Chapter 21: The Slipup
Godric's Hollow, Devon, Britain, July 15th, 1996
"Hello." Bill Weasley smiled as he cleaned himself of the soot a trip through the Floo Network left on his robes.
"Bonjour," Fleur added - the charms on her robes had already cleaned her, and she looked as flawless and magnificent as always. At least outside a cursed tomb or an icy lake.
"Hi, Mrs Potter!" Ron said, running his wand over his own robes.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," Mrs Potter said.
"It was the least we could do," Bill told her.
Fleur nodded. "We are familiar with this… problem."
"Please have a seat," the witch pointed at the couch facing the fireplace. "Would you like some tea? Or pumpkin juice?"
For a family as famous as the Potters, their living room wasn't very grand, Bill thought as he sat down on the couch next to his wife. It felt far more like the Burrow's living room - cosy but lived in - than the perfectly decorated salons of the manors he had visited for his work.
"Pumpkin juice, please," Ron sat down in an armchair and picked up the newspaper from the stack next to it.
Well, Bill reminded himself, his youngest brother was a frequent guest here. "For me as well," he said. "Thank you."
"Do you have coffee?" Fleur asked.
"Yes."
As Mrs Potter went to the kitchen, Bill studied the room in more detail. There were lots of books lying around, lots of notes on the dining table - and the side table - and next to the bowl with the Floo powder stood an open can with more powder.
"They must have had many visitors recently," Fleur summed up his own conclusions.
"The whole Order's involved," Ron said.
"Ah." It seemed Ron was privy to more information about the entire affair than Bill had suspected after Ron had called him.
"And so are you?" Fleur asked.
Ron shrugged. "I do what I can, which isn't much."
"Well, you've done more than we have," Bill told him with a smile.
"So far," Ron replied. "I wish I could do more."
"We know." Mrs Potter returned, a tray with juice and coffee and several glasses floating next to her. "But this is a matter for the adults."
"Yes." Fleur nodded emphatically. "No child should be dealing with those despicable monsters!" Then she blinked and held a hand in front of her mouth. "I'm sorry."
Mrs Potter nodded, though her smile had slipped a little at the reminder that her son - and the other witch - were likely in the hands of Barbary Coast pirates. "I'm aware of the raids on Southern France by the pirates," she said as she filled their glasses and, in Fleur's case, cup.
"Oui," Fleur told her. "Things improved a little after the Intervention, but the raids never really stopped. And my family, the d'Aigles, are amongst the preferred targets of the Ottomans."
Both because the d'Aigles were rich and because they were Veela, Bill knew.
So did Mrs Potter, judging by her expression. "Have you suffered a kidnapping recently?"
"Ten years ago, a cousin of mine was kidnapped on a trip to Corsica," Fleur said. She tensed, Bill noticed - his wife sat perfectly straight, perfectly composed. "We paid the ransom, and she was returned to us."
"We haven't received a ransom note so far," Mrs Potter said.
That wasn't a good sign. Bill knew that the Barbary Coast pirates were usually very efficient - they wanted the ransom as soon as possible. And he doubted that anyone in the Wizarding World had missed that Harry Potter had disappeared - they would recognise him.
"Harry might've given his captors a fake name," the witch went on.
"Why would he do that?" Fleur asked, frowning.
"So he wouldn't get separated from Hermione," Mrs Potter told them.
Ron scoffed. "That would be like him."
"Ah. The muggleborn girl." Fleur nodded with a grim expression. Like many Veela, kidnapped muggleborn witches often weren't ransomed but sold into the harems of Constantinople.
"Yes."
"I've heard they don't like each other," Bill said. Which was putting it mildly - what he had heard about that particular feud…
Ron shrugged. "It's Harry."
Mrs Potter sighed. "Yes. I hope he'd be smarter than that, but…" She shrugged, and Bill heard a soft, suppressed sniffle. Then she took a deep breath. "In any case, we need to contact the Barbary Coast pirates, and Ron said you might know someone who has contacts amongst the pirates."
Bill nodded. "We know such a man. Several, actually."
"We've handled my cousin's ransom through one of them. But they work with the pirates." Fleur shook her head.
"We're aware of that," Mrs Potter told them. "But we need to know more about the pirates." She smiled, not weakly, but toothily. "And we're as willing to pay a ransom as we're willing to put a bounty on the kidnappers. Would the pirates sell out each other?"
