A/N: Hey guys, I am so incredibly sorry that I took so long to update...well anyway...enjoy!
“Look, Mr. Turner, I’m serious…you won’t believe it…” Hermione sighed, “…but if you insist…”
“Hermione!” Ron hissed, grabbing her sleeve again. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t tell him!”
“Can’t tell me WHAT?” Will’s eyes narrowed.
“Ron...” she hissed right back, “we have no choice. It’s the truth, or the Commodore.”
“Oh...” Ron looked at Harry, who nodded. They had no choice.
“All right, Mr. Turner...this is the deal: my friends and I are from the twentieth century...” Hermione paused as Will’s eyebrows shot up disbelievingly, “...and we’re stuck here in Port Royal. We haven’t figured out how to get back yet. That’s why we speak differently and dress differently.”
Silence filled the smithy. It was randomly broken by Mr. Brown’s snoring. Ginny glanced at Harry angrily. How could he just stand there and let Hermione give it all away? Hadn’t they decided not to use their wands? And if they weren’t using magic to avoid being hunted and whatnot, then wasn’t it a given that they not TELL people they were magical?
“I beg your pardon,” Will said slowly, “but did you just say what I believe you said?”
“You four are from the year 1900?” Will looked rather close to laughter.
“Well, sort of...the 1990s actually,” Hermione continued.
Will gave a slight chuckle. “And just how, young miss, did you arrive in Port Royal?”
Hermione crossed her arms, unintentionally mimicking him. “For starters, stop referring to us as ‘children’ and ‘young people,’ please. You can’t be THAT much older than we are…and we aren’t exactly sure how we got here. It was sort of a mistake,” she sent Ron a glare, “and…actually, you may not like this bit either…”
Will kept smiling, and gestured for her to continue.
“We were caught in a magic charm performed by Ron’s wand.”
“Is that so?” Will said it more as a statement than a question.
Another snore-filled moment passed.
Will’s face was a comic mix between seriousness and a potential grin.
“If you’re going to invent a story, as least make it believable.”
Harry and Hermione exchanged shocked glances, as Ron asked, “You don’t believe us?” he turned to his girlfriend and repeated it. “He doesn’t believe you—“
“I sensed that, Ronald,” she cut him off sharply. “Listen, Turner—“
“Please, call me Will,” the blacksmith interrupted.
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Will. That’s the truth. Really.”
“Of course…Will stepped away from the door, letting them out of the small room. They scurried out, glad to be rid of the dark, enclosed space. “I suppose, since I AM such a dear friend of yours, and you apparently have no real clothes, nor a place to stay, that I should do something about it. In the meantime, try to think up a better story than the one you just told me.”
Harry stepped forward. “Uh, maybe you should know our names first…I’m Harry, and this is Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.”
Will nodded. “Well, at least your names aren’t far-fetched. All right, Harry and Ron, I suppose you’ll stay with me tonight. There’s a room next to mine in the attic that you can share,” he looked at the girls. “And as for you…Hermione and Ginny…since you seem to have no knowledge of customs nor manners, perhaps you ought to stay with Elizabeth. I don’t think she would mind…” he began to walk away, patting his shoulders to rid his clothing of dust.
“Oh, thanks so much, Will! How can we ever repay you?” Hermione gushed.
Will smiled at her over his shoulder.
“Elizabeth Swann? The Governor’s daughter?” Ginny looked at Harry.
“Yes,” answered Will as he put on his coat, and brushed off any lingering traces of soot.
“But won’t it be awkward trying to get us into the mansion?” asked Hermione, sticking her hands into her jean pockets.
“No, not terribly,” Will smiled again, this time mysteriously. “I know the scullery maid.”
A mere ten minutes later, Hermione and Ginny leaned against each other for support. Will had led them through the back alleys (so that they wouldn’t be seen in their ‘indecent’ clothes) at an extremely fast pace. Now, they had finally arrived at the Governor’s mansion. It was a huge, impressionable house, and looked much larger that it had on the television screen.
Will seemed to be full of energy. He looked over his shoulder at the girls, and grinned. “Come on, it’s just right there,” he pointed at the house behind the wall.
Ginny nodded and began to follow him, but Hermione held her back. “What?” she asked, confused.
“We’ve got to tell Will that the town is going to be—“ Hermione started, but was cut off by Will, who was now several feet away.
“Am I going too fast for you?” he chuckled.
“NOW you ask…” Ginny growled as they caught up with him at the wall.
He led them around back, to where there was a small latch-gate, probably for the servant’s use. “Through here,” his voice got softer, “…now…the story is that you’re friends of mine from England, and that you were robbed…does that sound like a plausible explanation for your clothing?”
“Yeah, that’ll do,” Hermione nodded.
