It was a beautiful dining hall. It seemed to be redecorated for every meal. The music never stopped. The waiters never delayed. The food was top class. The Champaign was marvellous.

Draco was so lucky. He had all of this. All these luxuries. All these advantages. He was heir to one of the largest fortunes on this ship. He had it all.

And he hated it.

To his right, his mother was chattering away with one Rita Skeeter. They discussed the latest fashion in France comparison to that in Italy as if it would solve world hunger. To his left, his father and Horace Slughorn were talking about the quality of the new sports car engines, and whether it was strong enough, considering it was built by such undereducated swine.

All around Draco, people were talking, laughing delicately. Enjoying the joy their money brought them. Draco stared down at his plate. Why couldn't he be like that? Why couldn't he be happy with all he had? Why didn't he care about any of this?

He had all the money he could ever want in the world, but after 17 years of living like this, he knew that it had nothing to do with being happy. Draco remembered something from earlier that day when he had been out on the deck. A group of five friends had been sitting on some benches.

They had seemed so carefree, so content. So happy. They had been very obviously third class, what with their dull clothing and rugged appearances. There was black man with his daughter, who had seemed so proud and strong. Even though he was probably penniless, he had seemed rich in a way Draco could not understand. The twin men with ginger hair had been laughing and shoving at each other as if they didn't have a care in the world.

The girl with the bushy hair had been sitting on the edge of the bench, relaxed and laughing. Draco had grown up knowing that women were to be neat, presentable, upright and delicate. This girl was none of these things, but she had a smile that Draco had never seen in any of the supposedly more advantaged girls he knew.

And the red headed boy. The one who looked at her as if she was the sun the moon and the stars, all put together. He talked loudly and laughed loudly and expressed himself loudly. So different to the reserved, quiet, behavior that Draco had grown up knowing.

And then, the other man. The one with the dark, unruly hair. The one with the piercing green eyes that could be seen across a ship. The one who had been staring at Draco.

In one word, the boy was beautiful, and all Draco had wanted to do was stare back. But of course, he hadn't. He had looked away after a second, because as a man, he wasn't to stare at other men. But despite himself, he had risked another glance. And he was still staring.

Did he not care that that was not allowed? That looking at Draco like that was not socially acceptable? Did he not care? No, he didn't. And he was all the happier because of it. Why couldn't Draco be like that?

He saw my whole life as if he had already lived it. An endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches. Always the same narrow people. The same mindless chatter. Draco felt like he was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull him back. No one who cared, or even noticed.

Suddenly, the room around him seemed to be shrinking, the walls closing around him. The lights were spinning, and his breath caught in his throat, choking him. His head snapped up, his breath coming in slight pants.

Draco excused himself from the table, not that anyone heard him. He walked out of the dining hall, trying his hardest to keep his back straight, keep his walk steady, his look firm, just as he had been trained to do. The walk to the door felt like the longest in his life.

The doors were opened for him and he stepped out, greeted by the cool fresh air. He had expected it to calm him, to soothe him, but instead, the fresh air felt like a taunting slap, reminding him of what he was missing. What he would never have. The cold stung his eyes, and he rubbed at them, and found them to be wet. Draco stared at his hands and marvelled at the drops of tears he found there. As he stared at the tears, he realised that conversations where happening around him, and for some reason, he heard his name.

"Oh look, it's Draco Malfoy! Such a lucky boy. He's receiving his father's estate you now. All of it! Yes Lucius Malfoy, that's his father. Oh, all that money, he must be so happy..."

"Yes," whispered another woman on his other side, "that's why he's going back to London. He's getting married you know! The money is his as soon as he says 'I do'."

"Yes, he is the sole heir after all. He must be so happy!"

The breath in Draco's throat froze, choking him. He realised that he was shaking, and his cheeks were warming with even more tears. He breathed in choked pants.

How dare they assume he was happy? How could they even begin to think that money was all he wanted? Was this all there was to these people? Money and weddings and estates and diamonds? Was this all there was for Draco?

A hand touched his arm, and he whipped around to see a little girl.

"Are you alright sir?" She asked him in a small voice, curtsying. Draco stumbled away from her, trying to hide his face. As he moved, he fell into a couple. The woman yelped at his lack of grace. Draco stumbled up, unable to even mutter an apology. He looked up and it seemed that everyone had seen him. Seen him in his weakness and tears.

