Disclaimer: JK ROWLING

Chapter SIX

Hermione prepared eggs benedicts, which was surprisingly good. She dished them out on dirty, old, cracked plates and set them at a large table in the corner of the kitchen. The men didn't all eat together; they came in groups of two or three to eat then leave. She smiled as the pirates raised their eyebrows at each other after tasting the eggs, nodding in speculation. Congratulations passed her in the kitchen as they went to dump their plates in the sink which was charmed to wash plates automatically, and Hermione felt a surge of pleasure that she was already doing something right.

Draco didn't come down to the kitchens to eat, in fact, he didn't have breakfast at all. As Hermione walked through the winding hallway back to her room, she wondered why she was so upset that he hadn't tasted her eggs. Maybe she wanted to prove to him that she was more useful than the usual women he brought back onto the ship. Maybe… but since when did she care?

She flopped down on her bed, thoughts jumbling around her mind. Hermione found herself falling back asleep, but she didn't bother to stop the wave from overcoming her. She could start on the "chores" later… a few more hours wouldn't hurt, would they? The sun hadn't even risen yet, and Hermione had been up rather late last night…

Hermione woke up to another knock on her door, but when she looked out porthole in her room, the sky was dark. Evening already? She slept through the entire day? Impossible… she quickly got off the bed and found herself wearing a low-cut, short red cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh. It was gorgeous and made of a soft, silky material that flowed over her hips and made her average sized boobs look really, really big.

She wondered why she was dressed in such a provocative dress and stepped to the mirror in her room, her breath catching in her throat. Her boobs looking bigger hadn't just been because of the dress – they were bigger! They were huge, but it didn't look awkward on her petite frame, because she was about five inches taller, and her hair was a platinum blonde, silky and straight. She looked familiar, but she couldn't identify the exact face… her nose was no longer button shaped, but straight and long and proud, and her lips were plump and coated in sexy red lipstick.


What…?

The door swung open and Draco was leaning against the frame, looking seductive and dashing in a black tuxedo that hugged his lean, broad shoulders and narrow waist well. His hair was loose and framed his face deliciously, giving his piercing gray eyes more depth and making his angular, aristocratic features look all the better.

"Good evening, Mary," Draco's deep voice rumbled across the room.

Mary? Why was that name so familiar? Hermione pondered for a moment, but was surprised when she felt her lips moving of their own accord and a voice speaking that was obviously hers.

"Evening, Draco," Hermione – or Mary, as Draco addressed her as – had a lovely voice; it was sultry and sexy.

Draco took a step into the room, turning around and locking the door behind him, his movements graceful, slow, and concupiscent.

"Malfoy! What are you doing?" Hermione gained control of her body and shot the words out of her mouth quickly.

Draco turned and smirked. "Using last names now, Evans?"

He began walking towards Hermione, slow, deliberate steps. Hermione backed up – it was like a dance. One step forward, one backwards. Soon, though, all too soon, Hemrione was pressed up against the mirror in her bedroom, and Draco was getting closer with each step.

Hermione's heart and her breath sped up. Draco's eyes were darkening rapidly as he reached her quivering form, pressing a hand to the mirror next to Hermione's head, trapping her.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione squeaked, her voice no longer sultry and sexy.

"Exactly what I brought you here for."

With that, Draco tilted his head closer and closer to Hermione's face. He swept up her wrists with his free hand and pinned them above her head. He leant in, nuzzling her neck and inhaling. Something warm pressed against the side of her neck and she realized that he was licking her neck, but instead of being disgusted, Hermione felt herself being turned on greater than she should've been.


A small moan escaped her lips and she tilted her head as Draco trailed kisses up her neck. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but she felt that she couldn't control her body and what he was doing felt so good…

He placed light kisses all the way up her chin until he reached her mouth, and he pressed his firm lips against hers. As soon as their lips connected, a spark ignited in Hermione/Mary, and she found her lips moving of their own accord, kissing him back, hungrily. Draco let her hands fall and snuck his now free hand behind her and on her butt, resulting in a small moan from Hermione which allowed Draco to sweep his tongue into her mouth.

