drabble (?) the first

[taennyn]

In hindsight, the bougainvillea should have acted as a warning sign. The relative odds of tropical flowers growing in such elderly, untrimmed pink and red profusion anywhere but the very oddest of wizarding hothouses . . . and he was quite certain he would have heard of such if they existed.

Failing the assistance of the bougainvillea, the fact that there was a ship out at harbour in the very, very blue water should have tipped Severus Snape off that he was, perhaps, not in England anymore.

He was always rather disgusted with himself afterwards for jumping at the voice from behind.

"A little help, mate?"

He turned around, to find only empty air. Scowling, he began a Charm of Revealing, when the voice spoke again, sounding resignedly amused. "Down here."


There was a man hanging from the cliff, clinging gamely to several of the oldest bougainvillea stems, which were beginning to creak ominiously.

Several over-extended minutes of hanging dangerously far out over the drop, the other man had been hauled to safety and was engaged in a futile battle to brush the dirt from his clothing. Futile, in this case, because quite frankly the man's fingers were filthier than his clothing.

" . . What were you doing?"

The man grinned up, revealing an alarming number of gold teeth. "A bit of a story, that, really. Probably about as much of a story as you showing up here at the opportune moment, as it were. Seeing as how you don't appear to be . . local."

"That would be an accurate assumption, on the whole," he snapped back, smoothing his robes and reaching subtlely for his wand, "As I am certainly not dressed for this wea--"

He paused.

The . . pirate looked inquiring. As much as any man could while bedecked in a costume that would not have looked out of place on a stage, and sporting a set of dreadlocks he had only seen surprassed by one of the madder inhabitants of Knockturn Alley. Who on consideration might have smelled somewhat more wholesome, given the lack of readily available rum in the alley.

"Captain Jack Sparrow," the apparation said cheerfully, then waited.

After a rather blank pause, Sparrow added "of th' Black Pearl?"

He stared.

The pirate snorted, turning away and beginning a rant apparently centered on how one little cursed incident would make a ship's reputation, but forget her captain!

Overcoming a certain sense of consternation, " . . You mean to tell me that you are captain of the mythical ship that sailed for ten years under the curse of several Aztec gods, was freed by a rather spectacular blood sacrifice, and is still occasionally sighted in the Caribbean."

The pirate--Sparrow--pointed at the ship at anchor down below the bougainvillea. "That'd be my Pearl," he said complacently.

Forget 'consternation', he was now hanging by his fingers from the cliff of insanity. He'd walked into a pirate fancier's fairy tale, without so much as a by-your-leave warning. He wondered if he had inadvertantly offended someone. This was hardly Lucius Malfoy's style of retribution, unless he had expected Severus to keel over at the . . scent . . of the pirate. Who could certainly benefit from a bath. In bleach.