Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 8: A captain is interviewed…

"After the first days of excitement have passed and the expedition has well and truly started, routine and even monotony set in. The first leg of the journey consisted of a long trek across the trackless Atlantic surrounded by water on all sides. One starts looking for things to keep oneself busy, a process that is different for everyone. Still, always sparkling in the background is that sense of adventure, the unknown that one wishes to find and the lost knowledge one wishes to uncover."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Hermione leaned on the railing, overlooking the endless water as the HMS Kingfisher cleft through the waves below. They were one week into the journey to Halifax now, about halfway through the first leg of the journey. The weather had been fair so far and the temperatures better than expected. Though the weather above was decidedly grey and overcast, it was certainly not unpleasant. Hermione found herself feeling altogether tiny; the trackless sea surrounded them on all sides. Though the waters were calm, for now, this did not ease the subtle feeling of discomfort in the pit of her stomach. No land in sight, and for days the only place of safety and refuge from the overwhelming emptiness was this very ship she stood on. Daelia had told her that this feeling of overwhelming awe was common for new seafarers and would pass eventually. Hermione thought of the many people, wizard and muggle, whom had sailed the tall ships then and now, and wondered.

The ship was travelling along the 56th latitude, well below the Arctic circle and giving queen Ealdwynn's domain a wide berth. The Neo-Vikings had been quiet the past few years, but that certainly had been different. They'd been launching raids from Greenland and Iceland across the Scandinavian and Scottish coasts as recent as 2002. It was relatively unknown that during the second wizarding war, there had been attacks of opportunity upon Scottish and Irish coastal villages when the UK had been in chaos. In the confusion, those barbarians had made off with goods and, worse, people. Some of which still hadn't been repatriated. Hermione certainly didn't like the idea of spending the next ten years of her life as a thrall in a biting cold country.

Hermione watched as the crew as they went about their business. Irrena was up in the riggings today, while Chiputec and Daelia were swabbing the deck. Meanwhile, Riggere was doing his best catching some fresh fish for Haema to fry to supplement dinner. Having some swordfish steaks yesterday had been a nice surprise. At the same time, Beodul was barking his orders to this 'scabrous' lot. Business as usual, she had learned.

She had found it curious at first: every single member of the crew was a wizard. And yet they hardly used any magic at all in their daily tasks. All the swabbing they were doing by hand could be done with magicked mops, all the clothes they were washing by hand could be scourgified, all the ropes they were tying and wood they were repairing could be done with magic.

It wasn't until she was a week at sea that she understood. There were very little things to do and place to go when at sea for obvious reasons. A sense of monotony quickly set in. For the crew, it was important to get proper exercise and have a proper routine, for the sake of their bodily and mental health. Life was predictable aboard this ship. Duties were set and clear, shifts were set and clear and when not on duty, time was spent telling tales, playing games, reading or simply relaxing.

Hermione found that she had fallen into a similar routine: doing her weather measurements, cataloguing sea-birds, taking pictures and spent a lot of time at the library. It was… relaxing.

After taking another picture, she decided to join Bellatrix. Her girlfriend was, as usual, vigorously writing in a notebook while sat in the forecastle observation hunt, right next to the warm stove. This was a place where the deck crew could warm themselves up, but as it was mild weather it meant Bellatrix was currently the only occupant. Trix has been writing a lot, either notes for her role as chronicler or horror stories she was working on; in fact, she had already filled up three whole notebooks. Her girl had been obsessively cataloguing everything she'd come across, saying that even the smallest detail could be important and wouldn't want to risk missing anything. Bellatrix was so busy scribbling that she barely noticed Hermione until she had sat down next to her.

"Hey," said Hermione, kissing her on the cheek. "You look cute when you're so focused on your work."

"And you look cute period," said Bellatrix without looking up from her work.

"Nice one."

"I noticed something about you," said Bellatrix, putting down her notebook for a moment.

"Oh?"

"You're calmer than you've been for months," said Bellatrix.

Hermione nodded. "This is… quite restful," she said. "There's nobody to bother you, no letters, no research, no bollocks. Just you and the ship. And when I do go looking for work, I usually don't find it."

"See? Glad you came, right?" winked Bellatrix.

"I'm sure Keeva would have something to say about it," said Hermione. "I half expected to be overwhelmed with anxiety the moment I stopped working but… I didn't. Makes me wonder what I was afraid of. Maybe I really am doing better."

Bellatrix reached over and squeezed her hand. Nothing more needed to be said as they sat cuddled in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's closeness. Until Hermione broke the silence with a question. "What are you writing? Working on your chronicle?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Not today. Not yet anyway. I set some time apart to work on my anthology story."

Hermione shook her head. "They story of the unnamed death eater hiding out in that haunted house with the rules?" she said. "Still not sure how I feel about a story with a death eater protagonist."