Draco hiked her leg over his hip and stepped even closer to Hermione, pressing their bodies together and grinding his hips against hers, causing her to moan again in pleasure. His hand gripped her other thigh and tugged it up, until she was straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands tangled in his blond hair and her breaths were coming out in pants. Their bodies felt so good together, it was perfect…

Something brown was in her way though, and she felt herself cramping, and suddenly the red dress was far too big around her and her legs were growing shorter. The brown was her hair, it was big and brown once more, and Hermione was thrown away from Draco as he realized who she was and had gotten burnt.

"MUDBLOOD?!" he cried, looking disgusted.

Hermione suddenly found herself in a French maid's outfit with a broom in one hand and tears pouring down her cheeks. "Draco, no! Please, I lo-"


"Get back to cleaning!" Draco snapped. "It's all you're good for anyways! Nobody likes a filthy mudblood!"

He exited the room quickly, looking disgusted, and Hermione crumpled to her knees, letting out a wail…

Hermione awoke with a start and a gasp. She pressed her hand to her eyes and found that she was actually crying, and recalled the dream she had just had. It had been vivid and she remembered it clearly, every touch and every feel… and the hurt when Draco had spoken his last words.

Oh. My. God. Most awkward dream ever.

Hermione looked at her hands. They were, once again, pale and thin, and her hair was still brown, not the sharp platinum blonde it had been. Her nose was still button shaped and her legs weren't a mile long. She felt an odd feeling but quickly quashed it. So what if she wasn't as pretty as a long legged, blonde haired model? So what if she was on the ship not as Draco's mistress but to actually do work? She wasn't as shallow as that, was she?

The door slammed open and someone was standing in the doorframe, with his wand pointed in the room.

Hermione let out a shriek at the sudden burst and tugged the covers over her chest. "Bloody hell!" she shrieked.

The figure came into focus, sweeping into the room. "Who's in here?"

It was Draco, tall and commanding and utterly in control. His eyes were narrowed and his wand was drawn. He repeated his question. "Why did you scream? Is someone here?"

Hermione's shock faded instantly and she blushed a fierce red. She screamed? Because of that bloody dream? It hadn't even been a scary dream. The blush crept further up her face when she realized that the dream had been about who was currently standing in her room, and he had been the reason of her screaming.

"B-bad dream," Hermione muttered, averting her eyes.

Draco was about to fling open the closet when he heard what she said – instead, he turned around disbelievingly, clenching his fists.

"You screamed like a bloody banshee because of a bad dream? Granger," Draco's eyes were very, very angry. "I nearly blasted this door down to get inside because I thought someone was attacking you."

Hermione didn't think her face could be redder if it was painted. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "I didn't know that I screamed!"

Draco's lip curled in anger. "What was so bad about this dream anyways?"

His icy gray eyes bore into hers and Hermione's widened. Was he good at occulemency? Probably – she quickly averted her eyes. If he found out what the dream had been about – the kissing and touching and oh my god it would be so embarrassing.

"N-n-nothing!" Hermione said shrilly, desperately blurting the first thing that came to mind: "Nothing at all! Just thought that… m-my meatloaf had, had o-overcooked and burnt! You know h-how ovens can be these days right?! No self t-timers or anything like that you have to use your time counting skills and oh it was terrible I mean the whole th-thing was completely burnt and, and-"

"Shut up." Draco snapped, though his lips had curved up into a slight smirk.

Hermione's thoughts raced. Had he seen her dream? Oh god, please, no! How humiliating, how utterly degrading – that she had screamed because Draco had thrown her away when he realized she wasn't some model whore.

Draco's lips curved up even more at her flustered state, however, they dropped fairly quickly.

He shook his head, his blond hair swinging. "Don't let it happen again, do you understand? Next time you might awaken the entire ship, and let me tell you, many of these men don't think before they fire."

He swept out, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione only got out of bed a few moments later, after the shock had worn out. It was just a dream, she told herself. Get over it. She prayed that Draco hadn't read it in her mind, but she was pretty sure he hadn't because he hadn't made any crude comment about it or anything. She shook out her tresses slowly, mulling over the meaning of that odd dream.

***

Draco swept out of Hermione's room, his cool demeanor wearing off as soon as the door slammed behind him. He didn't know what had come over him, but when he first heard her scream, he felt an icy grip of fear grasp onto his heart, and he found himself smashing his door open and sprinting down the corridor as fast as he could. His wand had been gripped so tightly that he had cuts on his palm from where his nails dug into his skin.

