Hermione Granger couldn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself as much as she was that night. Even back at Hogwarts, she had been knee deep in studying for her OWLS, still reeling from the death of Sirius Black and the newfound darkness that had spread over the entire wizarding world.

The third class mess hall was a completely different world than the first class dining lounge that she had grown accustomed to, but she found that she preferred it down here one hundred times over. The women down here were a breath of fresh air; they didn't care if they stood up so straight that a book could balance upon their heads like crowns, they paid no mind to their lipstick rubbing away on the rim of their pints of beer, in fact, she could barely spot any makeup in sight! Of course they weren't as rowdy as their male counterparts, but they could certainly hold their own: they laughed openly, they drank, and they danced.

Blimey, did they dance! Hermione could barely keep up with the line of people stepping to and fro, the rhythmic patterns of everyone's' tapping feet completely lost on her. She was sandwiched in between two strangers, who were trying fruitlessly to help her keep up. The woman on her right was calling out the steps to her, but it was useless, Hermione kept tripping over herself. She laughed and shook her head, finally breaking away from the line and apologizing.

"I'm sorry! I just don't think I can keep up!" She shouted over the laughter and music.

"It's not about keeping up," the kind woman with curly black hair laughed back, still keeping in time with the steps. "It's about having fun!"

"We're going to the new world, love!" A man with kind green eyes and crooked teeth said in a strong Cockney accent. He spun a young girl with his same green eyes and short brown hair around in his arms. "It's a fresh start for us all!"

Hermione watched the glee in the small child's face as her father twirled her around and around. She must have been about six years old, and her giggles caused a sudden drop in Hermione's stomach. As if being doused in freezing cold water, Hermione stopped in her tracks, the smile falling off of her face.

As she took in the crowd around her, a shiver travelled down her spine. That same room that was pulsing with life, music, energy- filled to the brim with people celebrating the end of one chapter and the start of another- would soon be resting on the murky, black depths of the ocean floor. The salt would corrode away the wood, and rust over the iron. The hull would cave in on itself as it rotted away and leave the interior of the ship a home for deep-sea wildlife. This room would be virtually unrecognizable. Of course, Hermione had seen the underwater photos the high-tech submarines had captured…yet, until that moment, it had truly never hit home just how tragic the sinking was. How something so beautiful, grand, and full of life, could end up in such devastating ruin.

The room began to spin around her, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet. The people here most likely wouldn't have the chance to board a lifeboat or even escape the third class quarters that would eventually become their salty, frozen tomb.

With a feeling akin to a punch to her gut, Hermione Granger realized that she was in a room full of corpses.

"Are you okay, love?" The man with the baby asked, a concerned look in his eye.

"Papa, she's going to barf!" The little girl cried. Hermione dimly realized that she must have gone pale.

"That's not a nice thing to say, darling."

"No! No, I'm alright," she said, working overtime to plaster a reassuring smile on her face. "I just need to sit down for a moment. Thank you."

She turned and made her way back to the corner she had left Draco in, trying to repress the hot whips of panic coursing through her. She took deep breaths to keep from crying. It wouldn't do her any good to break down now. The best way she could help these people would be to keep a cool head and work towards an actual solution.

"She's back!" Hamish said, holding out his pint. Tommy and Sam lifted their drinks and cried "Ayyy!" in a greeting.

Hermione offered what she hoped was a believable smile to all three of them before settling back into her spot next to Draco. She could feel his gaze upon her, but she couldn't look at him. If she met his eyes, she would surely unravel. She wasn't sure how she knew this, or why she would have such a reaction to the Slytherin boy, but she didn't have the brain power to analyze it.

"Here, Missy," Tommy said before placing a pint of beer in front of her with a wink, "just for you."