"You don't like a sympathetic villain?" asked Bellatrix. "Maybe this chapter will change your mind."

Hermione leaned into Bellatrix, cuddling up against her even closer while Bellatrix read to her.

"It is a particularly cold December morning when I am awoken from my slumber by angry shouting in the foyer below. It was a harsh, scatching call, disturbing the peace of the Manor. By now the fire has gone out and suppress a shiver. Downstairs the angry shouts continue unabated. Whoever this is, isn't going away and I need to go outside to claim more firewood from the shed if I want to keep warm. Cautious as I tend to be inside the manor I checked the window to see if the morning had indeed broken. Finding that it had, I slowly open the door and crept onto the mezzanine to investigate.

In the foyer below me, I am surprised to find a large angry young man stood in the middle of the foyer. He bore a scowl etched on his face as if it should be permanently there, his head shaven and his belly a bit too well-rounded for a man his age. He wore attire as colourful as his language, thin muggle artificial fabric trousers and matching jacket. Despite his anger there is a sense of desperation about it, a feeling I know quite well.

"FUCK, MATE!" he shouts harshly and throws something large onto the ground which landed with a clang. "HERE'S YOUR FUCKING CANDLESTICKS, NOW GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BROTHER!"

Interesting.

From the look of him and descriptions from Carol down at the pub, this man is undoubtedly a 'chav'. From the way I understand it, these are folks from the big city nearby and come down to the village once in a while. Carol hasn't a good word to spare for them. They were drunkards, thieves and violent scoundrels who often left destruction in their wake.

Well, I must have made some sort of noise, because the man spins around and starts shouting in my direction. "COME OUT, MATE! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE, THOUGH. COME OUT OR I'LL BOFF YOU RIGHT IN THE GAFFER, MATE!"

I certainly do not fear 'chavs' and I certainly do not show any fear when I calmly walk down the stairs. I can tell the man is nervous, breathing heavily, eyes darting from me to the many doors to rooms along the mezzanine.

"WHERE'S MY LITTLE BROTHER?! WHERE'S CALLUM?! HE'S ONLY SEVEN YEARS OLD, MATE!" he roars. There is anger on his voice, certainly, but more fear had crept into his demand. It only now that I see what it was the man had thrown onto the ground. Two ornate silver candlesticks which had gone missing earlier this week.

"You and I are the only ones here," I say resolutely. Far above me, I hear heavy footsteps from the attic. All the noise had attracted the attention of the creature in the attic. Above out, the heavy footsteps resound through the hall, sending flakes of dust down with every thud until the footsteps stop right above our heads. Silence returns to the hall. Deafening silence.

The man looks up with with angry, questioning eyes. But from the way the footsteps moved and how heavy they are, it impressed even upon even him that it is wise to keep his voice down. He clearly doesn't even want to know what that thing upstairs is, but it did enough to calm him down.

"I stole from the house, mate," the man confesses sadly as he sits himself down on the ratty old divan near the old cloakroom. "What it is, right, me mate Chopper and I were getting some petrol down the road last week and I spot this old house from the station, right? So I think to meself, maybe there's something good hiding in here, right? So I climb the fence, kick in the door and right in front of me were those two silver candlesticks."

"That was you last week?!" I tell him with an accusing glare. "Bloody well nearly took the door off its hinges. I almost didn't make it in time before dark to repair it! I don't want things from the yard coming in, nor the things in the hall getting OUT!"

The chav grits his teeth. "I know I cocked up, right?! I know! So… so I takes those candlesticks back to me mate Chopper, we have a bit of a laugh and we go right back home, right? Decided to try to flog them next day, but…" he blurts. "It's this house, mate, this house! I dream about this house and it's not a nice dream, you know what I mean, right? You know mean? You live here, of course you do!"

The man twiddles his thumbs nervously, obviously frightened.

"Got bad after that first bloody night. Really bad. Like, waking up thinking you've offed your entire bloody family with a machete bad, right?" he speaks in a hushed tone, eyes darting to the high ceiling of the foyer.

Above us, the heavy footsteps circle around on the attic. They are restless up there.

"But then Callum, my little brother, he… he started talking about the house. And drawing it. I mean, it was like a little kids drawing, but it looked like the house even though he'd even be there, mate! You know what I mean?" he bit his lip, seemingly close to tears. "And then I start dreaming Callum walks into this house, mate! And it be like… it eats him, you know? So the other day, Callum's just bloody gone! Mum's going mental and all that, but I knows, I just knows he's somewhere in this bloody house!"

I sympathize with his plight, really, but the man is suffering the consequences of his actions. I tell him the truth. That I had not seen or heard any child arrive to stay at Woodchester Manor. He doesn't believe me, of course. Roars in anger, claiming that he had brought back what he had stolen and that he wanted his little brother back.

Well.

Things just don't work like that in Woodchester Manor.

