Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea
Chapter 14: A girl almost dies.
"An Arctic storm at sea is one of the deadliest affairs imaginable. Imagine the blasting winds containing snow and ice, waves as high as the walls of Hogwarts which are littered with shards of razor-sharp drift ice, both big and small. Now add in total darkness from both the clouds above and the polar night, while crashes of waves over the ship will snap-freeze the very deck you stand on. Fortunately, the crew of the Kingfisher is an experienced bunch, and the only reason why the love of my life still draws breath."
- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006
Stood on deck in the morning, Hermione found the frozen wastelands of Baffin island in the distance to be hauntingly beautiful. Today, with the sky overcast and endless sheets of ice set against the mountains, she was glad to be wearing a parka as blasts of ice-cold Arctic winds swept the deck. A shiver went through her, especially when she lay her bare hand on the railing and quickly withdrew it with a hiss. Of course, she should have known better than to put a hand on a metal railing which had been out in the freezing night.
She decided she would go below deck to fetch her mitts, but sticking her hand into her parka's pocket would do for now. Behind her, two of the crew were already up and about to check the riggings and clear the deck, dressed in comfortable looking jackets.
"I'm glad you're here with me," said Bellatrix as she stood next to her. Like Hermione, Trix had donned her parka. Messy dark curls spilled out from under her floppy pointed woolly hat and matching earmuffs. Her girl lay her head on her shoulder after hooking her arm through hers. Warm breath condensed into puffs of wispy white mist the moment it hit the arctic air. They stood there in silence for a moment, with Hermione simply enjoying Trix' closeness.
Trix loved purely and strongly. She was affectionate and devoted, not to mention that her love bordered on the obsessive at times. But Hermione's life was undeniably enriched by her presence in her life and her love.
Hermione took another look at Baffin island, one of the larger islands of the Canadian Arctic, if not the largest. It's high rocky brown mountainous peaks, though covered with a lot of snow, was an offset to the white wastelands surrounding it. This time of year, this Kingfisher would traverse along the large and long island through the open channels of the ice; a longer and somewhat arduous trip. Looking down at the waters, she saw more icefloes than sea and where there were no open channels, the Kingfisher would have to make them by ramming through the ice.
Fortunately, the wooden ship was well equipped to be an impressive icebreaker. Its copper plating near the front of the ship conducted magic from the sanctum stone to make the hull as hard as solid diamond, resonating with that same magic to shatter ice upon impact. The sails were full of wind, both natural and from the eolic magics from the same sanctum stone deep within the bowels of the ship, allowing the necessary element of speed and power to smash the ship through the ice.
Even so, Eliam was navigating the ship towards more open waters. The reason being a gathering storm in the distance. Clouds as black as night were on the horizon, illuminated by flashes which seemed longer and more intense than she had ever seen in her entire life. Apparently, they would hit the storm in an hour or two. Offset against the storm was the bright sky above and the sun was already high in the sky.
This far north, the sun was only down for a few hours a day and it was really starting to mess with Hermione's sense of time. Once past Baffin island, in a few weeks time, they would have to endure perpetual daylight. Hermione supposed it was a unique experience, but still…
"Come on," said Bellatrix with a giggle. "That storm looks amazing! We can get a better view from the forecastle. Better pictures too!"
"Only you would be giddy about a deadly Arctic storm," replied Hermione. She definitely was less enthusiastic about it.
Bellatrix pulled away from her, only grinning in response and grabbed her by the wrist. Yet before Hermione could take a single step, she felt herself being yanked back to the railing by her other wrist, to a point that Bellatrix almost toppled to fall on her arse. When a surprised Hermione looked back to the railing, she was horrified to discover that her silver hand was now frozen solid against the ice-cold metal railing.
"You've got to be taking the piss…" Hermione muttered.
And so she stood there in utter embarrassment as Bellatrix' yell had already attracted the attention of the deck crew, and people were now starting to mull around her.
"How could you not notice this happening?" asked Daelia as she had started an intense study of her stuck prosthetic.
Hermione, already annoyed that Bellatrix and Daelia were trying, and failing, their best to not laugh, simply sighed and replied with a terse. "It's a fake hand. It doesn't have any feeling to it."
