Beta: wendypops

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR

Arrr, Me Hearties

"You have to go, Harry."

Harry shook his head. He knew what Hermione was saying was true, but it didn't make it any easier. He had been waiting for this for weeks—years, even. Draco had finally agreed to go on a date with him. After years of seeing him in the corridors of the Ministry, or in the pub after work, Draco had finally relented and promised to meet him for a meal—just the two of them. Harry couldn't not go. Draco had said that this was his only chance.

Harry had been flirting outrageously with Draco whenever he had seen him; Draco had been oblivious. It had finally taken Harry explaining everything to Pansy, and letting her do the talking for him. According to her, Draco wasn't sure if Harry was honestly interested in dating him, or if he just wanted a quick shag—or worse, to humiliate him. Of course, Harry wouldn't say no to a shag, but he actually wanted a relationship with Draco. He just had to show Draco that he meant business. But that would involve him turning up for their date.

Fucking criminals. They got in the way of everything.

It had been one simple raid. Harry had been ready at the end of the day; cloak on, wand in his holster as he watched the clock slowly tick over until the big hand reached twelve. He had a big night planned. Hermione had picked out his clothes and Pansy had picked the restaurant; all Harry had to do was turn up and charm the pants off Draco. Not literally, of course. Well, maybe. It all depended on how the night was going.

The alarm sounded just as the big hand crept past eleven. Five more fucking minutes. Why couldn't the fucking criminals have waited five more minutes? Ron probably would've thought it would be great fun. Why did Ron have the luck of the night shift?

Kingsley had promised him that it was just a quick call. He said Harry would be back in ten minutes, and he'd even promised to do Harry's paperwork. Harry was back in ten minutes. And Kingsley was doing the paperwork. It was the least he could do; at least Kingsley could still talk properly.

"Try again," Harry asked Hermione, his voice still sounded strange. He'd only spoke in short phrases since he'd returned from the raid, quickly clamping his hand over his mouth to stop any more words escaping afterwards. He couldn't risk talking for long.

"I've tried everything." Hermione sounded as if she was trying not to laugh. "St. Mungos?"

Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't go there—he could just picture the headlines.

Hermione walked over to him and wrapped him in a hug. "It'll be fine. Would you like me to come with you to explain?"

Harry thought about it for a second before shaking his head vigorously. He suspected that bringing Hermione along on the date would be just as bad as not turning up at all. Harry mimed writing.

"You want to write him a note, explaining what happened?"

Harry nodded and Hermione fetched him some parchment and a quill. After he'd finished writing, Harry read it and sighed. It sounded lame, even written down. Screwing the note into a ball, Harry threw it into the fire.

Standing up, Harry squared his shoulders and kissed Hermione on the cheek. "I'm goin' now," he said with a grimace. "Wish m' luck."

Harry found the restaurant with no trouble, and walked up to the maître d'. He shook his head as he realised that he would have to try and explain his predicament without getting kicked out of the restaurant.

"Mr Potter! What an honour!" the maître d' gushed. "Your dinner companion is already seated. Please, follow me. Can I take your cloak?"

Harry had never been more grateful for his fame as he felt at that very moment. He followed the maître d' to his table and nearly fell over in shock. Draco was already seated, so Harry couldn't see all of him, but the bits he could see—fuck, he looked good.

Draco looked up at Harry and smiled. "Hi," was all he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

"Hi," Harry said quickly, once again clamping his hands over his mouth.

Draco looked at Harry with a weird expression on his face; Harry reluctantly removed his hand and smiled at him. Pouring himself and Draco a glass from the wine bottle on the table, Harry took a long drink and picked up the menu. How the fuck did he ever think he could get through this?

When the waiter came to the table, Harry pointed to what he wanted off the menu, and sat back to take another gulp of his wine.

"How are ye?" Harry finally said, after a long silence and a great deal of effort.

It had been the right thing to say. If it was one thing Harry liked about Draco, it was his ability to talk the hind legs off a Hippogriff. Draco talked and talked until their food turned up. He talked about everything from the latest Quidditch match he'd seen, to the shady goings on in the Ministry. Being an employee of the Department of Mysteries, Harry didn't think he would talk about work, but he did. Pansy had told Harry that Draco talked a lot when nervous. Harry thought it was a good thing that Draco was as nervous as he was.