And just as I try to explain that to him, the door opens on its own on the upper floor. A shiver goes down my spine as from the direction of the sound, I deduce correctly that it was the door to the upstairs bathroom.

Many times had that door opened for me, inviting me to step inside the darkness. Just as many times I have hurried along back to the library early for the day.

The chav, however, is not familiar with the rules of the house. "Callum?!" he shouts. "CALLUM, IS THAT YOU, MATE?!"

"Don't!" I hissed at him. "Do… NOT… go into that room."

He looks confused for a moment, but when the sound of a crying young lad starts coming from beyond the yawning portal, he seals his own fate.

"FUCK OFF!" he shouts and roughly shoves me to the floor. Had I a wand, I would have hexed him in his place. Alas, for the man, I do not. "CALLUM!" he shouts while running up the stairs. "CALLUM, I'M COMING, MATE!"

He rushes into the room, shouts for his brother once more. Before the room slowly closes with a creak and slams shut.

The entire house grows deathly silent. Not even the thing in the attic makes a sound above me. My own heart-beat becomes deafening. And I know the house has claimed its pound of flesh.

So, I walk over to the candlesticks and put them back where they belong. No doubt the police would come in a day or two, asking if I have seen this man. I will tell them, they will nod politely and will leave this place to go about their day.

As I will do now. I still need to claim my day's worth of firewood, after all. Just another day at Woodchester Manor."

Hermione shot her girl a grin. "So when does the sympathetic part of the sympathetic villain start?"

Bellatrix made a face. "They tried to warn that muggle not to go in the dangerous room, right? That's something. I mean, how often would a dark wizard try to actually a save a muggle from being too stupid for their own good. But maybe future chapters will convince you. I have more plans."

"They?" asked Hermione.

Bellatrix nodded. "I've decided to be deliberately vague about the character's gender and background. It's a bit of a ploy to put the reader in their position, to be put into the story a bit more. I think that would work well for a horror story, no?"

Hermione squeezed her hand. "You are getting better at writing," she smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Trix."

Bellatrix' pale cheeks turned a little ruddy at that and not from the cold. Her lovely girl could be arrogant and vain, sure, but a compliment about the right thing could still fluster her. It was adorable.

"On the subject of horror," said Hermione. "I came across an interesting read in the ship's library this morning. Tell me, have you ever heard of the HMS Erebus and the HMS Terror?"

"Terror?" snorted Bellatrix. "What kind of name is that for a ship? And, no, I've never heard of it."

Hermione leaned back, it being her turn to tell a horror story now. "They were the two ships of the Franklin Expedition, launched in 1845 to find the coveted North-west Passage," she said.

"North-west Passage..." asked Bellatrix, letting the term roll off her tongue. "I remember you mentioning that when we were in the captain's quarters."

Hermione nodded. "It was, then, a theoretical sea travel route between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans by going through the Arctic Ocean and the Canadian Archipelago. This was meant to be a trade route to Asia which was faster than overland and shorter and safer than the arduous route around Tierra del Fuego in the south. The Panama canal didn't exist yet at the time, of course. Unfortunately, most of the Arctic Ocean was treacherous and unnavigable due to Arctic ice. The Franklin Expedition set out to find such a passage."

"Seeing you mentioned this being a horror story," said Bellatrix with a raised eyebrow. "I take it things didn't end well."

"That's putting it mildly," said Hermione. "It was an unlucky combination of things happening at the same time which caused the loss of 129 souls. The ships themselves were converted bomb-ships, not really suitable to Arctic travels. The hulls were relatively weak and the converted train engines were not enough to turn the ships into effective icebreakers. To make matters worse, the expedition was unlucky enough to have set out in the years with the harshest conditions in recorded history at the time. Both ships got caught in the ice at King William Island. They had expected something like this happening and decided to overwinter there and wait for the ice to melt the next summer. Except… it didn't. They were stuck in the ice there for two winters and were looking towards being icebound for a third."

"Merlin," Bellatrix muttered.

"It gets worse," said Hermione. "Supplies were starting to run out, but that wasn't the biggest issue. The expedition set out with food in tins, which was a new invention at the time. Except the company making those tins cut some corners and sealed them with sloppily done lead soldering which contaminated the food. Lead poisoning is really bad, Trix. It poisons your mind as much as your body. And after only eating contaminated for nearly three years, well… In the end, nobody knows exactly that happened. The crews abandoned the ships around 1847 to make a desperate trek over the ice to reach open waters. The survivors literally dragged a sloop over the ice in their weakened state. But, they didn't make it. None of the expedition died a quick death. Hypothermia, starvation, scurvy lead poisoning. There are even signs of desperate men turning to cannibalism in the final days. I have to say that harrowing tale has been on my mind all day."

It was only now that Hermione noticed that Bellatrix was vigorously scribbling in her notebook.

"What are you writing?" she asked.

