Summary: Okay, so maybe folklore and men's bullshit prevented her from actually sailing, but Hermione was not so put off as to avoid the harbour front entirely.
A Pirate AU.
"I'll go bloody deaf in here before the night's out," Ginny exclaimed, raising her voice to be heard over all the drunken songs and shouts. The sound echoed through the small tavern and if Hermione hadn't been so high on the feeling of it, she would have shut the sailors up ages ago.
"You have weak ears!" Hermione yelled back, leaning over the bar counter to smirk at Ginny. She handed a flagon of beer to a man on her right and told Ginny, "They're no louder than usual."
Ginny gave her a look and adjusted her skirt as a drunk sailor stumbled behind her. He grumbled a song under his breath, swaying dangerously close to Ginny and spilling rum down his front. Ginny ignored him.
"I'll beg to differ," she replied. She kicked her foot back casually and the drunk that had been looming closer and closer fell to the ground with a loud crash. Ginny grinned wickedly at Hermione, but Hermione said nothing. "One of these days Harry'll shut you down because of those touchy drunks."
"Harry'll shut me down when the east wind blows backward," Hermione snorted. She handed Ginny two pints of beer and gestured to a table in the corner. "Finnigan's tab is open and those two want the full menu."
Ginny rolled her eyes and with an inaudible groan, she turned to deliver the beers to the two men.
Hermione returned to her work behind the bar. Rolling back her sleeves, she squatted down behind the counter and grabbed hold of the two handles on either side of a new barrel of rum. She kept a tight hold and leaned back, slowly pulling the barrel out from its hiding spot. Standing back up, she scanned the tavern for Harry and Ron who were getting close to drunk. Another hour and they'd be useless at lifting the rum up to where she could dispense it.
"Drunken bastards," she grumbled, grabbing a wash towel and wiping her hands on it. She made her way around the bar and over to where Harry was gallantly telling the tale of his most recent raid and Ron was nodding along excitedly.
As soon as Harry's eyes landed on Hermione, he stopped in the middle of his story and grinned.
"Mione! I think I have a story great enough for you to make into a book!" he exclaimed. His beer sloshed around in his flagon and Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. Maybe he was already too drunk to help. "We were just passing through Gibraltar on our way to Marakesh—"
"Harry, I got a barrel that needs liftin'," Hermione interrupted, crossing her arms in front of her. "Think you could break away for a half of a minute?"
"Don't think I could lift anything other than my flagon," Harry said cheerfully. He held his flagon of beer over his head and grinned sloppily at her.
"Drunk," she said, narrowing her eyes. Harry looked unapologetic and returned to telling his story with just as much vigor. She'd have to hope that night's barrel of rum lasted then.
Hermione turned around to go back to the bar, but was stopped as five unfamiliar men ducked into the tavern. While unfamiliar faces weren't all that surprising, it was odd to see so many step in all at once and so late into the evening. She scanned their faces, wondering if there were any she recognised, but came up completely blank. None of them had stepped into her tavern before.
As she walked behind the bar counter, the five men made themselves comfortable. A brunet hung his cloak on the peg board and another dropped into an empty seat by the door. Hermione busied herself with pouring new flagons of rum and beer, but she didn't miss the way the blond one gestured to the bar. Just as she turned around to shout for Ginny, the blond man appeared in front of her.
"Three flagons of rum and two pints of beer," he demanded. Hermione did little more than glance at him in acknowledgement as she handed over a tray of rum to Ginny.
"We're running low on the rum and Harry and Ron are about as useful as two pigeons on coke," she informed her, nodding to the two boys. "We're not out, but to any that are already piss faced, we'll be serving beer."
"Aye, aye, captain," Ginny said, saluting her mockingly. Hermione shooed her off and turned to start filling up the order of the blond man.
"I do expect rum," the man said. Hermione snorted and slid three flagons of rum across the counter.
"You aren't drunk yet, so that's what you'll be gettin'," she informed him before turning to finish up the order. "That'll be seven pounds unless you wanna start a tab."