"I believe they would," Bill replied. "At least some of them."
Fleur scoffed. "Most of them will. Pirates are scum."
Bill pressed his lips together. Most pirates were loyal to their crewmates - otherwise, they wouldn't last long. And judging by what he knew, many were quite loyal to their home as well, if not necessarily to their home country. Every pirate needed a homeport with a loyal population - and that loyalty would evaporate like water in the desert if it wasn't reciprocated.
But Fleur was very passionate about this subject, so he chose his words carefully. "Most should be willing to sell out other crews, but I think they will be more hesitant to betray those who know most about them - and their families."
Fleur shot him a glare but nodded. "Peut-être. People who sell others into slavery are the lowest of the low, but they might consider the risks too high - though a sufficiently high bounty could change that. It would certainly send a better message than paying a ransom, which only encourages more kidnappings."
Mrs Potter pressed her lips together. "That is easy to say without a child of yours in the hands of pirates."
Bill drew his breath through his clenched teeth as Fleur glared at Mrs Potter. "That's short-sighted thinking - exactly the kind of thinking that has kept the pirates an ongoing concern for centuries. If even a tenth of the gold spent on ransom had been spent on bounties, they would've been destroyed long ago, and everyone in southern Europe would've been safer."
"You don't know that. As long as there's a demand, people will try to supply it," Mrs Potter retorted.
"Unless the risk is too great." Fleur shook her head. "And paying off the vermin preying on children is not right."
"My priority is to get Harry back. And Hermione. Justice can wait until they are safe. I'm not going to risk his life just to punish some pirates." Mrs Potter's expression reminded Bill of what she was famous for - She and her husband had faced Voldemort four times, playing a crucial role in killing him at the end. He suppressed a shiver.
Fleur, though, didn't falter at all. She was too French at times. "And once your son has been released, will you pursue justice? Or will you forget about it like so many others?"
"Vengeance is a dish best served cold. Are you familiar with Caesar and the pirates?" Mrs Potter asked.
"Yes. He was ransomed and returned to hunt the pirates down and had them all executed," Fleur replied.
"Exactly. Once Harry and Hermione are safely returned, an example will be made."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Please do."
There were entirely too many teeth being shown for Bill's taste. He cleared his throat. "So… you need a contact in the Barbary Coast who is on good terms with the pirates. I think the best choice would be Basem Kateb, a merchant in Algiers."
"The man's a weasel," Fleur spat.
"But he keeps his words according to all accounts I've heard," Bill countered. And with a number of those accounts being from Gringotts, that said a lot about the man. Goblins carried grudges forever.
"And he will drain your purse like no one else," Fleur said.
Another trait that would impress goblins, Bill knew.
"Algiers." Mrs Potter nodded.
"Have you ever been to Algiers?" Bill asked.
"No."
Bill nodded. He had thought so.
"You're not going without me," Fleur hissed.
He looked at her. He had been to Algiers before - a few times. Fleur hadn't. "You're a d'Aigle," he said.
She glared at him.
"Would that be a problem?" Mrs Potter asked.
"The d'Aigles are amongst the most dedicated enemies of the Barbary Coast pirates. They've fought them for centuries," Bill explained. And since Fleur's father had risen to a high post at the court, they had used that influence to increase the efforts of the Gendarmes Magiques as well. If Fleur visited Algiers and was recognised…
"You can't go alone," Fleur spat.
"He won't," Mrs Potter said. "We've got friends with experience in this sort of ventures, if not in Algiers itself."
Ah. She had to be talking about Peter Pettigrew. The man had a reputation amongst the goblins as well - according to rumours, he was behind a few break-ins which had never been solved, and the only reason Gringotts hadn't taken measures against the spy was that this would risk exposing the fact that Gringotts wasn't quite as safe as the average wizard thought that it was.
With Pettigrew coming with Bill… well, the trip would certainly be interesting.
*****
Unknown Island, July 15th, 1996
Harry Potter was almost glad that the fishing boat was returning. Arguing with Hermione about politics was… annoying. She was convinced that she was correct and wouldn't listen to anyone else. Well, she was like that with most subjects, actually. At least in his experience - she might listen to teachers. Might. He didn't recall, offhand, anything concrete, but he did remember that she threw herself into every argument with the same passion. And that stubborn expression that made her look so...
