The rest of dinner passed without incident and, for once, Hermione was grateful that Malfoy was a Slytherin. The table had been curious about Nicholas's supposed career as a literary genius, and asked Draco dozens of questions which he answered seamlessly. His answers were so convincing that even Hermione had wondered if he was telling truth, and was secretly an aspiring fictional author.

At one point, Annabelle's mother looked pointedly in Draco's direction and told him: "Annabelle is engaged to be married once we arrive in New York, isn't that lovely?"

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, the older woman was obviously trying to place boundaries and put Draco in his place.

He didn't miss a beat. He looked at Hermione and raised his glass.

"Congratulations, Annabelle," he said, loud enough for the entire table to hear, "may you have a long and happy marriage."

"Hear hear!" One of the men seconded and the next thing Hermione knew the entire table was raising their glasses in a sign of respect. Hermione glanced at her mother, who was glaring venomously in Draco's direction.

She looked at the Slytherin. He winked. She smiled.

Once the desert plates had been emptied and the glasses of champagne and wine had been drained. the men stood up to pardon themselves to the brandy room. At that, Hermione sat up a little straighter and, once she had Draco's attention, tilted her head in the direction of the exit. They still had much to discuss.

Draco got her message and stood up himself, "I think it's time for me to retire as well. Thank you all for a lovely evening."

"I bet they don't have dinners like this in the year 2000!" One of the men said humorously, nudging the Slytherin boy with his elbow before bursting out into raucous laughter.

"No, I can assure you they don't," he said, nodding, before turning back to Hermione and nodding slightly, "Annabelle."

"Nicholas," she said.

"It was nice to see you."

"It was nice to see you, too."

"I'm glad you didn't fall overboard."

Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you were there to catch me."

It was then that she realized that her statement was true, and that she hadn't said it merely because it would be what Annabelle would say. She truly was glad that Draco Malfoy had been there that night. And she was even glad that he was there at dinner. She wasn't sure why, but with him around, the ship felt a little more steady beneath her feet. She watched him go, and he glanced briefly over his shoulder at her one last time before exiting.

"What a nice boy," someone said.

"He is quite bright," Thomas Andrews responded before departing with the rest of the gentleman to the brandy room. "Good evening, ladies."

"Mr. Andrews!" she gasped, suddenly remembering him and how important his role in her mission was. She rose from her place. The man in question turned around in surprise, an unlit cigar dangling from his lips. She realized then that the entire table was watching her expectantly, she grasped for the words, "I was wondering if I could sit down with you at some point and… ask you some questions about this ship?"

The women at the table gawked at her brazenness. Hermione winced internally. Was it a strange request?

"It-it's such a marvelous machine, I just thought it would be interesting to learn more."

He took the cigar from his lips and gave her a charming smile, "I would love to, my dear. We can sit down tomorrow for tea."

Hermione smiled at him, a genuine sense of hope blooming in her chest. If she could sit down with the ships architect, surely she could gather enough information in order to avoid the tragedy! She sat back down in her seat, still smiling softly.

For the first time since she had boarded, she felt the tides turning. Draco wasn't a death eater. They could potentially work together to save the vessel from sinking into icy Atlantic waters. And she knew just who to talk to to get information!

"Wow, look at that smile," Molly commented, "Nicholas cracked you open like an oyster in an otter's hands." The table erupted into scandalized giggles.

Hermione started and looked up at the grinning women.

"He is quite handsome," one of the younger girls murmured.

"And charming," another woman supplied.

"He's a street rat with something to hide," Martha said, voice filled with venom "It would do you well to stay away from him, Annabelle."

"I understand," Hermione said, unphased. She had known that Anna's mother would forbid her from seeing him again, "I'm quite tired. May I go back to our room?" Hermione asked, itching to escape. She wished she could just get up and walk away, but it would certainly be the scandal of the night. She sighed inwardly, the last thing she needed was another public scene.

Martha stared at her through slitted lids for several moments before nodding her consent. Hermione pushed away from the table and stood up, butterflies fluttering about inside her ribcage.