To her surprise, the man pulled out the money right there and picked up all the flagons. He nodded once at her and returned to the table his friends were sitting at. Two of the men had already gotten lost in the crowd, but Hermione could see one of the brunets and a dark skinned man waiting for the blond to return. As the flagons were set on the table, she diverted her attention and focused back on her work.
Not an hour later, the blond man returned to her counter with an order for three flagons of rum. She was still running low and she knew he'd overheard her comment to Ginny, so she didn't bother to mutter too quietly.
"Any more and you'll be lifting the new barrel yourself."
"I'll make that deal," he said. Hermione passed over the rum and he set down the money before disappearing in the crowd.
"Woohoo," Ginny called, sliding into view along the counter. "Do we get Christmas early or is Monsieur Tightpants headed home?"
"Ginny, you're engaged," Hermione said with a laugh. Ginny wriggled her eyebrows and pounded an empty pint on the bar counter.
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it," she said. She smirked at Hermione and leaned over the counter to say, "I'm just here to guide you in the right direction. I don't want to be the only married woman running a pirate's tavern."
"Not my priority, Gin," Hermione reminded her. She didn't bother to tell her she didn't even ask for the blond's name. "Pirates come and go. Harry's only stuck around because he's pathetically in love."
"Hey," Ginny said, leveling a dagger at Hermione. "That's my Harry you're talking about."
"Tell me I lie," Hermione dared, knocking the dagger aside with a pint of beer. Ginny frowned and hid the weapon back in her skirts, but did not argue with Hermione. "Good," Hermione said. "Now quit selling rum or I'll have to con some drunk fool into lifting the new barrel for me."
Ginny disappeared with a twirl of her skirts and Hermione only saw her briefly as she came to pick up new orders. As the time dragged on, Hermione had to tip the barrel of rum to get it out and became increasingly irritated with every flagon Ginny sold. She had just tipped the very last of it out when the blond reappeared at the bar counter with a smirk and his dark skinned friend.
"If I lift a barrel of rum, do I still have to pay?" he asked. Hermione grabbed her nearby towel and brushed her hands off, looking at the men in front of her.
"Half price," she bargained.
"Very well," he agreed. As the two men stepped around the bar, Hermione lifted the old barrel off the counter top. She rolled it out of the way and pried off the dispenser then returned to the bar where the man was waiting.
"If you dump it, your heads will be set on the dart board," she warned, gesturing to a rickety board across the tavern that was covered in many different stains.
"Zabini," the blond man said, nodding to the far side of the barrel. The dark skinned one—Zabini, Hermione figured—moved around to the opposite side and squatted down beside the barrel. The blond man did the same and with a nod, they hoisted the barrel of rum up and onto the counter in one swift move.
Hermione stood back as they shoved it further back on the counter and adjusted it so it wouldn't tip precariously. Once they had stepped back, she nodded.
"I suppose that'll do," she said. She shooed them out from around the bar and reached for her dagger. As she cut a new hole in the barrel and stuck in the dispenser, the two men waited patiently with their empty flagons.
"Is this your tavern?" Zabini asked as Hermione passed over their rum.
"What's it to you?" she replied, narrowing her eyes.
"Impressive," Zabini said, glancing around the tavern. Jabbing his thumb at the blond, Zabini told her, "Malfoy here can't hardly command a ship with a dozen sailors and you've got control of at least three crews and a couple of ships."
"Well, sounds like Malfoy could use a lesson on governance," Hermione said, smirking at the blond. "Stick around and maybe you'll learn a thing or two. First thing first: you'll need more rum than your ship can carry."
Zabini laughed and Malfoy rolled his eyes but smiled.
"You ain't all bad, bartender," Zabini grinned. He threw his arm around Malfoy and together they went back to their table, leaving Hermione to hastily catch up on rum orders and tell Ginny that no, the new men were not to be waited on.
* * * * *
It was a week later when Zabini and Malfoy returned to the bar. Only one of the other men came with them and they took up the same corner table as last time, but it was Ginny who drew her attention to them.
