Chapter Two: In which Draco learns money can't fix everything and stuggles to get used to ship life

Draco's first day on the Endeavor was less than enjoyable. The constant rocking of the boat made him feel sick to his stomach. He wasn't given any time to adjust, however, and was thrown right into work. His father hadn't been kind, he'd told Captain Yaxley that he could put Draco to any work he wanted.

Before they had left the harbor the Captain had given Draco some advice. "At the moment the crew only know you as the boss's son." He fixed Draco with a hard stare. "That isn't a good place to be. You're some pompous, arrogant dick to them. Most of them hate dicks. Some of them enjoy it - I'm not going to judge, but the fact remains that they aren't going to like you, and you'll have to prove your worth. I'm making it so that the more popular you are, the higher up you'll be!" He chuckled. "Not that you'll be Quartermaster, of course... If you get that popular, you can help me account and take inventory."

Now, Draco had been sure it wouldn't be too bad. He'd splash his money about and he'd be in the Captain's Quarters in no time.

But it wasn't like that at all. The crew were already getting enough money, and weren't thinking about making extra on the side. The fact that Draco thought he could take the easy way out only made them dislike him more.

His first official day at sea began at half five in the morning, by which time the island Draco called home was already just a speck on the horizon behind them. The Sun wasn't even out when Draco was pulled from his hammock, where he had been peacefully dreaming. He hit the rocking floor of the ship with a thump, and he groaned. He opened his eyes and glared at the sailor who had woken him.

Through the dim lights, Draco could see that he was large, and muscly, with small eyes and a large nose. His sleeves were ripped, and he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"What was that about?" Draco seethed, glaring up at the man.

"Been trying to wake you up for thirty minutes." The man said. "The others all left. Get up now, or you'll miss breakfast."

"Oh." Draco attempted to pick himself off the floor, but struggled to gain his balance. His companion gave him an audible sigh and yanked Draco up by his collar as if he weighed nothing at all. Draco rubbed his neck where the man's hand had been, but thanked him. "Ah, let me just get changed into some new clothes..."

The sailor gave a short laugh. "Those're yer only pair."

"What?!"

Draco wasn't impressed by breakfast, either. He was used to eggs and bacon, sausages and bread, not...

"What is this, anyway?" Draco scoffed, tapping the sloshing bowl of grey muck.

"Breakfast." Replied a sailor gruffly. The mans thick hands were wrapped around his bowl like a wolf holding onto it's kill.

"Yes, but what is it? Some kind of soup?" His nose wrinkled. It smelt of dishwater.

"'S porridge." Another grunted. "An' the best meal yer'll be getting' fer a while, so eat up."

Draco looked down at his 'food', an uninspiring grey, watery dish of water with worrying lumps in it.

"Lunch an' tea'll be better!" An over-the-top Cockney accent noted helpfully, out of nowhere. Draco looked at the small boy in front of him, who had been silent until now. He was tiny - and looked about ten, or eleven, not old enough to be on a ship in Draco's personal opinion. "And all the best food goes to the people at the top."

Draco sneered. "Who are you?"

"I'm Colin Creevey. I've only been on this ship a month, but..."

"I don't need your advice, Creevey." Draco cut in, standing up and leaving, deciding that it wasn't worth eating the food and that he could wait until later. The young boy eyed Draco's food eagerly, and reached for it, but another sailor snatched it up and glared at the small boy.

"Don't even think of it."

A couple of hours later, Draco was beginning to regret not having his breakfast, however disgusting it looked. The Sun was up now, and the heat was blistering. Fresh water was rare here, so most of the crew drank rum. Lucius had taken Yaxley aside before they had left, however, and instructed him that Draco was only allowed to drink water, and had supplied Yaxley with more water than usual so that there would be enough for Draco to drink. Lucius had said that Draco hadn't gotten drunk before, and he wasn't too keen on letting him start. Therefore, Draco had been given a flask of water just after sun-up, and told it would be refilled at the end of the day.

It was already half empty, and it wasn't even mid-day.

To start him off, the Quartermaster had given Draco a 'small, easy' job - to swab the deck with saltwater to keep it swelled and tight. Though Draco had been slightly thankful for not having to do any hard labor, he was still angry about having to do any labor at all. And the work was still strenuous.

From his position, he could see what was going on around the ship. Some of the sailors were tying and untying ropes, and some of them sat around doing nothing for a while, before going down below deck. The small brat Draco had met earlier, Creepy, Draco thought his name might have been, was particularly interesting to watch. He darted back and forth across the ship, nipping below deck before hopping back out and sprinting to the other end. He hardly seemed to stop moving, aside from when a member of the crew would grab him and say something to him - give him an order, perhaps? The boy would answer with a sloppy grin, nod and dart off. Sometimes he would dart around the ship calling some random persons name, finding them and parroting words to them before disappearing below deck again. Sometimes he would stop by a sailor and watch what they were doing with rapt attention, and the sailor would show him how he was doing it. Draco despised how chirpy and eager the boy was about his job.

At around half ten, as Draco was wiping the sweat from his brow, Creepy skidded to a halt next to him. "D'you want some help with that mate?"

