Draco Malfoy thought he knew what it was like to be pursued through the never ending corridors of the Titanic, but this instance was different. On their way up to first class- not even a third of the way there- a group of a dozen sailors had rounded the corner and began to make their way towards the two of them. At first he had thought that they were done for, but the men passed right by them, barely giving the two a passing glance.
"Beat a man unconscious, you said?" One of them asked as they hurried by.
"Yeah, and knocked a door down. It was shattered into pieces."
"It's true, I saw it myself," another one chimed in.
The voices faded away as the men made their way to Draco's cabin. He swallowed and watched them retreat, their words echoing about his mind. What was going on? He had no idea what they had been talking about. It seemed as though he was being blamed for something he most certainly didn't do.
"They walked right by," Draco whispered, glancing at Samantha, who motioned to his stolen uniform.
"They don't realize it's you!" She said, "bless your lucky stars."
"Thank Salazar I didn't return this," he murmured to himself and they pressed onward.
"Salazar?" Samantha whispered under her breath, perplexed at the strange name.
As they made their way up, a smug sort of satisfaction— the kind that draped over him like a robe whenever he knew would get away with breaking the rules— had eased his anxieties. Unfortunately though, it was premature. For not even five minutes later, a young sailor dashed towards them, a familiar wad of clothes in his hands. Draco would recognize that tacky pile of tartan and cotton anywhere. It was the outfit he had left behind.
The boy stopped before them, an intensity behind his gaze that made Draco think to himself: this is it, they know.
"You two! Keep an eye out for an imposter," he said, his chest heaving in urgency and panic. "We found these in locker room C. A uniform was missing."
Draco and Samantha glanced fearfully at one another.
"An imposter!?" The maid gasped melodramatically after a moment, realizing that they had a part to play.
"Afraid so," the young man said, "apparently he's already assaulted two passengers. He's a third class brute that goes by Nicholas."
"That is troubling," Draco said gravely, not believing his luck that the boy before him wasn't putting two and two together, "we'll keep an eye out."
The sailor nodded before he continued down the hallway, most likely going to deliver the troubling news of a spy amongst them to the hoard of burly sailors. Draco swallowed, glancing over his shoulder. The kid was practically running.
"Let's go faster," he said.
"I agree," she nodded.
They quickened their pace, walking as fast as they could before it would be considered a run.
"Is Hermione one of the passengers that was attacked?" Draco asked, a little breathless as they climbed the wooden steps up into Second Class. He didn't believe it could be true, but he had to ask just in case.
"No," Samantha said, guiding him through the second class lounge, which was finally beginning to stir with life. The main lights were on, and Draco could smell the scent of brewing coffee. The kitchen must have been in full swing, preparing for the breakfast shift. Fuck. They were running out of time. Not only was it the final day, but he was also a wanted man.
"She was the attacker," Samantha continued. The shock of her statement halted Draco in his tracks.
"...What did you say?"
"She attacked the butler," she whispered over her shoulder, not stopping. He tried to conjure the image of Hermione taking down the massive, brutish Horace, and he couldn't even imagine it. How could she have done it? He followed after the maid, mind churning and a sinking feeling in his stomach as he realized the more important question: Why had she done it?
. . .
"They'll be coming here lookin'," Molly Brown said, pulling on her lace gloves, "I have a feelin' your mama will tell them we're friends."
"What should we do?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I should go to breakfast to keep up appearances," she said, opening up her wardrobe and perusing her dozens of heels. "And you, darlin', need to rest."
"But they aren't here yet," The Gryffindor said, her anxiety tightening into a relentless ball in the pit of her stomach. "How can I possibly rest if I don't know if he's safe?"
"I'm sure they'll be here any minute," she soothed, walking over to the younger girl and giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Try to relax. Lottie deserves a bit of calm after what she's been through."