"Horace," Her mother called, holding up her finger. Hermione's heart sank, the smile dropping from her face. She couldn't get away if Horace was tagging along.

"Don't think I didn't notice your little escape trick today. If you pull something like that again, you'll be sorry." His words echoed ominously in her skull.

The man pushed himself away from his lurking spot on the edge of the dining room and stalked towards their table. Hermione swallowed hard. She would never get an alone moment with Malfoy.

"Aw, come on Martha!" Molly said, polishing off the last of her wine, "She's a big girl."

She turned her attention to Hermione.

"You can make it back to your room on your own, can't ya?" She smiled big, giving the younger girl a wink.

"Yes, of course," she said, nodding.

"I do think she's old enough," another woman piped up.

"The walk back to your quarters can't be that treacherous, can it?" Another voice joined the chorus.

The women at the table laughed in unison, and Hermione saw Martha sit up a little straighter, eyes darting about nervously. She was being judged, and that simply wouldn't do.

"Yes, of course," she finally relented, waving Horace away. She looked her daughter in the eyes, "go straight back. Don't get into any trouble."

"Yes, mother," Hermione breathed, trying to contain her giddiness, "Thank you. Good evening, everyone."

"Goodnight, darlin', sleep tight," Molly said, a twinkle in her eye. The American certainly sensed that Hermione was up to no good.

It took all of Hermione's strength to not break out into a sprint as she made her way out of the dining room and back out into the main area. She could feel her mother's eyes burning holes in her back as she walked away.

Hermione scanned the room until she caught a glimpse of his platinum hair at the first landing of the grand staircase. Draco was waiting for her, gazing at the clock as the hand made its way around. She took the steps slowly, gazing up at him. She could see the side of his handsome face, and she wondered what it would be like to graze her lips across the soft porcelain of his cheek.

Before she could even register the imaginary scenario her treacherous brain had conjured, he had glimpsed her from the corner of his eye, and turned to her.

"It's about time. I've been waiting at least three minutes, Granger," his words were harsh, but his tone was playful.

"What kind of stunt was that in there?" She asked.

"I like to keep things interesting."

She resisted the urge to smack him. Instead, she showcased her graciousness and slipped her arm gently into the crook of his elbow.

"Muggles are not animals you can toy with," she said under her breath, remembering Horace's brutality. "They're more dangerous than you think. You can't do that again."

"Alright, alright," Draco sighed.

She would chastise him more later on the importance of secrecy. They climbed the final stretch of the staircase in silence. Draco glanced down the side and stiffened slightly.

"Bloody hell," he breathed.

"Is it Horace?"

"Yes."

"Should we make a run for it?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Hold on. Hold on."

They made it to the top of the staircase and walked slowly until they were out of sight.

"Run!" Draco hissed.

They released one another and broke out into a sprint. Hermione swore she could see the black whirl of Horace following them up the stairs, which only made her heart pound harder. They ran as fast as they could, but Hermione didn't catch the memo that Draco wanted to go down the corridor to their left, so she skidded to a halt as he disappeared from view.

"Malfoy!" She hissed, whirling back around.

"Come on!" He cried and she stumbled after him, her heels severely inhibiting her speed. As quickly as she could, she kicked them off and pulled her gloves off while she was at it, tossing both in the nearest hamper. She squealed in horror and excitement as Draco reached back to grab her now-bare hand and pulled her until she was in step with him. They ran down the winding corridor of first class accomodations until the hallway looped back around and let out once more into the grandiose staircase.

"Where do we go?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Down." Draco said and they began their rushed descent. They smiled and greeted everyone on the steps as they passed quickly by them. Hermione could feel her hair falling free from its pins as they went.

"Hello!"

"Good evening."

Cries of shock and horror rang out in their wake.

"How do you do?" Draco mocked, almost knocking an older woman over.

"Lovely dress!" Hermione cried, doing her best to avoid any bystanders. It struck Hermione how positively strange they must look.