Their food arrived, and Harry was having such a nice time listening to Draco, that he forgot not to talk. The waiter asked them if they'd like another drink, and Draco ordered more wine. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was just time to let Draco in on his secret. Harry didn't know. He just knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Ye drinking a Salty Dog? How 'bout ye try t' real thing?"

Burying his head in his hands, Harry groaned and thought desperately about Apparating straight from his chair.

"What?" Draco finally asked after a long silence.

Harry still had his face in his hands, but he felt he owed Draco an explanation. Lifting his head up, ready to tell Draco the truth, Harry nearly fled at the next sentence to come out of his mouth.

"Come up and see me urchins."

Harry looked at Draco in horror as the words tumbled out of his mouth. It was getting worse. Now, not only was he cursed to talk like a fucking pirate, he was only capable of saying pirate pick up lines? Fucking perfect.

"Harry?" Draco asked, and Harry could hear the hurt in his voice.

Not wanting to spout more weird phrases, Harry kept his mouth firmly shut and tried to communicate his apologies with his eyes.

"Oh." Draco stood up from his chair. "I get it. Thanks, Potter, for proving my theory. I am just a joke to you. I'm sure you'll have fun talking to Weasley about this in the morning."

Harry didn't know what to do. He had to get Draco to stay. He couldn't bollocks this—his only chance with Draco—up. Grabbing hold of Draco's wrist as he tried to storm out, Harry stood up and kissed him.

"What the fuck?" Draco said angrily, earning glares from the tables surrounding them. "Have you got to get a kiss from me to tell your friends? Is simply humiliating me not enough?"

Harry focused harder than he ever thought possibly, and forced himself to speak. "Cursed. Stay," he finally managed. "I've sailed the seven seas, and you're the sleekest schooner I ever sighted."

Surprisingly, Draco sat back down. "You've been cursed?"

Harry sat back down and smiled.

"While you were on duty?"

Harry nodded.

"And you can only talk like a pirate?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Cool."

Harry gaped at Draco.

"Like, 'Arrr, me hearties'. Awesome."

Harry looked confusedly at Draco.

"What? Come on! Who doesn't love pirates? I even got my mum to magic me a pirate ship in the garden when I was a child."

Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he did. But still, Draco wasn't running away. It was a good sign.

"Can you teach me some proper phrases?"

Harry shook his head. He very much doubted that Draco would want to learn the only things going through his mind at the moment. Draco looked upset, so Harry tried to explain; maybe one or two wouldn't hurt.

"Want t' shiver me timbers?"

"Ha! I know that one! Honestly, can't you say anything but chat up lines?"

Harry shook his head again. Now Draco got it!

"Tell me."

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

"You've been trying to get me on a date for weeks. You even talked my best friend into talking me into going out on a date with you. Tell me what you think of me."

"That's the best booty I ever did saw."

Draco smiled. "Yours isn't so bad, either."

"Avast, me proud beauty! Want t' know why me Roger be so Jolly?"

Draco snorted. "Always good to know."

"I'd love to drop anchor in yer lagoon."

Draco blushed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Well, blow me down?"

Draco laughed. "We'll see."

"Aye, that is a bottle of grog in my pocket, and I'm a happy to see ye."

"That doesn't make any sense."

Harry poked his tongue out. "That's quite a cutlass ye have thar. What ya need is a scabbard."

Draco's eyes closed and if Harry didn't know any better, he'd think Draco was...turned on?

"Would ya mind if I fired me cannon through yer port-hole?"

Draco had, unfortunately, taken a sip of his wine before Harry had said that. Harry wiped his face off with a napkin and smiled at Draco. He couldn't believe it. He should have just been honest with him from the start. He was having a great time.

"Sorry," Draco said. "Who knew pirates had such a way with words? Do you want to go somewhere less fancy?"

Harry looked around at the aghast faces staring at his and Draco's antics and nodded.

"I'll just pay, and we can go."

Harry held one hand up to stop him and rummaged in his pocket for his money-bag with the other.

"I'll get this," Draco said. "You can pay next time."

Harry grinned and went to retrieve his and Draco's cloaks from the rack. Draco finished paying and met him by the door.

"Where do you want to go? Pub? Or somewhere even quieter?"

Harry's eyes lit up.

"My house or yours?" Draco asked with a wink.

Fuck, who knew Draco Malfoy had such a pirate kink? Harry pointed his finger at himself and held his hand out for Draco to take.

"One more before we go?" Draco asked with a smile.

Harry knew exactly what to say. "Prepare to be boarded."