"It'll take it a while to reach us," Hermione whispered, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yes," he replied. "So we don't need to whisper yet."
"Unless he's using a Supersensory Charm," she retorted.
"While sailing?" Harry snorted. "That would be hell on earth on the ocean."
Hermione snorted as well. "'Hell on earth on the ocean'?"
Oh. That hadn't been his best wording. "You know what I mean," he said,
"Yes. But according to what I read, it's possible to filter out background noise when you cast the spell."
He hadn't heard about anything like that. On the other hand, he had been wondering what the charm would be good for, except for working in a studio or something. "And you think a pirate will be able to do so? And do it while he's fishing? Why would he do that?"
"He could be using it to track fish. Or watch for ships," she replied. But she sounded more contrarian than convinced.
"You think he's a scout? Looking for ships to board? Or enemies to avoid?" he asked,
"It's possible, isn't it?" she told him.
"Theoretically possible," he admitted. "But is it probable?"
She pursed her lips. "It it's possible that this is a guard. Possible. Which means we shouldn't talk aloud."
She had a point. He still frowned at her, and she grinned before they watched the fishing boat approach the port in peace. "We need to drift past it as if guided by a current," he whispered.
"We need to be guided by a current," she replied. "He's a fisherman - he would notice the water acting weird."
"We can't really control the waves," he retorted. They were floating pretty much in place - but that wasn't too hard so close to the rocky peninsula.
"There should be currents we can use to float closer to the boat when it approaches."
"Do you know them?" he asked.
Her silence was telling. Then she sighed. "We'll have to use a Water-Making Spell for propulsion and hope he thinks it's just a small current."
"Have you tried that before?"
"Not in practice," she replied. "But it's the same principle that squids use to move."
They weren't squids, he knew. But they were running out of time. "Let's try it." Doing something was better than doing nothing - Harry had taken that lesson of Sirius's to heart.
"Aguamenti," he heard Hermione whisper, then their floating observation post started to move.
Harry tried to see whether or not they were standing out but couldn't tell - there wasn't enough debris. Which was a good thing, in his opinion - if their 'driftwood' was the only one to move amongst others, they'd stick out, but if it was the only one, period…? Well, in that case, it should look quite natural. Harry certainly hoped it would - he wasn't a sailor himself.
"It's working," Hermione whispered.
"Looks like it," he replied, eyes on the fishing boat now. "Slow down a little."
It felt as if they slowed down - though it was a little hard to say, so low in the water.
And there came the fishing boat. "Watch his face," Harry whispered.
"That's why we're doing this," she replied.
He didn't have to look at her to know how she would be rolling her eyes. But better safe than sorry.
The boat passed them at a distance of about ten yards. The face of the pirate was a little fuzzy. But Harry spotted a necklace - gold, or so it seemed - that caught the light of the setting sun. Quite a distinctive design.
Then the boat was gone, entering the harbour, and they started to slowly turn back.
"He had a necklace, possibly enchanted," Harry said.
"And the pattern on his vest looked like runes," Hermione added.
"They did?"
"Not the runes we learn at Hogwarts. But I read up on other magical traditions," she told him.
Of course she would have. He almost snorted. "Do you know what they do?"
"No, I didn't study those runes in detail."
And the angles would have been wrong to spot all the runes. Still, they had their target. Mission accomplished.
Now they needed to finish planning their escape.
*****
Hermione Granger should have studied Arabian and African runes in detail instead of just reading a book about them. If she had, she would probably be able to identify the spells on the man's vests. And she might have a clue about the spells protecting the boat.
She sighed - softly. She couldn't have known that she'd need to know those runes instead of the Scandinavian runic traditions. She still felt like she had failed. Just as she had failed to learn enough useful spells. "I'll have to remedy this," she muttered.
"What did you say?" Harry asked.
"I reminded myself to enlarge my spell repertoire," she told him. "If I could cast a Disillusionment Charm, we would have a much easier time observing the pirates."
"Yes. And if we could apparate and break curses, we could easily escape the island without stealing a boat."
"Or kidnapping a pirate. Presumed pirate," she corrected herself.
"Or if we had learned to flawlessly shrink ourselves."
She rolled her eyes at that. They had already discussed the disadvantages of shrinking themselves.
"It's no worse - actually, it's safer - than trying to break through centuries-old wards."
"I didn't say anything," she told him.
"Exactly."
