you squirmed in the chair you're currently tied on, the rough material of the rope digging into your skin—just like how you sent daggers into the pirate's face infront of you. harry's grin widens as he trailed his makeshift hook on your cheek, the rest of the crew jeered on upon capturing the daughter of giselle of andalasia—you

"what now princess? yer friends can't save you? too bad"