She couldn't believe just how many levels of the grand staircase there were, in all of the grainy black and white photos, it looked as though there was only one set of the beautifully crafted oak stairs. In reality, there must have been at least a dozen levels. It took her breath away, both figuratively, and literally. She chanced a glance over at Draco. Like her, he was smiling. Even though this chase was undoubtedly dangerous, it was the most fun she had had since boarding the vessel.

And for once, she noticed, her abused ribs weren't bothering her.

Even though neither of them saw Horace following behind them, they didn't stop. They didn't even think about slowing down until the ceilings got shorter, hallways got narrower, and the lights got dimmer: signaling their arrival into the third class quarters. Hermione didn't know how Draco had been able to get them there through such a labyrinth of identical looking corridors, but he had. She appraised him with a new sort of admiration. He was quick, resourceful, and he somehow already knew his way around.

On their trek down, they had walked by at least a dozen third class passengers making their way to their rooms, and they stared openly at the two of them. She gave a polite smile and a nod to each of them, trying to communicate that they didn't need to treat her differently. She wished there was an easy way to tell them all that she was one of them.

As the witch and wizard made their way further into the bowels of the ship, the smell of mead, roast potatoes, and all sorts of miscellaneous scents wafted up towards them. They slowed to a halt as the sounds of a raging party echoed up to them from a set of wooden stairs.

"It looks like the party's already started," he said, looking back at her, a few strands of his blonde hair falling free from its gelled back style and into his grey eyes. "We could lose just about anyone down there."

Hermione wasn't listening to him, she was too busy noticing that his hand had never left hers. She gazed down at their intertwined fingers and stared dumbly for several moments. He had been using their clasped hands as a way to anchor them both to one another as they raced their way through the winding halls of the Titanic, but they had stopped running minutes ago, and now they were completely still… yet he did not let her out of his grasp.

This was not the first time their hands had touched: he had held her wrists against her will until his fingers left bruises on her skin, he had clutched her fingers desperately as she almost slipped through his grip and plunged into the ocean, he had shaken her hand as they stumbled through their first interaction as Nicholas and Annabelle - not to mention, a few hours ago he had held her hand delicately in his own before grazing her knuckles with his lips!

Yes, they had most certainly touched before; all of the moments played over and over in her head with a startling clarity, so she knew for certain that this instance was different.

Draco Malfoy was holding Hermione Granger's hand, skin against skin, and it seemed as though he hadn't even realized he was doing it. Had he grown so comfortable with his rival that he had no problem touching and holding her for long periods of time?

If they had found themselves holding hands a few days prior she was sure the Slytherin would have sneered in disgust and wiped his hand on his dress robes. Over the years he had made it abundantly clear what he thought of Hermione: he was disgusted by her blood, and by extension her very skin.

When Hermione didn't respond, Draco followed her gaze down to find their hands intertwined. He freed her from his grasp immediately. He turned away from her, quickly rubbing the back of his neck.

"I hadn't noticed," he murmured, and Hermione's stomach flipped in response. Was he blushing?

"It's okay," was all she said, heart fluttering inside of her chest. She couldn't help but notice how cold her hand felt without his. What was happening to her?

"Let's go get a table."

. . .

As they made their way down the wooden steps, the first thing that struck Draco was the music; it was unlike anything he had ever heard. The main melody was coming from some sort of reedy-sounding muggle contraption, which was somehow constructed out of multiple tubes and-was that a bag? For what was certainly not the first time in the past few days, Draco found himself astounded at muggle ingenuity. The other band members' instruments were more easily recognizable, and Draco couldn't help but tap his hand against the railing with the rhythm as they arrived at the bottom of the worn stairs.

They found themselves on the outskirts of a sizable mass of churning muggles. Draco was tempted to take Hermione's hand once more- just to lead her through the boisterous crowd, of course- as it felt as though the entire third class was present that night. Everyone and their mother populated the dance floor; clapping, dancing, and singing along to the infectious tune played by the muggle band.

