The Green Siren

Chapter 04

The first thing Draco was aware of was the ache in his head. He could feel his pulse thrumming beneath his temples, as it let out a dull pain at every beat. With a long groan, he rolled over and sat up, putting his fingers to his head and applying pressure in an effort to relieve the pain.

"Rise and shine, Lumpy."

Draco snapped his head to the doorway, where Red stood smirking at him, holding a tray of food. "What did you just call me?"

"Lumpy," Red said simply, striding over and setting the tray on the edge of the bed. "You've got a lump the size of a cannonball on that silver head 'o yours."

A worried cry slipped out of Draco's lips as his hands flew to the source of the pain and prodded it tentatively—there was a lump. "Why is there a lump on my head?" He screeched, staring wide-eyed at the red-haired pirate in front of him.

Red chuckled, "what, you don't remember?"

Suddenly, it all came back to Draco: knocking out Creevey, sneaking through the hallway, hiding underneath the staircase, then being caught by Harry as he was about to leave in a rowboat. He frowned as he realized that Harry must have been the one to render him unconscious. A jolt of anger surged through him and he swiftly stood, shooting a hard glare at Red.

"Take me to see Potter," he demanded, clenching his jaw.

Red sighed in exasperation, "you're kidding, right?"

"Do I look as if I'm kidding?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"So be it," Red grumbled. "Remember, Lumpy—Harry's your best chance at surviving on this ship."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."

Red merely shrugged and moved to unlock the door. He paused, then turned to look at Draco. "You're not stupid enough to attempt another escape in broad daylight, correct?"

"I don't intend to flee," Draco rolled his eyes.

"Right, then." Red unlocked the door, then gestured for Draco to follow him.

They made their way down the hallway to a set of double doors. After shaking his head in exasperation, Red rapped his knuckles against the wood. They waited for a few seconds, Draco silently fuming, before the door was wrenched open. Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What is this?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he pointed to his head. "What is this?"

"That is your head." Harry closed the door behind the two of them, then took a seat behind a large table with a tattered map spread out over it. "Although if you hadn't already known that, I daresay Lucius Malfoy did an abysmal job of raising you-"

"I meant the lump, Potter," Draco snarled, stomping over to the table and slamming his fist down.

When Harry looked up, his absinthe eyes were narrowed and cold. "I told you I couldn't allow you to leave the ship." He tilted his head to the side and surveyed Draco as if he were a piece of meat. "Surely you didn't think I was jesting."

"You..." Draco took a deep breath, willing himself not to punch the pirate in the face. "You are a savage. You and your entire crew. You're uncivilized, you're barbaric, and you've no respect whatsoever for the crown that kept you and yours safe for centuries. Your manners are atrocious, half of you can't even speak proper English, and you strut about the ship partially naked half the time!" Draco ignored the fact that anger was causing his voice to come out uneven. "Do you know who has to clean up after your raids? Do you realize how many innocents you've slaughtered? All you do is sit in this nasty room and look at your nasty map while your crew drinks their nasty rum, not sparing a single second thought for those you've affected. You are despicable."

Draco panted heavily, attempting to even his breath. Harry's expression hadn't changed throughout his rant and it was impossible to attempt to discern what was going on in his mind. A shock of nerves jolted through him upon realizing that he'd leaned so far forward that his face was less than a foot away from Harry's. He quickly straightened his back and clenched his fists at his sides, waiting for the captain to say something.

Harry was staring at Draco contemplatively, rubbing his hand across the stubble at his angled jaw. The kohl around his emerald eyes was smudged, causing his gaze to appear all the more intense.

"You know," Harry stood and rested his knuckles on the table, leaning forward, "I've only just realized that you've done nothing to earn your keep on this ship."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You kidnapped me!"

"It's hardly fair to my crew—they work so very hard." Harry continued as if Draco hadn't spoken. "So starting today, you'll be joining Zabini and Timber Toe. They could always use an extra hand."

"You don't honestly expect me to work on a pirate ship-"

"Red, will you escort Mr. Malfoy here to the deck?"

"Sure thing, mate." Red smirked and prodded Draco's shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm not going anywhere-"

Harry sighed and pulled a revolver from his belt, causing Draco's blood to go cold. He swiftly pulled the hammer back with his thumb, then rested his finger over the trigger. Emerald eyes shone wickedly at Draco, dancing behind the gun. "You were saying?"

Draco gulped, then stepped back from the table. "You're going straight to Hell."

"Already there, love." Harry tucked the revolver back in his belt, shooting Draco a smirk.

Red led Draco back through the hallway and out another set of double doors to the deck. A couple of men were climbing ropes up to the mast, some were rushing around doing God knows what, and others were on their hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floor, wincing as Zabini shouted at them to 'put thar backs inta it.' Draco's mouth went dry—Harry and Red couldn't seriously expect him to scrub the floor like some sort of servant.

"Oi, Zabini!" Red called, "Lumpy here's gonna join you."

"Aye, that be true." Zabini grinned, then threw a dirty rag at Draco, who barely caught it. "Get to work, ye landlubber!"

Draco was promptly shoved down onto his hands and knees. Zabini grabbed a bucket and splashed water on the floor in front of him. Aghast and sure that this was some sort of stunt, Draco gaped at the scene around him.

"Get ta work or yer not gettin' lunch, ye bilge rat," Zabini threatened, before storming across the deck to yell at some unfortunate soul.

Pushing away what was left of his pride, Draco used his tattered rag to clean the grungy deck. The sun was burning his skin through the shirt he wore and his knees were numb. His fingernails were caked with grime and his skin was coated with a sheen of sweat. He'd never felt so filthy in his entire life. Draco shuddered to imagine what his mother would say were she to see him—he knew he most likely made a sorry sight.

Draco was given a short break for lunch, in which he greedily inhaled his bread and cheese and listened to stories from Creevey. The man had happily accepted Draco's apology and, frankly, Draco wasn't sure if Creevey even remembered his wretched escape attempt.

All Draco could think about during his rest, however, was the fact that Harry had pulled a gun on him. Nobody had dared threaten Draco's life like that before. Thoughts gnawed at him as he wondered whether Harry would've actually shot him. He knew he should've been more afraid—he should be positively terrified of Harry. After all, stories were told of the daunting and ruthless captain of The Green Siren. Where fear should've been, anger and intrigue resided.

After his lunch break, Draco was put to work assisting Timber Toe and Tommo with the knots and sails. They'd both teased him mercilessly upon watching him try to tie a sail down with a bow and had only ceased their taunts upon a man named Bottom stepping in and teaching Draco to knot it properly. He'd pat Draco on the back, then assured him that he'd get the hang of it eventually.

By the time the sun started dipping below the horizon, Draco was ready to faint. His fingers and hands were raw and his skin burned upon coming into contact with anything. It felt tight and constricting—an overall uncomfortable sensation.

For the first time since he'd been dragged on board the Siren, Draco slept restfully and dreamlessly.