She glanced at him and caught him smirking. "So, every time I don't say something, I'm opposed to it?"
"I wouldn't go that far. But most of the time, probably."
She huffed. "Really."
"Yes. You like talking."
"So do you." She frowned at her own words - that had been a stupid comeback.
"I don't like lectures," he said.
"Oh, I'm aware of that. As are all the teachers, I would assume."
"Ha ha ha."
But both of them were smiling when they reached the tip of the peninsula.
"Better leave the driftwood on the rocks here," he suggested. "Less suspicious than on the beach."
She frowned. "Do you think we'll use it again?"
"Probably. It's been useful."
"They might grow suspicious if they see it appearing all over the place," she pointed out.
"Not if we limit its use."
"Still, if anyone picks it up, they'll realise it was crafted."
"Good point. Let's vanish it."
She thought about taking it back and using the wood, but… They had plenty of materials, and they were currently staying in a very small hideout, so there was neither need nor room for more furniture.
Harry vanished it, and they swam the rest of the distance back to the beach.
They ran through the surf and over the beach, hiding behind the first trees of the jungle as they erased their tracks. Then she used a Water-Making Spell to wash the salt off her skin and a cleaning charm to do the same for her hair. Which, she noted, had turned from a messy ponytail into a plain mess.
She frowned as she started taming her mane again. Harry was fine - his hair looked good even without much attention. As did the rest of him. It was almost disappointing to see him slip his trousers and shirt on. Though he looked good in those as well.
And, a traitorous part of her whispered in her mind, he looked good in his underwear, in their hideout, when she was straddling him.
"We should summon some fish."
She finished styling her hair before she replied: "Did you see one?"
"Yes."
"So?" She cocked her head. He was looking at the sea.
"I'm trying to think of a way to cook it without risking our hideout being discovered."
"Right." That meant hiding the smoke and the fire. She remembered hayboxes - but they required the food to be heated before being placed in them. "You probably need to wait until the morning and use your breeze spell to disperse the smoke."
He didn't like her answer. She could tell. "I was hoping to eat them tonight."
She shrugged. "We could create some sort of barrier that would hide the light from the fire. Bury the fire in a hole in the earth."
He smiled at her. "Can you do that?"
She had only read about it in a scout manual she had bought when she had been eight, and her parents had told her that they were going camping over the holidays. But Harry was looking at her like that, and…
...how difficult could it be to dig a hole and a small ditch to let the airflow? At least as far as she remembered, it should be easy.
So she nodded. "Yes."
*****
Harry Potter took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sighing as the smell of grilled fish entered his nostrils. Finally, decent food. Or any sort of food that wasn't coconut.
"I'll be a little while longer," Hermione said. "The fire's not as hot as I'd like."
"No problem," he told her. A few more minutes wouldn't starve him. And he still remembered her lessons about parasites from before they grilled their first fish. Back at the shelter.
"The light pollution should be minimal," she said. "But the ditch I dug isn't ideal - there's not enough air reaching the fire."
"It's burning nicely," he said. She was just being her perfectionist self again. The fish smelt heavenly, the fire wasn't visible unless you were directly over it - and the jungle's canopy would block that as well - and the smoke was invisible at night as well.
It was the perfect setup.
He waved his wand, and a gentle breeze dispersed the smoke a little more and strengthened the airflow. Just to be safe.
"It could be better," Hermione said. In the dim light of the fire, he saw she was pursing her lips. Yes, she wasn't content with her work.
Harry shook his head. Sometimes, good enough was better than perfect. Actually, often, good enough was, well, good enough. Hermione would have to learn that before she left school, or she'd have a hard time at whatever job she ended up in. Unless she decided to follow Mum's example and became a spellcrafter. In that profession, everything needed to be perfect. Otherwise, testing a new spell could kill you. Harry knew that from the arguments he had overheard between his parents.
He sighed again, this time not because of the fish, and leaned back a little, looking around as if he was keeping an eye on their surroundings. Then he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
She didn't notice - she was staring at the fire, her wand twitching as if she was about to cast another spell at the fire to try and improve the setup. He hoped she wouldn't - her attempt to enlarge it hadn't worked too well, and the fish was almost done.
She looked eager. Focused. Sitting on her haunches, she was leaning forward a little. In the flickering light of the fire, her tanned skin looked almost exotic. And there was a lot of skin on display. Not as much as had been in the morning, of course.
