"Well, after that I worked on a squid boat in Monterey." The sun set in front of them, casting a beam of sparkling colors on the dancing waves of the water. Hermione listened to Draco closely, even though she already knew the story. The whole time her stomach churned with butterflies. "Then I went down to Los Angeles, to the pier in Santa Monica, and started doing portraits there for ten cents apiece," he told her, reminiscing as he stared off into space. She sighed and looked away. She wasn't sure why, but she truly envied him, having a free life like that and never having to worry about anything.
At least not the things that she had to worry about.
"Why can't I be like you, Jack? Just head off into the horizon whenever I feel like it." She waved a hand towards the setting sun to illustrate her point. "Say we'll go there sometime, to that pier, even if we only ever just talk about it," she said.
He shook his head. "No, we'll do it. We'll drink cheap beer. We'll ride on the roller coaster 'til we throw up," he joked. She laughed. She knew this was Malfoy and they were worst enemies, but somehow she couldn't stop herself from laughing. Her breath caught in her throat as he caught her eye.
Merlin! she thought, bewildered. What's the Ferret doing to me?
"Then we'll ride horses on the beach, right in the surf." He looked away. "Now, but you'll have to do it like a real cowboy. None of that sidesaddle stuff," he said, his voice thick and honeyed, as if he knew what was going on in her head.
Curse you, Ferret! This shouldn't happen; you're the Bouncing Ferret! she thought, horrified at what was becoming of her. He was manipulating her. That's what he was doing. He wanted something.
She would never give it to him, whatever it was.
She shook her head and continued the conversation in the most civilized tone she could muster.
"You mean…one—one leg on each side?" she asked, as if she could hardly believe it.
"Yeah," he said, smirking.
"Can you show me?" she ventured daringly. Inwardly, she hit herself repeatedly on the head.
Stupid Ferret! Stupid Ferret! She could see the illogical path that she was taking, and she wanted to be wary.
Of course, nowadays it was hard to predict the future. Every move she made could change the whole future for her and the others on the ship. These days, it was hard to go by logic alone.
She would show him.
Maybe.
"Sure, if you'd like." He grinned.
"Teach me to ride like a man," she challenged daringly. It was a battle of clever retorts; the battle of wits. She had to win.
"And chew tobacco like a man," he said, laying on a thick western accent. She narrowed her eyes. She wouldn't be outdone.
"And spit like a man," she said, trying to imitate his accent, but laughing because she failed miserably.
"What, they didn't teach you that in finishing school?" He smirked his annoying smirk and pierced her with his icy eyes.
"No!" she exclaimed. Now they were just being stupid, saying random things in order to try to win the battle of wits, but he was going to change that. She could feel it.
"Well, come on. I'll show you," he said, tugging her arm, his cold eyes sparkling.
"No, Jack." She resisted. "No, I couldn't possibly—" She stopped as she looked him in the eyes. It was impossible to resist. She let him drag her along. When they reached the edge of the ship, he stopped by the railing. He looked at her.
"Watch closely," he said, holding out a hand. She could see his eyes almost twinkling with a new emotion, although she didn't know what.
He hacked and spit over the railing.
"Oh, that's disgusting!" Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.
"All right. Your turn." He smirked. She drew a breath and spit a few drops out of her mouth. "That was pitiful!" He laughed. He instructed her on how to do it properly. Hermione spit again. "Ah, that was better. You got to work on it, though. Really try to hack it up. You know? You got to—" He demonstrated. Hermione felt her neck tingle with the sensation of someone staring at her. She turned around.
"Mother!" she said in a half-surprised, half-icy tone. "May I introduce Jack Dawson?" she said to break the awkward silence, gesturing towards Malfoy.
"Charmed, I'm sure," she said in a voice void of emotion. She saw Ruth scrutinizing Malfoy as if he were an insect, one that must be squashed—just like the movie had said.
"Well, Jack, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot," said Molly Brown. At that moment, the trumpeter announced dinner.
"Why do they always insist on announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" Hermione laughed. Molly could make her laugh, and even if the other women called her vulgar, she thought she was always very respectable, nice, and had a good personality along with good humor.
"Shall we go dress, Mother?" Hermione asked Ruth. She nodded. "See you at dinner, Jack," she called over her shoulder to Malfoy. For some reason, the corners of his mouth lifted up in a small smile. Hermione turned forward and followed Ruth back to their room.
*****
It was just as last time, everything prim and proper, everything having to be just so. But this time, it would be a different night entirely, a different reason, a new adventure. Tonight would be totally different.
Different because he would be here, with her.
