Chapter 32 : The End: A prologue
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Two little inconsequential words, but when put together, something finite- unquestionable. Some try to prolong it by writing an epilogue, but I think that's a waste of time. Why put the epilogue at all? To make the readers feel better? Possibly. Will this story have an epilogue?
…......Absolutely not. I will not write one for you. It's not that I don't want to appease you, because believe me, *sultry wink, that's what I live to do. It's just that..... I don't believe in Happily Ever Afters. I don't believe in the heroine winning all, just because she's the main character. I don't believe that there is anything sublimely good in Draco, though I do believe he is delicious.
I just want you to know that I will try my hardest not to play into my beliefs, because I know what you want. I may or may not give it to you. I'm a literary tease; bite me.
You will taste the end of The Game tonight, my friend. I'm going to make you sit in your seat and ignore your bladder. I'm going to make you procrastinate your homework, and have no mistake- I will make your heart race...... just a little bit. I might even make you hate me while I'm at it.
Love me, hate me, I don't care.
As long as you feel for me.
Welcome, to the end of Pirates.
Dark, grey storm clouds rushed in- pushing, squeezing, and bullying every bit of sunlight out of the sky. They brewed angrily over the ocean, threatening to lose their tempers without a moment's notice. It was as if they were waiting for something to snap, and when that something would....
All hell would break loose.
It was as if they were waiting for something before unleashing their power onto the tiny ships racing beneath them. As if Fliadopia knew that something was going. There was a dark energy crackling in the air, charging anything and everything that it touched. No one could escape.
Hermione's heart was racing. She pulled out her spy glass again and focused it on the ship gaining on hers, inch by cursed inch. “Drat,” she muttered under her breath.
They were loading cannons on the deck. He was out for blood.
Well, he's not going to get away without losing some of his own, too, a voice in Hermione's head fumed. She could do this. She had to end it. It was up to her.
And she wasn't going to lose to Draco Malfoy. The rat.
Her hair flew in her face yet again, slapping against her skin. She pulled it back and wrapped it into a knot. That's better.
For a moment she tried to remember what things were like before the game. The last war, the last everything. This was meant to be a distraction, and it was a damn good one. What would happen when they would need to return to the real world? They had been living in their own for such a long time now.
A tap on her shoulder brought her back to the present.
“What?” Thaddius said, taken aback. “Did you just call me a toss pot?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Toss it. Everything. Every single thing on this ship except for the cannons, and the people.”
“Everything.” Hermione's eyes shone with a glittering determination. “We're not leaving that Island until someone wins.” The wind blew harder, stretching the sails to their limits. The ropes creaked in protest- not that anyone could hear them over the howling.
“But if someone wins-”
“Excactly. Now, toss it.”
Thaddius heard the edge in her voice, and backed off to give orders.
A minute later, Hermione was standing at the front of the ship, vanishing the barrels that they were throwing into the water. She didn't want Malfoy to know that she was trying to get some advantage. She needed all the speed that she could get. She harnassed the wind, and now she just needed to make the baggage lighter.
With her other hand, Hermione fingered the snitch in her pocket. She had everything, she just had to get there first. For whatever reason, she knew that it was going to be either her or Draco. One of them would win, and that was that.
It was going to be her. She resisted the urge to knock on wood and brought the spyglass to her eye once more. She zeroed in on Draco's face, only to see it not focused on hers. Her brow furrowed. Blaise was standing beside him- gesturing a little more wildly than a poised and posh Slytherin usually would. She moved her spyglass to the direction Draco's face turned and then laughed.
This is just too good.
Pansy Parkinson was ready for battle. In fact, she had her pants made for it. Leather knee caps, gloves, sword shined to an inch of its shiny life. Her dark hair was lose, curling evilly around her shoulders. She had to save Draco from that hideous Gryffindor witch. One of them would have to die. Pansy, of course, preferred it to be the Mudblood, but if she had to kill Draco in order to win her bet, then she would do it. There was no way in hell that she would renounce her opinion on Mudbloods.
Surprisingly, she didn't care about winning the game. She didn't give it any thought at all. The bet consumed her.
She turned to the boy beside her whose name she didn't care to remember and asked, “Is there anyway we can go faster? We got this far.”
He shook his head. “The speed charm can only hold up for so long, for whatever reason. It's not working anymore, we have to continue at whatever speed we're going. I suspect that those,” he pointed to the storm clouds that were cackling with thunder and teeming with lightning above them, “have something to do with it.”
Pansy narrowed her eyes. Damn inconvenient. “Jump off the ship.”
The boy stepped back, eyes regarding her words with shock. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Pansy said, “Jump. Off.”
“You've got to be kidding me, I can't help that the charm--”
Pansy whipped out her wand and shot a charm at the boy- his debut into the ocean wasn't even heard. She twirled her wand, expression aggravated. Bloody Ridiculous. Can't even do one charm right, good for nothing little--”
Then she saw it. On the horizon. She pulled out her spyglass and raised it to her eye. What she saw shot heat through her bones- though she would never admit it.
“No bloody way.”
It was too far away for Draco to see, but truly and honestly, he had more pressing matters at hand. The curly, competitive, eyes of fire-- manipulative mudblood, was in front of him keeping just out of reach, and Pansy was on his tail.
His eyes were on the verge of out storming the clouds. “What am I going to do?” he muttered under his breath.
Blaise looked over at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Draco was never without a plan. Well, almost never. Now was one of those 'almost' moments. She had caught him off guard at the wedding. She had something- presumably the key- otherwise, she wouldn't be racing towards Siramadra.
And he was gaining on her by the minute. A wicked gleam shot into his eyes. He was going to win because he was going to use her lack of sexual experience to do it. All he had to do was corner her, and strike.
“Faster,” he shouted to his crew as he grasped the railing of the Shadow with his pale, beautiful hands. “Faster,” he whispered again, caressing the ship, urging it to go on.
“I can't let her win.”
Then ,as if the ship could feel his urgency, as if it actually understood, it actually went, if it was at all possible, faster.
A smirk crept up onto Draco's lips. Her time was close.
Four ships, each one gaining on the one in front of it. The ocean didn't like it all too much, the wood cutting into her back, but she was willing to put up with the pain. She hadn't seen this kind of scene in the entirety of her existence. Legions of ships, yes, but only four? Never. It was bound to be disasterous.
She decided to indugle it anyway. Sometimes, for there to be a fantastic story, one has to endure a little pain.
The ocean was a masochist. She didn't mind. And now, for a little fun.
Told you I wasn't done yet :) I would never abandon you. The next chapter is going through a huge editing phase, but will be within the week, I think. :) I love you all!
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