A/N: This is the last chapter. It's been a great ride, guys.
The next time, it was Harry who sighted the Pamplemousse. In the crow's nest, black hair blowing about spectacularly, he cried, "It's the Pamplemousse! Pamplemousse sighted! Right over the horizon!"
Someone got Snape, and he ran on board.
"Potter! How far off is she?"
"I'd say a thousand meters, sir!"
Harry clambered down to the deck with alacrity.
"I don't think she can see us, sir. She's just so, over the horizon."
"Excellent," Snape muttered, turning to where Harry had indicated. A close scrutiny with his telescope revealed the tops of white sails about a mile off.
"Very beneficial circumstances, sir," agreed McGonagall, her own telescope out. "As with the Beauxbatons."
Flitwick took note of the current, wind, and their speed. "I'll go down and ready the guns, then, sir."
Snape nodded, and at the bell, most everyone went below deck.
The sails were full-bellied and they would be upon the Pamplemousse very shortly. They could not have wished for better conditions.
Once within range, they fired at the masts, like with the Beauxbatons. The Pamplemousse had obviously been taken by surprise, for it was a while before they returned fire, and by then, substantial damage had been done. The Hogwarts, however, soon found out how Mal Foi had earned his reputation.
Before two more minutes passed, one of the Hogwarts' masts toppled massively.
With wild shouts, the French charged aboard the Hogwarts, and it was then Hermione got her first glimpse of Mal Foi. Splendid in uniform, and fair-haired, Hermione thought that he was actually very striking, hateful though it was to make that confession.
He was terribly distingue, and his gray eyes laughed as he drew his rapier across the belly of some poor deckhand who crossed his path. Hermione shuddered.
But she was quickly engrossed in her own fights, and this crew was vastly superior to the Beauxbatons'. At one point Hermione saw a pale young man, who greatly resembled Mal Foi, cutting up a midshipman, and she remembered vaguely that she'd heard somewhere Mal Foi had a son.
The first lieutenant's sword served her well; it danced trippingly and flashed under the sun as if in defiance. After she had buried the point in a grotesquely fat midshipman's stomach, she unbent and looked around for another fight.
Everyone else seemed to be engaged; there were no unoccupied opponents. Then, on the forecastle, it was with a sinking feeling that Hermione saw Mal Foi dueling Snape.
They were nearly equally matched; certainly no one else from either ship could have taken on the others' captain. Both were as lithe and graceful as cats. Mal Foi seemed to be pressing Snape more forcefully, however; though he was not as nimble as Snape at wrist play.
With a cunning thrust, Mal Foi slipped past his foe's defenses and embedded the tip of his sword in Snape's thigh. He sank to one knee. Hermione, who had been edging closer all this time, flew at Mal Foi, along with several other Hogwartses, and this prevented him from ending all with a deep stab.
In their rage, the Hogwartses might have finished Mal Foi together; but his son and a few others came to their captain's defense. Amidst the resulting whirlwind of steel, Mal Foi slipped away. Hermione was the only one who saw him go; she had seen with satisfaction that Snape had inflicted a great slash on Mal Foi's right forearm, and now she followed him from a safe distance.
He slunk into the captain's cabin, and feeling indignant, Hermione went in after him. He was probably going to bind his arm and rejoin the battle – unless he intended to hide in there and ambush the first person who walked in.
"Wouldn't put it past him," Hermione muttered to herself as she raised her sword and stalked in.
Hardly daring to breathe, Hermione got as far as the captain's desk and saw Mal Foi there, sword flying. He was elegantly ripping up one of Snape's best shirts in order to have something with which he could dress his wound. It was with a sort of gleeful pleasure that Hermione noticed him using his left arm, his right arm bleeding profusely and he holding it at an awkward angle. That shirt though . . . Hermione recognized it to be one that she thought became the captain extremely.
She must have made a sound of muffled outrage, for he looked up and instantly reached for the pistol sticking out haphazardly out of his belt. Mal Foi used his injured right arm, however, and his shot went wild.