There was hardly any room to stand, let alone maneuver their way through. To hold her hand would have simply been a helpful link to keep them from being separated, but after what had just happened, he couldn't bring himself to do it. His fingers still tingled with the memory of her hand in his. He didn't have time to delve into why he hadn't let her go, so he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Draco looked back to ensure that Hermione was still following him, and sure enough, despite being jostled about quite a bit by the inebriated passengers, she was close behind. The Gryffindor took in her surroundings, a smile on her face stretching from ear to ear. She was seemingly unbothered by the plethora of sweaty bodies pressing into her at all sides, and her hair had fallen from its neat pins, the unkempt strands cascading down the sides of her face. In his opinion, it only accentuated the carefree grin and the sparkle in her eyes. He swallowed hard and turned back around-

-only to run squarely into what felt like a big, warm, sweaty brick wall. What in the bloody hell?

"Nick!" Hamish's voice cried and Draco looked up to find his friend beaming down at him with rosey cheeks. He was obviously drunk. The man enveloped him in a giant bear hug.

"Hamish!" Draco cried back, unable to keep the smile from his face. After having been in the first class lounge with such terribly proper people, his Scottish friend was a sight for sore eyes. He slapped his back in a friendly gesture before Hamish let him go.

"Where've yeh been- and good Lord, what're yeh wearin'?" He began, stepping back and looking down at Draco's tuxedo. Well, not Draco's. Molly Brown's son's. He continued in a slurred manner: "Yeh found a suit! Yeh look like some sort of prince!"

"Thanks, mate!" he cried, straining to be heard over the sounds of stamping feet and inebriated cheers.

"And who's this beauty?" Hamish asked over Draco's head, peering curiously down at Hermione. Draco turned and motioned for her to come closer. She gazed up hesitantly at the towering man.

"Hermione, this is Hamish!" Draco shouted loud enough for both of them to hear, "Hamish, Hermione!"

"Nick!" Hermione pinched him and leaned in to say in his ear, "you just called me Hermione!" He was too distracted by the hand on his shoulder and her breath tickling his ear to even register what she was telling him.

"It's nice to meet yeh, Hermione! Yeh must be the lass who almost fell off the ship!" Hamish said, reaching out a hand in greeting. Hermione offered hers and as they shook she looked at Draco in bewilderment. It was then that he realized his error: he had introduced her with her real name instead of Annabelle.

Draco was stumped for a moment, looking from the witch to his friend. He supposed it didn't really matter, did it?

"We can say it's a nickname," he offered back, only loud enough so that she could hear.

She crossed her arms, obviously disgruntled at his mix-up.

"Relax Granger," he said in her ear, and he felt her tense up at his close proximity. "They're my-Nick's friends. They won't turn us in or anything."

"Hermione, yeh have to meet everyone!" Hamish said, taking her under his wing - metaphorically and physically. He ushered her to a corner of the room, Draco following close behind.

They found their group sitting at a table, empty pints and plates littering the scuffed wooden surface. Sam and Tommy were hunched together, talking loudly. It looked like they were in some sort of debate.

"She absolutely does!" Tommy said.

"No she doesn't!" Sam cried back.

"They wouldn't let Lady Liberty be immodest!"

"She's a statue, Tommy! Why would they give her knickers?!"

"Decency!" The Irish man stressed, slamming a fist onto the table.

"She's made of copper, you oaf!"

"Oi! Look who I found!" Hamish called, breaking through their conversation. The two boys looked up to find Hermione, who smiled sheepishly and waved.

"Hello," she greeted.

The two boys stared openly at her and Draco rolled his eyes. If their jaws could have been any looser, they would have been on the table.

"Oh my-" Tommy said and stood suddenly, removing his cap and bowing slightly before her. "I would have worn my finest clothes if I had known we would be graced with the presence of an angel tonight. I'm Tommy."

Sam stood and offered out his dark hand and a charming smile, "the name's Sam. It's nice to meet you!"

"You're American!" Hermione greeted in surprise.

"I am! I can show you around when we get there, and I can get you a drink right now."

A hot spike of something akin to anger coursed through Draco as he watched his companions fall all over themselves to please Hermione.

"It's nice to meet you both, but I'm alright for now," She said, blushing under their intense gazes.