Draco sneered at him. "No, I don't need some small kids help."

"It's no bother, honestly!" The boy ignored him, grabbing another mop. "I don't have anything to do right now, Captain Yaxley told me to help in the kitchen, but that can wait until midday they won't be really needing my help for a while, so I'm free to help you!"

"I don't want help."

"It'll be quicker if we work together!"

Draco groaned and stopped mopping, swinging round to face the boy. "Look, I don't really want to be here. All I have to do is do my fair share of work and then I'm home free right? My father will hear how much work I've done and think it's alright for me to go back, so I'm just going to do that. If you help me, he'll just think I'm shirking off."

The boy looked at him. "You're on here to learn how to be a leader, right?"

"Yes."

"Well how can you lead people if you aren't willing to work with them?" Draco scowled.

"Leadership isn't about working with people, it's about telling them what to do."

"I think you're wrong."

"I don't give a fuck what you think." Draco momentarily wondered whether he should be swearing in front of the kid, he was so small he was probably 8 years old or something, but he figured he'd heard worse during his time at sea. He took another swig of his water and returned to work.

"That's fair enough, but a good leader always listens to the opinions of their crew!" The boy chirped. "If you're sure you'll be okay, then I trust your judgement." He sounded a little sad, but Draco firmly told himself not to be empathetic. "I'll go pester Sebastian and see if he'll show me how to steer the ship!"

The kid dropped the mop and scampered off, leaving Draco to swab the deck alone, with only one mouthful of water left to keep him hydrated until lunch or dinner, whenever they would be.

Lunch was given to him soon after - if you could call it lunch. It was really just a hard cracker-like thing. Draco didn't like it, it tasted dry and salty and wasn't helping his slow de-hydration, but he was so starving he had to eat it.

It began to get slightly colder as the day went on, and the sun set just after seven o'clock. The kid - Draco had forgotten his name completely by now - had dashed below deck soon after he'd eaten lunch, and Draco didn't see him again until around eight o'clock, when he popped his head up from the stairs and told everybody dinner was ready.

Draco hadn't finished his job, but he was so hungry and thirsty that he dropped his mop and went to follow everybody down to eat. However, his shoulder was grabbed by the strong grip of the Quatermaster.

"Where d'you think yer goin'?" He asked, glaring at Draco. Draco mustered up a glare back.

"I'm going to have dinner. I'm starving." He replied. The sailor huffed.

"Not until you finish your job, you don't. I gave you the task of swabbing the deck. Does this deck look swabbed?"

"Most of it does."

"And if the parts that aren't get splashed by a wave, yer'll be the one apologisin' to the crew that gets wet? Yer'll pay fer any damage that happens to the val-u-bels?" The large man growled. Draco wondered if he and that cabin boy where the only ones on the ship that didn't lift whales in their spare time. "Finish swabbing the deck, and then y'can eat."

The Quatermaster shoved Draco backwards gruffly and lumbered down to have dinner. Draco muttered a string of profanity as he roughly grabbed the mop and continued his job. He cursed his father for sending him off on the ship, his mother for not standing up for him, Blaise for not coming with him, Captain Yaxley for making him do this type of work, the Quatermaster for giving him this work, and that stupid kid that had left him to do it on his own. By this point, Draco had completely forgotten that he had been the one to turn the small, helpful boy away. The stars that were beginning to twinkle in the sky did nothing to make Draco feel at peace.

Half an hour later he was done, more or less. There wasn't anybody around to tell him whether he'd done a good job or not, so he decided that he was done and went below deck. The room where they'd eaten breakfast was empty, and a plate with a pile of what looked like wet straw sat on a table alone, with only a blunt fork of... questionable hygiene to keep it company. Draco was nervous about eating it, but too hungry to complain about it's appearance. Besides, there was nobody there to complain to. The food was sour and Draco winced as he forced it down his throat. That boy had told him the food would be better at dinner, but he had lied. Either that or they'd given him this shit instead of actual food.

Either way, Draco was more tired than he had been in his life. He dragged himself back to the bunk where he'd gotten up this morning. The room stunk and everybody was snoring; Draco was reminded of a pack of sleeping wolves.

As he got into bed, he heard a tiny voice call out to him. "Draco, is that you? Sorry about you having to eat later, I did offer to help... D'you want my help tomorrow? I tried to keep some of the meat for you, but Jugson wouldn't let me. Are you okay?"

Draco was too tired to make a remark about how he was not okay, he was not okay at all, and just flopped over onto the hammock... which tipped, and he fell out with a thump. Draco groaned.

"Are you okay, Draco?"

"Fuck off kid."

AN: Hi! Second chapter here! Half of this was written already (I wrote the first chapter last year, but left off putting it up until I had a plan), so that's why it's up so quickly. From here on out, updates may be slower because I'll have to write out the entire thing. There'll probably be only one more chapter until the plot really takes off, since I didn't include everything I wanted to in this one (Draco was being too much of a little bitch over his life to co-operate with the friend-making), but then it'll be enter Hermione! and everything will take off from there.

Please review!

~Comix