"Monsieur Tightpants and Company is back," she said, her voice light and teasing even with the wall of noise surrounding them. "I must ask, did you ever get their names or do I have the privilege of calling them Monsieur Tightpants and Company still?"
"The blond is called Malfoy and the dark one is Zabini," Hermione said. She dropped two pints of beer on Ginny's tray and smirked when it tipped slightly. "The third I haven't met."
"With those dark curls, it's probably best for your future offspring if it stays that way," Ginny said, eyeing the group of three. Hermione scowled at her. "I can't imagine how unruly their hair would be with two sets of crazy haired parents."
"Get to work," Hermione ordered. Ginny grinned and twirled off through the crowds, shouting at a sailor who nearly fell into her.
Less than two minutes after Ginny had left the bar, Malfoy took her place.
"And he returns!" Hermione cheered, clapping mockingly.
"Figured I might try and snag another half priced rum," Malfoy replied with a smirk. "Have another barrel that needs lifting?"
Hermione eyed the rum and beer barrels she currently had sitting out as she filled the first flagon of rum for him.
"If you stick around until closing, probably," she answered. She set the first flagon in front of him and quickly filled up two more flagons. When she turned around, the money was already sitting on the bar counter. "What do you do that gets you all your money, Malfoy?" she asked, trading him the flagons for the money.
"Ah, but that's a secret," he replied. He winked and walked back through the crowd, letting Hermione return to her work.
When he returned the next night alone, Hermione had his flagon of rum ready before he even reached the counter. Instead of taking a seat where he'd sat the last two times, he slid onto a seat at the bar counter.
"Gotta keep company somehow, right?" he asked when she raised an eyebrow at him curiously.
"Where's your usual?" she replied. He waved a hand carelessly.
"Insisted on going further inland. Someone has to keep the ship company, though," he said. Hermione passed a flagon to Ginny as she passed without pause. Malfoy ducked to avoid Ginny's arm and asked, "What is this place anyway? You got a strange set up here..."
"Granger," Hermione offered when he trailed off. If all she got from him was a last name, that's all he'd get in return. No one else had such a pleasure.
"Granger?" Malfoy repeated, eyeing her skeptically.
"You gimme your name, I'll give you mine," she said, leaning her hands on the counter top. "The world is all about give and take and I don't just offer."
Malfoy smirked and they were interrupted as Harry came marching over with a half empty pint of beer.
"Hermione, you wouldn't happen to—Well, fuck me," Harry said, stopping to stare at Malfoy. They scowled at each other and when Hermione began to worry one of them would draw a dagger, she snapped her fingers between them.
"Me, Harry," she reminded him, forcing him to turn his attention away from Malfoy. "I wouldn't happen to what? As far as I know, Ginny's responsible for fucking you but I got just about anything else."
"When did the tavern open its doors to bastards?" Harry asked instead, leaving his original question in favour of a new one.
"Ever since Ronald walked in," Hermione said. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Harry. "What's this about, Harry?"
"You shouldn't let Malfoy's kind in here, Hermione," Ron said, jutting his thumb in Malfoy's direction. Hermione raised an eyebrow but Malfoy just took a long sip of his rum. "They're the bastards that cheat you and run you dry. We'd know after they stole our sale right from under our noses."
"Everything's fair game in Barcelona," Malfoy said calmly. He glanced at Hermione then at Ron and Harry. "We agreed to split, but you insisted on a full share and when my crew bested yours, you cried uncle."
"That ain't what happened," Ron growled. His hand went for his sword but before he could draw it, Hermione had her dagger on his wrist.
"Draw your sword and you walk, Weasley," she warned lowly. Around them, several sailors watched curiously but Hermione didn't lift her eyes from Ron's. "You know the rules."
"Hermione, I'm telling you now, he's got a cheatin' crew and ill intentions," Ron said, dragging his hand away from his sword slowly. "You'll want to send him out crying or risk your usual business."
