Plundered

Author's Note: Many thanks to both Shannon and Laurel for working on this chapter for me. I'm having fun twisting about in the pirate world, I hope you're having fun too! Oh, and also, someone asked if there was going to be any magic in this story and all I can say at the moment is 'keep your eyes open'.

Part 3 Shiver Me Timber

Days passed and Harry was becoming more and more discontent in his tiny holding cell. All he thought about was the salt air and a hasty escape but no opportunity presented itself to him. No one even visited him in that dank dark hole except to bring him the filth they tried to pass off as food and Harry was growing more certain that the pirate Black had forgotten all about him. He spent the slow ticking minutes wondering why they hadn’t just thrown him overboard yet, or when they were going to begin torturing him for whatever information they suspected he held.

It wasn’t until Harry’s sixth day stranded on the enemy ship that he learned differently.

“Up, ye blimey rat,” a man yelled as he tromped into Harry’s cell. The man was large, it looked like he had eaten three people Harry’s size, and he had a long full beard. He gave no explanation of what was expected of Harry, just ushered him out and up the stairs and he had no idea where they were taking him until he recognized the path from his first night on board. He was being taken to see the captain again, and he idly wondered if this would be his last day on Earth.

No doubt it was too much for Harry to ask for a quick death. Black was known for his ruthlessness, not his mercy, so a quick shot to the head was probably out of the question. Walking the plank seemed more, Black’s style, something dramatic that he could stretch out and make a good show of for his crew. Harry grunted to himself as he climbed the final steps that would bring him to the Captain’s private chambers, thinking of all the ways Black might choose to humiliate him before he just let Harry die.

He wasn’t thrown to the ground as before, and when Harry searched the room for any sign of the malicious pirate, his gaze turned up empty. Instead, a bundle of clothing was thrust into his hands and he was pointed in the direction of a makeshift bathtub. Harry wobbled over, and then looked directly at his shackles, wondering how to maneuver them in the steaming bath. Why were they going to so much trouble if they were only going to kill him and throw his newly clean and dressed body overboard?

He heard the man leave and relief washed over Harry; he’d been worried that he was going to be forced to remove his clothing in front of the enemy. When he felt a hand press on to his shoulder, Harry whirled around on instinct, ready to fight off his attacker, but rather than the assault he was expecting, he only received a soft chuckle.

“So jumpy,” Malfoy mused. He must have come in when the other man left, Harry reasoned after wondering how Malfoy had snuck up on him, but he still didn’t want an audience if he was going to bathe.

“What is all this about?” Harry asked, nodding to the bath and the pile of new clothes now lying on the floor.

“It’s a bath, Potter. You use it to wash yourself,” Malfoy replied snidely.

“I know what it is, I want to know why,” Harry specified with a sneer.

“I’m not having dinner with someone who smells like they’ve been sleeping in the galley,” the man told Harry firmly.

“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing,” Harry growled in response.

“And whose fault is that?” Malfoy quipped. “I offered you a soft bed and you turned me down.”

“Did that soft bed happen to have you in it as well?” Harry asked, his black eyebrows raised in challenge. Malfoy shrugged delicately and Harry shot him a brief look of annoyance. “I’m still turning you down then,” he spat.

“I thought you’d say that. But you couldn’t possibly be dim enough to turn down a hot bath and a proper meal,” Malfoy offered, reaching for Harry’s shirt.

Harry tried to shift away from the man, but found it difficult with the shackles tying him in place. “If you promise not to run, I’ll undo those,” Malfoy added, nodding his head toward the thick metal bindings. “Do you promise?”

“No,” Harry muttered defiantly and Malfoy laughed.

“I’ll have to train you how to lie better, Potter. You are too adorable,” Malfoy stated with a laugh.

Harry rolled his eyes and steeled his shoulders. “Why go to all this trouble if you just plan on killing me anyway?”

“Who said it was any trouble?” Malfoy asked, deftly ignoring the suggestion of Harry’s imminent demise. “But if you don’t get in quickly the water will get cold.”

Harry sighed and looked down at the enticingly warm water. He desperately wanted to wash the stink from his flesh, but not for the benefit of the pirate traitor. Still, how much point would there be to cut off his own nose to spite his face. “Fine,” he huffed at last. He tried to remain still while Malfoy removed his clothing piece by piece, forcing his thoughts elsewhere so as not to enjoy himself too much.

As soon as his toes touched the steaming water filling the bath, Harry felt at ease. He would happily luxuriate in the water long after it went cold if it meant he didn’t have to go back to the brig. However, when Malfoy began assaulting him with a soft sponge his entire body became tense again. “What are you doing?” Harry asked levelly.