"This is wicked!" Bellatrix raved. "I'm writing this all down and I'm going to base a horror story around it. Might even use it for my book about our own journey!"

Hermione snorted. "I tell you a story about hardship and human misery and your first reaction is 'wow, cool!'."

"Correct," smirked Bellatrix. "And if you're worried about it, don't. This ship is built for Arctic waters and, well, its crew are wizards who can toss fireballs to free the ship from the ice. Oh, and don't forget the eolic sanctum stone below deck. Don't worry, Hermie, we won't get stuck in the ice and I likely won't have to gnaw your bones to survive."

"Likely, hm?" Hermione chuckled. "Well," she said, rubbing her hand over Bellatrix' belly. "If you want to gnaw on something… we could… get back to our cabin."

Bellatrix giggled, especially when Hermione pushed some curly hair away so she could start nibbling on her earlobe. They were sheltered enough here not to be noticed, which gave Hermione some more courage with her amorous intentions.

"You've certainly been giving me a lot more attention since you can't run off to do work," grinned Bellatrix, swooning a little when Hermione twirled circles around her earlobe with her tongue. "I need to get you on a sea voyage more often."

Hermione herself was experiencing a lot of downtime these days, yes. She was calmer. More restful. But Hermione simply wasn't someone who could do nothing. So when her tasks were done, she would spend her time with two things, aside from the occasional chat with a crewmember: Reading and sex. Books were in abundance, sex somewhat less so because Bellatrix wasn't always available. So whenever Trix was, Hermione would have to pounce.

By now Hermione's hand was sliding over Bellatrix' thigh, the girl's breath catching in her throat.

"I, uhm, have to interview the captain," came a half-convincing reply.

"He can wait…" Hermione starting kissing her neck.

"It's almost time for…"

"It can wait…" Hermione husked as her hand slid over Bellatrix' belly and ended to rest on the thin layer fabric keeping her from two lovely breasts.

"But…"

"It… can… wait…" Hermione said while finally finding an opening for her hand to slip inside her dress, the warm and soft skin of Bellatrix' breast welcoming her.

Hermione was startled by the loud sound of the ship's bell to such a degree that she hastily withdrew her hand in a way that would almost give her a sprain. Bellatrix grinned and jumped up, giving her an excited yelp. "Come on, Hermie! Time for scran!"

Hermione blinked. "You are ditching me for food?"

"It's food!" said Bellatrix. "And you're coming with me. Come on, you know as well as I do that having a shag on an empty stomach is a recipe for disaster."

Hermione threw herself back on the small sofa and let out a disappointed groan.

As many times before this week, Hermione found herself sat at one of the tables during dinner time at high noon. Most of the crew were gathered here dinner and while most of the crew had been served by now, the industrious Haema was busy preparing deserts. The food was a lot better than Hermione expected. On her plate lay a rack of lamb dipped in gravy, with chick-pees and a side-order of hardtack. The meat was surprisingly succulent.

She was sharing a table with Bellatrix, Nymphadora and Copperhead. The metal-skulled sailor had a wasp on his shoulder; Seagull perched there expertly, rather than being sat on his head which was the preferred perch of a wasp. Though Hermione supposed that Seagull simply had had enough of sliding off Copperhead's smooth cranium. The man was close to the wasp, letting out a belly laugh after Seagull caught a bit of lamb he had flicked into the air.

Hermione had seen Copperhead and Seagull together plenty of times before and it seemed as if the two had bonded. A quick glance to her side and she saw Zipper parked on top of Bellatrix' head. Zipper noticed this and quickly teleported on top of Hermione's head. So yes, Hermione knew a thing or two about bonding with a wasp. Zipper had been both their loyal friend and inseparable companion for close to five years, after all. Thus it also was for Copperhead and Seagull.

"But I need it!" Bellatrix pleaded, continuing to argue the same case she had with Nymphadora for the past five minutes.

"You used three! Three bottles of ink! In twenty-four hours."

"I'm a chronicler!" Bellatrix protested.

"I simply cannot allot you more!" said Nymphadora.

"But I'm a chronicler!" Bellatrix stressed again.

"Look!" Nymphadora tried. "You don't seem to understand that we're on a bloody boat in the middle of the bloody ocean! I can't just head down the bloody shop to get you more ink. If we run out, we're run out! And then you won't be doing any chronicling at all!"

Bellatrix sighed heavily, opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't find any holes in her niece's logic. Instead, she merely cast her eyes downward.

Nymphadora sighed. "Alright. I have some extra pencils and I'll let you have those. But I'm not giving you more than two a day. Try to ration a little better in the coming days. When we dock at Halifax and restock our supplies, I'll make sure to pick up a few extra cases."

Relief washed over Bellatrix' face. "Ah, you're dead sound, Nymph."