Hermione sighed, clenching her trembling hands into fists. She felt so trapped. So helpless… but she knew that Molly was right. It didn't do any good to panic and cause more unnecessary stress.
"Will you tell me anything you find out?" She asked.
The American woman snorted, "Oh honey, I'm sure those women will be cluckin' like chickens over the scandal. News must have gotten out by now-"
"Will you tell me if you find out, if- if he was arrested?" She asked, voice trembling, "will you come back and tell me right away?"
"Of course, dear," she reassured, "but don't make a mountain out of a molehill just yet. They could come knockin' any second now."
As if the universe was listening for verbal cues, a short, curt knock came at the door. Hermione's heart jumped for joy.
Molly gave her a smug look that said "I told you so."
"Quick! You must answer it," Hermione urged, opening the door to her bedroom and into the front room of Molly's cabin.
"You got it, kid," she said, "but it's best if you stay hidden just in case."
"I'll stay in here," Hermione nodded.
When the plump woman left the room, Hermione gingerly eased the door closed- not all the way, of course. She needed to listen.
Another knock.
"Alright, alright! Hold your horses!" She called and Hermione could make out the sound of several locks being unhinged and undone.
"Ah, Martha! Officer Murdoch," She called, just loud enough to make sure Hermione could hear. "What a surprise at such an hour."
The young witch's heart sank. It wasn't him. She glanced at the ornate clock above Molly's bed. It was almost six in the morning. Where was he?
She could hear Annabelle's mother through the door, and the unpleasant harshness in her voice made her skin crawl even through the thick oak wood.
"Have you seen my daughter?" She asked briskly.
"No!" The American woman gasped, "did somethin' happen?"
"Annabelle seems to have been taken in the middle of the night," the Officer's gruff response came. Formal and official. "Her safe return is our first and most important priority at the moment."
Maybe your first priority should be keeping track of where the bloody icebergs are, Hermione thought venomously.
"Oh, heavens! You mean kidnapped? Are you saying that Anna is being held somewhere on the ship?"
"Yes. By that criminal, Nicholas," she practically spat his name.
"Are you sure she hasn't just run away?" Molly pressed, voice thick with false concern and sweetness. "I know the two of them were quite fond of one another."
"That's a salacious lie," Martha hissed, "My Annabelle would never get involved with a creature like that."
"Officer, you should've seen 'em, I'd never seen two kids more in love. They would sneak away to see each other at any opportunity. I can't imagine he'd ever want to hurt her or anyone. He's just a boy."
"Are you sure it's wise to be calling me a liar, Margaret?"
"I never said you were a liar!" She gave a light hearted chuckle, "Maybe you were seein' things!"
"I know he has her! He attacked us last night. He threw Horace against a wall. He tied me up and gagged me… and then he stole her from her bed."
Hermione's nails were biting into her palms. The old woman was really painting quite a picture, wasn't she?
"We have reason to believe that he could be hiding anywhere," Officer Murdoch interrupted their bickering, his patience wearing thin. "He has stolen a uniform, and could be traipsing through innocent bystanders' rooms under false pretenses."
After hearing the foreboding news, Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. Oh, no. Did Draco fail to return the uniform?
"Mind if we take a look around, Madame?" The man's gruff voice came again.
Suddenly, the young witch couldn't breath. Things weren't going to plan at all. She backed away from the door as a question rang through her mind: was the officer going to force his way in to look for them? They would find her!
She glanced around the lavish cabin, there were certainly a few places she could stash away... She could hide, but Lottie definitely couldn't, as she was currently on the other side of the cabin, completely unconscious.
"Oh, well, no need for that, Officer Murdoch. Certainly no shady figures have come 'traipsing through here!" Molly forced a chuckle, "but I certainly will keep my eyes peeled."
"Let us in, Molly," Annabelle's mother ordered, voice like ice.
"I'm afraid I'm not quite comfortable with that," Molly said, voice as solid as a rock. Hermione peered through the crack in the door, holding her breath. She could see the American woman try and close the door, but the Officer's shoe seemed to block her efforts.