Hermione was getting ready for dinner tonight and couldn't keep the weird butterfly sensation out of her stomach. For some reason, she couldn't wait for dinner, even if it was just Malfoy coming, her worst enemy. No big deal. It still didn't explain why every time she thought of last night her stomach did flip-flops.
Hermione stared at her reflection. What was happening to her? Why was Malfoy being civil to her? Why couldn't she take her mind off of last night? Why was she anxious for tonight? Nervously, she bit her lip, something she often did when she was thinking. What would be the outcome of this? Surely it couldn't be any good if Malfoy were involved…could it?
She hated complications. She loathed not knowing.
She was supposed to be the one who knew. Why did she have to be so clueless? For once in her life, she had never had so many questions. For once in her life, she didn't know what was going to happen.
A knock sounded lightly on the door, reverberating through the silent room and startling Hermione from her confused thoughts.
"Miss, it’s time for dinner. Your mother told me to call you," said her maid, Trudy.
"Yes, Trudy," said Hermione. She took one last look at her reflection, took a deep breath, and turned away, ready to go through a night of taunts and incivility…or so she expected.
*****
She soon learned that in this world some of her expectations turned out to be wrong.
Hermione was wearing a crimson gown tonight. It was trimmed with black lace in a floral shape, and black sequins and beads at her bust line. Her slippers that she wore were very fine crimson and black high heels, and she wore expensive jewelry, a gold and pearl trimmed necklace and matching earrings.
Hermione descended the grand staircase to find Malfoy waiting for her. He grinned and she smiled lightly, uncertain of what to make of the situation. He took her hand and kissed it, grinning. Hermione stared at him, bewildered.
"I saw that in a nickelodeon once and I always wanted to do it," he said, half-laughing. Hermione chuckled at his joke and then stopped when she realized what she was doing. This is the Ferret, for Merlin's sake! I'm not supposed to laugh at his jokes! she thought. He held out his arm to her. Hating herself, Hermione took it and he guided her into the dining room. They met Cal about halfway to the dining room.
"Darling," said Hermione, hating the sound of the word on her lips as she addressed Cal. "Surely you remember Mr. Dawson," she said, gesturing towards Malfoy.
"Dawson? Amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman," he remarked. Malfoy smirked and Hermione felt another clever retort coming to his lips.
"Almost," he said, smirking wider. Hermione knew him so well.
"Extraordinary," said Cal.
Hermione proceeded to show Malfoy all the important people who were on the ship, though she was amazed at how she could actually remember them. But then again, she had always been good at remembering characters' names.
"That's the duchess," she told Malfoy, pointing out a slender female talking to a man in an elegant suit.
"And that's John Jacob Astor, the richest man on the ship," she said, gesturing towards a wealthy man talking to another woman.
"And his little wifey there, Madeline, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal," she said, pointing out the woman next to Astor.
"And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madam Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course," she commented.
"And over here we have Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many hidden talents. Very popular with the royals," she said, glancing sideways at him. He chuckled. Hermione felt sick.
"Congratulations, Hockley. She's splendid," a man congratulated Cal. Hermione flinched. They were making it sound almost as if she were a possession that was to be shown off, not a person.
"Why, thank you," said Cal, chuckling and obviously seeing Hermione's annoyed expression.
"Care to escort a lady to dinner?" said Molly to Malfoy.
" Certainly," said Malfoy, holding out his arm to Molly. He stared at Hermione, as if she was the one he wanted to escort instead.
Why would he want to escort me, though? I'm nothing but mudblood filth, Hermione thought. Maybe she was just imagining things.
"Ain't nothing to it, is there, Jack?" Hermione heard Molly ask Malfoy. "Remember, they love money, so just pretend like you own a gold mine, and you're in the club." Hermione chuckled lightly, even though she knew the situation was not something to laugh about. People here would accept you only if you were rich.
And they still accepted him.
Oh, the irony.
She was unsure as to how they accepted him. Maybe it was because he once was one of them.
Who knew?
"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson." Hermione was starting to dislike this Ruth woman more and more with each word she said that denigrated Malfoy. Even though it was Malfoy, she still hated for anyone to be treated that way. Of course, knowing Malfoy, he would always come up with some clever retort.
"The best I've ever seen, Ma'am. Hardly any rats." Even Hermione had to smile as the whole table burst out laughing. Malfoy could be so witty sometimes with his retorts. Not to be outdone, Cal spoke.
"Mr. Dawson is joining us from the third class. He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night." Not wanting anyone to denigrate Malfoy again, Hermione spoke.
