Sometimes An Active Fantasy Life Can Get You...

Minerva McGonagall stepped out the doors of Hogwarts castle, wrapping her shawl a little tighter and shivering. The weather had turned sharp the moment December had arrived, and the wind was whipping the snow fiercely across the lake. Sighing, Minerva began the short but treacherous walk to the edge of the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored.

The school year thus far had been altogether too taxing on Minerva, and her temper was extremely frayed. The Triwizard Tournament had caused enough chaos just in the initial setup, what with getting the three schools to agree to terms in the first place…and then Harry “Bad Reputation” Potter had to go and complicate things by having his name come out of the Goblet of Fire. During the First Task Minerva was secretly disappointed that the bloody Hungarian Horntail hadn’t made some Crispy Harry McNuggets and saved them all the grief.

Minerva, of course, knew Harry hadn’t really put his name in for the Tournament; that bloody Moody imposter was undoubtedly responsible, and Minerva would be certain to tell Dumbledore that the moment the Silver-Haired Slutmaster stopped two-timing Hagrid with Madame Maxime. Plus, the next time a sore Albus asked Minerva to rub ointment on his aching bones after a night with the half-giantess, Minerva was going to magically implant the tube in his nose, point up, and then squeeze.

Karkaroff wasn’t helping matters, skulking around the castle and trying to convince Snape to run away before Voldemort rose again. Snape, being marginally more intelligent than Karkaroff, wasn’t having any of it, and Karkaroff was growing increasingly frustrated – no wonder, he probably hadn’t had a decent shag since Snape had dumped him their sixth year to become Lucius Malfoy’s bitch.

So it was no wonder that Karkaroff’s impertinent summons had been irritable, to say the least. If he didn’t prove to have a damned good reason to call her out in this weather, Minerva was going to give Karkaroff a tattoo on his other arm to match his Dark Mark; Voldemort’s head with his tongue sticking out, and the words “I was buggered by Dumbledore”. It was probably even true.

One of the Durmstrang students tried to challenge Minerva when she reached the ship, but with her not being in the mood for such games he found himself being molested by the giant squid in short order. Minerva walked to the middle of the deck and bellowed “Igor! What do you want?”

Karkaroff stepped out from the Captain’s cabin, looking even more surly than usual. “Minerva,” he said in his unctuous voice, “Ve have something of a problem.”

“What is it this time, Igor?” Minerva snapped. “Was breakfast this morning too salty? Was Potter’s decision to fly against the dragon and win too much of an insult, and Viktor is sulking? Or would Viktor simply like a certain muggle-born student of my House to give him some private lessons? That last is even possible, at least the insufferable girl would be out of my hair for a time and maybe even loosen up a bit...well, at least certain parts of her would-”

“None of these things,” Karkaroff interrupted smoothly. Although his voice remained the same, his face contorted into something ugly. Well, uglier. “You must deal with that,” he demanded, pointing straight up towards the ship’s crow’s nest.

Minerva didn’t even bother looking up. “It is your ship, Igor,” she said coldly to match the weather. “Fix it yourself.”

“Not the ship,” Igor growled. “The uninvited guest!”

Frowning, Minerva looked up; there was, indeed, someone in the crow’s nest, and although she couldn’t see who it was or hear them above the wind, they were clearly being rather exuberant. “That’s not one of your students?” she asked.

Karkaroff shook his head tersely. “Whoever it is, he tossed Poliakoff into the lake! If the squid hadn’t caught him he might have drowned, or frozen to death!”

Minerva had no fear of that – the Durmstrang lot were from a very cold land, and could handle a bit of freezing water. “And have you even attempted to go up and reason with whoever it is?”

“Anytime ve climb too near he begins conjuring cutlasses and throwing them at us,” Karkaroff said shortly. “He is not one of ours, and Madam Maxime has already confirmed he is not from Beauxbatons. Therefore, he is yours to deal with.”

Minerva gritted her teeth. Whatever student had been foolish enough to do this, she was going to punish him so severely that he’d be old enough and jaded enough to replace Filch by the time he was through with Detention. “Fine,” she said, removing her wand.

“I suggest not drawing your wand just yet,” Karkaroff sneered. “You vill need both hands to climb.”

“My dear Igor, just because you are too inept at Levitation Charms to float up there doesn’t mean we all are,” Minerva said sweetly. She quickly cast a Charm to keep her robes from flapping too much lest anyone below see the Tartan long underwear, and then cast the Levitation Charm; she rose quickly, leaving behind a very shocked and offended Karkaroff.