By then, Riggere had run up from the galley with a kettle of boiling water. He simply stood there for a moment, kettle in hand, before turning to look Hermione in the eye. "Ye are certain this won't hurt you, messere Hermione?"
"It's a fake hand," Hermione repeated, even more terse and huffy this time. "It doesn't have any feeling to it. Now pour the water and free me!"
At that point. Bellatrix could no longer hold it in and burst out laughing, just as the hot water hit her silver hand with a resounding sizzle.
"It's not funny! NOT FUNNY!" Hermione yelled.
"Oh, yes it is," Bellatrix said in between giggles.
Nymphadora had just gotten on deck and almost wished she hadn't. Below decks was nice and warm, and her parka was doing less to keep out the cold than she would have liked. Still, it was nice to come up for air once in a while. As much as she hated the cold and freezing her non-existent bollocks off, even she had to admit that this Arctic white wasteland had a haunting beauty to it. She leaned on the railing for a moment to relax.
Nymphadora put a cigarette, a normal one without any payload, to her lips and lit it. The warm nicotine filled smoke wormed its way into her lungs where it nestled quite nicely. She apparently had missed a bit of commotion, and her family members were now at the bow quietly arguing about the storm ahead. It made Nymphadora smile a little.
Shame Rilly wasn't here to share this moment with her. Though she'd probably balk at seeing her smoke. Rilly was trying to get her to quit regular ciggies and limit her smoking to spliffs. Good influence on bad rubbish, that woman.
Some buzzing sounded and something landed on her head, almost knocking her ushanka off. She quickly adjusted it before it could fall into the water. The wasp whom had landed on her took flight again, hovering in front of her. Zipper looked at her quizzically. Wasps didn't deal with cold weather any better than humans did, so Zipper had been dressed up in a parka specifically tailored for the ship's wasps. The parka encompassed the entirety of the wasp's thorax, zipping tight around it while leaving openings for the wings and all six legs. A flap was attached which covered only the top of the abdomen, keeping it in place with two straps. On Zipper's head was a hood, protecting the head while leaving the eyes uncovered and having holes for the antennae to poke from. Because the wasps needed help getting dressed, they usually kept it on all day… though comically enough they could undress themselves just fine by simply landing somewhere and teleporting right out of the parka.
"I don't have any food on me, but you can have a ciggie if you want," said Nymphadora.
The wasp hovered in front of her and made a full turn left around his axis in response. A pretty hard pass.
"You loss," shrugged Nymphadora. She noted though, that the wasp didn't land on the railing, proving that Zipper was wiser than Hermione. Though Nymphadora supposed that having your actual chitinous legs freeze to something would be a lot more painful than it happening to a fake silver hand. Instead, the wasp simply elected to land on her head again.
After a few moments of quiet smoking, she heard footsteps on the deck. Looking to her side, she noticed that the captain had emerged from the wheelhouse. Almost instinctively, she offered the man a cigarette which he took. After lighting him up, the two of them stood next to each other at the railing.
"We don't see you on deck often, Nymphadora," said Captain Kirk.
"We're ready below decks securing everything that can be secured," said Nymphadora, drawing from her cigarette. "You won't find a book out of place in the library when the storm's over. Everything inside cabins or offices on the passenger deck is their own business, of course. I understand Chandra and Eleanor are quite frantically strapping machines and crates of artifacts to the hull still, but that's their business. And it's not as if they asked for any help."
"Good, good," said Kirk. "Impressive work."
Somehow, it felt good getting a compliment, even though she wasn't used to it. Nymphadora tried to act it off nonchalantly by flicking her cigarette butt into the sea below.
"I have been lax with praising your conduct during the raid," said Kirk.
Nymphadora snorted. "Fat lot of good it bloody did," she shrugged, lighting up another cigarette. After taking a draw, she took a moment to blow some nicotine into the arctic wind. "Didn't help Bella. Didn't help Seagull. And we were completely surrounded when we came on deck."
"You didn't know that at the time," said Kirk. "You went into the corridor, found a way to the crew deck without alerting the invaders, roused the crew and attempted to save the ship and your crewmates. That's bravery. That's going above and beyond."
