Sirius/Petunia
Petunia should have known better than to trust her sister—the freak. She’d thrown in her lot with pirates, if you please, and had, on more than one occasion, faced the gallows. Alas, when Lily begged for her help, Petunia felt the familiar tug of sisterly duty. Much to her own detriment.
“Ah, Petunia, love. Thank you for being so dreadfully predictable.”
She knew the voice even if she couldn’t see him through the bag over her head. Cold fury spiraled in her belly. It was the type of nausea which had nothing to do with her preference for dry land over the vast sea.
Captain Sirius Black, the most famed pirate of the Atlantic, ripped the bag off her head and ducked his face level with hers. “I daresay we’re making something of a habit, coming across one another as such.”
Petunia scoffed, and would have crossed her arms were they not bound together on her lap. “Black. A displeasure as always. Your ship reeks of peasantry.”
Black’s wicked smile crinkled his kohl-lined eyes as he straightened. “The Niffler has seen better days, to be sure. You’re going to fix that. Or, rather—” Mischievous as always, he turned toward his crew as his poet shirt billowed in the gusty sea wind. “Commodore Dursley will fix it. All I need is the Marauders Map.”
The crew cheered, and Petunia rolled her eyes to the clear blue skies. Such idiots, to think her husband, the Commodore of Grunnings, would forsake his precious map for her safety. Surely, he’d sooner see her off to Davy Jones’ Locker.
“The Commodore doesn’t negotiate with pirates.” She spat the word as though it were vulgar. “Return me to port at once, or face the gallows.”
Black barked a laugh. “We’ll be holding you aboard the ship until such a time that your darling husband releases the map and, with it, the location of Gringotts treasure.”
“The Commodore won’t—”
“Captain Black!” One of his crew shouted from the crow’s nest. “The Ripper—twenty leagues, starboard!”
“Oh Tuney,” her sister said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “See how wrong you are about the Commodore? He loves you more than some silly map.”
“Prongs, heave to!” Black bellowed. “Wormtail, ready the cannons! Moony… fetch the whisky!”
“Aye, captain!”
Black bowed deeply, smirking. “Many thanks for your continued support, Mrs. Commodore.”
Petunia rolled her eyes, muttering, “Bloody pirates.”