Chapter Text
The seas were calm for once, she thought to herself.
It had been a solid two days of storm, the crack of thunder and the flash of lightning still fresh within her mind. The waves beneath her crashed against her frigate, and she had ordered her crew to tie down just about everything.
‘Yes,’ Captain Hermione Granger thought, ‘it had been a long few days.’
But she knew her days had not been as hard as what the crew on the ship ahead of her had.
The Nightshade used to be the Ship of the Line for the old kingdom of Magnus before the Colonies had taken over. She wistfully remembered back to when she was just a young girl, perched atop her father’s shoulders as she watched the ship roll through the harbor, her eyes brimming with tears as she wished that one day, she’d sail through the seas with that ship next to her.
She scoffed. ‘In a way, it did happen.’
Her ship and crew had been the only ones left seafaring after The Nightshard had pulled into their main harbor, blasting every cannon they had. The Colonies had wanted to show off their latest Ship of the Line, the name of which Hermione couldn't care less about (The Eater of Death or something like that). At the end of the day, The Nightshade departed for seas unknown, with the Colonies’ armada being thoroughly trounced. She had arrived less than a day later, an Admiral screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding they go after them.
And so they did.
She sighed and looked over her crew as they worked. It had been a long fight to get where she was, being one of the first female captains in the Royal Colonial Navy.
‘If only they could see me now,’ she thought proudly.
She shook her head, hearing a loud splash come from the front of her ship. She watched as a barrel fell from the deck of The Nightshade, and she was forcefully reminded that the Kingdom’s last ship did not escape unscathed.
She had been gaining ground for the past few days, and now her ship, Athena’s Grace, was barely behind. Her heart raced. She had standing orders to take the ship, by whatever means necessary.
And if it came down to it, she was to give no quarter and sink it.
The last remaining link to her old life.
She desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Her Quartermaster, a young man who went by the name of Orph, walked up to her. “Captain, their ship is within range. Would you like us to engage?”
Her head shook, her eyes never separating from the ship in front of her. Idly, she noted that instead of the typical black and white flag she expected of the usual pirating crowd, it still flew the old kingdom’s colours. Emerald green clashed with a calm grey, and she wondered how expensive just the sails would’ve been to be tailored. The designs had faded slightly, weathered by time, yet the beautiful sigil still stood out amongst the blue sky behind it.
“Not yet,” her voice came out softly. “Raise the warning signal one last time. Next time, it’ll be the cannons doing the talking.”
Her Signals Officer, a woman by the name of Rosalind, exasperatedly rolled her eyes. “They haven’t responded the last few times Captain, what makes you think they’ll listen to us this time?”
She merely smirked in response. “One last time, Rose. And be polite.”
As she watched the signal go out, she waited with bated breath. The golden accents that trailed among the ship’s colours shone brightly in the sun, and the waves split beneath it.
‘Don’t run,’ she begged silently. ‘Don’t make me do this.’ Orph sat by silently, waiting for her to give her consent to fire. The only noise that surrounded them was the call of seagulls and the crashing of waves.
She raised her hand, ready to give the signal to fire, her heart already breaking. The last link to the Kingdom she loved, destroyed by her order. It was almost enough to make her turn the ship around and say they escaped.
Then, their sails lowered, and The Nightshade began to slow.
Immediately, she barked out orders. “Take us to their side. Don’t even think about firing the cannons.”
Their ships slowed to a halt, and as Hermione looked across the gap between the two ships, seeing the hardened expressions plastered among the entire crew of the Kingdom’s final ship.
They still wore their old Navy regalia, worn from the years, but still in quite a good condition. Their black boots shined in the sunlight, with the sleeves of their crisp green coats rolled up. Men and women both stared back at her, pistols and swords holstered but all stood at the ready, waiting to react. She stood on the plank that stood between the two ships, hands folded behind her back.
“Where is your captain?” Her voice boomed out, her eyes narrowed. Her sword hung from her hip, swinging slightly from the breeze that flew through the air. She watched as their eyes moved from one another, all of them refusing to move. She noted that despite the fact that it was obvious that every day for them was a busy one, they looked healthier than any pirate crew she had encountered before.