Nymphadora snorted again. "I almost shat myself, yeah?"
Kirk snorted. "Understandable. But you still did all of that."
By this point, Nymphadora was starting to feel a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks warmed and she quickly fled into her next cigarette. She'd never been good at accepting compliments. And certainly not used to getting any.
"I'll be fair," said Kirk. "When Eleanor told me I had to find a job for you as one of the requirements of the Black expedition, I wasn't exactly thrilled. I was expecting to be served a snot-nosed over-privileged minted brat with a silver spoon so far in her mouth that it was being digested."
"Hah!" Nymphadora laughed and took another draw. "You got one of those, alright."
Kirk chuckled. "Maybe at first," he said. "But you really grew into your role and amazingly quickly. You're a smart young woman, Nymphadora. Well liked by everyone and you have an air of authority around you. Definitely a hard worker too."
"Oh, do one! I work hard so I don't have to do a bloody thing, yeah?" Nymphadora shrugged. "That is not the same."
"Add being efficient to the list, then," said Captain Kirk.
Nymphadora sighed. "Fuck me, any more compliments and I'll be able to melt all this pack ice by rubbing my cheek again it, cap'n."
That made the captain laugh. "I mean it. I get the feeling your mother doesn't have a high opinion of you."
Nymphadora shrugged. "My mum and I have a… complicated relationship. And I haven't exactly done anything to foster any high opinions from her, me."
"And yet you bloom the moment you move from underneath her wings," said Kirk, a smirk on his face. "That tells me something."
Nymphadora snorted again. "That you and I are only seven years apart and yet you own and captain a ship while I have achieved basically nothing other than smoking a whole lot of spliffs?"
Kirk gave her a look. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he said. "And your response tells me you realize perfectly well what's been going on with your life. That's more self-awareness than others in your position. You need to be your own woman. Stand on your own two feet and all that rot. Look, when this expedition is over, what do you think will happen?"
Nymphadora shrugged. "I go back home?"
"Exactly," said Kirk. "And you'll be right back where you started."
The wasp on her head was getting a bit restless and was shifting back and forth, almost knocking the ushanka off her head yet again. Nymphadora reached up to straightened it while giving Kirk's words some thought. "Yeah," she muttered. "Right back… where I started… In time for evening tea."
Rather unexpectedly, that felt rather depressing. Though she loved her big family home and being around her family, not to mention just how much she'd been missing her nan, she wasn't exactly making progress in her life there. Though her own lack of initiative or her mum's smothering… perhaps both… she'd been at a dead end somewhat. The simple truth was, she had never felt more alive and useful than ever before. Ever since she had come to this ship.
"Look around you," Kirk said. "At all the misfits here. We all have varied backgrounds and different reasons to be here. But we rely on each other. We are a family. And despite the occasional disciplinary issues, binge-drinking or having to repeatedly tell certain individuals not to sleep with passengers, we get along as a family. An often dysfunctional family, yes, but one which has already embraced you as one of their own. It'll be a terrible shame to lose you. For them and for yourself."
The captain leaned on the railing, looking Nymphadora in the eye. "Look," he said. "I can't offer you any of the dosh you would make at any Black company firm, but what I can offer you is a place on my ship and crew where you can make something of yourself free from your mother's influence. If you'd want to stay on, you are more than welcome. Honest pay for honest work."
It took a few moments for Nymphadora to process this. She looked him in the eye, the cigarette almost burning her lips. "Y-you mean it?" she finally stammered.
"Absolutely," said Kirk, clapping her on the shoulder. "Take some time to think it over, if you like. It's a big decision."
That left Nymphadora flabbergasted as Kirk took his leave to return to the wheelhouse. Over her shoulder, she noticed Daelia giving her a grin, having apparently overheard the conversation. Her heart skipped a few beats. This offer. It was huge. And flattering. She was not someone who often thought much of her own future, but this? This was different.
And it made her feel all the more like a fucking piece of shit for already having betrayed everyone's confidence by smuggling her girlfriend on board out of a shameless selfish desire. A girlfriend which now had to hide away in the bowels of the ship for most of the day. Though she loved Rilly with all her heart, a huge part of her wished she had never done it, the decision to do so having been made long before she had even set foot on the ship and met its crew. Long before she actually earned her place on board.