“Washing you,” Malfoy explained, as if it were quite obvious. “It’s not as though you’re able to do it yourself while still shackled.”

“You could remove them,” Harry suggested, but Draco simply clucked his tongue and shook his head.

“Then how would I have any fun with you?”

Harry rolled his eyes again and tried to relax, but the more he thought of Malfoy’s hand trailing over his naked flesh the more tense and aroused he became. When the sponge dropped and Draco’s own flesh began caressing Harry thigh, Harry’s pulse shot back up. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

“Nonsense,” Draco mused, knowing the effect he was having. “We still have to get you dressed and then there’s dinner.”

Harry nodded, willing to agree to anything just to get Malfoy’s hand away from his rapidly hardening cock. The last thing he wanted was to let the man ravage him now that he knew who Malfoy really was. He had a reputation to uphold after all. It was one thing to unwittingly be fooled into sex with a pirate, it was quite another if Harry fell into the man’s bed of his own volition. And it wasn’t as if it were any pirate either, no, of course not. It had to be the pirate that he’d been chasing for months, the one who trained under the man who murdered his parents.

Malfoy held out his clothes and Harry stood in the bath, trying to cover himself with the thick iron shackles as he did. “You’re being ridiculous,” Draco chastised. “I’ve already seen you nude.”

“It’s different now,” Harry whispered, more to remind himself than to answer Draco.

“Only because you insist on it,” Draco mused as he reached into his pocket for a key. He held it up so Harry could see it properly before using the tiny piece of metal to remove the heavy iron from Harry’s wrists and ankles. They’d just ripped the other rotten clothes from his body, but Draco had to unchain Harry in order to redress him.

It was rather sensual being dressed by another man; the way Draco’s palms splayed down Harry’s thighs to make certain the pants were properly in place, the way his fingertips lingered too long under the fabric of his waistband, and even the way his breath felt on Harry’s bare chest when Draco got too near. It was all those little things that were driving Harry slowly mad with want. Why did it have to be him? Why, after months of celibacy, did Harry have to bed the one man he hated most in the world and then continue to want him so badly?

Without another word or advance, Malfoy turned to reveal a large platter of food. Large greasy drumsticks, pickled vegetables, thick loaves of bread and goblets of wine adorned the table and Harry nearly salivated at the sight. “Go on then,” Malfoy offered with a broad grin at his expression and Harry abandoned all sense of decency as he dove for the delicious looking food.

“You always eat like this?” Harry asked between bites, not caring that talking with his mouth full was quite rude.

“Not every day, no,” Malfoy replied with a chuckle. “But most of the time, yes.”

“And your crew?” Harry asked, swallowing a heavy mouthful of wine. He always believed that what was good enough for the crew was good enough for the Captain and he would rarely take pleasure in a meal such as this if he knew his men were dining on potatoes and grog.

“They do well. We all do very well, Potter. Being a pirate is far more profitable than working for the British government,” he replied easily.

“But its blood money, cursed, filthy,” Harry replied, the idea of it making his stomach churn.

“It’s stolen, but I don’t murder for it,” Malfoy corrected.

“Don’t you? I’ve heard the stories about you, Black. Why do you think it was my mission to see you hang?” Harry asked, pushing his plate away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Stories are just that, Potter. I’ve never killed a man in my life,” Malfoy replied, looking quite serious.

“No, I’m sure your crew does all the dirty work,” Harry spat.

“If someone is threatening me, the way you’ve been threatening me for months, my crew would protect their Captain. I’m sure the same would happen were I to set foot on your ship,” Malfoy reasoned.

He thought for a moment and nearly nodded to himself. Had their roles been reversed, Ron would have shot Malfoy point blank unless Harry ordered him to stand down. Perhaps they weren’t so different after all. A groan escaped Harry’s lips at the thought. Of course they were different. Malfoy was a murdering, lying Pirate, and he just wanted Harry to believe differently.

“Why haven’t you had me killed yet?” Harry inquired, reverting the subject back to the Pirate.

“I’m holding out to see if you might come to your senses,” Malfoy mused, the corner of his mouth quirking into a subtle smirk.

“I won’t,” Harry answered with a narrowing of his eyes.

“Don’t be so quick to underestimate my charm,” Draco teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, to which Harry simply groaned in disgust.

“You really are a piece of work, Malfoy,” he sniped, turning away from the bold blond.

“And you are a heavenly piece of arse. I’d say we’re well matched,” Malfoy declared with a smirk.

Try as he might, Harry couldn’t keep his own lips from forming a slight grin. He hadn’t been pursued so adamantly since his First Mate’s young sister Ginevra met him the last time they were anchored in England. It was both flattering and unnerving simultaneously, filling his belly full of flapping butterflies making him queasy. Malfoy was undeniably handsome, even more so under the power and allure of being the Dread Pirate Black. Harry couldn’t afford to be caught in the enigma, however. He knew what kind of cruel black heart sat beneath that luscious pale chest and he wouldn’t likely forget.