Thankful for the distraction, Hermione took the beer and began to drink it. It was stronger than any beer she had ever tasted, hoppy and bitter. It didn't taste good, but she didn't let herself pull away and wrinkle her nose in displeasure. Instead, she pushed on. For years she had been pampered by Butterbeer, which was a delightful mixture of sweet and salty, and went down her throat with the greatest of ease. She could tell that this was real beer. Real, rugged, muggle beer for hard working men and women.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was drinking the entire thing, gulping down large mouthfuls. It wasn't that she was thirsty, it was that she didn't want to face that night with a clear mind. If she couldn't keep a cool head, she would keep a fuzzy one. She couldn't keep thinking of how all of these wonderful people she had befriended tonight would certainly perish in a few days time. That is, if she failed her mission.

"For Salazar's sake, Granger," Draco said beside her, sounding particularly annoyed. She didn't let herself feel guilty. She had been on the tipping point of a full blown meltdown and the glass of mead had pulled her back from the brink.

Does that make me an alcoholic? She wondered darkly.

It was then that she realized all three men were staring at her with wide eyes and disbelieving grins. They were speechless, gaping at one another and at her.

"What?" She asked, suddenly self conscious. She blurted a lie: "I was thirsty."

"I think I'm in love," Sam said under his breath, and Hermione had barely registered what he said before Draco elbowed the American boy to be quiet.

"So, the princess can drink!" Tommy said in amazement, "Where did you learn to drink like that?"

"Just a little place called The Hogs Head," Hermione rolled off, shrugging. She could see Sam sit up a little straighter at that, and she looked at him. He blinked at her. He was probably confused by such a strange name for a pub.

"That was amazin'!" Hamish crowed, interrupting what had ever passed between Sam and her, pounding the table with his fists. He stoop up and declared: "another round! Nicholas, yeh in?"

"I'll pass," he grumbled, glaring at Sam. "And Hermione will, too."

"What?!" The Gryffindor girl cried, sitting up straight and finally looking Draco in the eyes. He stared back evenly.

"You're not the boss of me!" She snapped indignantly, the buzz of the drink already skirting through her limbs and slowing her thoughts.

"Do you really think tonight is the best night to get pissed?" He asked low enough that only the two of them could hear. Hermione couldn't help but bristle at his tone.

"It's as good a night as any," she said.

"Really, with that scar-faced butler following our every move?" He hissed back, grey eyes narrowing. "Aren't you supposed to be the 'Brightest Witch of our Age?'"

"Scared, Malfoy?" She whispered, challenging the Slytherin boy. He glared at her, and she was grateful for this. Anything to distract herself.

"No." He said. "I just want to be prepared."

"You said it yourself, no one could find us down here," she urged, "come on. Loosen up. Drink with me."

He looked at her suspiciously, obviously wondering if she was up to something. She hoped her pleading and open expression would convince him she wasn't. Hermione didn't know why it was suddenly so important that Draco join her, but it was.

"…Okay," he finally relented, and Hermione grinned widely in response.

"Um," Tommy said, standing awkwardly at the end of the table, "sorry to interrupt you two, but did you want more? We're going to get another round."

"Oh! Yes please, Tommy!" Hermione said and Draco nodded his assent, fishing in his pockets for two more coins.

"Does it feel like those two have known each other a while, or is it just me?" Tommy mumbled to Hamish as they pocketed the coins and turned back to head towards the bar, and Hermione suppressed a grin. If only they knew.

. . .

Something was going on with Hermione Granger, Draco realized. She was acting strange…well, stranger than usual. Typically she was uptight to the point that he could swear anyone could put a lump of coal up her arse and two days later they'd have a diamond. That night was different. She had started the night with an uncontainable, buzzing sort of energy. Like a dog left indoors for two days finally going out on a walk.

She had been dancing with a contagious smile on her face one second, and then the next she was returning to their table with a clouded expression on her pale face and tears swimming in her lovely brown eyes. It was such a stark difference Draco couldn't help but stare in surprise. As she sat next to him, he could feel her actively avoiding his gaze. He was itching to ask her what was wrong, but that would give her the impression that he cared, and he definitely didn't want her to catch on.