"Merde!" he cursed, using the same word the Beauxbatons' first lieutenant had, Hermione noticed. A tinkling of shattered glass signaled that Mal Foi had hit the case in which the captain had so proudly displayed his gift from the admiral: the hollow elephant's foot.
Apparently the pistol had no more shots left in it, for he dropped it without a second glance and awkwardly hefted his sword with his left hand.
"Mademoiselle," he murmured, inclining his head mockingly. He pinned her with his harsh, pale eyes.
She leapt at him, enraged, and the ferocity of her attack startled him. For several minutes only the metallic clangs of their blades and their labored breathing could be heard. Hermione was holding her ground quite well, but she knew that if Snape had not wounded Mal Foi, she wouldn't have stood a chance. Assailing an injured opponent nearly made her feel culpable, but Mal Foi fought commendably, disabled or no.
Finally, Hermione deftly slid her sword underneath his and knocked it out of his hand, but she did it so vehemently that her own flew out of her grip as well. Panting, Mal Foi scrabbled for his sword.
Some odd intuition in Hermione told her to do what she did next; certainly nothing in her training had ever taught her. Crying out, she lunged at the stand and seized the elephant's foot. It was unexpectedly heavy, and with a long gasp, she brought it down violently on Mal Foi's head.
As she pounced on him, he had reached his sword and raised it, and she partially impaled herself on it.
"Oh," she said blankly, as the blood welled up between her ribs.
The last thing she saw before the world went black was Mal Foi's malicious smirk turning vacant, his eyes rolling up into his handsome head.
***
When Hermione opened her eyes, she was neatly bundled into a bed in the sickbay, her various scratches dressed, and the slit in her ribcage sewn up.
"Ah, Miss Granger!" exclaimed Lupin delightedly, upon seeing she was awake. He bustled to her side.
"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked, wincing.
"There, don't sit up. You'll be as good as new with a bit of rest. It's been three hours since we took the Pamplemousse."
"What happened to Mal Foi? How is the captain?" she burst out, suddenly remembering everything with great clarity.
"It's thanks to you that Mal Foi is in irons right now, down in the hold," said Lupin, smiling. He gave her a cup of water. "He was unconscious, as you were. As for Captain Snape, he's in good health. That leg will be stiff for a while, but it won't handicap him."
"Where is he?"
"I believe he's down exchanging some words with Mal Foi." It looked as if Lupin were about to say more, but then Snape limped in on a cane.
"Sir," said Lupin concernedly, "you should have gotten someone to help you walk . . ."
"Fermes ta guelle," he snapped. "I can walk perfectly well, thank you."
"Sir," Hermione echoed, though with a much more charming countenance. "How are you?"
She automatically sat upright, and cringed.
Snape's expression softened upon seeing her happiness. "Tolerably well, Miss Granger. And you? Do lie down."
"I'm fine. Dr. Lupin says I'll be completely healthy after some rest."
"Good," Snape said sincerely. "The Hogwarts owes you some congratulations, Miss Granger. Mal Foi's capture is due to your exemplary conduct."
"Thank you, sir. Er – I used your hollow elephant's foot, sir. Your gift from the admiral." She flinched, expecting reproof.
"Yes, I noticed," he said, amused. "Dumbledore told me that one day it would save my ship. Perhaps he isn't as mad as he seems."
"Oh," she sighed with relief, smiling.
"It's not too badly damaged. And I am very much mistaken if the admiral does not invite my officers and me to dine with him after he hears of our victory. This time, I may get a better gift."
"What did you talk of with Mal Foi?" Hermione had observed that he had spoken first to Lupin in French, forgetting to transition to English, which meant he was reasonably fluent and comfortable with both. She herself had taken a little French grammar as a child.
"I spoke with him briefly. Mostly we discussed his fate as a prisoner of war. However, we did converse of other things: several favorite tactics of naval warfare, the finest French wines, and you, Miss Granger." Something almost tender gleamed in his eye.
"Oh?" Hermione was curious. "What did he say?"