His mother’s screams echoed in his ears every time Harry tried to forgo his duty. Until he’d been captured, Harry’s life had held meaning, an honorable purpose of bloody vengeance, and he somehow had to find his way back to that. “Didn’t you train under Riddle?” Harry asked, trying to steer the conversation away from flattery and innuendo and toward the topic that would keep his head clear and his motives straight.

Malfoy visibly shuddered at the name and nodded. “My father purchased me a lower rank on his ship Nagini. He took a liking to me and taught me well.”

“Riddle murdered my parents in cold blood,” Harry hissed, his blood boiling from the topic he had introduced. It was just the distraction he needed to keep his mind on target and away from images of Malfoy’s pert arse and lovely face.

“Riddle murdered a lot of people, Potter,” Malfoy replied casually, as if they were discussing island coordinates.

“And I’m sure as his pupil you condoned it,” Harry growled, eager to test his position to see if he was able to escape now that he was unbound.

“No.”

The answer was simple, and Harry would have sworn the man was lying if not for the sheer determination on the blonde’s face. “What do you mean, no?” Harry asked boldly.

“I hated that man more than anyone, maybe even more than you. He ruined my life, my childhood, forced me out to sea when I could have been a land dwelling gentleman, probably even settled and married by now,” he huffed, his icy gray gaze locked on his goblet.

“Is that what you wanted?” Harry asked, suddenly curious about the mysterious man before him –his duty all but forgotten once more in the wake of such a telling revelation.

“It used to be,” Malfoy confirmed. “I used to think of what my own children would be like; promising myself never to be as cold and cruel as my father was to me.”

“I don’t remember much about my parents,” Harry admitted, feeling safer talking about his past since Malfoy was allowing himself chatter on as well. “I was so young when they were killed.”

“The Potter name is ancient and well respected in England,” Malfoy mused. “How is it a fellow like yourself came to be a Captain instead of the wealthy nobleman you were born to be?”

“My fortune was withheld from me until I came of age. By then I was halfway to making Captain of the British Fleet. I didn’t know anything else and I didn’t want to start over,” he answered honestly.

“So we were both victims of what circumstances our childhood thrust upon us,” Malfoy noted, eyeing Harry carefully. “Perhaps you and I are not so different after all,” he added, mirroring Harry’s very thoughts from a moment before.

“You chose a dark path and I chose the light,” Harry countered, shaking away the notion that Malfoy might not be as terrible as his reputation suggested.

“We could meet somewhere in the gray,” Malfoy offered, leaning in and placing his hand on his guest’s thigh. Harry wanted to pull away, but steeled himself in place, not wanting Malfoy to gain the upper hand by acting skittish.

“There is no gray in the Royal uniform,” Harry corrected. “Nor do I have room for it in my heart.”

“Light and dark are just two sides to the same coin, Potter. What would you have done in my position?” Draco challenged. “What if your parents lived but considered you a nuisance and handed you over to a blood thirsty pirate to live a life of servitude on his ship?”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. Clearly his parents weren’t alive, and though he had a difficult childhood, he’s almost rather them be dead than to know for certain that they didn’t love him. Malfoy turned to the only life he knew the same as Harry had. “Perhaps we could come to an accord?” Harry tried.

The pressure on Harry’s thigh strengthened slightly at his words and Draco nodded. “I’m listening.”

“I’ll stay here willingly with you until the moon grows full three times. I’ll do as you ask, sleep with you; eat with you, anything you like. At the end of that time, you must turn yourself over to me as Captain of the British Fleet. I’ll try you fairly of your crimes and after serving your sentence; we could begin a new life together. Something of our own device, not something thrust upon us,” he offered.

“All this talk about thrusting is making me hard for you, Potter,” Malfoy purred, leaning in closer as if to steal a kiss.

Harry jerked away and rolled his eyes. “If you’re just looking for a sex slave, I’m not your man.”

Draco huffed and leaned back in his chair. “No, you’re right. I’m looking for a companion, though the quality of the sex is important as well. Still, I want someone to be with in more than the carnal sense,” he mused aloud. “Three months?”

“Three months,” Harry confirmed, but Draco shook his head.

“You might be a brilliant shag, Potter, but I’ll have to decline if I only get three months with you before being hauled off and imprisoned… or hung,” he added, his hands going to his throat as he swallowed uncomfortably.

“You won’t be hung if I head your trial. At most you’d spend a few years in prison,” Harry reasoned.