"The entire ship is on lock-down. Every room is being searched, Madame."
"Are you insinuating that I have something to hide?" She asked.
"If you have nothing to hide, then why not let us in?" Martha hissed.
"Because it is an insult to my dignity and my pride. Not to mention it is a breach against my rights. While I'm aboard this vessel this is my space. I say who can come in."
Hermione didn't know the legal validity of the statement, but no matter the truth of it all Molly Brown would not budge. She was unmoveable. Unsinkable. Hermione loved her so much.
"Officer, I'm sorry, but you don't have to waste your time," she soothed, laying on the charm, "I can assure you there's no funny business in here. Just a proud American who knows her rights."
There was a thick silence, and the only thing Hermione could hear was the sound of her own heart beating loudly.
"If you say so Madame, but please let us know if you see something," The man said, relenting. He obviously didn't want to start a fight with the formidable woman.
"Thank you, Officer Murdoch." With a title of her head, she addressed the woman, "Martha, will I see you at breakfast?"
"No, you most certainly will not," her mother spat.
"What a shame," Molly tisked sarcastically and shut the door with a final and gratifying click.
Hermione opened the door, an unbridled look of joy on her face.
"Now that… that felt good," The American admitted, rolling her shoulder as if she had just physically punched someone in the face, and not just verbally.
"You're incredible, Molly!" She said and ran to give her a hug, "You really did it! I thought we were done for."
Molly enveloped her and rocked her back and forth, laughing.
"It's all about standing your ground, child," she said and pulled away. "If your gut talks to you, you listen."
"Hermione!" Lottie called from the other room. "Come quick!"
"Who's Hermione?" Molly asked.
"I- well-" She floundered.
"Quickly!" Lottie called again, the urgency in her voice impossible to ignore.
"It's a long story," she said and darted across the floor to fling open the door to the room's extra cabin. Hermione looked at Lottie, who was pointing to the porthole across the room. A panicked looking Samantha was waving them down, looking over her shoulder. She pointed down at the lock on the bottom of the round window.
"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione said and raced to the window, she unlatched the lock and pulled open the glass.
"Come on, girl, let's get her in."
"There were too many people around," Samantha whispered, hoisting herself up and through the window, assisted by the two women.
"Oh no," Hermione said, heart breaking. The maid didn't find Draco. She couldn't help him escape. She looked in horror to Lottie, who was sitting up in bed, hands covering her mouth in shock.
"How many times will I have to crawl through these bloody windows," a familiar voice came, and she never heard a sweeter sound. His grumbled complaints had never been music to her ears, but there was always a first for everything.. She whirled around to find Draco clambering down from the porthole.
"Draco!' She cried.
The moment his feet connected with the ornate rug beneath him, he had an armful of Hermione Granger.
"I thought you had been captured," she breathed a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. "I was so scared."
"Well, I almost was. The entire ship is looking for me," he said in disbelief. "What on earth did you do?"
"I, erm- well," she said, pulling back and motioning her head towards Molly, who watched on in joy.
"Molly!" He greeted in surprise. "Hello."
"Hi, sonny," she said warmly, "glad you made it. Annabelle has gotten all of us in quite the pickle."
"I… attacked Horace," Hermione elaborated, choosing her words carefully, as to not raise any suspicions with the American woman, who still did not know about magic. She had elected not to tell her, as it would only complicate things more on the chance she wouldn't believe it.
"Why in Merlin's beard would you do something so foolish?" Draco began, but was interrupted.
"She saved me," a quiet voice piped up from the other side of the room. Hermione watched Draco crane his head to see who had spoken, and his grey eyes widened in horror. "From Horace."