Draco breathed heavily, trying to straighten up, and failing miserably. And so he did all h could do.

He ran.

He turned to the stairs and he ran as fast as he could. He didn't remember when his tears turned into sobs, or why. But it happened. He cried as he ran through the ship. Not caring that he was running into people, shoving them aside. He didn't even know why he was running, or where he was running to.

Draco reached the lowest deck, gripping onto a thick pole and catching his breath. His vision was slightly blurred by the tears pouring out of his eyes. He leaned over the pole, breathing heavily and trying to control his sobs. He looked up, and saw that he was at the Stern of the ship, and all that was in front of him was ocean. He let go of the pole and walked slowly towards the edge of the ship. He gripped onto the railing, staring out at the black sea.

Draco looked around behind him. He was completely alone. Without so much as giving it a thought, he stepped up onto the first rail. He held onto the pole as he ascended, and gripped onto the hanging rope as he swung his one leg over the rail, and then the other one. Within seconds, he was on the other side of the railing. He turned so that he was facing the sea and nothing else.

Shaking, and his breath still coming out in whimpering gasps, he stretched out his arms, leaning further out of the boat. This was it. He was finally going to end it. He was no longer going to live the life that had been set out for him since birth. He was going to-

"Don't do it."

Draco gasped, turning to the voice behind him.

"Stay back," he gasped, "Don't come any closer." His voice was raw from crying, and he hated sounding so weak.

"Come on," the voice said, coming closer despite Draco's instructions, "Just give me your hand, I'll pull you back over."

"No!" he was messing up Draco's plan, "Stay where you are! I mean it. I'll let go."

Draco turned back to the water, leaning over. He glanced over his shoulder to see the man still standing there. He brought his cigarette to his lips, taking a drag and blowing out. He gestured throwing the cigarette overboard, and taking tentative steps toward the edge, he flicked it over. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, looking at Draco.

"No you won't." He said.

Draco's head snapped towards him, "What do mean 'no I won't'? Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"

"Well," he shrugged, "You would have done it already."

Draco frowned at the stranger. "You're distracting me, go away!" he returned to leaning away from the rail.

"I can't," he sighed, "I'm involved now. You let go and I'm gonna have to jump in there after you." Draco stared in confusion as he took his jacket off.

"Don't be absurd," he said, as he unlaced his shoes, "You'll be killed.

"I'm a good swimmer," he shrugged.

"The fall alone would kill you."

He took off his shoe and sighed, "It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To tell you the truth I'm a lot more concerned about that water being so cold."

Draco looked out at the water, which all of a sudden did not seem so inviting. He glanced at the man taking off his other shoe. "How cold?"

"Freezing. Maybe a couple of degrees over."

Draco gulped, glancing down at the water again. The man straightened up, still looking at him, "You ever er," he said, "You ever been to Cheshire?"

Draco frowned at the seemingly random question, "What?"

"Well, they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there near Godrics Hollow. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father, we went ice fishing near the Black lake. Ice fishing is you know, where you-"

"I know what Ice fishing is!" Draco snapped.

"Sorry," he said, holding up his hands, "You just, you know, seem like kind of an indoor guy. Anyway, I fell through some thin ice, and I'm telling you, water that cold, like right down there," he gestured at the ocean. "It hits like a thousand knives, stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think. At least not about anything but the pain."

Draco looked out at the water again, except this time, with a look of wariness. He glanced at the man, who had somehow gotten a lot closer to him. He returned his gaze to the icy water below, and leaned back slightly, recoiling from the blackness. It was then that he realised that he was shaking. Whether from the cold or the sudden realisation at what he was planning to do, he didn't know. The man sighed next Draco, as he removed his vest.

"Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in there after you. But like I said, I don't have a choice."

At this point, he was standing right next to Draco, looking quite sheepish. "I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here."

Draco looked at him, his eyes hesitant, flicking from him to the ocean. He frowned, coming to his senses. He wouldn't let this man distract him. He had to do this.

"You're crazy," he muttered, stretching his shaking arms and leaning over the ship.

"That's what everybody says but, with all due respect sir, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." A silence followed. Draco closed his eyes, his jaw clenched, "Come on," he said, "just give me your hand. You don't wanna do this."

Draco wanted to be angry with him, to shout at him, to tell him that he had no clue what he was talking about. But he didn't. Because he was right.