Come forward now? Keep lying? Even to her own family?
So again Nymphadora was faced with the consequences of her own goddamn bloody childish actions. To be given this opportunity and to have pissed it away already.
"Fuck my life," she muttered, flicking her last cigarette into the ocean just as the wasp took flight. Time to slink away back into the bowels of the ship, where she belonged.
Hermione had experienced what she thought was a proper storm off the coast of Labrador, but this? This could hardly compare. Though she had stayed in the wheelhouse in the hopes of shooting some photographs, the darkness and snow-blasting winds meant she could hardly see what was happening outside, let alone snap a photograph of it.
Worse yet, the waves were even higher and not being able to see them, meant she was usually not prepared when the Kingfisher rode up and down one. Hermione never did like roller-coasters, but whenever the ship dipped, she got that annoying feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sharing the wheelhouse, she was glad that Eliam was at the wheel, having witnessed his skill at navigating wild waters before. So even as the ship dipped sideways, downward and upward, Hermione felt confident she wouldn't end up at the bottom of the ocean.
The Kingfisher bore the storm gracefully, with battened down hatches. Nymphadora and the crew had secured everything which could be secured, while she and Bellatrix had prepared by putting everything that could fall to the ground in their secured trunk. The very furniture she sat on was bolted down against the deck, while Zipper, clad in his parka, seemed to brace himself on the sofa next to her with every movement. Copperhead and Eliam had better sea-legs. And, in a moment of utmost rarity, Daelia had come down from the crow's nest and was apparently at the forecastle with Captain Kirk. Kirk was often warning Eliam through a large trumpet-shaped copper pipe sticking out from the floor near the wheel when a particularly big wave was incoming. Hermione was reasonably certain the pipes in the wheelhouse and the forecastle weren't actually connected but carried voice through an enchantment.
Still, despite this confidence. Hermione often got a fright when a heavy bit of ice smashed on top of the deck as the payload of a nasty wave. In fact, she got just such a fright when the entire ship shook when something hit the side.
"Oh, that was a big one," said Eliam never taking his eyes off the window, though what he was actually looking at, Hermione had no idea. Hermione cringed when an impossibly bright flash and an ear-shattering bang followed instantly later. Another close strike. Thankfully, the ship's mast had excellent lightning rods. She didn't know what was worse.
"Just another ice floe crashing into the side of the ship, right?" Hermione asked warily.
"Exactly that," said Eliam. "Don't worry, the hull's made and enchanted to withstand much, much worse. The Kingfisher cuts through ice like a knife through butter."
"Crashing into ice is a lot different from ice crashing into us," Hermione muttered, just as her stomach almost leapt out of her mouth when the ship dipped again. The wind howled around the wheelhouse as the ship made more sideways movement.
"Believe it or not," said Eliam. "This storm is actually really good for us. The Foxe Basin is basically filled to the brim with fast ice connected to Baffin island and rife with pack ice. And because there's so little current, it usually freezes over in winter months. This storm will break up the outer rims fast ice nicely and disperses the pack ice. We'll probably pass through the Hecla Strait and hit the Gulf of Boothia in two days, I'd wager. Would have taken a week if we'd have to break through the ice."
"That's a good thing," said Hermione, checking her watch and letting out a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, it's time for me to go and check the weather station."
"Uhm, doing that right now doesn't sound like a good idea to me, Hermione," spoke Copperhead.
"Captain said no people allowed on deck during the storm," added Eliam.
Another dip. Another stomach-churning moment.
"I'm not going on deck, I'm going on top of the wheelhouse," Hermione dead-panned. "Besides, if I don't there will be a gap in the record and that would bother me until the end of my days."
Copperhead shrugged. "I wouldn't recommend it…"
"I'll be fine, I have the harness," said Hermione as she got up from the bench and almost fell to her face when the ship decided to dip once more. She steaded herself and grabbed both her parka and the yellow oil-skin to wrap around it. Though a little awkward, it would protect her from the wet and cold. After putting on the harness, Copperhead forced open the sliding door and Hermione almost regretted her decision when the cold blasted her in the face. The wind whipped snow and ocean brine against her with such speed that it felt as if she was being sandblasted. With Copperhead spotting her, she clipped the harness' line into the safety rail and braved the deck which had become so slippery that she almost fell then and there.