He told himself that he would've felt that way, that panic, if any other crewmember had yelled, but something in his mind, deep inside his mind doubted that. He then tried to tell himself that it was because he needed Hermione to make the bloody potion, and that excuse worked a bit better.

He recalled turning the corner and skidding to a halt in front of Hermione's door and slamming into it, forcing it open. He took in her sitting up in her bed, her cheeks wet and her expression blank.

Draco had been mad, yes, that she had caused him to sprint for no apparent reason, but Draco couldn't deny the immense relief that washed over him when Hermione had stuttered that it had been a bad dream, and that nobody was in her room.

He still searched her mind; he was skilled in occulemency and he knew that Hermione had been telling a blatant lie about the meatloaf – but he didn't expect her dream to have been about him. Draco expected it to have been a dream about, who knows, Harry dying or something.

So it took him completely by surprise as he saw himself making out with Hermione, pressed up against the glass of her bedroom… or at least, a blonde Hermione? Taller, bigger boobed, but for some reason they looked the same to him – both Hermiones were breathtaking, but he only felt his pants tighten when the blonde one morphed into the Hermione he knew, the feisty brunette one… That was some heavy snogging – his hands were everywhere, and her legs were wrapped around his waist… Her brown hair was everywhere and her face was flushed with pleasure…

Draco felt a familiar rush of blood in a part of his body and almost wished that it had really been him pushing Hermione up against the mirror of her room until he realized whom, exactly, he was thinking about. Granger. He was shocked, however, when the dream-him threw Hermione to the ground and called her filth. Hermione had started crying and Draco had snapped out of the dream immediately.

So that's what she thinks of me… Draco thought bitterly. Some playboy who just goes for the big-boobed slut hoes, and Granger's only here to be a maid…

The thought was angering until he realized that it had been an exact reflection on his personality and how he planned to treat Granger during her stay on his ship.

That's when he exited her room – he said something he didn't even remember but hoped sounded intelligent. He couldn't take her blundering lies when she obviously despised him.

He sank to the floor outside her room, wondering why this was so confusing to him. Granger was Granger, nobody to lose sleep over… so how and why was she affecting him in this way? This wasn't supposed to happen.

Suddenly, Draco knew why he was having all these odd feelings. I haven't slept with a woman in two weeks, he sighed and reprimanded himself. No wonder I'm feeling this way. I just need some slut to satisfy me for a couple days.

He glanced once more at Hermione's door and turned away, heading up to the deck so he could get the crew to hurry the ship up. Parker Island had a good port, which meant he could hold a ball, and he would choose one lucky girl to have a little tumble in the sack with for a couple days or weeks. If the crew were good, then maybe they'd get lucky enough to choose one too.

When he reached the deck, he quickly shouted out his orders. The men scrambled to obey, and the ship lurched and began to surge through the waves even faster. Draco went to the bow of the ship and sat on it, letting his legs slide through the wooden railing and dangle over the churning ocean below.

His mind was full of thoughts, but one kept returning to the image of him and Hermione kissing… Draco shook his head impatiently. He had no time for this nonsense. Hermione Granger was invading his brain and he didn't like it at all.

Just another day or two till we reach Parker Island. Just a little bit more.

***

Hermione whistled a tune as she folded the sheets of Thomas's bed. The crew's sleeping quarters were a few hallways down from Draco's and hers, but their rooms were smaller and they shared it between two men.

Thomas was with rooming with Leslie, Jassim and Patrick, Wesley and Roric, Kyle and Sandy, Frank and Paul (who was sick), and another two pairs that Hermione hadn't met yet. That pulled the crew to a total of fifteen including Draco, and sixteen including herself. Hermione didn't know much about boats (A/N neither do I) but she didn't think that was a very large crew. Still, they got things done, and the boat seemed to be in perfect working order.

The cleaning actually took Hermione's mind off things, like her and Draco's little encounter that morning and her weirdly awkward dream, and she was thankful. Folding bedsheets wasn't exactly hard, and tidying rooms with the help of magic was extremely simple.

Hermione spent a few hours going through all the rooms, cleaning them as best she could. They were a lot nicer after she had gone through them, but the sheets and pillows were still coated in nasty things that wouldn't come off no matter how hard Hermione prodded them with her wand.