"It turns out that Mr. Dawson is quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today," she said. Hermione glanced over at Malfoy to see what his reaction would be to her defending him. His eyes twinkled, no longer icily, but almost as if the cold ice in his eyes was melting. The corners of his lips tugged up slightly in a real, genuine smile.
"Rose and I differ in our definition of fine art. Not…not to denigrate your work, sir," he shot at Malfoy, who shook his head and said that he wasn't offended. Ruth, not to be outdone, shot out a question to Malfoy.
"And where exactly do you live, Mr. Dawson?" she asked snidely. Malfoy smirked. Hermione, knowing Malfoy, guessed that he was about to come up with some clever retort.
“Well, right now, my address is the R.M.S. Titanic, and after that, I’m on God’s good humor.”
“And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?”
"Oh, yes, Ma'am, I do. You can't wait around, because you never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. You need to make each day count," said Malfoy, cleverly contradicting her. Hermione smiled.
Malfoy was a born debater.
Molly Brown raised her glass, saluting Malfoy.
"Well said, Jack," she said, nodding. Colonel Gracie raised his glass and nodded to Malfoy, too.
"Hear, hear."
Hermione raised her glass and smiled at Malfoy. He turned to look at her with a blank expression on his face, and then the corners of his mouth lifted up into a small smile. "To make it count," Hermione murmured. Everyone raised their glasses and murmured the cheers. Hermione looked over at Ruth and saw that she looked very annoyed, probably at the fact that Malfoy had everyone wrapped around his fingers already.
Malfoy was one heck of a charismatic person, no doubt about that.
"How is it that you have the means to travel, Mr. Dawson?" asked Ruth, intent upon denigrating him.
"I work my way from place to place. Tramp steamers and such. I won my ticket on Titanic here in a lucky hand at poker." I saw him glance at me and smile "A very lucky hand," he added. Hermione's heart stopped. Was he trying to tell her something? What did he mean?
"All life is a game of luck," said Colonel Gracie, nodding. Cal glared at Malfoy, and contradicted the Colonel.
"A real man makes his own luck, Archie," he said. Hermione wondered why Cal had to denigrate every human being that came into his sight. Maybe it was his way to feel more loved.
Hermione laughed at that idea. It was probably true. Hermione leaned closer to Malfoy and got his attention.
"Next it'll be brandies in the smoking room," she informed him, smiling lightly. A smirk danced on his lips. Colonel Gracie rose and addressed the men.
"Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?" asked Gracie. Hermione could tell Malfoy had a hard time keeping his face straight.
"Now they’ll retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe," she told him, trying to get him to smile.
It worked.
The corners of his lips lifted up into a light smile. Colonel Gracie addressed Malfoy.
"Joining us, Dawson? You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?" he asked, giving him a knowing smirk. Malfoy stood up.
"Uh…no, thanks. I'm heading back," he told Gracie. Cal leaned towards Malfoy and whispered so Hermione could just barely hear him.
"Probably best. It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing. It wouldn't interest you. It was good of you to come." And with that, Cal, Gracie, and the other gentlemen exited the dining room.
"Jack, must you go?" Hermione asked him. Despite it being Malfoy, she was actually longing for his company, now that he was almost the only familiar face in this crazy alternate world.
"Time for my coach to turn back into a pumpkin," he said, smirking. Hermione laughed lightly and bit her lip, as she always did when she was thinking. Malfoy took her hand, still smirking slightly, and kissed it.
Hermione's blush was visible from across the room, she was sure. Her cheeks burned as hot as Hades, and she looked down. With one last smirk, Malfoy slipped a note into her hand and turned around, heading towards the steerage section.
Hermione turned back and opened the note so the table was hiding it. There, in Malfoy's neat handwriting, was scrawled:
Make it count. Meet me at the clock.
Hermione bit her lip, wondering what he was going to speak to her about.
There was only one way to find out.
*****
Hermione exited the dining room, nervously making her way up to the Grand Staircase, where the clock was located. The clock struck the hour, and as she reached the bottom of the staircase, she saw a lone figure standing there.
The figure turned, and Malfoy's face grinned down at her, his ice-blue eyes sparkling.
"So, you want to go to a real party?" he whispered, smirking.
*****
Malfoy pulled her by the hand into a smoky, dimly lit room, where Irish folk music was blaring from the middle of the room, where a band was playing.
"Jack!" A soft voice came from ahead of them. The little girl that Malfoy had been drawing before came up to him.
"Hey there, Cora!" he said, smiling at her. The little girl smiled back. Malfoy turned back to Hermione, gave her a meaningful look, and then looked back at Cora.