"Lottie…" he breathed, dropping his arms and moving closer to the edge of her bed. When he got a clearer view of her injuries, Hermione could see him cringe. It wasn't exactly the polite thing to do, but she knew he couldn't help it. "Bloody hell…"
"Is it that bad?" She asked, looking at Hermione and Samantha.
"It's really alright," Hermione said, fibbing a bit.
"I didn't even notice it," Samantha lied.
"It's bad." Draco said truthfully.
Lottie glanced back and forth between them. She then raised a finger to gently prod her lip and then her eye, wincing in pain. Her somber expression crumbled and she began to cry.
"Hamish can't see me like this," she sobbed, "I'm hideous."
Immediately Hermione was at her side, shooting Draco a dirty look, frustrated with his lack of tact. He seemed to realize his error, but it was too late.
"Lottie, you know that's not true," she soothed, sitting next to her and brushing her hair behind her ears. "It's not your fault, and you definitely aren't hideous."
"You're lying," she cried, burying her face in her hands. "I'll never be able to face him like this."
"That ain't true. Bruises add character," Molly stated, hands on her hips, "I myself had a shiner the night I met J.J. It adds mystery and intrigue."
"I don't want to be mysterious," she hiccuped, "I want to be pretty!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend's vanity, "Honestly, Lottie. You know we have much bigger things to worry about-"
Draco held up a hand in a shushing motion, and the witch clamped her mouth shut in surprise.
"Lottie," he said, voice soft. She couldn't believe her eyes as she watched him settle next to lottie on the opposite side of the bed. She was now flanked by both the witch and wizard, "I got a black eye a few days ago. Remember?"
She nodded, wiping her tears.
"Look at it now," he said, and the young girl pulled her gaze from the bed cover to his face. She studied his black eye, which had faded to a barely perceptible yellow tinge, "it looks better, right?"
She hiccuped and nodded hesitantly.
"That's only after a few days. It barely hurts anymore either," he added, his voice uncharacteristically warm. Hermione had never seen this side to him. Gentle. Caring. The only way she could describe him in that moment was nurturing. Draco Malfoy was comforting a Muggle servant. Even after all of the progress he had made in the last few days, this was something else. Hell was freezing over, she was sure of it.
He seemed so natural at it she wondered if he had any little cousins that he would look after. It may explain it. Or maybe she had simply misjudged him.
Her chest began to fill with butterflies as she studied his soft expression and the way he brought the young maid's hand up to touch the discolored skin beneath his eye. He didn't flinch away, even as her fingertips pressed against the fading bruise. "See?"
"There ya go!" Molly's bright voice came back, "give it a few days and you'll be right as rain. I don't know this Hamish fella, but he'd be a fool to let a couple scratches deter him."
Lottie nodded and pulled her hand back from the wizard's face, but still looked undeniably down-trodden.
"Well, I actually know Hamish really well," Draco said, "and I know for a fact that he fancies you too much to let a few bruises get in his way."
"... really?"
"Really. He's actually mad for you, honestly!" He rolled off, shrugging. "You're all he can talk about."
She blushed, and her tears almost instantaneously dried up. A small smile graced her lips.
Hermione sighed in relief. She looked at Draco, and he looked back at her.
'Thank you,' she mouthed, and he nodded in return.
"Well, I should get going to breakfast before they really do think that I'm up to something," Molly said, clapping her hands together and giving the group a smile. "You all deserve some rest. Please make yourself at home. Lottie, I need you to rest up so you have your strength to heal."
Lottie nodded, obviously thankful at the order to rest and recuperate.
"Samantha, I need you to forget any chores that require you to leave the cabin. You're to stay here and make sure that if anyone comes knockin' you're the one to answer, but don't let anyone in," she ordered the maid, and Samantha nodded grimly.
"Hermione, Draco, you can take my room," she said, smiling.
The witch and wizard glanced in shock at the older woman, faces immediately ablaze.
"Oh, relax you two. I have a sofa in there as well that Nicholas can take," she chuckled and strolled from the room, unaware of the predicament she had just arisen.