Thankfully, she managed to grab the ladder leading to the top of the wheelhouse. The wind howled around her and she felt her own center of gravity shift as the ship made a sideways dip. Through the wind she could see the massive waves all around her. Vision was a little better on top of the wheelhouse, but it would have been better not to see anything. God, she had never felt so tiny and vulnerable stood among these massive waves while the wind and ice-cold rain raged around her. It was a shame that she had left her camera inside the wheelhouse, even though there'd be a heavy risk of the precious thing being blown right out of her hands.
Hermione finally made it to the top of the wheelhouse and, while trying to steady herself, was swiftly thrown right into the wheelhouse top-wall at the front, where the weather station was located. Cursing under her breath, she steaded herself and tried to take note of the readings. Though the weather station was well protected and suited for cold and unfriendly weather, Hermione herself was less so equipped. With the darkness, howling winds and poor visibility… not to mention the violent sea noises… god, the noises… it was getting harder and harder to take the readings. Salt water stung her eyes, even. And it definitely didn't help that Hermione had to keep steading herself with every dip and turn the ship made.
Writing in gloves didn't make things easier either. With her mouth, she tugged on the fingers of the glove covering her silver hand. For once, having no feeling in her hand was a good thing, as exposing it to the elements did not cause pain or discomfort. Keeping her glove clamped in her mouth, she quickly noted down the readings and, with a sigh of relief, was finally ready to go back inside. Another wave hit the ship from the side, causing the ship to dip sideways sharply. Instinctively, Hermione reached out to the railing to hold on for dear life. A massive wave crashed over the deck and sprayed her with cold water. When she was ready to leave, she noticed that she could no longer move her silver hand.
Again, it had become frozen stuck.
Hermione let out a litany of curses that would have made her Scottish grandmother proud. Thankfully, she hadn't been frozen to the railing too long so she might be able to free herself if she was quick enough. With a grunt, she tried yanking herself free. Her first attempt failed miserably and she was rewarded for her efforts with the very ocean mockingly spraying her with more brine. Getting angry now, she yanked harder and harder as the ship dipped again. No luck.
Yelling out onto the heavens to tell Jupiter, Perkele, Thor, Susanoo and any other thunder gods where they could collectively stuff their mighty thunderbolts, Hermione finally yanked herself free. Unfortunately, she did this right as the ship was hit from the side with another violent wave. Her momentum, along with the sudden shift of the ship, caused her to lose her footing and, with a yelp, she was sent over the side of the wheelhouse.
Already, she was bracing herself for what would undoubtedly be a hard landing on the frozen deck.
But that didn't happen.
Instead her entire body felt as if she received a thousand pin-pricks all at once. A biting all-encompassing coldness of such a measure over came her that her entire body spasmed. The cold embraced her, engulfed her. Her clothes felt heavy, her limbs felt distant, as if not even attached to her body. She could no longer hear the storm. When she opened her eyes, she felt cold brine. When she opened her mouth to scream, coldness invaded her mouth.
She was in the water.
The moment she realized this, her head broke to the surface and she took a deep breath. Had her line snapped?
Her heart pounded in her chest from the acute cold shock, mixed with the fear of being as helpless as a cork on the violent waves as the icy wind blasted across its uneven surface. Already her clothes were starting to feel heavy with water, the cold biting further into her. She started to thrash against the water, to no avail, and tried to look for the ship.
All she could see in this violent weather, as thunder burst above her, were the red running lights of the ship.
Already it was so far away in the distance!
As she thrashed and tried to swim, all she managed to do was catch more mouthfuls of ice-cold water, causing her to cough and spasm more. Her urge to breathe fought with the urge to keep water out of her mouth due to the coldness. Her heart felt as if it was about to explode. She tried to scream for help, but her voice died amid the howling winds. She tried to swim but a single wave blasted her even further away.
