it's pissing down, genius."
Rose just laughs, not at all offended by the Captain's words. She jumps from the bed and starts to get dressed, rolling her eyes when she realises Hermione is still in bed. "Come on, Mum. I'm hungry."
"Go on without me," Hermione instructs, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'll be there in a minute."
Rose darts from the room, leaving her alone with Bellatrix, and the atmosphere changes in an instant. The woman locks eyes with Hermione, pulling off her t-shirt and dropping it to the ground. Hermione knows she shouldn't stare, but try as she might, she cannot avert her eyes, even when Bellatrix's hands drop to the waistband of her jeans, and undo the button.
"Enjoying the show, Pet?" Dark denim is dropped down creamy thighs. Bellatrix steps out of them, leaning over to pull off her socks and pick up her clothes, throwing them in the laundry basket behind her.
Startled, and more than a little embarrassed to have been caught staring… again, Hermione turns her head, her cheeks glowing.
"Unless you're planning on warming me up yourself, I'm going to need you to get out of my bed," Bellatrix teases, stalking towards her wearing nothing but a black bra and skimpy lace briefs.
"What? No!" Hermione blurts out, getting up so quickly that she stumbles, straight into a very bare Bellatrix's arms. "Fuck."
"If you want." Bellatrix shrugs, winking at her casually, and Hermione glares.
"You know I didn't mean it like that."
"Such a shame," is all the reply she gets as the witch climbs onto the bed, pulling the covers up over her body. Bellatrix lays on her side, her eyes never leaving Hermione's as she reaches for her own clothes. Recognising the mischievous sparkle in Bellatrix's eyes, Hermione realises she is not about to be afforded the luxury of privacy, and groans softly.
"You're not shy, are you, Pet? That won't last long living on a ship, let me tell you."
She's being goaded, she knows she is, and Hermione decides it's time to turn the tables on the Captain. She might not have lived a life at sea, but when she lived in the city, Hermione started her day with a run, and worked out every afternoon. It was expected, after all. She had to look the part, on the arm of Port Solis' most influential politician. She hadn't enjoyed her role, had hated it even, but she's grateful for it now. She's proud of her body and her toned muscles. She's worked hard for it.
She smirks to herself. If Bellatrix wants a show, then a show she's going to get.
Black orbs don't leave her for a second, when Hermione pops open the top button of her borrowed pyjama top. She takes great pleasure in the way dark eyes follow her hands down when they flick open the second, third and then fourth. She pauses, gratified to see the impatience on the other woman's face, before popping open the fifth and final button.
She makes slow work of slipping her arms out of the sleeves, and releases the fabric to pool at her feet. Tucking thumbs into the waistband of the bottoms, she gains even more confidence, wiggling her hips teasingly, before easing them down her legs and stepping out of them. Bellatrix watches from the bed, already black eyes now dilated further, as she makes no attempt to hide the fact she is devouring every inch of skin on offer.
"Enjoying the show, Captain?" Hermione asks cheekily, making sure that she turns around before reaching down to pick up her clothes; the sharp intake of breath behind her letting her know that her actions have had the desired effect. She folds the pyjamas and places them on the bed. "In case you get cold," she informs the now speechless woman, still watching her with hungry eyes.
Ignoring the woman watching her from the bed, she pulls on her jeans and vest top, not bothering to ask before she reaches into the Captain's drawers to retrieve a sweatshirt. It will soon warm up, but for now, it's likely to be chilly until the sun is higher in the sky.
She smirks at the Captain, before sitting on the edge of the bed, close enough that she can feel the heat rolling off of Bellatrix's body. She pulls on her socks and stands up to slip her feet into her boots, not bothering to fasten them. Hermione jumps up to stride across the cabin, stealing the Captain's coat from the corner of the room in case it's still raining.
"I'm borrowing this," she informs her, adding, "Sweet dreams, Bellatrix."
As Hermione heads out of the room, she hears Bellatrix call out. "You're forgiven."
She turns around. "For what?"
"For your sheer stupidity and lack of respect yesterday," Bellatrix informs her, laughing when Hermione scowls at her.
"You expect me to believe you have forgiven me, just like that?" Hermione asks incredulously, both eyebrows raised and her hands firmly on her hips.
"For a performance like that, I'm pretty sure I would forgive you anything," Bellatrix admits, turning over onto her other side to stare out of the porthole.
"I really am sorry," Hermione offers. "I'm not used to having people on my side."
Bellatrix waves her off dismissively. "It's fine. Go and make yourself useful and everything will be okay."
"Yes, Captain," Hermione says with a grin, walking out the door. She can hear Bellatrix grumbling about 'stupid titles' and smiles to herself. Life at sea is not what she had assumed it would be, but there is every chance that she can be happy here. There is a whole world out there for her to discover, one mystery at a time, the most mysterious, of course, being Bellatrix herself.