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A little passenger boat carrying about fifty people pushed its way through the rolling waves. A few Muggle children were hanging over the sides emptying their stomachs into the crystal-blue tropical water. Other children were pointing at the sick ones and laughing.

There were a few little round tables on the deck. Around one sat Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Harry. Neville sat between Hermione and Ron and directly across from Harry. His eyes were closed, and his head leaned heavily on his hands. He moaned with the passing of every bumpy wave. Hermione patted his back.

"It's only one more day, Neville. Then we'll be on dry land."

"Don't pat me! I'll puke!"

Neville and Hermione had earned the chance to visit the tropics and collect rare plant specimens. Both had been given the option to bring a friend. Hermione brought Ron, who had asked Neville if Harry could come. Neville obliged. Ron was presently bemoaning their terrible luck.

"I can't believe she left us with him!"

"Professor Sprout didn't get sick on purpose, Ron," said Hermione.

"Professor McGonagall's not sick."

"Her favorite grandniece just had a baby, you selfish git! Besides," added Hermione, "Professor Snape's the only other one qualified to take us."

"Dumbledore could've come," said Harry.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has better things to do than babysit us," replied Hermione.

"He's not the only one." Snape's low silky voice floated gently over the table. Neville instantly became paler. Ron didn't turn around to acknowledge him. Instead, he let his eyes settle on an unkempt man standing a few feet away, leaning against the boat's safety railing. This man, who Ron had heard another man refer to as "Flame," had messy reddish-brown hair and a long flame-red mustache. The man took a great interest in Hermione. She hadn't said anything, but Ron knew that she'd noticed Flame's interest in her. The night before, Ron had overheard this Flame character talking to two other men. One was a large, loud, stocky man called "Dutch." A smaller man, the shortest of the three, looked a bit younger and bit less clever than the other two. The third man's name was Tom.

In a very harsh American accent, Ron heard Flame say to the other two, "Cute little nymphet, ain't she?"

"Just the kind you like," replied Dutch.

Hermione had already gone to bed when this conversation took place, but Ron knew it was she that the men were referring to. Hermione was the only young female on board. The rest were little girls and old women.

Next to Ron sat Harry. His arms were folded across his chest, and he stared silently at Snape, who no longer looked like The Great Bat of the Dungeons without his black robes billowing about him. Now he just looked like a skinny, ugly, git in a faded blue t-shirt and grey cotton pants.

"Longbottom," said Snape as he handed a small cup to Neville.

Neville warily lifted his head off his hands and weakly said, "Yes, Sir?"

"Drink this, Longbottom, unless you'd prefer to spend another evening vomiting all over your cabin."

Neville took the cup, downed it, and quickly covered his mouth with his hands for fear of vomiting the liquid straight back up. Within seconds his queasy stomach settled, and he felt safe to uncover his mouth. He sat up and handed the cup back to Snape. "Thank you, Sir, I'm much better now."

"Glad to hear it, Longbottom. Now off to bed…all of you."

"It's barely six o'clock," protested Harry.

"Now!" snapped Snape.

All four rose without further protest and stomped below deck to their cabins. Snape waited for the mustachioed fellow to go below before going down himself. Snape stalked silently behind Mr. Flame, taking care not to be seen as the man looked repeatedly over his shoulder. A man that cautious is definitely up to no good. Snape had been observing him and his two companions since boarding the boat the day before. The men had wasted no time in pick-pocketing three elderly gentlemen and one old granny traveling with her four grandchildren. Snape never deluded himself into thinking that he was an innocent man, but he was certainly no thief. He picked the pockets of the three brigands and gave the money back to the original owners. The three thieves immediately suspected each other of betrayal and began to squabble, which had been Snape's true intention all along. While they were busy fighting amongst themselves, their unwelcome attentions focused less on Miss Granger.

Snape waited, out of sight, at a turn in the hallway that led to both his and the students' cabins. He let Flame have a few moments to get comfortable before he peeked around the corner. Flame tried to turn Granger's doorknob, but she'd locked it. Flame then removed a small leather pouch from his pocket. Snape recognized it as a lock-picking kit. He'd seen several varieties of them in his youth as his own Muggle father owned a number of sets.

"May I help you?" said Snape as he rounded the corner and approached Flame, who was now stooped over and focusing intently on Miss Granger's doorknob.

"No thanks, buddy," replied Flame pleasantly. "I just forgot my key."

Flame was a bold man and a convincing liar, but he had no idea that Snape was a wizard and a talented Legilimens. Flame lifted his eyes to Snape, looked him directly in the eyes and barely blinked. Snape saw exactly what he'd expected to see in the man's mind, and also some things that he hadn't. Apparently this Flame fellow had quite a strong sadistic streak where young ladies were concerned. His two companions were just garden-variety rapists.

"That is the young lady's cabin," said Snape silkily, his voice not much louder than a whisper.

Flame pocketed his lock-picking tools and stood upright to face Snape. He was taller by several inches and of a somewhat larger build. He was clearly attempting to be intimidating.

"And she's expecting me, so shove off!"

"Stay away from her," said Snape, his glittering black eyes staring unflinchingly into Flame's dull grey ones.

Flame grinned showing broken teeth, and slipped out a short, slightly curved, and thickly bladed knife from within his sleeve. He tapped it on his forearm as he spoke. "What's the matter, Greasy? Afraid I'll do a better job than you?"

"You have three seconds to get out of my sight." Snape had shrunk his wand and charmed it to stick to his belly. He took a step toward Flame while simultaneously reaching under his shirt. His hand wrapped tightly around his wand's hilt. Flame misinterpreted the movement, as any Muggle would, and stepped backwards with his hands in the air.

"Leave it to me to bring a knife to a gun fight. You win, Greasy." Flame blew Snape a kiss and laughed to himself as he backed away and disappeared down the hall. Snape turned and charmed Granger's doorknob before withdrawing into his own cabin.