And then she had switched again, suddenly downing her entire pint of beer in .2 seconds. Then her smile was back, but he could tell that it was forced this time around. In fact, her entire energy had changed. Earlier, it had been carefree and loose, like the wild winds of the ocean. Now it was smiles and laughter for the sake of covering up something else, something darker, bubbling below her facade of joy. It was a frantic energy, and anxiety poured off of her in waves. He wondered if she thought she was being subtle, because she wasn't.

When she had asked him to drink with her, he had found that he couldn't say no to the Gryffindor girl. She was obviously dealing with something and wanted a distraction.

He wondered what had happened out on the dance floor. Had someone hit on her, grazing a hand on her hip or thigh? Or perhaps someone— maybe Horace— had threatened her? The thought of either of those scenarios caused a sharp stab of anger to course through his brain.

He gazed at her through the smoke as she drank her way through her second glass of the night, nursing his own beer at a much more reasonable pace. He kept his cool, reminding himself that Hermione Granger was not the kind of girl to let any man touch her or whisper inappropriate things in her ear. He would certainly have gotten a fist in his face. She also would have let him know immediately if Horace had found them, so he forced himself to relax.

"You're so slow," Hermione chided him, breaking him out of his inner musings. He scowled at her as she waved her empty glass in front of his face. "I'm already done with my second drink."

There was an undeniable slur to her speech, and Draco rolled his eyes. Drunk after two beers? He had figured she'd be a lightweight, but this was something else.

"Yeah," Tommy grinned, face flushed and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, "I'm on my sixth."

"Well I'm almost there, too," Sam said, swishing the dark liquid around in his glass. His already hooded eyes drooped a little lower than normal, and he swayed slightly in his chair.

"Aw, wee lamb," Hamish said and clapped a powerful hand onto Sam's head, who cried out in pain as the Scottish man rubbed his knuckles into his thick, black hair. "I'm nine deep."

"Okay, okay" Sam said and pulled away, rubbing tenderly at his scalp.

"Hamish," Hermione gasped, "you win!"

"That doesn't count!" Tommy scoffed, "the man is 350 pounds! He's half an elephant!"

"That's not nice," Hamish grumbled, "I'm not that fat."

"I don't think you're fat," Hermione reassured him and rested a hand on his shoulder, "I think you're fit, and quite handsome."

The compliment lit the Scottish man's face on fire. If she thought he had looked red before, this was something else.

"You know who else thinks he's handsome?" Tommy said, grinning widely and nudging Sam in the side, who smiled devilishly.

"That cute handmaiden. The blonde one...what was her name?" Sam said, snapping his fingers in thought, "Lily?"

"Lottie." Draco offered and Hamish couldn't help the dreamy expression that took over his sooty face. The Slytherin rolled his eyes. His friend had it bad.

"What!?" Hermione cried in delight, clapping her hands together in amazement, "Lottie? My Lottie?"

"She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Hamish admitted, running his hand through his red hair. Sam and Tommy mimicked his dreamy movement, snickering to themselves.

"They met when you sent her to summon me from the third class decks," Draco leant over to mumble to Hermione. She nodded in understanding.

"Awwww," she cried, "That's wonderful, Hamish. I'll have to find an excuse to give you two some time together."

"Would yeh really do that for me?"

"Absolutely," Hermione nodded. The Scottish man smiled wide and downed the rest of his beer in one gulp before slamming it down on the table.

"That was ten! Yer fallin' behind Nick!"

"There wasn't a competition!" Draco reminded the table before sighing in frustration.

Hermione looked at him in response, pouting. Her lower lip jutted out slightly, presenting itself, almost teasing him. It was pink, plump, and glistened softly under the yellow light bulbs above them. He stared at it for a moment before remembering who he was.

"What?" He asked.

"You're being a party pooper," she grumbled and his eyebrows shot up.

"I'm being a…what?"

"A party pooper! Someone who is ruining the fun for other people by being an arse."

"What, is that some sort of muggle nonsense? That's the daftest thing I've ever heard."