It wasn’t until one of them, a taller gentleman with quite the well kept beard, stepped forward, and her shoulders relaxed. “You’ll have to agree to lay your weapons down and step aboard.”
Her first mate, a Miss Ginerva Weasley, growled out. “You’re making us walk into a trap.” The redhead’s hand immediately laid down a grip on her pistol, and suddenly a pistol was aimed directly at Hermione’s head.
She heard the weapon click, and she looked to her left to see another woman with deep red hair glaring directly at her, finger waiting on the trigger. All around her, she heard the noises of swords being unsheathed and pistols being cocked, and her mind was racing to find a solution.
“Drop it!” A voice split through the tense silence, and the red-haired woman holding her at gunpoint flinched. The woman’s eyes widened, and they both turned to the sound of the voice.
There stood a man, leaning slightly on a cane. His waistcoat was wartorn and faded but obviously made with finer care than the rest of the crew. His emerald green eyes cut through her very soul, and she watched him stand and glare at everyone on deck.
He seemed oddly familiar.
“When I agreed to a halt, I did not expect to see everyone at each other’s throats.” His eyes turned to the bearded man that first spoke. “Mister Black, do you mind explaining the circumstances that led everyone to this situation?”
Despite the man obviously being older than this new arrival, the newly named ‘Mister Black’ still cringed slightly at the sight of his gaze directed right at him. “It was entirely reactionary, sir. One of their crew thought we were leading them into a trap and laid a hand on her pistol. Miss Bones currently has their captain at gunpoint.”
His head snapped towards the red-haired woman, and Hermione felt the pistol’s end move away from her slightly. The woman’s hand had a slight shake to it, as if nervous about his reaction.
The sound of his footsteps gradually moving closer, his cane thumping against the deck, was menacing. Hermione dared not move her head, her eyes tracking him as he paid no mind to her, focused only on Miss Bones.
“Is that true, Miss Bones?” His voice was soft, and it was only because she was so close that Hermione could see her shake ever so slightly. “You weren’t the one to make the first move?”
The woman woodenly nodded, her arm not moving from holding the pistol at Hermione. “Y-yes, sir. The redhead on the other ship laid her hand on her weapon first, I merely was the closest one to their captain.”
The man stared at her, his eyes not moving for a few moments. Then, a soft smile broke out on his face. “Very well done then,” he said quietly. His hand raised and gripped the woman’s arm gently, and he pulled her arm down. “However, I think we can all get through this without any blood being spilled.” He turned his head slightly, looking directly at Hermione once more. “Mister Lupin, do you mind fetching the other captain and me some chairs? I cannot speak for her, but my legs are feeling quite tired.”
A man that stood next to Mister Black nodded, his eyes softening when he looked towards the raven-haired man, before running below deck.
“So,” Hermione began. “You must be the captain of this ship, I presume?” The man studied her for a few moments longer before his voice came out with a hint of surprise in it.
“That accent...you’re Magnian, aren’t you?” Her eyes widened slightly at his question before she nodded.
“Yes...I was born within Smiringard. I watched the Kingdom soar, and I watched with tears in my eyes as the Colonies’ armies marched in and tore down everything it stood for.” Her voice was tinged with sadness, and she looked down at the deck. “I feel no pride in the Colonies, but I must do my sworn duty as a member of her Navy.” She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand gripping her chin slightly, and it lifted her head up. “My superiors told me that you attacked without mercy, without reason,” she said softly. “They said to expect you to put up quite the fight...why didn’t you?” His eyes stared directly into her soul, but instead of the glare she formerly saw, it was replaced with a sad understanding.
“I was wondering what type of person would signal ‘please.’ Now I know.” His lips curled into a melancholic smile. “A Magnian.”
“Magnus doesn’t exist anymore,” she said bitterly. But the man merely scoffed, before smirking at her. It sent her heart jumping.
“But you’re still Magnian, aren’t you?” She stopped at that, never having thought of it that way before, but before she could respond, Mister Lupin had returned with the two chairs. She took one from his grip and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. The man across from her settled into his seat slowly, using his cane to guide his descent, before he spoke once more. “So how does a Magnian become a Captain within the Royal Colonial Navy?”
