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"I want to see the Flying Dutchman."
"No, you don't."
"I am going to see the Flying Dutchman. It's my quest for this holiday."
"If you see it, you'll never make port again. Just look at the paintings and be satisfied."
A pair of people, an expensively dressed, well to do and obviously upper class young couple, float across the shiny floor of an airport perched on the very tip of Africa. Or, almost on the very tip of Africa. Still a few miles to go before they can purchase the commemorative postcard and the branded t-shirt. In an effort to spend more time together (and to flex on the muggleborns and halfbloods who claim to love muggles but conspicuously do not slum it like muggles) the couple, who are as pureblood as they come, have taken an airplane. That was fun. Actually fun, no quotations involved. Yuri 'flirted' (according to his girlfriend, Daphne) his way into extra meals and drinks and an entire bag of fancy chocolate, and Daphne fantasised about plane crashes.
And now the she's about to fantasise about blowing the airport up as her boyfriend drops his passport onto a counter before a dewy eyed worker, his face set in its usual blank mask, his averted gaze dead and cold. This causes the woman on the other side of the glass to grin widely, simper and giggle.
"Here you go, sir. You have a nice stay in sunny South Africa now!"
"Thanks." Yuri says, in a montone, stepping aside to let Daphne perform the same action.
The counter woman is friendly to her, and she receives the same well wishes, but that doesn't douse the fire of suspicion in her mind.
"You were flirting with that lady! I saw you! Don't deny it." she hisses, when the pair of them are waltzing past the shops and restaurants on their way to the exit and the bright sunlight lashing the concrete outside.
There's a statue of a whale cavorting in the open area in front of the airport doors, providing her boyfriend with a distraction technique.
"Do you want to hunt down the Flying Dutchman now, or later, zaika? I think it needs stormy weather to appear." He asks, lighting a cigarette with a gold plated Zippo magically enchanted to require no fuel. Stormy weather is most certainly not present, but they have come to the infamous Cape of Storms, and it's summer, so there is the possibility of a freak blow out.
"Hmpf." Marching up to him, Daphne takes the cigarette from his lips before he can inhale, drawing on it herself, but instead of commenting, he lights another for himself. Neither magical person is wearing the usual get up of witches and wizards, but appear like other young and hip holidaymakers come to Africa in the hot season. Daphne wears the most to die for gorgeous shorts and strappy top combo, with a light cardigan for the plane, while Yuri is dressed like a military goth, his tattoos obvious thanks to short black sleeves, heavy greatcoat thrown over his shoulder. Thy are extremely mismatched, but that's the fun of it.
"I want to check in to our hotel and rest, and then I want to be wined and dined, boyo."
"Alright."
So that's what the duo do, hiring a car and driving off to the fanciest hotel in Cape Town, an establishment perched on the slopes of the famous mountain, with a spectacular view of the ocean, which stretches on and on south, till it reaches Antarctica.
⛈️
"You're insecure, that's your whole problem."
"I'm not insecure. I'm the least insecure man you'll ever meet. You're insecure."
"You live your entire life in the shadow of bigger men, Yuri. And you like it. That makes you insecure."
"No, you."
"Oh, wooow, great comeback, Mr Diplomat. I understand now why the Triwizard Tournament turned out the way it did."
Things are going a little less than well, despite the extremely expensive dinner being enjoyed by the extremely expensive couple. Champagne is flowing, that is part of the problem. But all Yuri did was ask for more ice.
"Hey, can I get some more ice?" He asks a pretty blonde waitress who clearly spends a great deal of time swimming or pursuing some other form toning activity. The sunset over the sea glazes her tanned skin in honey, but all of that is something Daphne's paying attention to. Her boyfriend just wants more ice without having to magic it up.
The waitress, however, coos and begins playing with her hair. "Sure sweetie! Where are you from? The UK?"
"Nyet."
When the woman trots off to bring twice as much ice as necessary, Daphne stomps on her companion's foot.
⛈️
"I can't help that people find me attractive, Daph."
"Yeah you can. Just stop pouting in their direction. It's not difficult, baby."
"Maybe I should wear a bag on my head."
"And sackcloth on your body."
After dinner comes dancing, but you know who's in the club? That's right - women.
"You're sleeping on the couch tonight."
"I didn't do anything, you mad woman. Aside from exist."