"I've got plenty of business still," Hermione said, gesturing around the bustling tavern with her dagger. "Your problems are your own, but I won't have you fightin' in my tavern."
Ron and Harry glared at Malfoy for several seconds before turning sharply and returning to their usual corner of the tavern. Hermione slipped her dagger back under the counter and returned to filling up flagons. Even before she turned back around to find Ginny, she could feel Malfoy's eyes on her back.
"You got a problem, Malfoy?" she asked, turning with a tray of flagons. He shook his head. "Good. I'd send you walkin' too."
"Ron's buttsore," Ginny said, dropping in right beside Malfoy. "Said something about you letting cheats in and dragging yourself through the mud. Harry looks equally upset."
"Ron tried to draw his sword in my tavern and Harry tried to tell me how to run it," Hermione told her. Ginny whistled lowly and glanced at Malfoy.
"Did you see that show? I would have killed for it," she told him. She handed Hermione her empty tray and carefully slid the full one off the counter.
"I'm afraid I was intended to be on the other end of that sword," Malfoy informed Ginny. Ginny's eyebrows shot up and she glanced at Hermione. She made no motion to confirm or deny his claim.
"Damn, he talks like the King of England too, 'Mione," Ginny said. Malfoy frowned and Hermione gave Ginny a look. "I'm goin', I'm goin'. You be good now."
She left before Hermione could scold her and only Malfoy was around to hear her grumble under her breath. Rather than comment on her foul language, he took a long sip of his rum then let out a breath. Hermione glanced up at him as he slid his flagon across the counter and set down twice as much money as was required for a refill.
"If I'm causing trouble in your tavern, I may as well pay for it," he said. Hermione took the money and filled his flagon, passing it back with a small smile. "Oh, and Hermione," he said, catching her off guard with the use of her first name, "Since this is a world of give and take, you can call me Draco."
* * * * *
Harry and Ron refused to talk to her whenever Draco and his crew stopped in. It wasn't often, but at least two or three times a month the group of three would take a seat at their usual table and drink a good portion of Hermione's rum without getting drunk off their feet. Their fourth time at the tavern, Draco left his mates to sit at the countertop much to Hermione's surprise.
"If you keep leaving your crew like this, they'll stop recognising your name one of these days," she warned as she handed over a large flagon of rum. "Wasn't it Zabini who said you struggle with keeping control in the first place?"
"Zabini's a bastard who can't navigate," Draco said with a snort. "Yet we manage alright."
"You say you have a crew, but it's only you three who come in," Hermione noted. Draco nodded and watched as she held three full flagons in one hand. "Where's the rest of your mates?"
"They prefer the atmosphere further inland," Draco said, wrinkling his nose in a way she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been looking right at him. "It's hard to find willing women out at sea, if you know what I mean."
Hermione knew very well what he meant, but she just nodded and said nothing. As she continued to work, filling flagon after flagon and shouting at Ginny to control the men by the dart board, Draco stayed at the bar top. He didn't talk all the time, but when he did, Hermione found herself getting a little behind on orders and receiving more smirks from Ginny than she appreciated.
Eventually, they seemed to develop a bit more of a routine. As Draco arrived with Zabini and Nott—the third man Hermione met on their fifth visit—Harry and Ron seemed to care less. They never spoke and Ron very pointedly avoided the bar when Draco was seated there, but no one attempted to draw a sword again.
"Care if we join you, Granger?" Zabini asked, falling into the seat to Draco's left late one night. Nott sat on Draco's other side and together they pinned him in while Hermione smiled at the three. "Malfoy insists on leaving us to our lonesome."
"Fuck off," Draco said, elbowing first Zabini and then Nott but there was no malice in it.
"The bar's all yours, boys," Hermione said, catching Ginny's eye across the tavern. "Just keep out of Ginny's way or she'll have your heads."
After one or two times of Nott nearly knocking the tray from Ginny's arm, they rearranged themselves to allow the redhead more space and quicker access to Hermione. Whenever Hermione wasn't talking with them, the three men chatted amongst themselves about whatever they pleased. It was during many such conversations that Hermione learned more about their crew and sailing habits.
