A/N: SO the pirate jily I’ve been talking about for a loong time. Or perhaps not that long, but it feels like it. Thank you @petalstofish for telling me to write this I love u. And thank you @elanev91 for talking me down when I had written 3500 words and panicked. Last but not least, thank you @munarloth for reading it over and telling me what to fix.
I hope everyone enjoys it!
Also available on FF and Ao3!
The briny smell of the seas follows travelers from the docks through the small port city of Hogsmeade, salt and sweat and freedom carried on the breeze that makes this a favored stop for those who struggle to find a taste for land. Still, the ground always feels oddly solid beneath beat up leather boots after a months-long voyage being buoyed by waves made predictable by years of life at sea.
The Captain of the Harpy drops over the side and onto the gangplank, fighting the urge to cling to the ship’s side and refuse to leave her familiar walls, and strides down the wave-beaten docks toward the bustling market.
As far as safety goes for pirates, Hogsmeade is relatively high on the list. A small enough little village that the already disinterested and ill-prioritized Crown can’t be bothered to do more than correspond with the mayor and his rag-tag militia made up of shopkeepers and herdsmen. Couple that reality with the surprisingly lively trade, plenty of ale to go around, and multiple cozy inns with warm beds and warmer stew, and you’ve got an easy-going pirate’s dream.
In truth, most uncompromising pirates would prefer a brothel or coffers more ripe for the picking, but the crew of the Harpy was particularly selected for their low blood lust and high intolerance for injustice. All in all, they were as close as you could get to ‘good’ when you technically worked outside the confines of the law. Still, they kept to a code often flaunted by others of their ilk when it suited, and truly did attempt a life that would do Robin Hood and his Merry Men proud.
Even so, it was always a risk to make landfall, to stop pushing forward, to risk the possibility that law enforcers – however corrupt they may be – could catch up with you. But risks are a must, and a thrill, in all honesty, in the life of a pirate and the Captain has never backed down for want of a bit of courage.
Brim low over the brow, the Captain tosses a few coins toward the harbormaster who conveniently ‘forgets’ their arrivals and departures each time with a little motivation.
A few trusted men stay behind to guard the ship, some preferring so and others with promises from shipmates to share duties and frivolities alike. After a stern order to keep a low profile, the Captain strides off toward the usual errands — foodstuffs, supplies for repairs and upkeep, and a few morsels and small casks for private indulgences.
Once the expected spoils are purchased, the Captain heads for a favored shop and takes a deep breath before pushing the newly painted crimson door — the shade not dissimilar to the hair atop a certain pirate captain’s head — and entering with a brassy clang of the overhead bell and a renewed grip on the well worn tapestry bag. Without looking up, the Captain plops the bag on the waxy wooden counter and slips the clasp open, only realizing the unexpected company when a man’s voice drawls, “Long time no see, Evans.”
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