"Elle est une femme fatale. Vous avez de la chance, monsieur," he recited with a flawless accent. If he seemed somewhat flustered when repeating Mal Foi's words, Hermione did not notice. She had not seen the mischievous, knowing look Mal Foi had given Snape.
"Hmm . . . I don't know what the second part is. Would you translate for me, sir?"
At that moment, the surgeon's mate, Ms. Pomfrey, approached Hermione's bedside.
"Your friends have come to see you, Miss Granger."
A group of people stood behind her, Harry and Ron anxiously at the front.
Hermione's pleased expression brightened still further, and Snape rose, glad to see Potter and Weasley for once in his life.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley." He nodded curtly at them.
"Sir."
"Excuse me, Miss Granger." Snape rose and bowed to her.
"Shall I see you again, sir?"
The people clustered around her looked at them in confusion. Snape's eyes lingered on her hopeful appearance.
"You may depend upon it."
He left, and her friends crowded together around her bed more tightly. None of them saw her watching the captain's back thoughtfully, even wistfully.
***
At dinnertime, both ships were anchored and their sails furled. An infectious air of excitement permeated the table, all talking joyfully of the victory.
Everyone expected Snape to appoint McGonagall captain of the Pamplemousse and order her to take her back to Britain with a skeleton crew. Snape remained silent and pensive throughout dinner, and many wondered what was wrong. Though never garrulous, he did not usually hide his emotions after a triumph. Actually, the safest time to talk to him was following a success.
Like everyone else, McGonagall must have anticipated the honor which did not come, but she seemed to have an inkling of what was going on in Snape's mind.
"Have you spoken with Miss Granger, sir?" she asked quietly.
"Yes."
"She has all the makings of an exceptional officer," she said warmly. "She is a wonderful woman."
"She is."
After dinner, Snape went to the sick bay once more.
"You see I am back." He smiled slightly.
"And it's a pleasure to see you, sir. Could we – could we talk on the deck? It's not too comfortable in here – a little stuffy, sir."
"Certainly we may go on deck for fresh air."
Lupin, who had been busy at the side with his own affairs up till this point, interrupted.
"Sir, I don't think that's too wise. Miss Granger should be moved as little as possible."
"Be quiet, Lupin," said Snape dismissively. "Go fetch two strong deckhands to carry Miss Granger in a chair on deck."
Hermione smiled as winningly as she could at Lupin, who relented. Snape stood in self-conscious silence at the foot of her bed until Lupin returned with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.
Once comfortably settled outside, the wind playing nicely across their faces and the sun dying resplendently, they began to talk.
"I trust you really do feel well?" Snape inquired.
"Really, truly, sir. Thank you for coming to see me again."
"It's nothing."
But it wasn't.
His hair was tied back with a length of cobalt satin, but a dark lock had escaped its restraint to frame the scar Hermione had given him. It seemed so long ago, Hermione thought fondly.
"May I speak with Mal Foi sometime?"
"If you like."
"He interests me," she said diffidently.
"He has a deep respect for you." After a pause he added, "As do I."
Blushing, she muttered, "You are too kind, sir." She cleared her throat and looked over at the first stars blossoming in the sky. The night was still and quiet.
Then she saw the Pamplemousse anchored at their side.
"The Pamplemousse is still here," she said in surprise.
"Yes."
"Why - ?" Her brows contracted.
"I would normally have asked Ms. McGonagall," he said. "But . . ."
At that moment, his voice was deeper than Hermione had ever known it.
"Should you like to act as her captain?"
Oh, he faltered then. Hermione found the hitch in his voice most endearing.
"Sir, I'd much rather sail with you."
Astonishment.
"And I – I would like nothing better."
Hermione smiled towards the horizon, and Snape quivered in the dusk beside her.
It was a delicious quiver.
A/N: The lines Snape quotes from Lucius mean: "She is a true femme fatale. You are lucky, sir." Femme fatale literally means "deadly woman," but it is also an idiom that means "alluring woman." Also, in the sick bay, when Snape barks at Lupin after he says Snape needs assistance walking, he is saying "shut up."
My sincere thanks to Croft and CezyAngel. ^_^
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