An shrill alarm started to blare from the Kingfisher which was almost drowned out by the violent winds and, for a moment, Hermione again felt hope. Hope that was becoming more and more dashed as her body started to numb more and more. Then, a few moments later, she saw something from the distance. It was small, but it was… lit? A slight figure moved in the sky. Soon she realized that it was a wasp flying towards her, its parka lit up with a bright red flare light. In his mouth was a large orange lifesaver he was struggling to carry. The wasp steered into the wind and landed on top of Hermione's head. The young witch had far more trouble getting that life saver around her than she would admitted to, but desperation was a clear motivator. The lifesaver gave her far more buoyancy, but she was still far from rescued.
God, she couldn't feel her legs or arms anymore at this point. The sea was doing its best to pull her under. So cold. SO FUCKING COLD!
The wasp took flight again, hovering right above her and starting to fly in a frantic circle. The wind and water now assaulted them both and Hermione felt herself being raised as she drifted on top of wave. Hope filled her when she realized that the ship must have turned around and the wave was now bringing her closer to the ship. Hope quickly turned to terror when she realized that the wave was raising her up high and would likely smash her into the side of the ship with the force of a race-car smashing into a concrete wall at full speed.
In that moment, the ship was as much a cork on the waves as she was. She instinctively raised her arms and screamed when she rushed past within inches of the Kingfisher's hull. This earned her another mouthful of icy water and another couching fit which caused her quickly cooling body to spasm. Pain shot through her limbs as muscles seized and cramped. Her mind was starting to get hazy as well. She had barely enough wits left to feel she was in calmer waters in the wake behind the ship.
Brooms?
Were those brooms?
Three brooms. Not sleek like Quidditch booms. These were worker brooms, meant for stability and cargo-hauling. With shafts as thick as tree trunks and large fins for added control. So cold she was close to delirium, she felt herself being hoisted from the water and into the even colder wind. Then, the feeling of being stuffed into a thin straw. A… portkey?
She found herself on solid ground in the forecastle, shivering like a reed. Surrounded by Kirk, Daelia and Copperhead, along with their worker brooms.
It all got a little hazy after that. The next thing she knew, she sat wrapped in a heavy blanket in sickbay, right next to a portable warming stone. Tahki and Bellatrix were fussing over her as Hermione sat their with teeth refusing to stop their clatter no matter what she did. She should feel embarrassed to have had all her wet clothes removed from her body in the presence of… people who were not Bellatrix… but Hermione simply was beyond caring at this point. Especially when offered copious amounts of sweet, warm tea. A pail of warm water for her feet became for more alluring, but though one stood at the ready she was still denied it. She stared at it longingly while her teeth clattered incessantly.
God, her hair had been frozen. Actually fucking frozen. The poor wasp whom had come to her rescue hadn't fared much better. Infinite Corridor, one of the ship's wasps, had literal icicles hanging from his legs when she'd been brought in and was now warming himself by lying down right next to the warming stone, looking much like a dog resting in front of the fireplace.
"Acute hypothermia," said Big-Mouth, the vampire doctor taking her temperature. "Cold shock when hitting the water. Her core temperature took a hard dip. Warm compress to her stomach and back should do the trick. Blankets will do the rest. You can put her feet in a pail of warm water when her core temperature is within safe parameters. Too early and you'll force cold blood from the limbs back into her heart and brain which can lead to a heart-attack or a stroke."
Another shiver went through her, though Bellatrix being near her and holding her hand… her real hand… helped a lot.
"What… were… you… thinking?!" captain Kirk stood over her with arms crossed, fury clear. "If I give the order no crew on deck, do you think passengers are exempt from that rule?! And, you, Copperhead? You let her go up there?"
"Yes, cap'n," said Copperhead, eyes downcast. "Sorry, Cap'n."
"You'd better be sorry!" Kirk replied harshly. "I will have words with Eliam too. And you, miss Granger."
Hermione braced herself. Both for the incoming berating as well as the ship itself, which was still experiencing dips from the heavy storm raging outside.