Draco vaguely registered Sam stiffening in the corner of his eye.

"Okay, mostly children use it, but it's the perfect name for you!" Hermione pressed. "You won't even dance with me."

"Aw, boyo!" Tommy cried dramatically, fist slamming onto the table, "you won't even DANCE with her?"

Hamish snatched the glass from Draco's hand, which had been inches away from his mouth. The Slytherin glowered at the bearded man.

"Go dance with Hermione right now," his traveling companion demanded, holding Draco's beer hostage in one hand and using the other to point a meaty finger at the dance floor.

"No." Draco said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. It wasn't that he wasn't a dancer. He most certainly was; he had taken years of classic ballroom courses as per tradition of everyone in the Malfoy family. It just was that he wouldn't dance to this music…he didn't even know how. It was too fast, too loud, the melody too sporadic and unpredictable. He listened to the band for a few moments before snorting and shaking his head, he couldn't waltz to this.

"Fine," Hermione huffed before standing up and offering out a hand across the table, "Tommy, will you dance with me?"

"Absolutely, my dear-"

"No," Draco said suddenly, standing up and snatching her hand in his own and pulling her away from the table. She looked like she was going to jerk her hand out of his grasp before she realized he was taking her to the dance floor.

"Aw, come on! Nick!" Tommy cried in disappointment, and Draco shot a glare over his shoulder.

"Shut it, he's the one who saved her life!" Hamish pointed out as they walked away.

"That's true." Draco heard Tommy relent and he couldn't help but smile slightly. He had saved her life, hadn't he?

After they had pushed their way into the sweaty crowd and found a space of their own, they turned to one another. Hermione gazed up at him in a way that could only be described as giddy apprehension. She swayed slightly on her feet.

"You don't get drunk very often, do you, Granger?" He asked, and someone bumped into him, shoving him forward. The space between them was closing. Soon they would be touching, and the thought made his hands sweat. From this close, he could see her individual eyelashes and the subtle dust of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose. He had never noticed them before. They were cute.

"No," she admitted, blushing slightly. She offered her hands to him in a typical couples dance pose, he hesitated only slightly before stepping forward and taking her hand in his and placing a hand lightly on her waist.

"Ouch," she hissed, flinching away from his open palm. He jerked his hand away and looked at her in alarm.

"Are you alright?" He asked, an alarm bell going off in the back of his head.

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I accidentally ran into... my vanity."

"We don't have to dance," he said immediately backed away. In response she rolled her eyes and reached out to take his hand and place it gently above the bruised spot.

Something fluttered inside his ribcage as she pressed closer into him, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Only when I'm upset," she said suddenly, gazing up at him, running her fingers along the collar of his white shirt and undone black silk bow-tie. Goosebumps rose along his neck and down his back in response to her feather-light touches. Did she realize how she was touching him? Did she realize how close they were standing?

"What?" He asked dumbly, too distracted to understand the context of her statement.

"I only... Drink when I'm upset…" she said carefully.

"What are you upset about?" He asked, forgetting his resolution to not care. She seemed surprised by his question, and she averted her gaze, stiffening slightly.

"I'll tell you later," she said, voice gravelly. "I can't tell you here."

He didn't press her further, he just nodded and kept up his slight swaying until he felt the sad cloud hanging over her dissipate a bit.

"You know," she said after a moment, grinning wryly up at him, "this isn't how you're supposed to dance to this kind of music."

"Well, Granger. I don't know how to dance to this kind of music," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, "I didn't have any lessons."

Hermione snorted and shook her head.

"Really, Malfoy? You don't need lessons to dance to music like this. You just feel the rhythm and move."

"I don't know how to do that."

"What are you, a robot?"

"A robot?"

"Oh, right," she looked at him for a moment, pursing her lips in thought.

"…It's like a mechanical invention built by muggles. It's supposed to look and act like a human," she explained, tapping his shoulder distractedly. "It can't feel anything, it just goes through the motions programmed into it."