Despite myself, he gave in. He let go of the railing with his right hand and crossed it over his body. His was ready and he gripped Draco's trembling hand tightly. A relieved sighed left his lips as Draco turned.

He lifted my eyes to see the man's face, and for the first time, Draco realised that this was the same man from earlier. The one with the unkempt hair. The one with the piercing green eyes. The happy one. The beautiful one.

"I'm Harry Potter." He said, smiling.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy," he replied in a shaking voice.

"I may have to get you to write that one down," he chuckled. Draco let out a short bark of shaky laughter. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed, and the fact that his first time was right after an attempted suicide made him question his own sanity.

"Come on," smiled Harry Potter, and Draco stepped up onto the first rail.

Now, Draco didn't know if it was the humidity that made the rail slippery, or his expensive slick shoes that had no grip, or the fact that his entire body was trembling. But one second he was stepping, and the next, he was falling. He let out a scream as he felt his feet fail from under him. Suddenly, he jerked up from his free fall, and looking up, he realised that Harry Potter had not let go of his hand.

Draco screamed again as he felt a slip, but he grabbed onto his other hand.

"Come on," he yelled, trying to pull him up. He swung his leg to grip onto something, but the surface of the ship was smooth and wet, and he only slipped further. He screamed as he felt himself fall again.

"Help me!" Draco yelled, "Please help!"

He could feel the tears returning but he was too scared to be embarrassed.

He thrashed around, trying to keep steady but failing horribly.

"Look at me. Listen! Listen to me!" yelled Harry. Draco looked up at him, and for a moment all he saw was those green eyes, staring down at him from the back of a ship.

"I've got you," he said, "I won't let go."

Draco gulped, still hypnotised by those eyes. He nodded, breathing heavily.

"Now pull yourself up, come on!"

Draco did as he said and gripped the rail with his other hand. He pulled himself up as Harry did, and eventually, he was pulling Draco over the railing. He fell over onto the solid deck, shaking and gasping.

Harry was on top of him, holding himself up as he looked down at him. He opened his mouth to speak when they heard a voice behind him.

"What's all this?" Harry got up and turned, still on his knees. It was then that Draco realised what a sight this was. A lowly third class member who was on top of one of the richest heirs on the ship.

The trio of so called police-men looked over the situation and immediately turned on Harry.

"You stay back, and don't move an inch!" one of them yelled, "Fetch the Master as Arms."

:::

Well, it wasn't the first time Harry had been put into handcuffs.

Living life as he did, run ins with the police was not a shocking thing. But it was understandably his first time getting arrested for saving someone's life. There he had been, lying on a bench and contemplating life, when a sobbing mess of a man came running past.

It didn't take a second guess to know that it was him. The beautiful one from the deck. The luminescent hair and his pale skin were unmistakeable, even as he was running. Harry had followed him, but finding him hanging off the back of the boat was not what he had expected to find.

He looked now at him, covered in a blanket and being offered a cup of coffee. Harry didn't think he realised exactly what he was doing until it almost happened. He had never seen such fear in a single persons face.

His eyes had looked at Harry, scared and slightly shocked. It was then that he noticed that they were grey. Extremely grey. Almost silver. And beautiful. Very beautiful. Harry realised that mulling over the beauty of his eyes while he was hanging on for his life was not the wisest thing for him to do. That could wait till after he had saved him.

But the moment had been interrupted by well meaning, misunderstanding police men. And of course, Draco Abraxas Malfoy's father.

"Completely unacceptable!" he spat at Harry, "What made you think you could try and rob my son?"

Harry glanced at Draco, who was staring into his mug.

"Look at me, you filth!"

"Father," said Draco.

"What do you think you were doing?" he gripped Harry's collar, shaking him.

"Father!" Draco stood up, "Father, stop! It was an accident."

"An-an accident?" He scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

"It was. Stupid really. I was leaning over and I slipped." Harry almost laughed at his obvious lie.

"I was leaning far over," he continued, looking at Harry, "To see the er, um, er the er..."

"Propellers?" offered the Father.

"Propellers! And I slipped! And I would've gone overboard, but Mr. Potter here saved me, and almost went over himself."

"The propellers. He wanted to see the propellers." Repeated the father, more to the rest of their company that to himself.

"Like I say," said a large man holding a glass of wine, "Youngsters and machinery do not mix."