"You don't know how lucky you are that Eliam is as good a helmsman as he is! Do you realize what level of skill it takes to actually perform a 180 degree jibe in the middle of a storm like this and not have the ship capsize and kill everyone on board?!" he roared. "These are not the types of risks meant to be taken on an Arctic voyage! You were told not to go on deck during the storm! Safety rails become unreliable when continuously covered with fresh frost! As you personally witnessed when the damn thing snapped right off the side of the wheelhouse! If you were wondering why you had trouble staying afloat, it's because the bloody thing was still attached to your harness when we fished you out of the water!"
Hermione wanted to apologize more than anything, to say that she would do better in the future. But all that could come out of her mouth was the sounds of teeth clattering.
"So next time when an experienced sailor of Arctic waters tell you to stay inside, you will listen!" Kirk told her. "And Copperhead, the next time you know something is dangerous, you will not relent in the face of female fury! Hermione almost just 'girl-bossed' herself right into the fucking grave!"
"I'm supposed to be the reckless one, remember?" Bellatrix chuckled, taking a moment to kiss her forehead. "Let's not do a role reversal."
"If that means you will be taking the next readings from the weather station, you can forget it," said Kirk with a sigh.
Despite feeling cold and awful, despite feeling apologetic and guilty, there was one thing Hermione had to do to make it all worthwhile. She motioned for Bellatrix to grab hold of a notepad and pen and then, with all the willpower she could muster, started to speak.
"T-t-t-t-t-tem… t-t-t-temp… m-m-m-minus 25 C-c-c-cels…. Iuss," she said with clattering teeth. "W-wind North t-t-t-t-t-o N-n-n-n-no-no-rth-West. S-s-s-s-seventy-t-t-t-two miles p-p-p-p-per hour. P-p-p-precipitation… t-t-t-wohundred-f-f-f-forty millimeter. Air p-p-p-p-p-pressure…"
Tahki let out a groan. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"
She might have been cold to the bone, but Hermione would not suffer any gaps in the record. She would remember to thank everybody later, for both her rescue and her treatment… and also at same time apologize for all the trouble she had caused. Once she was capable of movement, she made her way one day up to her cabin, still shivering underneath the thick blankets and wearing nothing but thick woollen socks. Again, she should be embarrassed by all of this, but she was simply beyond caring. Once she was inside her cabin, she dove in the bed for the rest Big-Mouth had mandated. The bed was cold, so after diving underneath the duvet, Hermione folded two more blankets over it. After warming up some more, she would fetch some warm tea from the galley.
Of course, the Kingfisher was still in a storm so the ship kept dipping and bucking to either side without warning. Simply hearing the wind howl past the portholes and the water splash against the hull sent shivers down her spine. She doubted she'd get a wink of sleep. But when she heard the door open and close, Hermione had to peek over the duvet.
Bellatrix stood at the door, giving her a cheeky smile.
"Go ahead," sighed Hermione. "Take the piss. Have your fun."
The expected teasing never came, however, Instead, Bellatrix let slip her cloak to the floor. Still smiling, she reached for the bottom of her turtle-neck sweater. She rather theatrically pulled it over her head and let it drop to a floor. Her top followed followed swiftly. With bare chest and stomach, her girl stood showing her sculpted upper body in its full glory. Even after five years of going together, seeing her Bellatrix like this filled her with incredible desire. Her abs, her amazing voluptuous breasts, that cheeky smile, those curly dark tresses cascading down her shoulders. Her trousers and underwear were dropped just as quickly, and bare feet carried her to the side of the bed.
Bellatrix disappeared out of sight for a moment, just as the ship dipped. For a moment, Hermione worried that she had fallen due to the sudden unexpected motion, but a smiling face soon popped up over the side of the bed. Bellatrix swiftly slid underneath the duvet.
"I'm just going to have to warm you up," said Trix. "My way…"
Hermione swooned when Bellatrix rolled on top of her. Their stomach touched, their legs entwined and soft breasts pressed against her own. Bellatrix looked her in the eye, a dangerous grin on her face. "… girl to girl…"
Girl… to girl…
There was something about that phrase which had mortal dread crawling up in the back of her brain, a memory at the very edge of reason, or a nightmare. For just an instant, Bellatrix didn't seem that like that cheeky girl she loved the bones of. No. In that single instant, she turned into a cruel merciless monster eager to inflict pain. Hermione's head started to hurt, her brain feeling as if it was about to explode. So, Hermione did the only thing she could.