"Do you have a lot of robots in the muggle world?" He asked, intrigued. She giggled in response, and he wondered why it was such a funny question. He also wondered when her laugh had started sounding like the sweetest bell that had ever graced his ears.

"There are prototypes," she began, and Draco decided not to remind her that he didn't know what prototype meant, "But...no, they don't really exist." She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud more. He bristled at the look on her face, why would she laugh at him for asking such a simple question?

"Why would you compare me to something that doesn't exist? Why would you non-magical people even pretend robots exist if they don't?" He scoffed.

"They're in films, Malfoy," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes. He stared at her, waiting patiently for her to explain further. She paused for a moment, taking in his expression. "Come on, films? Movies? … Picture shows?"

"I've never had one," he admitted, suddenly and inexplicably self conscious. Why was she looking at him like that?

"You've never seen one," she corrected him, and he resisted the urge to stop dancing, and cross his arms in defiance. How was he supposed to know these things?

"Malfoy! This is Muggle Studies 101! Did you sleep through the course, or something?" She scoffed.

"Or something," he mumbled, suddenly regretting goofing off and paying that Ravenclaw kid to do his work for him.

"Well, when we get back, I'm going to sit you down and watch all the classics with you," she declared, an excited spark in her eyes. Something about that statement made his heart skip a beat.

She suddenly stopped swaying, the clouded expression returning as she gazed over his shoulder at nothing in particular.

"That is, if we get back," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. He saw the moisture gather in the corner of her eyes. With an uncomfortable churn of his stomach, Draco Malfoy realized that he really didn't want to see Hermione Granger cry.

"Hey," he whispered, and she looked at him through a watery gaze. "Let's dance."

Suddenly, and a little bit more clumsily than he would like to admit, he began to spin and step to the rhythm. It took her completely by surprise, and she stumbled a bit.

"Malfoy!" She cried in alarm, righting herself and glancing helplessly down at their feet.

His feet had settled into what he could only describe as a polka step, just about way too quick, and way too bouncy. His dance instructor would have had a heart attack if she could see him now. Eventually, Hermione caught onto the pattern, and met his steps in time with her own.

She looked up at him in triumph, and unbridled look of joy on her face. He smiled down at her as they spun and stepped to the music.

In a bold move, Draco stepped out of their pattern and whirled Hermione out until she spun freely on the ball of her foot. She squealed in delight and he pulled her back in. Then they were even closer than they were before. They stayed that close, their bodies pressed hazardously into one another.

Draco could feel her soft curves pressing against him, and it did maddening things to him. Before he knew it, the song was over, and the crowd was cheering for the band and each other. They slowed to a stop, both of them trying to catch their breath. They gazed openly at one another, both reeling at the obvious and palpable chemistry between the two of them. Neither of them had expected it, but neither of them seemed to be fighting it, either.

"Still think I'm a robot?" He asked over the applause.

"No!" She grinned and threw her arms around him. Even though it was unbearably hot in the mess hall, and even though he was sweating through a borrowed tux, and her own moisture joined his as she pressed into him in a hug, he didn't pull away. He felt her soft cheek press against his and he leaned into her, intoxicated by her smell. It was a sweet smell, but in a subtle way, it wasn't the sickly sweet fruity scent Pansy Parkinson sprayed herself with. It was warmer. Like cinnamon, or vanilla.

His arms floated up to encase her hesitantly, weary of the spot where he assumed her bruise was, of course. He couldn't help but notice - despite how incredibly foreign it was - how happy it made him feel. Back at Hogwarts, he would have never imagined embracing Hermione Granger in a million years. Thanks to the Titanic, something was changing between them. Something massive, like the entire earth had shifted beneath his feet.

North had become south. Left had become right. And Hermione Granger had become someone he cared about.

A/N: Wow. Adult life is so unhelpful with keeping a regular update schedule.

I hope you guys liked this chapter, even if it was a bit of a filler. (TBH these kind of chapters are always my favorite.)

Let me know what you think, or where you think this is going!