. . .
Draco could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he and Hermione surveyed Molly's room. Sure enough, in addition to the large, plush bed in the center of the room, there was a blue ornate sofa tucked away in the corner. They glanced at one another.
"I do really need to rest," Hermione said, a massive yawn overtaking her. "I still haven't slept."
"Me too," Draco nodded, rubbing at his eyes, "I think I managed about an hour before Samantha woke me up."
"We must sleep," she said, "for at least a few solid hours. Otherwise we'll be useless tonight,"
Draco nodded, his hands going cold, "tonight…"
"It snuck up on us," she whispered, "I wish we had another day."
"We would never feel ready," he murmured back. "We don't even have a solid plan."
"I suppose that's true," she said.
They hovered in the center of the room, glancing between each other and the bed. Hermione fidgeted, clasping her hands together.
"Um, well- do you prefer-" she began.
"I'll take the couch," he said hastily and crossed the room towards the sofa in question.
She blinked in surprise, "are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he said, already settling down onto it. He hid his wince. It was bloody uncomfortable, but he didn't want her to take it, nor did he want her to feel pressured to share the bed with him. Even just the thought of it made his face warm.
"Okay, but only if you're sure," she hesitated, still hovering,
"Granger, take the bed."
She nodded, face turning a lovely shade of pink as she kicked off Lottie's flats. She began to reach behind her to tug at the strings of the borrowed dress when she stopped.
"Can you, um-"
"Oh! Fuck! Sorry, I'll leave," he started to get up.
"You don't have to leave, but could you turn around?" She murmured.
He flipped over on the couch, facing the back. He mindlessly studied the intricate stitch work on the royal blue material when he heard the fabric of her dress fall away. His breath hitched in his throat. She wasn't naked- he knew that of course, but even just the simple sound of her clothes dropping to the floor did strange things to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the impure thoughts away. It was quite literally the worst time to be thinking of such things.
Draco heard Hermione place her clothes aside, and even the soft whisper of her bare feet padding across the wood floor enticed him. Merlin, he must have been depraved. He was thankful when he heard her crawl between the covers. He laid motionless, willing sleep to come. He had wanted it for so long, but now that he had the opportunity he couldn't… As a matter of fact, in that moment he was more awake than he had ever been in his life.
It was Hermione's fault. She did maddening things to him. She had thoroughly and completely bewitched him.
"Draco?" Her voice floated across the room, raspy and soft.
"Hm?" He said, trying to sound half-asleep.
Silence. His heart fluttered inside of his chest.
"Will you come sleep next to me?"
That caught him off guard. His eyes snapped open, shocked.
He sat up slowly, turning his body and head until his gaze landed on the Gryffindor girl. She sat up in the regal bed, clutching the silk sheets to her chest. Her eyes were averted, her face tinted with a rosy hue.
"What?" He breathed, certain he had heard her wrong.
"I just-" She said, spluttering, "I feel rotten that you're sleeping on the couch and I get this enormous bed all to myself."
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Was this really happening?
After a painfully long moment, he found his voice: "I don't mind."
"Draco... I want you to sleep with me."
His heart leapt into his throat, and all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.
"You..."
"Not like that!" She gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. She shook her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I mean actually sleep."
Draco stared at her, openly stunned.
"I'm really afraid. I know I shouldn't think like this, but tonight could be our last…" She took a steadying breath, "I just need you near me."
She turned his gaze to him, and he could see her doe-like brown eyes were swimming with anxious tears.
"Of course," Draco whispered, and he swung his legs off until his feet were planted on the floor. Was he dreaming? Was Hermione Granger really asking him to sleep in the same bed as her?
He neared the edge of the bed, his feet moving of their own accord. It may have just been the lack of sleep, but he felt like he was floating. She scooted over, opening the comforter to reveal the silk sheets below. It was then that he saw that she was wearing an embroidered, cream colored set of edwardian undergarments. It covered more than enough skin, leaving most of her body to the imagination, yet his mouth still went dry.