She wrapped her arms around her girl and kissed her. Hard.
Bellatrix giggled against her lips and swiftly invaded her mouth with her gentle, soft tongue. Hermione mused that Bellatrix was indeed very, very warm. It was almost disappointing when Bellatrix raised herself and cut off her supply of warmth, until she slid down and kissed her way down over her breasts and roved her tongue around Hermione's belly-button while gently massaging her sides. God, her loins were on fire.
Unfortunately for the both of them, the ship took a sudden dip and Bellatrix was a tad too close to the edge of the bed. With a yelp, the smaller girl was sent hurtling to the ground.
"Oh god, are you okay?!" Hermione exclaimed. A laughing Bellatrix popped up from the foot end of the bed and, after rubbing the side of her head for a bit, swiftly crawled back under the duvet. Hermione felt soft lips roving over her feet and up her legs. Fingers digging into her thighs, soft curls tickling her skin. She threw her head back when a rather merciless tongue playfully tickled her most sensitive spot. Her breath quickened and her heart started pounding when she felt the tip of Bellatrix' tongue playfully rove over her clit. First slow. Then fast. Then slow again.
Instinctively, her fingers dug into the mattress while she arched her back. Hermione let out a moan from the depths of her lungs. "So… fucking… good…" Hermione managed to mutter in between gasps and sighs. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the waves pleasure while the ship endured waves of cold water. Hermione swiftly concluded that she was getting a better deal than the Kingfisher was.
Good god, this was quite worth spending some time in a freezing sea for. Not that she'd do it again.
Her hands grasped the mattress tightly when shockwaves shot through her body. Fortunately for Hermione, she came just as another wave hit the side of the ship and was holding tight to the bed. Unfortunately for Bellatrix, she was not as secured and it sent her to the floor with a yelp once more.
So, the girls decided to change tactics. Both on their sides and under the warm duvet and blankets, Hermione pressed her chest and stomach against Bellatrix' warm back. Hooking her leg over Bella's and with an arm under her side, she held onto her while Hermione pleasured her beloved girl with her free hand. Bellatrix always did say she loved the way her silver hand felt. Well, with two fingers inside of her and a silver thumb gently drawing circles over her pearl, Bellatrix was in heaven. That much was easy to say from the high-pitched blissful mews and the trembling of her lips. Hermione gently bit down on her girls' neck as if she were a vampire, though planning on leaving only a hickey instead of a puncture wound. Hermione felt Bellatrix' arms reach back to caress her skin, resting on her bum and squeezing tightly.
They way they lay together, allowed them to adjust for the movements of the ship during the storm. If the ship dipped, they would squeeze their legs together and push together to keep one another from falling out of the bed. It required a bit of concentration, sure, but it worked. Amusingly, it often ended up with feeling Bellatrix' fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her bum.
They swapped position a few times, with Bellatrix spooning Hermione and Hermione found that it was quite delightful to be the recipient as well. Her girls' fingers did the plunge and she apparently wanted revenge for having her neck bitten. Thankfully parkas had high collars.
They loved each other more while the storm still blew outside. They panted in exertion, their hearts beating with the same rage as the stormy sea on the other side of the hull. They cried out in passion as loud as the thunder above. And when they lay spent and panting, they held each other gently as they recovered from the waves of pleasure they had inflicted on each other, their lovemaking died down much like the storm outside.
Hermione admitted to being sufficiently warmed up when the two cuddled underneath the duvet, Hermione on her back and Bellatrix curled up on her side with her head lain on her shoulder. Hermione reached over to stroke her curly head when she noticed that Bellatrix was… radiant. Her eyes, her dark eyes were wet with unshed tears, though she didn't seem sad. Bellatrix simply looked at her with those watery eyes, a warm playful smile on her lips.
"What?" Hermione chuckled.
"Nothing," Bellatrix replied and hugged her a little tighter. "I love you, s'all. I love you so much."
"I love you too," Hermione replied truthfully. And blissfully unaware of the empty vial that rolled over the floor when the ship slanted to one side once more.