"You should have seen 'im, Granger," Nott laughed, reaching around Zabini to shove Draco's shoulder. "Git couldn't tell the starboard from the port."
"You drink half a barrel of mead and let me spin you around before you talk," Draco said, flashing a grin at Hermione as she refilled their flagons.
"Say, where's that redhead who usually elbows Nott?" Zabini asked, looking around the tavern many nights later.
"Night off," Hermione answered. It was Draco who approached the bar top this time with a tray on his arm and Hermione smiled as she handed over a full order of beer. "She got married, didn't you know?"
"To Potter?" Zabini asked, eyes wide as he looked around quicker. "Well, fuck me, mate. Didn't see that one coming."
"They were engaged before we started coming," Draco said, carefully balancing Ginny's tray on his arm. "Start paying attention."
"And you start serving," Hermione said, eyeing his full tray. Draco saluted her with a smirk, nearly dropping the tray, and hurried off to deliver alcohol. Zabini and Nott remained in their claimed seats at the bar while Draco sauntered through the tavern, dropping flagons into the hands of anyone who held out money.
"Say, how'd you get Malfoy to become your personal staff for the night?" Zabini asked, watching him work. "He's hardly useful around his own ship."
"He lost a bet," Hermione answered, deciding not to tell them she'd agreed to spend the day with him if he did so.
"I'm sure he did," Nott said, looking for all the world like he didn't believe her. Before he could question her on it though, a shout rang out from across the tavern as Draco dumped a flagon of beer on some poor bastard's head and Hermione made a hasty dash over to keep the peace.
* * * * *
Hermione met Draco at the port just minutes after the bell tower chimed nine times. She leaned against a nearby hitching pole, waiting for him to make his appearance and not at all surprised when he rounded the corner seconds after she'd arrived.
"You look nice," he said, eyeing the day dress she'd put on instead of her tavern skirts.
"And you look the same," Hermione replied. He wore dark trousers and an equally dark shirt, but had left his cloak on the ship, the only real difference to his outfit. "Tell me, do you own anything that doesn't scream 'pirate'?"
"I'm afraid not," Draco said. He offered her his arm and without hesitating, she slipped her hand around his elbow. "I don't make a habit of staying in many cities long enough to have my clothing criticized, so it doesn't usually matter."
Hermione hummed.
"Yes, well perhaps you should invest in at least one town shirt," she teased. Draco snorted. "After all, you seem to be sticking around and it would not do well for me to be seen with such dishonest company in a city like Marseille."
Now it was Draco's turn to laugh and as they exited the harbour, they got a few extra glances.
"Hermione, love, you run a tavern," he reminded her, smiling down at her fondly.
"Yes, but I do try not to be seen with pirates where the British soldiers are concerned," she said, patting his arm patronizingly. "And do try to refrain from shouting about my business. It's technically under the name of a Monsieur Harold Granger."
* * * * *
The daytime outings were becoming much more regular, Hermione realised after the third one. At the beginning of the month when Draco's ship found port in the Marseille harbour, he would always take her out. Not that she didn't get out on her own, it was just much different when she had the tall blond at her side instead of the usual chatty redhead.
Draco had bought—or maybe stole, she wasn't entirely sure—a new shirt and trousers for when they walked around town and she found they received less stares. Each time they spotted a British guard, Draco did conveniently duck into a nearby street or carefully guide her away, but Hermione ignored the action every time. She wasn't unfamiliar with the way many sailors avoided the guards and if Draco was as much of a pirate as she thought, he would do well to keep out of sight.
"Zabini has been a right arse about my disappearance on our first day at port," Draco said one early morning. He'd met her at the tavern instead of the port as Hermione had some extra clean-up to do from the previous night. "He seems to think he's being replaced as my right hand man."
"And is he?" Hermione asked, grunting as she tipped a full water bucket up down the stairs.
"Of course," Draco answered. He gave her a small smile and they shared a look before Draco yelped and water cascaded into his boots from the stairs. "Fucking—Hell."