"That is not an invitation for you to waste more ink or pencils! If anything, you're going to have ration even more because there will be no restocking for months!" Nymphadora pressed, causing Bellatrix to pout.

Hermione smiled and reached her hand under the table. She found Bellatrix' knee and squeezed gently. Ever since coming on board, Bellatrix had swapped out dresses for more practical trousers or leggings and she hoped her girl would keep it up after the expedition. "Come now, Trix," said Hermione. "I'll pick you up a few boxes of Biro's too. That should help."

Bellatrix gave her a pouty look. "I… prefer quill and ink, but I suppose if there's nothing else…"

"Hah!" laughed Copperhead while Seagull adjusted to stay perched. "I suppose writers have their own bollocks to worry about. Don't worry, Bella. I always worry about running out of rope."

By now, Bellatrix was starting to give Hermione a blushy and loving look and Hermione realized her was still rubbing her girl's knee in a place that was a tad more… public than she would like. Rather that withdrawing immediately, she squeezed and patted it one more time. Thankfully, a saviour came in the form of Haema who was carrying a heavy looking dish to an empty table. This empty table had no seats as their occupants wouldn't need one. The dish was, in fact, a large metal shallow trough filled with a kingly feast of cut salmon and honey-glazed apples dipped in viscous sugary-water.

"Ah, go then, eat your bellies round!" encouraged Copperhead. Seagull and Zipper shared a look and took off, soon joined by the three other wasps at the table where the five of them dipped their heads into the trough to gorge themselves at their heart's content. Haema seemed quite satisfied to see the wasps happily eating. "Look at the little happy buzzers," added Copperhead.

"Oh, Haema?" asked Hermione. "Could I get another serving of hardtack, please?"

"Coming right up, miss Hermione!" Haema said before running to the kitchen.

Copperhead snorted. "I've seen grown bloody men brought to tears at having to eat one serving hardtack and you ask for more? How can you even stomach that bloody rot?"

"I like all sorts of bread!" Hermione replied, feeling a bit defensive. "Hard and soft bread."

"Strong teeth," winked Nymphadora. "Parents are dentists."

Hermione rather pouty put her last bit of hardtack in her mouth and consumed with a rather audible crunch. "It's delicious," Hermione maintained, crunching on the hardtack again for good measure. "And what about you, Nymphadora?" she added after swallowing. "I haven't seen much of you as of late."

"My work's mostly below decks, innit?" Nymphadora chuckled. "And so is my cozy hammock. Always things to be done on the lower decks, even though nobody ever goes there."

Hermione was about to reply when Bellatrix pressed her lips on her cheek. Turning around, she saw Bellatrix stood next to her, smiling. "Almost late for my interview with Captain Kirk. Talk later!"

Hermione blinked and by the time she realized what was happening, Bellatrix was already rushing out of the messhall. She left behind a befuddled and disappointed Hermione, looking after her with a pouty expression.

"HA!" Nymphadora laughed. "Hermione got cunt-blocked, yeah?"

"Not funny," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Yes it is," added Copperhead with a guffaw. Apparently the crew was now catching on that she and Bellatrix were often… amorous.

"See?" Nymphadora winked. "Copperhead gets me."

The sailor let out a deep guffaw from the depths of his lungs, slamming his mug on the table. "Only lady in my life is over there snacking on an apple. Lot less complex!"

Hermione supposed she would spend the next hour or so in the ship's library.

Though Bellatrix felt a little guilty about leaving Hermione hanging, she was still the expedition chronicler and she still had a book to write. The past few days she had been quite busy interviewing the crew. Mostly these were on introductory topics such as their past, their hopes, their dreams, their reason for joining the expedition. Though their pasts and hopes were very diverse, their reason for joining the expedition was one and the same: they were already signed on and did the job the captain had for them, simple as that. Though some said this particular job was certainly more exciting than the last one. All of them spoke very highly of captain Kirk.

That said, captain Kirk had been very elusive so far. That is until she had managed to corner him at dinner last night and twisted his arm to meet in his quarters for an interview.

After knocking on the door and being let in, she found herself sat at the opposite end of the captain's desk. If Bellatrix were to hazard a guess, Captain Kirk was younger than Hermione's father, but decidedly non-descript. If Bellatrix hadn't known he was the captain, he could have blended in as a regular sailor. His long brown hair hung loose over his turtle-neck jumper and, for once, he was not smoking his pipe.

"You're a hard man to pin down for an interview," Bellatrix said.

"Hm-hmm."

There was an awkward silence in the air, the creaking of the wooden ship sounding slightly louder at the moment. He didn't want to be here, that was for certain.

"Right, uhm," said Bellatrix as she opened her notebook. "Shall we start?"

The captain said nothing.

"Let's, uhm, begin with a bit of your personal history, perhaps?"

"What's to tell?" said Captain Kirk. "I was born on a ship. I grew up on a ship. Now I own and captain a ship."