"How about dancing, Cora?" he asked, smirking. The little girl's eyes lit up in delight.
"Oh, yes!" she said. With that, Malfoy led her onto the dance floor, leaving Hermione by a table with Tommy Ryan, Fabrizio, and a few other of Malfoy's steerage friends. Tommy handed Hermione a mug of ale. Hermione looked at it distastefully before chugging it down.
She smiled, watching Malfoy and Cora dance to a lively song, pushing through the crowd. The song ended and Malfoy looked over to Hermione. He leaned down to speak to Cora.
"I'm going to dance with her now, all right?" he asked her, pointing to Hermione. Cora nodded shyly.
Cora scampered off, and Malfoy faced Hermione, pulling her onto the dance floor. He smirked and put one hand on her waist and slipped his other hand into hers.
"I can't do this," Hermione protested. She had never danced in her life. She figured she would fall face down and look like an idiot.
Malfoy ignored her. "We're going to have to get a little closer, like this." He pulled her closer to him. Hermione felt a rush of heat flame towards her cheeks.
She was blushing.
She knew she should be mentally kicking herself, but she couldn't help it. She was actually...enjoying herself. Malfoy, noticing her blush, smirked. Cora pouted, standing beside Tommy and Fabrizio.
"You're still my best girl, Cora," said Malfoy. Cora gave a quick smile and then sat down to watch them.
"I don't know the steps," Hermione protested again.
"Neither do I. Just go with it. Don't think," he told her. And with that, he swept her off onto the dance floor, brushing past other dancing couples, and moving along with the fast-paced beat. Hermione's feet begin to ache and she cursed, infuriated at the culture's habit of forcing women to wear torture devices on their feet.
"Wait...stop!" Malfoy stopped dancing immediately and looked at her curiously. Hermione slipped off her high heels and threw them to Tommy, who was standing in the crowd and watching them dance with a knowing smirk. He caught them neatly and held them. Hermione turned back to Malfoy.
Fabrizio moved up onto the stage with Helga, both dancing along with the music and laughing. Malfoy pulled Hermione's hand, beckoning her to come with him and follow Fabrizio. At first, she pulled back, uncertain, but then she allowed him to guide her over to the platform. She stared at him, awestruck, as he started to tap dance, something, very clearly, that he had done before. He grinned down at her and she quickly joined in, moving her feet swiftly to the music and letting it carry her.
He pulled her into a spin, both of them laughing like crazy.
"Draco...no!" she said, hardly getting the words out from laughing hysterically. She bit her lip as she realized that it was the first time she had called him by his first name.
"Whaaaa!" exclaimed Malfoy, laughing so hard he couldn't speak. Hermione erupted into a fit of hysterical laughter.
The music came to an abrupt halt. Malfoy pulled away from Hermione and smirked. Hermione curtseyed mockingly and Malfoy bowed deeply, still smirking.
Malfoy took her hand and led her over to a table, grabbing two ales for them. He sipped his own carefully, but Hermione chugged hers down, showing off. He stared at her and she stopped drinking, smirking.
"What? You think a first class girl can't drink?" she asked, still smirking a little. He laughed and she joined in with him.
A man suddenly bumped into Malfoy, making him slop his drink all over Hermione. She cried out as the ale splashed on her, getting her wet.
"Hey, get out of here!" said Malfoy, scowling at the man. He turned back to her and looked at her, concern showing on his face.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Hermione laughed and nodded. "I'm fine," she said, still laughing a little. She wandered over to the table and smirked, feeling a little cocky.
"So," she said, taking the cigarette out of Tommy's mouth, taking a drag, and blowing it in his face, "you think you're big, tough men?" She handed the cigarette back to Tommy and picked up the hem of her dress. "Let's see you do this." Hermione reached up on her tiptoes, going even further onto the very tips of her toes. She bit her lip to hold it there for a few moments and then fell. Draco wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her from hitting the floor.
"Ow! I haven't done that in years." Hermione groaned. Everyone laughed and applauded her.
*****
The stars burned bright in the sky, gazing down upon the two figures who made their way across the boat deck, stumbling through the lines of a song.
"Come Josephine, in my flying machine, and it’s up she goes, up she goes. In the air she goes. Where? There she goes!" They stumbled through the next line of the song, unsure about the lyrics. As their song drifted to a close, Hermione stopped and stared up at the cosmos.
"Isn't it magnificent? So vast and endless..." she whispered to Draco. He nodded, agreeing with her. She strode over to the railing and leaned on it. Soon he joined her, his skin brushing hers faintly. Electricity flew through her as she felt their skin brush. She turned to him, scrutinizing him with her honey-brown eyes. He stared back at her, his ice-blue eyes penetrating hers intently.