I'll get more supplies at the next port we stop at, then, Hermione told herself. New sheets, new pillow cases… some detergent, definitely… I wonder if they have a washing machine aboard the ship? Or I could always try to charm the sheets to stay clean, but that's a difficult spell, isn't it…?

At twelve, Hermione apparated to the kitchen (at first she got lost, but on her second try she made it) and called for Roric to help her cook lunch. Kyle came as well, and Sandy (Kyle's other youthful friend) joined them too since they were both off duty.

Hermione found that the crew were actually all nice people, and she could talk freely with them about Hogwarts and work at the Ministry. She laughed along with Roric as he mocked the ministry's ineffectual attempts to find the ship, and giggled as Kyle reenacted Leslie when he got angry.

Everybody was constantly talking and Hermione found herself enraptured at the interesting stories Roric, Kyle and Sandy had to tell about their childhood and how they ended up on Draco's ship.

All in all, Hermione hadn't ever had that much fun cooking lunch. The three men treated her like they had been friends forever, and Hermione was grateful. She got along well with them, and she hoped the rest of the crew would be just as accepting.

"This soup is delicious, Hermione," Roric called from the other side of the large kitchen.

Hermione smiled. She had told them to call her Hermione because "Miss Granger" sounded too formal, however Kyle always called her Hermy, reminding her greatly of Viktor Krum.

As usual, the men flocked in as pairs or threesomes, eating and then dropping the bowls off in the large sink. They thanked Hermione and told her she was an excellent cook, and Hermione felt the warmth of praise bubble up inside her once more.

"Seems like the men like you," Sandy commented after everyone was finished eating.

Hermione gave a delicate snort as she finished drying the last plate with a swish of her wand. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible stay after all.

***

The rest of the day passed quickly in the same routine; Hermione worked on the potion after dinner, sitting in Draco's room behind the large cauldron. She avoided his eyes at all costs, trying to forget about the dream.

Draco, however, just sat on his bed and watched her carefully, an indescribable expression on his features. The silence was thick and the tension was palpable, but neither did anything to break it.

He's trying to make me lose concentration! Hermione thought angrily, stirring the bubbling potion forcefully. He's waiting for me to make a mistake.

She turned back to the chopping table, picking up a silver knife to continue dicing the Hippogriff bladder. As she began slicing the warm, bloody stuff, the knife slipped out of her bloody grip and clattered to the floor, ringing in the silence.

Draco let out a quiet chuckle and Hermione felt herself going bright red. As she bent down to pick the knife up, she imagined turning around and throwing it at Draco forcefully. He'd catch it, probably, but the thought still gave her a savage pleasure. Hermione sighed dejectedly as the dream dissipated. She would never do something like that.

Unfortunately, her fingers were still coated in the bladder blood and as she got up from the floor she stumbled. The heavy silver knife slipped out of her grasp and fell straight down, cutting easily through the material of her shorts and slicing through the skin on her inside thigh.

Hermione gave a gasp and time seemed to stand still for a second. Hippogriff blood was poisonous.

Hermione stared at the blood seeping out of the thin slice on her thigh, shocked. How could she have been this clumsy? It was his entirefault! He had distracted her and now she was poisoned! Hermione repeated it in her head but knew that it had truly been her fault for being affected by him so.

She tried to tug her eyes away from the small wound but found that she couldn't. Her breaths were coming in short, uneven pants and all thought of how to heal herself had slipped out of mind.

How do I get poison out of my bloodstream?! She thought desperately. It should be easy! I learnt about this in what, second year?!

Hermione couldn't remember anything.

Suddenly, cold fingers slipped through the tear in the material of her trousers and pressed against the wound experimentally. Draco was suddenly kneeling on the ground in front of her, his gray eyes narrowed and his mouth set in a determined line. All Hermione could see was his bright hair.

Hermione let out a small gasp his cold digits pressed against the warm flow of blood; whether it was from the pain or the fact that his fingers were very, very close to her…you know, she couldn't tell.

Hermione was too shocked to push Draco away or do anything, actually. The poison was slowly spreading, and the edge of the wound was already turning a purplish colour.

Draco's fingers re-emerged from the cut and he looked at the blood experimentally, bringing them up to his nose and breathing in slightly.

"How do you feel, Granger?" he asked, his voice sounding cool.

Hermione's voice trembled when she answered. "I… I don't know… prickly sensations up and down my spine and a weird feeling in my stomach. Is that normal?"