"That's, well, succinct," Bellatrix pursed her lips.

The captain smirked ever so briefly. "Sorry I couldn't make it any more salacious for your pulp-novel readers."

Okay. That was a tad on the insulting side. But Bellatrix was not one to back down, and if the captain thought otherwise he hadn't seen her tenacious side yet.

"The crew speaks very highly of you," said Bellatrix. "Every single one of them."

The captain leaned forward and, for a moment, she felt those grey eyes bore deep into her soul. "Tell me, miss Black, do you know what loyalty is?" he asked.

Bellatrix pursed her lips again. "It happens to be the quality in a person I most value."

"That does not answer my question, miss Black."

The young witch put down her quill for a bit and stopped to think while the captain looked at her intently. Obviously he wasn't asking for a dictionary definition. The man wanted to know what she understood loyalty to be. "Loyalty…" started Bellatrix. "Is devotion to an ideal or a person. A devotion that endures even when times are difficult and even if it seems if the whole world is against you. To family, loved ones or ideals."

The captain nodded, showing a brief hint of a smile. "Loyalty is a two-way street. My crew is loyal to me because they know I stand for them and make decisions, sometimes hard ones, to keep them safe. I am loyal to my crew because I know they will stand with me through thick and thin as they have before."

Her eyes drifted to the map of the Arctic, an old-time maritime map framed on the wall. The many islands of the Arctic on full display. They looked so small on paper. "The North-west passage," he said. "Your paramour knows her maritime history. But she doesn't know what it truly entails. Reading a book about it is one thing, but experiencing it is another. You kids have no idea what lies ahead of you. Your heart is full of dreams of grand adventures and glory. But let me tell you, you have never felt cold such as the biting Arctic winds, cold that reaches your very marrow! There is no force on this planet as unforgiving and treacherous as a shifting ice floe! Looking long enough into the frozen wasteland or endless snowstorms have driven men of sound mind to the brink of madness."

Okay, this was definitely head towards a level of personal insult and Bellatrix would not let this stand. "Captain Kirk," she said. "I may be young, but that doesn't mean I haven't faced terrible dangers. I dove into the unknown, explored a land existing outside of space and time. I have looked into the eyes of a flesh-eating monster unicorn, I have survived a land where the very mist itself strove to drive me insane. I have literally travelled thirty-three years into the future. Do not insult me by belittling my accomplishments."

"Oh, I've read your book," said the captain. "But do not deny that, when it comes to exploration and dealing with danger, you and miss Granger had a hell of a lot of beginner's luck on your side."

Bellatrix bit her lip, to the point of bristling. Her knuckles had turned whiter than whiter and the quill in her hand nearly snapped from the pressure.

"Take another good look at that map," said the captain. "Good men, muggles and wizards, have died on these frigid waters to fill in the gaps of that map. They still do every single year. The Arctic is inhospitable and dangerous, miss Black, and no place to be for tourists looking to be adventurers! And the sooner you realize that the better! The first leg of the journey is mundane, but it will only get harder from here on."

Enough!

Trembling with rage, Bellatrix leaned forward and met the captain's gaze with narrowed eyes. With anger dripping like venom from her lips, the young witch grit her teeth as she spoke. "What exactly is your issue with me, captain?"

Captain Kirk was stoic in his reply. "My job to keep everyone safe and alive. If that means calling off the expedition and turning the ship back to port, then I will do just that."

Bellatrix blinked. "But… you can't just do that!"

"I can and I will," said Kirk. "Miss Snowbell might be a celebrated expedition leader, but she has no experience when it comes to exploring or sailing Arctic waters. I do, on the other hand. And if we get into a situation where I deem it too dangerous to proceed, I will made the call to turn back. Miss Black, consider this: we are headed far North. In February. When I suggested postponing the trip to the summer months when travel through those waters would be much more safe and predictable, Eleanor balked and said it was vital we leave as soon as we could. So yes, I am very much wary and concerned for the months ahead, miss Black. All the people on board this ship have loved ones and families. And even if they don't, they still have their lives. And that includes you and miss Granger."

It was at this point that Bellatrix started to understand: the captain's seeming disdain for her youthful enthusiasm was because of concern. In a way, the captain started to remind her of her own father in many ways. The curly-haired witch was starting to calm down a little and couldn't help but ask the next question. "Have you lost crewmembers before?"

Straight to the heart of the matter.

The captain said nothing for a moment, simply tenting his hands before reaching for his pipe and lighting it. "Any decision could end up costing lives and it is a heavy burden to bear. Look, miss Black, if it seems I am belittling you, I assure you this is not the case. I simply want you to realize the dangers ahead and give these waters the respect they deserve. It has nothing to do with you being young. We all have to start somewhere."

So far this conversation was certainly interesting and she was getting a lot of good stuff for her book. The fearless captain, wise beyond his years and his shoulders weighed down with the heavy burdens of command. Though she supposed there was a lot of sense to what he was saying.