"Get to work, Malfoy," she said, laughing as he jumped away from the stairs and attempted to empty out his wet boots. He squeezed the water out before putting his boots back on and beginning to scrub the bottom stair while she started at the top.
"Merlin, you'd think the git would at least have the decency to start a fight outside," Draco muttered, scrubbing hard in a particularly bloody spot. "Especially if he planned on cutting off Finnigan's hand like that. Say, do you think they'll try and come back?"
Hermione looked up to see Draco looking at her curiously and shook her head.
"All the boys know not to draw swords in the tavern," she reminded him. Draco nodded. "Finnigan and Smith will both stay well away from now on."
"Mighty shame, that is," Draco muttered, returning to scrubbing at the bloody stains on the stairs. He glanced up at Hermione and with a sly grin, he said, "I think I'd rather like to see you yield that dagger again."
Hermione refrained from answering and instead focused on keeping her smile at bay and scrubbing the stairs.
It took them nearly all day to clean the blood that had dried on the stairs and the vomit in the nearby corner, but with two hours until the December sunset, they finished.
They were working on cleaning the remaining flagons behind the bar when the first person walked in.
"Isn't this adorable?" Zabini said, throwing open the tavern doors at exactly sun down. Nott followed close behind, hanging his cloak and hat at the door before joining Zabini at the bar.
"If I didn't know you'd been scrubbing blood and vomit all day, I'd say you got the better deal of the day," Nott said, smirking at Malfoy who was carefully drying each flagon Hermione handed him. "Say, Granger, has this git kissed you yet?"
Draco spluttered and would have shattered the flagon he was holding if Hermione hadn't caught it. He sent Nott a fierce glare, but Nott was not fazed.
"As a matter of fact, Nott, he hasn't," Hermione said coyly. She handed the flagon back to Draco and he stared at her unblinking. Hermione turned back to Nott. "You'd think he'd have done so already, wouldn't you?"
"I can help you out if he won't," Nott said. Draco returned to glaring at Nott but Nott had his attention on Hermione still. "A woman like you deserves all the kisses in this godforsaken land."
"Get out," Draco ordered, pointing to the door and setting down the flagon. Nott ignored him.
"I'd be willing to offer up my lonesome self as a sacrifice, Granger."
Nott was teasing, but Draco didn't like it anyway. He scowled at him and even when Hermione tried to hand him a new flagon to dry, he didn't take it. Nott's grin just widened and Hermione smiled in amusement at him, her eyes flicking between Draco and Nott.
"Come here and let's show him how it's done," Nott said playfully, beckoning her forward. "Pucker up."
Willing to play along, Hermione set down her flagon in the soapy water and started to lean over the bar top. She had hardly moved at all before Draco was turning her by her shoulders and dragging her up to meet his lips instead. On the other side of the bar top, Nott and Zabini howled. Hermione wrapped one soapy arm around Draco's neck, keeping him in place for a couple more seconds before allowing him to pull back with a dopey grin.
"About a year late," Zabini teased, smacking Draco's arm. Draco scowled at him and reached for the nearby hand towel to wipe the back of his neck.
"It's not too late to make you sleep with the fish," Draco warned. Zabini didn't look threatened in the slightest.
"How long would it have taken you to kiss our darling Granger without Nott's incompetence?" Zabini asked. He leaned back on the stool to avoid the way Draco snapped the hand towel out him. Nott didn't bother defending himself.
"Another year," Hermione said, smirking up at Draco as she returned to washing flagons. He gave her a look but she just laughed, lifting a soapy hand up to pat his cheek. "You may be a fearsome pirate, but you did need the extra shove."
"I would have done fine on my own," Draco grumbled, wiping his cheek dry with the hand towel. Before any of them could say otherwise, he leveled them all with equal glares and said, "Anyone who disagrees will find themselves with Crabbe and Goyle below deck tonight."
Hermione laughed and even though both Nott and Zabini protested loudly, no one slept below deck.