Harry clenched his teeth and shifted a little. Remembering that scene wasn't very helpful right now. It was hard enough to keep from openly staring at her. Girls didn't like that. Hermione most certainly didn't like people watching her, as she had told him a number of times at Hogwarts.
Granted, back then, he had been watching her for other reasons, but still - better safe than sorry. It wouldn't do if she noticed his attention. That would be… bad. Definitely bad. They had to escape from a pirate island. After rescuing a kidnapped girl. Hermione realising that he was… interested… would complicate things. By a lot.
He closed his eyes. That didn't help, though - his memory was too good. As was his imagination. Damn.
Focus, Harry! he told himself. He stared at the fish slowly browning on the grill - made by transfiguring some twigs into metal. Focus on the food. Not on… her. And other things. Food. Just food.
"I think the fish's done now."
He blinked, turning to look at her. "What?"
She was smiling at him. "I think the fish should be good, now."
"Right." He nodded - a little jerkily.
She shifted, leaning forward, and moved her wand to levitate one piece off the grill. Towards him. "What do you think?"
Without thinking, he took a bite and chewed. "Tastes good," he told her with a grin.
She looked a little flustered, but that could've been the light from the fire playing tricks with his mind. Then she nodded, and the rest of the pieces flew up, landing softly on two transfigured coconut shell pieces serving as plates. She handed one to him, followed by their handmade cutlery.
"Thank you." He smiled at her.
"Bon appetit."
The fish tasted great. "It's true - you never appreciate what you have before you lose it," Harry said after polishing off his portion.
"Yes," she replied.
Though she sounded a little reluctant, at least that was Harry's impression. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Just thinking of home," she said, sighing and staring at the dark trees surrounding them.
He nodded. Of course she'd be thinking of home. Her family, her friends… Hogwarts.
He missed them as well. Though he couldn't help thinking that he'd also miss this. These nights at the campfire. With her. And no… distractions. "Hey." He turned to look at her. "I was wondering…"
Barking interrupted him.
Hermione gasped. "That's a dog."
His eyes widened. A dog that was close. Too close.
He whipped his head around and stared at the fireplace.
"The scent," Hermione whispered next to him.
Damn.
*****
The scent. Hermione Granger clenched her teeth. This was all her fault - she should've realised that the scent would carry, even though the light and smoke were hidden. She had even considered the fact that the smell of food would attract predators. "I'm so stupid!" she spat.
"No, you aren't," Harry replied as he quickly vanished the fire and the remaining fish. "We both forgot this."
"But I should've known - I thought of the danger of attracting predators! And then I forgot it!"
"So did I. Now, what can we do? Is this a wild dog?"
Hermione bit her lower lip. "We haven't seen any sign of wild dogs. With the wyvern around, they might have been kept in check, but… they wouldn't be near the village, I think. We have to assume that this is a domestic dog.
She looked at the ground, then waved her wand, levitating the sods of grass she had taken away over to cover up the makeshift fireplace.
"The dog will smell us," Harry said. "They can track us anywhere on the island."
"Only if we walk on the ground," Hermione retorted. "If we fly, they won't have a track to follow."
"Good dogs would still be able to follow us," Harry insisted. "But the pirates probably don't have such dogs."
"Slavers used to have dogs trained to track humans," she pointed out.
The barking sounded closer. "We can't hide here."
"We need to return to the shelter," Harry whispered.
The dog's barking grew even louder. "Yes," she whispered back, looking at their hideout. "They'll find it."
"Can't be helped," Harry said. "Accio robes!" Their sleeping bags flew towards them.
There was more, but that was replaceable. And… She smiled. "Yes, it can!" She waved her wand and vanished the entire hideout, leaving a hole in the small mound. Then she vanished the sides to the left and right of the hole, digging deeper.
"What are you doing?"
"Covering our tracks," she hissed and kept casting. Finally, the entire side collapsed. "It might not fool them, but they won't know for certain how we hid here."
"Let's go!"
She levitated the pole he had taken out, they mounted it and sped off through the jungle. Southward. Towards their shelter.
But the dog was so close, now. It was barking so loud, and… Was that a voice giving it commands? She glanced over her shoulder, just for an instant, and gasped once more.
There was light visible through the trees. Bright light.
"Focus on steering," Harry hissed.
She did, angling the pole to fly by a tree that had grown crooked, leaning towards another. She wanted to go faster, but in the dim starlight - it was the new moon - she couldn't risk it.