“A few years?” Draco blurted, eyes widening. “You’ll have to do better than three months if I’m to agree to that.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, trying to keep the smile off his face. “Four months,” he offered and before Draco could answer Harry was up from his seat and straddling the blond’s lap giving him a taste of what he was negotiating for.

A gasp escaped the pirate’s lips as Harry sunk onto his hips, grinding their erections together. The delicious friction distracted Draco from the fact that he had to answer still. He barely managed to resurface in the pool of lust Harry was creating within him, finally reclaiming some of his faculties. “Not… long… enough,” he rasped, reaching up to grab Harry’s jaw and pull him into a deep kiss.

Harry dodged the movement easily enough, instead diverting Draco’s hands to rub the length of his sun-kissed torso. Draco’s eyelids fluttered at the contact of so much well-honed flesh. “Five months,” Harry negotiated.

“A year,” Draco countered through parted lips as he watched Harry take one of his fingers to his lips and suck the entire length inside the hot, wet folds of his mouth.

“Six months,” Harry gambled when his mouth was empty again. His breath was coming in short gasps and he desperately wanted the pirate to agree to his terms so that could get naked already. Deep down he knew that his parents would be rolling in their graves to know what Harry had been reduced to, but he wanted Malfoy so badly and in the end, he would still get his justice. It was a win-win situation.

“Two years,” Draco demanded, launching his face into the crook of Harry’s neck, licking at his exposed earlobe.

Harry chuckled darkly and rocked back against the pirate’s erection, causing the man to hiss into his ear. “You’re negotiating in the wrong direction,” he pointed out.

“Just agree,” Draco panted between long licks along Harry’s jaw line.

“You agree. Six months is my final offer,” he purred into Draco’s ear, before biting roughly at the area just below it and grinding against the other man’s lap once more.

“If I agree, when do you start doing as I ask?” Draco inquired, his head lolling back from the contact.

“As soon as you agree I’m all yours,” Harry answered seductively. “Do we have an accord?”

“Yes,” Draco gasped before finally claiming the dark-haired man’s mouth. They crashed together in a clash of teeth and lips and hands roving on heated flesh. Harry let out an indecent squeal when Draco stood, lifting them both as Harry clamored to lock his legs around the Pirate’s waist before he fell.

With easy strides, Draco brought him to the bed before falling on Harry like a famished lion on a limping gazelle. He tore Harry’s clothing from his body, relishing in the sound and feel of ripping fabric in his lithe fingers. When Harry was naked and panting before him, Draco took his time removing his own clothing; his hooded eyes watching Harry’s face grow impatient. When the other man’s hand snaked down to grip his aching cock, Draco swatted it away before shaking his head sharply. “No self-pleasuring unless I give word that it’s okay,” he chastised, watching as Harry bit into his bottom lip to hold in his retort. “Good,” he whispered against Harry’s skin, causing the man to writhe beneath his hot breath.

He let his hands wander over Harry’s chest, curling his fingers in the thick mass of ebony locks that trailed from the base of his abdomen to his groin. He deftly avoided the twitching member that was begging for attention and instead let his hands roam down Harry’s quivering thighs and then back up again, stopping once more just below the bobbing purple cock. “To whom do you answer?” he asked, his mouth forming into a wicked grin.

“You,” Harry groaned, squirming under the pirate’s taunting touch.

“And who am I?” Draco asked, his eyes gleaming with unadulterated lust.

Harry’s emerald eyes widened as his brain registered what it was that Draco was asking him to admit. Could he do this, could he really give himself over completely to the pirate lord? It was a lot to ask, even if it meant owning the other man in return one day. It was his idea after all, could he back out now?

“Who do you belong to, Potter?” Draco repeated, leaning back and raking his nails down Harry’s sides.

With a pleasurable gasp, Harry’s eyes fluttered into the back of his head. At worst he would be getting six months of the best sex he could ever dream of, at best he could hope to make a lifelong companion out of the blond pirate. Either way he would have his justice at the end of their agreement when he captured Malfoy and his band of miscreants in the name of the Queen and his long dead parents.

“I belong to the Dread Pirate Black,” he answered at last, his tone throaty and filled with yearning.

Draco smiled; those wicked pink lips curling in satisfaction. “And I won’t be letting you forget it,” he growled, his voice vibrating against Harry’s flesh as Draco took his treasure.

Author's Note: It seems we have an accord! This is sort of a crack fic for me, so I'm open to suggestions if you want to see anything between the two boys. Obviously the plot will remain untouched, but if you have a smutty scene in mind, or something funny you'd like to see included, I'm all ears... well, not all ears, I only have the two... but you get my point, right? Anyhow, email me if you have any ideas (my email address is in my profile)