"Was that the way of it?" asked the man behind Harry. He looked at Draco and saw his face, pleading with him to agree.

"Yea." he said, "Yea that was pretty much it."

"Well the boy's a hero then!" chuckled the man. "Good for you son, well done. Well, it's all well and back to our brandy eh? Ha ha." The man smiled as he waddled back to the first class side of the boat.

Harry looked at Draco, trying to suppress an amused smile, and he sent a whisper of a smirk in Harry's direction.

His hands were uncuffed and the attention was promptly removed from him.

"Look at you," cooed a blonde woman, rubbing Draco's arms, "You must be freezing. Let's get you inside."

She wrapped her arm around him and turned to walk away. The Father gave Harry a cold look up and down and followed them.

The round man with the glass cleared his throat, "Perhaps a little something for the boy?"

Lucius Malfoy turned, and gave the man a look of cold amusement, "Of course," and then turned to the black haired man who had been following them like a dodgy shadow,"Mr. Snape, I think a 20 should do it."

Harry heard Draco scoff, not turning around, "Is that the going rate for saving the heir to your name?"

The Father looked at him haughtily, "Draco is displeased," he drawled mockingly, "What to do?"

He walked over to Harry slowly, coming very close. Harry was pleased to discover that he wasn't all that much taller than him.

"Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening? To regale our group with your heroic tale."

Harry could see the taunting in his eyes, the disdain of his status. But then he thought about the mediocre meals they received down in third class, and then to the idea of large steaming dishes full of rice and lamb stew. And more importantly, the prospect of sitting at a table across from Draco Malfoy.

"Sure. Count me in."

"Good." Lucius turned around and walked with the whale, "This should be interesting," he said quietly, obviously intending for Harry to hear.

Draco looked at him once for a few seconds, and then turned around and walked back to first class with the rest of them. The shadow, Snape, was walking quite a few feet behind them, and Harry whistled so only he heard. He stopped and turned around, slowly and stiffly. He looked at Harry with challenging black eyes, as if wondering if he had really had the gall to whistle at him.

"Can I er, bum a smoke?" Harry asked him. Snape paused, and then walked over to him. He was stiff in his walk, and yet his coat billowed behind him. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed them to Harry. He took two, putting one in him mouth and the other behind his ear.

"You'll want to tie those," he said, in a deep drawl, glancing at his boots with disdain.

"It's interesting," he said "That the young man slipped so suddenly and yet you had time to remove your jacket and your shoes."

He looked down his rather long nose and turned, walking back the way the rest of them had come.

For a while, Harry stood there, watching the first class crew walk back to their dining hall. And slowly, a grin spread across his face. It was still there when he walked into the crowded cabin that was temporarily his home. I was greeted by the rambunctious laughter that was very common on this corridor.

"Greetings all." He grinned, "How are all my second favourite people?"

"What's up with the grin?" said Fred, waggling his eyebrows.

"Why are you half undressed?" questioned Hermione, frowning.

"Second favourite?" frowned Ron crossing his arms.

"Yes, Ron, second." Sighed Harry as he flopped onto his bed. "My first favourite is one Draco Abraxus Malfoy."

The others blinked at him, and then George tilted his head, "Malfoy," he said slowly, "Why do I know that name?"

"Well he's only one of the richest passengers on this ship," scoffed Hermione, as if it was obvious, "But wait.. no that's Lucius Malfoy. And I can't imagine him being your favourite person. He's an absolute prick. Who's this Draco."

"Lucius Malfoy's son." grinned Harry, "I'm sure you remember him. White blonde hair? Green suit? Standing at the deck this afternoon? Most handsome man in the world?"

The others chuckled at him, "Well there you go then," laughed Ron, "The guy you were mooning over is heir to a fortune. All the more reason to just forget about him."

"Now why would I do that?" smirked Harry, "When I have a date with him tomorrow."

The room filled with silence for a long time, and then exploded with loud questions.

"A date?"

"Are you joking?"

"Malfoy?"

"A date?"

"You're joking!"

Harry just grinned at their yelling, and turned in his bed, bidding them a goodnight that they didn't even hear. He didn't bother telling them that the word 'date' was very loose in this case. Or that there would be a lot more people on it. Or that it was only happening because Draco Malfoy had tried to jump off the ship.

He just smiled and settled into bed. He had to get his sleep. After all, tomorrow, he had a date.