"Do you know it is because of you that I have four very loyal and beloved crewmembers?" the captain said.

"I beg your pardon?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"The speech you gave in Antwerp three years ago," said Kirk. "It was on the wireless. You were passionate and devoted when you spoke of the wasps and their rights. And only nineteen years old at the time. You were inspiring. And it got me thinking at the time if wasps would make good sailors. Turns out they are."

That took Bellatrix more than a little off guard.

"I won't say I was the first, but certainly one of the first to employ wasps on their ship," said Kirk. "Turns out the decks are thin enough for the wasps to teleport through, they require very little space, get around the ship really fast and can be taught to lay very complex knots. They work well in groups too. I started with just one, but in the end four wasps were assigned to the Kingfisher from the agency. Those same four have been with us for three years and hopefully many years to come. They're valued crewmembers and with the added bonus of being there to take care of their non-wasp crewmembers. Copperhead was a lonely and depressed man until Seagull sought out friendship with him."

"I think I understand what you are trying to say," said Bellatrix. "Your crew is a family. That includes everyone. Even the guests. Like me, Hermione and the others."

Kirk nodded. "And I will do my best to see us home. Even if that means ending the expedition prematurely."

Bellatrix straightened her back. "Rest assured that I do take both this expedition and this voyage very seriously. Don't mistake my enthusiasm for callousness. I am Slytherin born and bred and we know a thing or two about calculated caution. It's just… when thinking what lies ahead, the mere idea finding the lost city which is our origin and exploring its secrets. The thought alone is staggering enough, but I promise you I won't be so focused on what lies ahead that I will stop looking over my shoulder."

"Good," said Kirk. "I'll hold you to that. The world needs more people like you, miss Black."

The feeling of her cheeks reddening reminded Bellatrix she was usually not very good at accepting compliments, especially heartfelt ones. She cast her eyes down and quickly started scribbling notes in her book to record the details of the conversation.

"I'll tell you one thing about the ship's wasps," said Kirk, a glint in his eyes. "They're deceptively clever and they learn very quickly. Wasps usually get paid in food or resources for their hives, but we've been trying to teach them to use individual wages to buy things they like. It took a few tries, but they got the hang of it and can now purchase candies with coins and paper money."

"Really?" smiled Bellatrix. "I hope they take this knowledge back to their hives. It'll help to stop some of the exploitation going around."

"Infinite Corridor had a bit of an issue," said Kirk. "He kept trying to pay for his candies by gathering bundles of sticks. Took us a while to figure out that he considered building materials to be much more valuable than a disk of nickel or a single piece of paper. But, here's the thing, the other three started to correct him and he learned from them what the concept of money is. Give it a few decades, miss Black, and I'm sure the wasps will be running this planet."

"In that case, I hope they won't forget who their friends are," smiled Bellatrix, only half joking. "It was good speaking with you, captain."

"Anytime," he said.

Scant a few moments later, Bellatrix found herself in her cabin, her interview now concluded. She'd spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through her many notes and turning it all into a cohesive draft. Truth be told, Bellatrix could work anywhere; on deck, in the office on the crew deck, right here in her cabin, the library, down in the hold… whatever place she fancied.

After tossing her notebook on the small desk, her thoughts and her gaze were drawn to the small drawer underneath the bed. Carefully, she opened in and pulled out a small vial of viscous red liquid, about the size of her thumb. It was a potion witch-couples had used since time immemorial to conceive and the only added ingredient would be making love.

Bellatrix glanced to the bed with a grin: plenty of that happening this expedition, in no small thanks to the cozy warm bed. All she had to do was to swallow the contents of that vial and everything would sort itself out. Truth be told, Bellatrix worried greatly about Hermione. Though she was definitely calmer now, she had calmer periods before and had always relapsed. Things were definitely going into the wrong direction again the months before the trip. Bellatrix loved her Hermione dearly, but wasn't going to ignore the myriad of problems her beloved girlfriend was having. She wanted to help her, she wanted to be there for her, but nothing she did seemed to work in the long run.

Hermione would have long periods of calm and peace, only to randomly relapse into months of high-strung anxiety, worrying about the smallest of things, waking up screaming in the middle of the night from the nightmares and deep in thought pondering the strangest of existential questions. Hermione would then try to overwork herself to try to deal with it all without realizing it only made things worse.

Bellatrix had found the answer to all of that. The Black family always had children young. Both Andie and Cissy had Nymphadora and Draco within the first year of their marriage. It cured Andie's depression and Cissy's anxieties. Not to mention her own mother. Maman had always told her that her birth had saved her life and sanity. Drinking this potion and the following pregnancy would be the way to fix Hermione permanently. Bellatrix just knew it.

Family was important. It was more important that anything.