"Are they chasing us?" she asked while guiding the pole between two larger trees, through some light underbrush. The foliage and branches ripped at her clothes and skin. She should've cast a Shield Charm, she realised. But she had panicked and forgot. Damn.
"I don't see any lights following us," he replied.
That was reassu… A cone of light suddenly appeared in front of them, illuminating a small clearing. Hermione pulled the pole to the left, braking so they wouldn't leave the cover of the denser brush. "They're above us!" she whispered.
"I noticed."
She resisted the urge to look behind them and guided the broom further into the underbrush, past a crooked palm tree. What spell were they using? That wasn't a Wand-Lighting Charm! It was more like a spotlight - a huge spotlight, like… "It's a naval lighting spell," she whispered. "Like a searchlight."
"Well, they're searching for us, no doubt," Harry hissed. "Keep us under cover!"
"I'm trying!" she snapped. Another tree, fallen, rose up in the darkness, and she almost tried to fly underneath it before she realised there was a boulder there and managed to fly over it.
Another cone of light shone down on the jungle, further away, though.
"They're covering the beaches," Harry said. "If we stick to the jungle, we should be fine."
As if to prove him wrong, a cone of light stabbed through the jungle to their side - not from above, but from behind.
"They are chasing us!" she snapped.
"Keep us in the underbrush!" Harry hissed back. "We have to lose them!"
"I'm trying!" she replied. But she couldn't fly too fast. Not at night going through a jungle. Even at their slower speed, crashing into a tree would hurt. And probably get them captured. If the pirates had a Supersensory Charm cast on one of them…
She swung around a thicker tree - no, two trees grown close together... that didn't matter now! She had to focus on flying. Levitating.
Clenching her teeth, panting as she steered them roughly south, she tried to focus on the flying, not the fear of what would happen should they be caught.
She almost managed it.
*****
How had the pirates found out about them? Harry Potter couldn't think of any mistake they had made. Other than the fish. But this response… that wasn't just some pirate following a dog. Would they have started such a hunt after a dog's barking?
He felt the underbrush tear at his shirt and gritted his teeth when a branch left a scrape on his lower arm. Even at their relatively slow speed, pushing through bushes would leave marks.
Worse, though, the pirates could easily overtake them - had overtaken them; he could see one cone of light ahead of them. Flying above the trees, and using actual brooms, would allow the pirates to quickly catch up and chase them down as soon as they found them.
But if they kept going, the area the pirates had to search would widen, and they would escape. Sooner or later.
If they weren't found before. Those searching light cones came too close already. They needed a distraction.
"Keep going! I'm creating a distraction!"
"What distraction?" Hermione asked.
Right, he should probably tell her. "I'm going to reproduce the wyvern's roar."
"Oh."
He took a deep breath. He couldn't mess this up. He couldn't amplify the roar, not with his spell, so he had to make it sound as if it came from afar - from the hill.
He raised his wand, aimed at a point between the closest cone of light and the hilltop - guessing, since he couldn't see through the canopy above them and only had the searchlights and his memory as a guide - and cast.
One roar. He moved his wand and pointed it further back, to the next searchlight, and recast it.
The light cones disappeared. He heard yelling - amplified - in an unknown language. But he could tell that they sounded alarmed, even frantic, and he smiled.
They had fallen for his ruse.
"Yes!" he hissed.
"Did it work?" Hermione asked as they turned around another tree.
"I don't see the lights any more," he replied. They wouldn't risk attracting the wyvern with them.
"Let's hope they're flying back to the village," she said.
"Just keep going," he replied. They had to use this to get as much distance between them and the pirates as possible.
And they kept going.
*****
"I think we lost them," Harry Potter said about half an hour later.
"And we're lost," Hermione replied. "I only have a vague idea where we are."
She slowed down and brought the pole to a halt.
Harry didn't know where they were, either. "We should be somewhere to the south," he said.
"Brilliant deduction. I thought we were going north."
He snorted.
After a moment, she added, in a softer voice: "But we might have circled the hill, so we could be going east right now. We'll have to check the stars to orient ourselves."
"Well, let's do that, then," Harry said.
She guided their pole upwards, and they pushed through the canopy. Slowly. And she stopped as soon as their heads cleared the foliage. "OK… based on our course, we were still going south. And the hilltop… we're roughly in the area of the shelter."