“Very well, that’s it, then. And please, don’t tell Elizabeth that outlandish story. Stick to this one,” he said as he led them into the back garden.
“We will, don’t worry,” Ginny took a deep breath, trying to ease the stitch in her side. It almost felt as though she had never trained for Quidditch a day in her life.
“Here we are,” Will stepped up to the porch, and knocked on the weather-beaten door.
A pretty girl of about 15, with bright rosy cheeks, and a head full of strawberry bond curls, opened the door. She grinned. “ ‘ello, Will!”
“Good morning, Carrie,” he greeted her. “Listen, I’ve a favor to ask of you,” he stepped a bit closer to her, and she blushed. “I need you to go find Mary, and bring her down here.”
“What for?” she asked, catching sight of Ginny and Hermione as they came up behind him.
“These young ladies, friends of mine, need a place to stay. They’re cold, hungry, and they were robbed by pirates on their way here.”
“Pirates? Well, why dincha say so?” the scullery maid instantly stepped aside, holding the door wide open to reveal a vast kitchen. “Come in, come in, I’ll run ter fetch Mary,” she called as she dashed off through another door.
Will stepped into the warm room, the girls following him, as a robust Jamaican native, with a very good grasp of the English tongue, called after the maid. “Carrie! Where be dat gurl goin’ eh? Nah, she be un flighty gurl, a flighty gurl…”
A red-faced woman standing by the fireplace stirring something in a big black kettle, answered her. “Aw, Taimy, quit yer moanin’. Can’t you see we’ve got guests?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Henry,” Will spoke politely to the cook, who smiled, making her face seem somewhat redder.
“Good morning, Mr. Turner. Taimy, say hello to Mr. Turner!” she scolded the black girl.
Taimy wiped away some sweat from her round face. “Mornin’ Mista Turna.”
“What can we do yer for, Mr. Turner? Weren’t you just ‘ere this mornin’?” asked Mrs. Henry as she tapped the wooden spoon on the rim of the pot, making a tinny sound.
“Yes, I was, but I’ve come to see if Mary can convince Miss Swann to let these two young ladies stay here for a while…”
Mrs. Henry raised a bushy eyebrow.
Will began to explain. “They are just in from England, and need the best food in all of Port Royal!”
At this, the cook grinned toothily. “Aww, d’ya hear that Taimy? Young Mr. Turner likes ma cookin’!”
“Yes’m…” Taimy began to remove several loaves of bread from the large brick oven that was embedded in the wall.
Mrs. Henry turned back to Will. “Are you trying to sweet talk me, Mr. Turner? Well, never mind that, it worked. Yer all just in time fer the luncheon…Miss…er” she motioned at Hermione.
“Granger,” Hermione filled in for her.
“Weasley,” Ginny smiled.
“Ah, well, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, never you worry, now, you can eat in ‘bout an hour…” the cook paused, brushing wisps of pale graying hair out of her eyes as Carrie rushed back into the kitchen, the girl Mary in tow.
“May I help you, Mr. Turner?” Mary, the young lady that Hermione identified as one of the maids that interacted with Elizabeth in a few scenes, asked.
“Yes, Mary, as a matter of fact, you may. I was wondering, do you thing you could persuade Miss Swann to allow these friends of mine to stay here for just a bit?”
Mary crossed her arms over her tightly laced bodice. “What kind of friends be they, then?” she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
Ginny stifled a giggle, as Will blushed. He began to stammer. “Come…come now, M-Mary. They’re truly acquaintances of mine from England. They…they just need a place to stay, some food to eat, and some…some clothes…these things I cannot provide, and even if I could, it would b-be most inappropriate,” he watched as Mary’s eyes went straight tot he girls’ pants, “…their clothes were taken from them.”
“That’s right! Attacked b’ pirates, they were!” interjected Carrie, nodding furiously.
“Oh…” Mary softened almost immediately, uncrossing her arms. “Well, I suppose I could try ter get them a room or two. If not, they might be able to stay in the servants quarters…I don’t know if Miss Swann will be in good humor or not, what with her being threatened by that rogue, Sparrow!”
“Miss Swann is in FINE humor.”
Everyone turned towards the door, startled.
A tall girl of about 17 or 18 stepped forward, the door swinging shut behind her. She tucked her ornate dressing robe tighter around her body, and smiled.
“Hello,” she held out a delicate hand towards Hermione and Ginny, “I’m Elizabeth Swann.”
A/N: So, what do you think? I know that there isn't much action in this one, but it sort of has to be that way to set up things for the next chapter, "Cainta and Jasmine," which I hope to finish soon. I should have more time now, because I've put my other stories on hiatus...so check back soon, and thanks to all of you that have been faithfully reviewing!!!
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