"They're such small people, my crowd...they think they're giants on earth, but they're not even dust in God's eye. They live inside this little tiny champagne bubble...and someday that bubble's going to burst," she said thoughtfully.
"You're not one of them. There's been a mistake," said Draco, smirking, a glint in his eyes.
"A mistake?" Hermione asked, sensing a clever retort coming on.
"Uh-huh. You got mailed to the wrong address," he said matter-of-factly. Hermione laughed, a clear peal of bells that rang through the night.
"I did, didn't I?" She smiled and then glanced up at the sky again, noticing a streak shooting through the sky.
"Look. A shooting star!" she cried, pointing to it.
"That was a long one! You know what my pops used to tell me? Every time you saw one, it was a soul goin' to heaven," he said.
"I like that. Aren't we supposed to wish on it?" she asked him. He looked down at her, gazing into her eyes intensely, a smirk threatening the corners of his mouth.
"Why? What would you wish for?"
She looked away from his eyes, turning to the ocean. "Something I can't have," came the simple response. "Good night, Draco," she whispered to him, walking towards the entrance to the first class rooms. She could feel his eyes on her back, watching her leave, and her eyes filled with tears of confusion.
She didn't know what to do.
*****
The sun shone through the windows of the promenade deck, casting a miniature halo around Hermione's hair and making her feel slightly sleepy.
"I had hoped you would come to me last night," said Cal, observing her.
"I was tired," stated Hermione simply.
He raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Your exertions below decks were no doubt exhausting."
Hermione stiffened. "I see you had that undertaker of a manservant follow me," she remarked coldly.
"You will never behave like that again!" he said in a dangerous tone, his eyes darkening.
"I'm not some foreman in one of your mills that you can command. I'm your fiancée—" In his anger, he swept the china off of the table with a crash and grabbed both sides of her chair, trapping her between his arms. He glowered down at her.
"Yes, you are! And my wife...in practice, if not yet by law. So, you will honor me, as a wife is required to honor her husband! I will not be made a fool of! Is this in anyway unclear?" She was speechless. Never had she seen a man go into a rage like that before. All she could do was nod her head.
"Good." He looked up, seeing Trudy with a pitcher of orange juice, staring at them. He got to his feet and stalked past Trudy angrily. Hermione bit her lip to stop from crying, but failed. Warm, sticky tears seeped between her eyelids and down her cheeks.
"We...we had a little accident, Trudy..." More tears streamed down her cheeks.
"It's fine, Miss," said the maid, helping her clean up. Hermione turned away and wiped her face off with her palm.
Her feelings were terribly confused, and this situation with Cal didn't help any.
*****
A maid was lacing up the strings to Hermione's corset when Ruth entered. Hermione looked up, coming out of her thoughts of last night with Draco. Her face darkened when she saw it was Ruth. Ruth excused the maid and started lacing up Hermione's corset herself.
"You are not to see that boy again. Do you understand me, Rose? I forbid it!"
A sharp retort came to Hermione's lips. "Oh, stop it, Mother. You'll give yourself a nosebleed."
Ruth stopped lacing up her corset and crossed the room to close and lock the door. Click! Hermione felt like a prisoner.
"Rose, this is not a game! Our situation is precarious. You know the money's gone!" she said coldly.
"Of course I know it’s gone! You remind me every day!" said Hermione.
"Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debt hidden by a good name. That name is the only card we have to play." Ruth turned to glare at Hermione. "I don't understand you. It's a fine match with Hockley, and it will ensure our survival," said Ruth.
Hermione looked away, feeling very confused and lost. "How can you put this on my shoulders?" she asked, turning towards Ruth.
Hermione's eyes met Ruth's identical brown ones and she glowered at her, filled with hate for this woman. She stared into the woman's irises and was surprised to find something that she thought she would never find in Ruth—naked fear.
"Do you want to see me working as a seamstress? Is that what you want? Do you want to see our fine things sold at auction, our memories scattered to the winds? My God, Rose, how can you be so selfish?"
"It's so...unfair," Hermione said lamely, wishing she had more words to express her predicament.
"Of course it’s unfair. We're women. Our choices are never easy," said Ruth, pulling Hermione's corset tighter. Hermione frowned, lost in her thoughts.
Ruth had forbidden her to talk to Malfoy again. How would that work if she was to figure out how to get back to her time and get off this accursed ship? What would happen when the ship started to sink?
Would they make it out alive?
She was suddenly struck with a very horrible thought.