"Great!" Harry smiled. That was better than he had expected.
"Lucky." She scoffed. "Though how lucky is questionable. They'll resume their search for us soon."
"I doubt they'll do anything at night," Harry replied. "They'll have to consider the wyvern."
"Finding out that it's gone won't take them too long," Hermione said, looking around.
"Will they risk flying to its cave?" Harry didn't think so. "They can't have a spell that checks for that, or they would have known the wyvern was gone already."
"They probably have a safer way to check for its presence. Perhaps they'll drop some bait near the hilltop and look if it takes it." Hermione shook her head. "Or they checked that it was gone and then panicked when they heard it roar, thinking it had returned."
"Still, I doubt they'll do anything until tomorrow," Harry insisted. "We can rest." And they needed rest. Mostly Hermione - she had kept the Levitation Charm up until now. And steered them through the jungle.
"Rest where? The shelter?"
"If we can find it, yes," Harry told her. "It's camouflaged, isn't it?" They had designed it to hide them from flyers, after all.
"Right." She sighed. "We should be able to find it from the beach. But that might expose us."
"We'll stick to the jungle, just close enough so we can follow the beach."
"Alright."
*****
Hermione Granger sighed with relief when she finally found the shelter - after missing it twice. At least they hadn't lost too much time - it was still dark and would stay so for a while longer.
They removed the stone blocking the entrance, then cautiously entered. "Lights should be safe," Hermione said. "The entrance should block most of it."
"OK." Harry lit his wand tip, and they quickly searched the shelter for any animals that had entered in their absence. But it seemed the rock had kept anything dangerous out.
Hermione sighed again and dropped her robes on the makeshift bed before sitting down on them. Then she hissed when her body reminded her that she had been flying on a pole for the better part of an hour. And had gone through too many bushes.
"Hermione?"
"Just dealing with some scrapes," she said.
"What?" He entered her part of the shelter, pointing his lit wand at her. And hissed.
That wasn't a good sign. "It's just some scrapes."
"That's a lot of scrapes!" he replied.
"Nothing a few healing charms won't cover." She smiled, then winced - something had hit her cheek.
"Let me!" Harry said. Before she could answer him, he had his wand pointed at her face. "Episkey!"
That felt good. She smiled - without pain this time - and lit her own wand so he could work.
"Episkey!"
"Episkey!"
"Thank you."
"We're not done yet. Episkey."
She could do it herself, actually. There wasn't a need to let him do it. But it felt nice. And not just the way her pain faded a little with each spell.
"Episkey."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, shivering as the realisation hit her. They had escaped. Survived. Beaten, in a way, the pirates, without getting more than a few scrapes.
"Uh."
She opened her eyes again. Harry had finished with her stomach and was now looking at her thighs. She spread them without thinking, and he started healing the lacerations on the outside and the welts on the inside.
"Episkey."
She sighed again. That felt even better. Her muscles still hurt, a little, but the pain was all but gone now.
"Episkey."
That was a big laceration on her calf. How had she even acquired that? She hadn't noticed it.
"Episkey."
Ah.
"Uh, so…"
"Yes?"
"There's more…"
She frowned. What did he mean? Right. Some branches had torn through her top - it wasn't exactly the toughest fabric. And she needed to fix it, too.
She pulled it off, then froze when she heard him gasp. "How bad is it?"
"What? Oh, not bad, sorry. Episkey."
Ah, good. She sighed once more.
"But, ah…"
What was the problem? She glanced down and blinked. Oh. Her bra had suffered a tear as well.
She looked up and saw that he was staring.
Oh.
She should cover up. Mend her top and her bra. But Harry was so close, and he looked…
She swallowed. Damn. He wasn't wearing his shirt, she realised. Why hadn't she noticed this before? And…
She reached out with her free hand and traced a scrape on his chest. "You've been hurt as well."
"Uh… it's nothing. Episkey."
The scrape vanished under her fingers. And she left her hand resting on his chest. Wet her lips with her tongue. His skin felt hot as she slowly raised her head and met his eyes.
He was staring at her. Licking his lips. "So… Uh…"
She felt her face flush. This was so...
She rose, standing up. Standing in front of him. So close, she could feel his breath on her skin. And…
...they were kissing. Holding each other. She was moving her hands, dropping her wand. Pressing herself against him.
Things became blurry about then.
*****