Draco's eyes shot up to hers quickly, his eyebrows raised and a smile tugging at his lips. He avoided her question and shot out, business like once more, "Do you feel any pain?"

Hermione shook her head swiftly. "Not really, actually… No pain at all! Should this be hurting me? Should I be in pain? Am I numb? Why can't I feel anything?!" her voice grew higher and more hysterical.

Draco's eyes seemed to flash dangerously. Hermione couldn't place the expression that appeared for a moment, but if she had to guess she would've said panic.

"Take off your shorts, Granger." Draco commanded. His voice was tense.

Hermione's mouth dropped, but the strange feeling of not feeling was bothering her greatly. She couldn't even feel the blood running down her thigh anymore. Draco wouldn't try anything funny, would he? Hermione made a split second decision. She knew Hippogriff blood was poisonous and she was drawing a blank on all answers.

Hermione had no choice but to let Draco help her.

Hermione quickly shimmied out of the shorts, nervously biting her lip. They pooled around her ankles baggily, leaving Hermione standing in her white underwear which exposed all her legs. The cut was even more exposed now, and it was turning a dark purple around the edges, and her blue veins stood out against the smooth skin.

Draco grabbed her thigh roughly, pulling her closer to his kneeling form, contemplating something. Hermione moved awkwardly, stumbling to a position right in front of him, so close she could feel his breath against her flesh. His head was bent over the wound and Hermione was extremely self-conscious and she was feeling heat creep up her neck. The odd swooping sensation in her stomach grew even more pronounced as she felt Draco's steady breaths fluttering against her skin.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Hermione asked. She found that she was feeling dizzier and her breaths were even more haggard, as if she couldn't get enough air down her throat. "You better not try anything funny!"

Draco took a deep breath in and Hermione prepared herself for what he was going to do next – maybe he was going to jab his wand in her cut and heal it somehow? Maybe he was going to pour a potion he handily had in his shirt pocket on the wound? She resolved to stay still and not make any noise even if it was painful. If Draco was going to help save her, Hermione was going to do anything she could to make it easier.

She didn't expect to be staring dizzily up at the ceiling a moment later, having been knocked onto her back by Draco himself, who was now straddling her waist. Her mind quickly went back to the time they had first met on the beach – they had been in a position similar to this.

Hermione was winded and she was trying to breath in but her throat seemed to be constricted. She could still squeeze air into her lungs, but it was a slow job and it rattled through her throat.

She felt Draco shift on top of her and felt him slide down her body, till he was kneeling between her legs, which were spread open like some common whore. He lowered his head to her right thigh, where the cut was, and his nose paused a millimeter above the sliced skin as Hermione wheezed a question.

"What are… what are you d-doing?"

Draco raised his head quickly, his silver eyes flashing. "I have to suck the venom out, Granger. It's easier with you lying down."

As his lips drew closer to the wound, he didn't choose to elaborate that Hippogriff blood affected the body in only two ways: it stopped pain, and it caused the air canal to slowly contract as the poison spread.

Hippogriff blood certainly did not cause shivers up the spine and flutters in the stomach. Hermione had been feeling those for an entirely different reason.

***

I love your reviews and positive feedback!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter :\

REVIEW COMMENTS:

Aerde: the ship just seemed so dull without him (: thank youu!

Irisheart8: thank you for your suggestion though! I loved it and I will definitely think about adding it in the upcoming chapters.

Lya Darkfury: Thank you and thank you (: I hope I'm not moving too fast now. I love the stage when they think they hate each other!

Keke Koorime: Thank you! I will.

Eldarwen melwasul: That's such a great compliment!

.Poisoned Scarlet.: that's kyle :] and I'm updating fast now because I've actually written out most of the story up till now… I just tweak this or that before I submit it, and it only takes a day or so. So when I'm done posting all the chapters I've already written, it might take a little longer (JUST A LITTLE) for the chapters to come out – but I assure you they will be longer and worth waiting for :)

In Dreams: I like pirates too! :D

Jade2009: I'm really trying to make Hermione not look like a housewife. I don't know why I want her to cook ): probably because I can't – but just because Hermione knows how to cook doesn't mean she's any weaker! And you betcha.

Cat18: Hope you like this one then (:

IGOTEAMEDWARD: OH yes it will be quite fun to write.

BroadwayNightOwl: Thank you for still loving it!