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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Lucius, although I wish I did, but if I did, I'd be dead in about 2 weeks. I don’t own the other character either.. I make no money, either from this or from real life, so please don't sue. Oh - and it would really really help if you read Peter Pan before you read this. It is available on line.

Graffiti

He strode down the narrow, steep and cobbled street; the Harbour was shrouded in the dawn mist, and he couldn’t see 10 yards in front of him, let alone the ships that he knew would be motionless in the water. He'd been annoyed that he'd had to leave the carriage at the top of the hill, but at this hour of the morning, the Muggles would awake from the noise of the hooves on the cobbles. His boots slipped on the wet stones and he was in danger of falling more than once, only managing to save himself by using his cobra headed cane.
His face was a grim mask, the silver grey eyes narrowed in concentration.

This transaction had to be as silent as possible.

He stood on the harbour, and the wind teased his hair from the plait he wore, whipping tendrils around his face. His black cloak billowed behind him and he was grateful for the warmth it, and the leather gloves afforded. The sea mist chilled his bones, even if it was June.
There was a tall ship regatta in the Dorset town, and somewhere out there, in the muffled mist, were tens of schooners, luggers, barges, clippers…and one more unusual ship, a brig. It had been Lucius's idea for the transaction to take place here, Voldemort had been intrigued by Lucius's knowledge of such things, but then Muggle Studies was a lifetime obsession. 

Know Your Enemy...

The more you knew about Muggles, the easier it was to manipulate their pathetic lives.

Lucius avoided them at all costs when he could, but relished the fact that he could get away with things, like THIS, because of some pathetic festival they held every year. 

As he waited, he heard the sound of oars, and the sound of men singing, softly, and menacingly. Before he could see anything, he could make out the words…

"Avast belay, yo ho, heave to, A-pirating we go, 
And if we're parted by a shot We're sure to meet below!" 
"Yo ho, yo ho, the pirate life, The flag o' skull and bones, 
A merry hour, a hempen rope, And hey for Davy Jones." 
"Avast, belay, when I appear, By fear they're overtook
Nought's left upon your bones when you have shaken claws with Hook." 

Then and out of the fog, came a dark shape in the water, a jolly boat, rowed by four swarthy and violent looking men. There was a fifth man in the boat, a round faced, red cheeked fellow with a red scarf around his head. The man tied the boat to the ladder. 

"Mr Malfoy?" he enquired. He had a soft Irish accent.
Lucius nodded, a sneer playing around his thin lips.

"The Cap'n is expecting you sir," he offered Lucius a grimy callused hand which he declined and swung himself down the ladder and into the boat. "We've been tied up since 4 bells."

The villainous crew took their oars, the red faced sailor untied the rope, and they swung out into the misty harbour. The garrulous Irish fool tried to make further conversation, but Lucius ignored him, gazing out into the sea mist, trying to catch the first glimpse of the ship in the murk. There was no sound, no sound of Muggles leading their lives, no traffic, no chatter, no birds. Just the gentle lap lap lap of the water against the jolly boats side, the expert splashing of the oars and the creak of the rowlocks.

The Irishman was in the back of the boat, one hand on the tiller, expertly guiding the little boat back. He moved the tiller suddenly to one side and the craft started to lee to starboard. Then and in front of them, majestic and black, rising out of the miasma like a behmoth, Lucius saw it. The legend. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She was low in the water, and black , built for speed, not force. She was the predator, the raptor, the barracuda amongst the fatted geese that swum the oceans, most famously once described as 'the cannibal of the sea'

The boat pulled along side and Lucius grasped the rope ladder, pulling himself on to the deck. With a pained expression, he tried to ignore the stench of fish and unwashed sailor as the terrible hands came up the ladder after him, and dispersed through the ship. There were other pirates, for pirates they certainly were, on deck, a man covered with tattoos on every inch, a huge black mulatto, an Italian looking devil with pieces of eight in his ears and many other loathsome and murderous scum. The Irishman reached the deck.

"Come this way sir," and he led Malfoy to the aft of the ship. He led the way to a small door, and knocked. Harspichord music sounded within "Cap'n?" he quavered, "Your guest is onboard."

The music stopped and there was a pause. Then, "Enter". A low voice, a dark voice, a beautiful cultured pearl of a voice with razors behind it. The small Irish sailor stood aside and let Lucius precede him. From behind a tapestried screen, stepped the man. The barbarous dog, the scourge of men and boys, dark and dangerous, The only man whom Long John Silver ever feared, Blackbeard's Bo'sun. James (or Jas. as he prefer it written) Hook.

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