A couple trail through the backrooms of a club, around by the loos, Daphne speed walking to the Ladies', where she assumes she will be safe, the Ladies' Loo (supposedly) possessing an ancient sort of magic which repels men. Sadly for her, her boyfriend proves immunize to such hallowed magicks and simply walks in after her.
"Get out! This is the women's toilets, Yuri!"
"You can't relegate me to the couch because some females choose to non-consensually grind on me. That's victim blaming."
"Don't you daaaaaare-"
Pounding dance music drowns any screaming which may be coming from the lavatories.
⛈️
After a tense night spent arguing from bed and couch respectively, the duo begin seriously pursuing Daphne's quest, driving down to Cape Point with a bleak weather forecast in hand. Time to purchase a Flying Dutchman tour on a special tour boat. Flying Dutchman sighting not guaranteed.
As they're ascending the gangway of the medium sized ship, Daphne issues a helpful warning to her seaworthy lover. "If you flirt with anyone onboard this thing, I will shove you off. I'm not joking." She whispers, menacingly.
"You really do hold a bad opinion of me." Yuri replies.
"How many illegitimate children do you possess as of this month, hunny bun? Isn't it up to forty-five?" In case she's being a little mean, Daphne pokes her lover in the ribs.
"I prefer to call them bastards." Taking an itenary from the stewardess, Yuri smiles and causes her to faint.
⛈️
Daphne has a bit more of a leg to stand on once she and her travelling companion are escounced on the boat, as he proceeds to get tipsy on vodka while he waits for the storm and the ghost ship to arrive.
"Nice hat." he says to a passing older woman of means, over the rim of a shot glass, a small smile curving around the edge of it mysteriously. Hey, a man has to provide for his forty-five bastards somehow. The poolside is the best place for acquiring patronesses. Everywhere else looks at you funny if you walk around without a shirt on.
"Nice everything." Answers the woman, eyeing his tattoos and long black hair.
It's when he's giving her his muggle mobile number on a napkin that Daphne wanders into the situation, having gotten lost on the way to the bar. "Oh, what's this? My boyfriend exchanging phone numbers with another woman?"
"Not exchanging. Giving." Yuri hands it to the woman, who places it in her bikini top and sashays away after patting his cheeks with her long red nails.
Daphne seethes, hands on her hips, feet stomping, teeth clenched.
Yuri takes her arm. She yanks it away. "I need new hats for the brood you reminded me about, Dapf." he drawls. She runs away, although she can't go very far, because the ship isn't that large, coming to a stop at the railing at the edge of the deck. The storm that was threatening, finally arrives, the sky over the spur of rock that is Cape Point and the tip of Africa, turns dark and vile. Waves begin to toss and turn.
Coming to a stop, Daphne stares over the edge of the railing, them spins and shrieks when her boyfriend touches her again. "Don't. I don't want your filthy hands on my body ever again."
"You wound me, Daph." Yuri doesn't look that pained, the contrast more noticeable because of the storm lashing the boat and the couple. Lightning strikes the sea, creating strange shapes in the sky and on the horizon. Then again, he rarely shows any sort of emotion. And that really pisses Daphne off.
"I'll show you wounds!" She growls, throwing her hands out and shoving him violently by the chest, over the side of the railing. Although Yuri lets out a huff of surprise, he doesn't scream, denying Daphne the ultimate revenge.
⛈️
Not half an hour later, while her fellow passengers are staring through binoculars into the storm and its surging green mist, Daphne, now alone with no one to buy her things, begins to feel rather bad about shoving her boyfriend over the side of the ship. Cutting out the middleman of making him walk the plank is a bit sucky, and he wasn't that bad, just too handsome for his own good. Her mother always warned her never to date men who are too good looking or powerful, else she would never have any peace.
"The Flying Dutchman! Look!" A fellow passenger shoves a binocular into her hands. The old piece of tech, which she has to adjust manually because muggles, zooms in on a billowing pillar of green cloud, a lightning flash outlining a silhouette of a tall ship within.
"Yessss, there she is…" Mutters Daphne. "My quest….wait….no!! You bastard! I knew it!!"
Somehow sniffing out the only ghost woman pretending to be a ghost man on board the Flying Dutchman, Yuri kisses the phantom then waves across the heaving waters at his now ex-girlfriend. Or girlfriend-girlfriend, he's not the type to put precise labels on romantic attachments.