She grimaced, gripping the armrests of the chair slightly. “One command at a time. I earned my place in the Navy, but others would think otherwise.” Her mind flashed back to her years within the Academy, having to fight tooth and nail just to get any respect. Top of her class, with the attitude and work to prove it, but she was reduced to being told that it was her body that brought her to the top. They were the same people that told her she’d never make it because she was a woman.
She loved proving those people wrong.
The man across from her grunted, a small smile dancing on his lips. “Well, you definitely showed them, didn’t you?” She nodded slightly, feeling pride swell in her chest. “What do they call you, Miss Captain?”
“Granger...Hermione Granger.” The man nodded slowly as if testing the sound of her name in his mind. His eyes stared off into the ocean for a moment, a sad smile finding its way onto his face.
“Granger...definitely a Magnian name if I heard one. Yours, or your husbands?”
She scoffed slightly. “I was much too busy to find a husband, and no ‘reasonable’ man would allow their wife to make a career in the Navy.”
‘Besides,’ she thought with a hint of bitterness. ‘I wouldn’t find a man that looked half as good as you on land.’
By the gods, she hoped she wasn’t blushing. She noted with interest, and not without a little bit of excitement, that his eyes were roaming her body just as much as her eyes were taking him in.
“How about you?” She asked. There was something so oddly familiar about this man, her brain scrambling to figure out where she had seen him before. He let out a small laugh before his gaze froze her heart in place once again.
“Ah, I’m no one important.” She noticed that Mister Black rolled his eyes at that answer, with Mister Lupin let out a bark of laughter. “I am more curious as to what your objective is.” He leaned forward slightly, his cane propping his arms up, and his head tilted as he stared at her. “What does the Royal Colonial Navy want to do with us?”
She leaned back in the plush chair she sat in, feeling the cushion sink beneath her back. “I was told to bring you and any survivors back to the capitol, where you’d all be judged for your crimes.”
“In which we’d most likely be found guilty of piracy and a whole plethora of other crimes, and be summarily hanged.” She shuddered at that, her mind almost refusing to think about the image of this man hanging from the gallows, paraded through the streets as the Colonies celebrated the final ‘defeat of their sworn enemy.’
“Yes...Lord Riddle made it very clear he wished to be there to witness the last remnants of the old Kingdom fade away.” She hated that man with every fiber of her being, glaring holes into his head as he presented a speech to her graduating class. “However, if you were to come with me, I’m sure I could be able to make a case in favor of yo-”
A growl emerged from his crew, and she watched as the men and women aboard the ship begin to shake their heads. She looked back at their captain, his green eyes squinting at her. “I’m afraid I must agree with the rest of my crew, Captain Granger. I refuse to be used as a propaganda piece.”
She opened her mouth to argue, only for her to catch a flash of crimson pooling on the deck. “You’re bleeding.”
He looked down, seeing blood running down from beneath his white dress pants, flowing over his black boots. He grunted, leaning back into his chair slightly. “That I am…”
She stood, ignoring the protesting noises of his crew. She kneeled before him, lifting his pant leg slightly. Her breath hitched at the sight of a deep gash running down the length of his shin, and her head snapped back up to look at his face. It wasn’t till then did she realize that his cheeks were flushed, and sweat was beading on his forehead. “What happened?”
He chuckled, eyes squinting slightly from the pain he felt. “Stood too close to the impact zone of a cannonball. The wood splinters ripped through my leg as good as any bullet could.”
Her eyes trailed back to look at his wound. “We have a skilled surgeon aboard, and our medical supplies were just restocked.” His eyes merely rolled at the suggestion she was making, before he pushed himself up, walking towards the other end of his ship, looking off into the ocean ahead.
“Respectfully said Captain, that seems like a waste of my fucking time.” She followed him to the bow, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Why waste supplies on making me feel better if you’re just going to lead me to my death?” He raised his hand to cut her off, looking into the water. “Actually, you wouldn’t lead me to my death...you seem like you’d sooner try and hide me away.”