"Would you like to sit down with us?" Tommy asked, guiding her to their table. Sam offered her his chair. Hermione giggled as she sat down, obviously entertained by the two men's antics.

"Control yourselves, boys," Draco said and shoved his way forward, making himself seen. He crossed the floor to be by her side, lying a hand on her shoulder. "You're in the presence of high society."

At the sight of Draco's tuxedo, Tommy whistled and Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"Look at that," Sam said, "you clean up pretty well."

"Of course I do," he snapped and moved to sit next to Hermione, but not before taking off the black jacket and draping it over the back of his oak chair. It was unbearably hot in the dining hall, and he could feel the beads of sweat already forming on his brow.

"Wait-" Tommy realized suddenly, putting two and two together, "so this is the one? The girl you saved?"

Hermione craned her neck to glare at Draco through the smoke. He knew she was going to grill him later on how many people he had told the story to, as well as every detail in it. She whirled back around and interjected before Draco could confirm Tommy's suspicion himself.

"That's me, Damsel-in-Distress at your service," she shouted, smiling and shaking both of their hands. "You can call me Hermione."

"Hello, Hermione!" They cried back, grinning from ear to ear in a way that made Draco want to vomit. They were so obviously smitten with her... It was pathetic.

"You should go get us some drinks," Draco said and tossed some coins onto the table. It was closer to an order than a suggestion. "Both of you."

Tommy and Sam stood up straight and pouted, like two boys being chastised by their father to do their chores. The American boy pocketed the money Draco had dropped and they disappeared into the crowd, Hamish tagging along behind them.

Draco watched Hermione's expression as she watched them go.

"I like them," she said once she had turned her attention back to the Slytherin. At her admission, something coiled in his stomach.

"You shouldn't," he said quickly, "they smell horrid and they curse like sailors."

Hermione laughed. "So do you!"

"Excuse me! I took a bath today," he gasped indignantly. She grinned in response.

"Yeah, but you hadn't before! I saw how you are as Nick, remember?" She offered, crossing her arms in her typical "I've Got You Now" pose.

"Nick simply can't afford for me to always be as handsome as I was tonight!"

"Oh, please," She waved him away, "You are always handsome!"

Draco froze, looking at Hermione in surprise. At first she hadn't seemed to comprehend what had escaped her mouth, but the expression on her face when she fully realized what she had said…was priceless. The Slytherin smiled at her, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"I'm sorry…" he said, cupping a hand around his ear, "I'm what?"

"Nothing!" She cried, her face a blend of disbelief and mortification, "I didn't say anything!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I heard a certain Gryffindor say that I, Draco Malfoy, am… gorgeous, was it?" he pressed forward, delighting in the pink tinge that spread across her cheeks at his teasing words. He didn't want to admit it, but she was cute when she was flustered.

"I think I fancy a dance!" She said, standing up suddenly and backing into the crowd, "don't follow me!"

"I'd rather walk through the Great Hall naked!" He called.

She shrugged in a suit-yourself fashion before being swallowed by the crowd. Part of Draco grew anxious when she left his sight, but he reminded himself that the fear was irrational. She was safe there. He had a clear view of the stairs leading in and out, so he could keep an eye on anyone suspicious slinking down.

When Hamish, Sam, and Tommy had found their way back to their table they set down a handful of glasses. The dark beer sloshed messily onto the table.

"Where's Hermione?" Sam asked, looking around.

"She's dancing," Draco said, trying to find her through the smoke in the mass of bodies without being too obvious about it. There! Like the red sea parting, the crowd separated until he could see Hermione Granger twirling and dancing with a few other steerage women, not a care in the world. The room seemed to grow quieter as he watched her.

"I like her," Hamish said and clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Yeah," he said after a few moments, the weight of his newfound feelings lying heavily upon his chest.


A/N:

Wow! Time flies. I literally thought I had updated like ... 7 days ago? Turns out it's been a LOT longer. Life is so mysterious and time is fake! Hopefully I'll get the next one out sooner! It's already written. Let me know what you think! Leave a review. It literally makes my day. I read them over and over (no joke)