The Green Siren

Chapter 02

Draco muttered obscene words underneath his breath—words that would cause his mother to faint if she heard him saying—and fumed. Timber Toe and Tommo, as he'd discovered the other man's name to be, had tossed a damp, moldy sack over Draco's head and bound his hands with some spare rope. Desperate to do anything to slow their progress toward said cap'n, Draco ceased the moving of his legs.

"Bloody hell, he's more trouble than he's worth, Zabini," Tommo growled.

"Lift 'im like a lady's skirt, lads." Draco yelped as he was promptly hefted up by his elbows.

"My father will have your necks for this!"

"Did ye hear that, Timber Toe? His daddy's gonna have our necks," Tommo chuckled.

"Why, you mongrel-"

"Shut 'im up, Tommo," Zabini said gruffly.

And the last thing Draco was aware of before falling to darkness was the scrape of a sword against its sheath.

"Aye, get up, ye lubber."

Draco squinted as the sack was pulled off of his head.Almost instantaneously, a bucket of salty water was splashed upon his face. Gasping for breath, his jaw dropped and he shook his head in an effort to clear his eyes. Rambunctious laughter sounded around him and he gulped, wondering where he was.

He rested on his knees in the middle of a circle of about twenty men. They were all golden from the sun, wearing disheveled clothing, and either staring at him with curiosity, dislike, or as if he were a slab of meat.

The floor beneath him was rocking and he could hear water lapping against something. A mast loomed behind him, sporting a large obsidian sail with a skull and crossbones. The skull had an emerald green lightning bolt on its forehead that made Draco's blood freeze. That was Captain Harry Potter's mark. He was on The Green Siren.

"What do we have here?" Came a rough, amused voice.

Draco turned to face forward again in time to see the bane of the King's existence himself striding through the crowd of men, who parted respectfully for him.

Stories of Harry Potter were told all throughout the Caribbean. How his hair was darker than shadows and his eyes put emeralds to shame. How he could speak to and command all creatures of the sea. One of the most famous legends was how he'd seduced a siren to do his bidding and drag Captain Greyback himself to Davey Jones's locker.

Looking at the man, Draco couldn't help but wonder if the stories were true. Harry Potter's soot hair was held back from his eyes by a maroon piece of cloth that covered his forehead. Strands tickled his stubble-lined jaw and shoulders and danced with the wind, framing his face, which was all shadows and angles. He was wearing dark breeches, leather boots, and a loose, near-transparent white shirt that did nearly nothing to cover his chiseled chest. A belt slung low around his hips was decked with multiple daggers and a sword. Most impressive, however, were his absinthe eyes, lined with kohl to repel the sun.

"The gov'ner's son, cap'n," Timber Toe announced proudly.

"And what, pray tell, is Lucius Malfoy's son doing on my ship?" Harry raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look at Timber Toe or any of his men.His eyes scanned Draco critically and contemplatively.

The men all turned and looked at Timber Toe, Tommo, and Zabini. Draco noticed Ronald Weasley, the man who was to be hung, was standing right behind Harry Potter, his arms crossed over his chest and his face stony, yet pensive.

"It was Zabini's idea, sir," Tommo quickly said, earning an eager nod from Timber Toe.

"I say we make the picaroon walk the plank!" One man shouted, earning cheers.

"I say we slit his throat!"

"Why not cut out 'is tongue and send it to Lucius Malfoy 'imself?"

Cheers and shouts broke out amongst the men and Draco gulped, feeling his pulse quicken at the threats. Surely they wouldn't kill him after dragging him all the way here. He imagined the horror his mother would face if she were to receive his tongue. The men instantly quieted when Potter lifted one of his hands.

"What is your name?" He asked Draco, viridescent eyes finally locking with molten silver.

"Draco Malfoy." Draco internally applauded himself for keeping his voice so even. Captain Potter shared an unreadable look with Ronald Weasley. Gathering his courage, Draco lifted his chin. "I demand you release me this instant!"

The men around him erupted in equal parts laughter and outrage. Timber Toe and Tommo were sniggering and Zabini was grinning evilly. Captain Potter merely narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't think you're in any position to be making demands," Potter drawled, stepping closer, the thud of his boots against the wooden deck sounding all too ominous.

"Your men slaughtered innocents," Draco hissed, anger slowly seeping into his veins. "The people of Port Royal did nothing to you, yet you bury them beneath their homes and water the island with their blood and tears."

The captain merely smirked. "Have you been told you'd make a fine poet, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's temper flared once more at the captain's complete insolence.

"You're despicable," he spat.

"Despicable is as despicable does," he turned to Ronald Weasley. "Will you show our guest to his room, Red?"

Ronald Weasley, or Red, nodded and strode toward Draco, hoisting him up by the rope that bound his wrists. His blue eyes were hard and they blazed into Draco's. The crew made way for him as he made way for a set of doors that led beneath the helm, but not without spitting before Draco's feet and whispering threats. Standing up, Draco could see the cerulean ocean that stretched toward the horizon. Port Royal was a mere shadow now in the evening light.

Red led him to a door, which he unlocked and pushed open. Inside the room was a four-poster bed with sheets the color of wine, a small, round window near the ceiling, and a trunk.

"I recognize you," Red stated as he pulled a knife from his belt and swiftly removed Draco's bindings. "You were in the courtyard."

Draco massaged his chafed wrists and let his anger drain away. "I didn't want to watch you die. God knows you may deserve it if you and your friends are killing innocents as you did in Port Royal, however."

Red tucked his knife back in his belt and crossed his arms over his chest, fixing Draco with a set of narrowed eyes. "It would do you good not to anger anyone whilst the captain's not around, Mr. Malfoy. Those friends of mine would wring your neck right now if the captain let them."

Ignoring the terror that gripped him, Draco gulped and raised his eyes to tentatively meet Red's. "And why isn't he letting them?"

"Because you're worth more to him alive than dead," Red said easily.

"Am I supposed to be thankful to him for that?" Draco asked dryly.

Red stepped forward, causing Draco to instinctively take one back. "Harry showed you mercy out there, Malfoy. Regardless of the fact that he didn't make you pay for that outburst you had, it would do you good to remember not to anger him. He didn't gain his reputation for nothing. Egg him on and, despite your value, one day he'll snap." Red strode to the door, but right as he was stepping through the threshold, he turned his head and looked at Draco once more. "I'm warning you, Malfoy. The stories you've heard about Harry? They're true."