“You’d be correct,” she said without hesitation. Something within her begged him to allow her to take him and his crew and hide them away. Maybe it was her Magnian pride, maybe it was her need to spite Lord Riddle, but something begged her to do something. “Let me help, hide you and your crew somewhere far from the Colonies-”
“Don’t bother,” he said softly. “There is no land left for me out there.” His hand gripped the railing harshly, his knuckles growing white.
She stared at him and looked deeply at his facade. The raven-black hair, the emerald green eyes. The uniform that was made with finer materials, the way he carried himself. The way he acted, the way his crew acted towards him. Her mind was wailing, racing to figure out who he was, to remember, and when she came face-first into a wall, she almost screamed out her last question. “Who are you?!”
She felt every pair of eyes on her, but she was only focused on him. She watched as he popped open his coat, her eyes quickly taking in the little bit of collarbone that peeked underneath his shirt. He reached beneath his coat, pulling out a silver locket. He pulled it over his head and held out his hand, her own reaching out to meet his. She felt his hand unfurl, and the locket landed in the center of her hand.
It was warm, a result of it laying so close to his chest, and her fingers gently glided over the surface of it. Intricate patterns raced over the surface of it, and despite the fact that it had been worn over the years, she could not mistake the craftsmanship that went into creating it.
Then, she opened it, and a familiar sight welcomed her. A family portrait, one she recognized from her days as a young child, running through the various museums within Smiringard. A man with a loving smile on his face, a beautiful woman pressed into his side, her teeth shining in the sunlight…
...and a young boy, settled between the two, a grin decorating his face.
A raven-haired, green-eyed boy.
Her head snapped up to look at the man, to the captain of The Nightshade, his eyes staring back at her with sad happiness within them. Her voice was shaky, her throat feeling like it would shut at any moment. “Prince Harry…” She knew the information had carried over to her crew, hearing their gasps enter her ears.
He bowed slightly, his eyes closing. “Welcome Captain...to what remains of the Kingdom of Magnus.”
She stumbled slightly, her hand reaching out to the railing to steady herself. “B-but they said you were dead…”
He laughed, it carrying no humor within it. “The details of my death have been greatly exaggerated...but I would be dead if it weren’t for my mother and father.” He frowned, and she saw a tear begin to form in the corner of his eye before he wiped it away. “And I will be dead, either from you leading me back to the Colonies or from bleeding out on this very deck.”
It wasn’t a hard decision to make, she’d realize later in her life. She turned her back to him, her voice drifting over her shoulder. “I must return to my ship, Your Majesty.”
His voice was filled with shock. “What’d you just say?”
“I must collect my surgeon…” Her voice trailed off at the sound of the click of his flintlock pistol. She turned, seeing a determined glare in his eyes, his pistol directed at her heart.
“I’m sorry, but I cannot allow that.” He panted heavily, and she knew his heart was racing within his chest. “I won’t allow you to take me back, not without a fight. I refuse to die broken and beaten, I will die a free man.”
She slowly walked back towards him, her footsteps echoing through the open air. She knew both his crew and hers watched with bated breath, waiting for a gunshot to ring out. His voice grew in its ferocity, his eyes wide. “They’ve always known I was on this ship, why do you think they were so insistent on bringing me back alive?!”
Her hand reached out towards the pistol, and she watched as his finger flexed, a heartbeat away from pulling the trigger. “They wish to end us, the last remnants of your home!”
Her hand wrapped around the barrel of his pistol, and she gently pulled it out of his grip. He let out a shaky breath as if the fight had left his body, and tears began to stream down his face. Her voice flowed gently, and her other hand took him in its embrace.
“I must speak with my crew, Your Majesty. My Magnian crew.”
His eyes widened, and they scanned her crew intently. They looked back in pride and joy, and a small smile grew on his face. He turned back to her, almost in wonder.
“What you plan to do...it’s madness. You’d be branded a traitor to the Colonies.” She merely raised his hand to her lips, feeling the callouses beneath her lips as she kissed his hand.
“For Magnus.” Her crew roared their agreement. There would be others that would follow her example, and she knew that the road ahead would be a hard and trying one.
But it would be worth it.
Especially if she could be there by his side. That seemed like a good enough reason to be branded a traitor.
For Magnus.
For him.