As she drew nearer to the crow’s nest, the promised cutlasses began flying toward her; however, Minerva simply deflected them, sending several back toward the caster. Finally one seemed to find its mark: “Ow!” a voice called.

There’s something familiar about that voice, Minerva thought to herself as she came even with the nest, and when she caught a glimpse of the man, unmistakable despite the eye patch affecting his aim and depth perception, her suspicions were confirmed. “Severus!”

Snape spun around quickly to face her, the slight gash on his arm from the deflected cutlass forgotten. He was decked all out in pirate garb; he was wearing short trousers and an open shirt revealing his rather weak and pale chest – he looked like he was freezing. He apparently hadn’t been able to decide on whether to wear a bandana or a tricorne, and had therefore opted to don both. He was also wearing boots, or rather one boot as he’d magically removed his right leg and replaced it with a wooden peg leg. His left hand was also missing, replaced by a steel hook. His ears were drooping under the weight of enormous hoop earrings, and he was practically staggering under the weight of Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, who was sitting on his shoulder with an expression that could only be described as resigned. “Fawkes?” Minerva said weakly. “What are you doing here?”

“His name be not Fawkes, but Polly!” Snape demanded; in response, Fawkes gave a very unenthusiastic ‘awk!’ Then Snape focused on Minerva, and his face broke into a broad grin, revealing that several of his rotten teeth had been replaced by gold ones. “Minerva! Salty lass that ye are, come down here!”

Minerva, who hadn’t been called a lass in over forty years, let alone a salty one, floated down into the crow’s nest. “Severus, what-”

“I be not Severus!” Snape cried, waving his wand around and accidentally causing several more cutlasses to soar out over the lake. “I be Captain Snape, Scourge of the Black Lake!”

“Oh no - you took another of those Fantasy Potions, didn’t you?” Minerva asked in shock. “Severus, I thought you swore you’d never do that again after the Angel routine earned you a censure from the Board of Governors!”

“Blasted governors of the King’s trying to destroy us hearty pirates!” Snape muttered. “The next time I see Lucius Malfoy I’ll keelhaul him, see if I don’t, yar!”

“Is that what you’re calling a good buggering now?” Minerva snapped. It was very cold in the Crow’s Nest, and she wanted nothing more than to be curled up in front of her fire with her dog-eared copy of the Remus Lupin edition of Dog Fancy.

"And His Majesty's Captain Potter will be given over to my mates for a proper debasing afore being made to walk the plank!" Snape said with typical sneer and a gleam in his eye.

"Miss that, do you?" Minerva asked blithely. Secretly she suspected Potter would appreciate the tender mercies of a crew of horny pirates.

"Aye, tis sad times when men such as I can find no solace in another's arms," Snape said dispiritedly, stowing his wand and pulling out a bottle. "But we do have one simple comfort when all else fails...and that be the rum!"

He raised the bottle to his lips, and Minerva suddenly remembered the effects of alcohol in a person's system with the Fantasy Potion. Her hand shot out and knocked the bottle out of Snape's hand, sending it tumbling over the side and into the water with a sad little splash. Snape stared in disbelief. "Wh- the rum is gone!" he cried.

"Yes, Severus, the rum is gone."

"Why is the rum gone?"

"Because as satisfying as it would be to see your skin turn blue and your head twist the wrong way around before you exploded, Albus needs his Potions master and spy," she said, although her voice softened slightly. "Severus, you really need a date."

“But I have ye now, lass!” Snape shouted, wrapping an arm around Minerva’s waist and pulling her close. “To make the lonely days and nights at sea fly past-”

Minerva swung back and punched Snape so hard a tooth came loose. He staggered back, almost falling over the rail, as Fawkes gave up and took off back to the castle. Before Snape could react Minerva raised her wand and snapped “Stupefy!” and Snape collapsed unconscious.

Minerva prodded Snape with a toe to make certain he was really out, and then kicked him hard with the point of her boot in his ribs. “Bloody damn fool, if you think you’re getting me in a corset again, you can forget it!” she muttered as she created a Portkey to take the two of them back to Hogwarts. She plucked the cat-o-nine-tails from Snape’s belt and hefted it thoughtfully. “And if anything, it’s your turn to wear the blasted manacles!”

Just before picking up Snape to transport him away, Minerva was sure she heard a very faint “Yarrrrr…”

FIN