So why hadn't she taken it yet? Well, Hermione had always been very reluctant whenever Bellatrix had brought up the subject of having children. Making a unilateral decision like this would be a big breach of trust, since, well, Bellatrix wouldn't exactly be able to explain away a pregnancy between a witch-couple as an 'oopsie'. Then there was the practical reason: they were only a week into a months-long expedition. A pregnancy would certainly complicate things in the later months and it wouldn't do to go into labour on the floor of an ancient long-lost wizarding city.

So, she placed the vial back in the drawer for now. No reason to hurry just yet.

Years from now, Bellatrix imagined she would tell their daughter that she was conceived during a grand adventure that changed the course of wizarding history. That would have to do for now.

Just as Bellatrix closed the drawer, the door to their cabin swung open. Hermione stood in the doorway, leading against the frame with a sultry smile on her face. "My," she spoke softly. "To find you here. And already on the bed. Convenient."

Bellatrix chuckled, raising her legs as she prostrated herself on the bed. "My, my," Bellatrix chuckled. "Lewd embraces? In the middle of the day? That's one way to set tongues wagging."

There was some bait for a double-entendre there, one which Hermione unfortunately did not take. Instead, she closed the door and crawled onto the bed, pinning her down and pressing her lips on hers. Hermione was in a decidedly amorous mood and likely had been ever since laying a hand on her knee under table at dinner. Brown hair fell down over her shoulder, brushing her cheeks as they kissed. Bellatrix snaked her hands over her girl's back and pulled her closer to her.

More hungry kisses followed while clothes were swiftly shed. Bellatrix lay on her back rather contently, feeling soft hair on her belly next to an even softer cheek. She reached down to fondle that lovely brown hair just as soft warm lips probed over her abs and navel. She almost groaned in disappointment when Hermione withdrew, but quickly giggled in delight when Hermione rather playfully flipped her over to lay on her stomach and followed it up with a smack to the bum.

Bellatrix bit her lip in anticipation when Hermione slipped to the bed and she heard the sound of bare feet on wood as her girlfriend slipped off the bed. She heard the creaky hinges of the trunk, the rummaging through its contents and, finally, the fastening of leather straps. Her breath quickened as warmth spread in her abdomen. Hermione was back on the bed and gently raised her hips.

Bellatrix felt it enter her. Gently at first. A groan escaped her lips when Hermione slowly pushed deeper inside of her. Soft, slow and gentle. At first at least. While soft hands kneaded her back. Those some soft hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders, forcing her on all fours. Nails dug sharply into her skin, causing Bellatrix to grimace just as Hermione increased the rhythm. Steadily, but surely, Hermione went from gentle and slow, to rougher and rougher as she felt it go deeper and deeper with every stroke.

To think Hermione was once such a wallflower, so afraid and timid of the smallest intimate touch. These days, she tended to dominate Bellatrix in bed more often than not. Her girl roughly pushed her head into the pillow and held her down while pleasuring her with the toy. Not to mention herself: the magical enchantment on the toy was sending waves and waves of joy directly into the pleasure center of Hermione's brain. Bellatrix could hear Hermione's exertions with every thrust, felt beads of sweat drop on her back and could imagine the expression of pure lust on her girl's face.

She came hard and loud, thankful for the charms on the room which guarded their privacy.

They lay on the bed, panting and drenched in sweat, kissing gently with their toy now discarded at the foot end.

"And to think," Bellatrix chuckled. "You balked when I suggested using a strapon."

"I needed to grow into it," Hermione smiled. A smile became a giggle. They were still giggling while kissing. "Speaking of which, I should probably put it away before a certain wasp decides it's a plaything and starts buzzing around the ship with it."

"As happened back home. When he dropped it on the table. During dinner. With both our families present," Bellatrix laughed.

"Don't remind me," Hermione groaned. "I thought my head was going to explode."

"My parents laughed the hardest," said Bellatrix. Then her eyes were drawn to Hermione's necklace, the glowing gem contrasting against her sweaty skin. She reached over and lay it in the palm of her hand. Hermione raised her hand, it hovering over hers and, for a moment, Bellatrix wondered if she would pull the necklace away from her. "You never take it off anymore."

Hermione gave her a half-smile, her hovering hand moving to her own silver necklace. "Neither you yours," said Hermione.

"Heirloom," shrugged Bellatrix. "It's like it's a part of me."

"Same with mine," said Hermione.

Bellatrix decided not to argue. Instead, she dropped the necklace and lay her hand on Hermione's stomach instead. "We have some time still. It's still an hour until you have your date with the weather-station, no?" said Bellatrix, adopting a sultry tone. "I think I can keep you occupied until then."

"Oh?" Hermione said, her breath catching in her throat when her hand slid ever down over moist skin. And when she plunged her fingers into Hermione's intimate depths, her thoughts briefly went towards the vial in the drawer underneath them.

Plenty of time still.