He greedily drank in what he could see: her freckled shoulders, the beautiful tilt of her collar bones… and though he couldn't see beneath the blankets, he was sure that the underwear stopped mid-thigh.
When he realized he had been staring, he averted his stare and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.
Get a grip, mate! He told himself, you've seen girls in public wear less on hot summer days.
He spent quite a bit of time removing his boots, wondering how his life had been flipped on its head so suddenly. A week ago, if you would have told him in just a few days that he'd be sleeping next to Goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger- not to mention elated that he could- he'd have advised you to check into the nearest insane asylum.
Once his shoes were off and discarded on the floor beneath the frame, he moved to unbutton the uniform's top. He had a white, worn-down tank top beneath it, which in that era may have also been considered underwear. He left the pants on, which he felt a little guilty about- wearing unwashed clothes in Molly's bed- but he wasn't about to take them off.
When he settled back onto the pillow, the fluttering of his heart quickly became hundreds of butterflies skirting about his entire body. Why was he feeling this way? This had not been the first time he had shared a bed with a girl- Pansy's tenacity of claiming his as her own had ensured that. Yet there he was, shaking like a leaf. He prayed that she didn't notice the slight tremor in his hands as he pulled the blanket up over his torso. He let himself ease into the downy softness of the mattress, he forced his muscles to relax.
Merlin, the bed was soft. After days of sleeping on that horrible excuse of a cot back in his shared cabin, this was like lying on a cloud. He closed his eyes, urging his nerves to ease up a bit. He was surprised when he felt a delicate finger begin to trace the contours of his face: down his nose, across his forehead, tracing the edge of his jaw. He cracked his eyes open, and he saw Hermione propped up on her elbow, studying him. Her lips were parted slightly, brown eyes shimmering with curiosity and even with the dark circles under her eyes, her beauty took his breath away.
"What are you looking at?" He murmured, half-heartedly trying to give her a hard time. "Never seen a stunningly-handsome man before?"
"I don't know how I never saw it before," she whispered back, the corner of her mouth tilting up into a soft smile. "You are so beautiful."
He watched her watch him, and she continued to trace her finger along the peaks and valleys of his face. It was so soothing that it was suddenly hard not to fall asleep.
"You were too busy snogging Weasley to see it," he teased lightly, but the compliment bounced around his skull. How could she say that? She was the beautiful one, couldn't she see?
When she didn't respond to his accusation he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"Were you actually snogging Weasley?"
"Draco," she said, tone warning. Her caresses halted, and it was then that he realized that she probably had been running around with that git. His stomach flipped unpleasantly, the idea of that weasel putting his chapped lips on his girl made him want to hit something.
"I thought you had standards," he said, a little harshly.
"I like you, don't I?" She said back, grinning, "The bar seems to be at the earth's crust."
"Rough, but fair," he relented. Hermione's admission that she liked him had completely squashed any sort of jealousy that had risen its ugly head.
She looked at him, her gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips. His heart jumped into his throat? Didn't she want to sleep? Did she want him to make a move?
Hesitantly- almost experimentally- she brought her lips to his cheek. Then to his temple. She adjusted herself until she was almost right on top of him, he thought that this position could have been dangerous.
Didn't she want to sleep?
She kissed his forehead. The tip of his nose. His chin. And- Merlin save him- his lips. It was only the second kiss that she had initiated, the others had been primarily ignited by him. She didn't seem to want to deepen their interaction into anything heavier, as she had simply moved back onto his cheek. He was speechless. No one had ever touched him in such a way: as if the act of pressing her lips to his skin was all that she needed in the world.
She took his hand in hers, and moved it up to her mouth. She kissed each of his fingers. She kissed his knuckles. She kissed his wrist. He watched her with silent fascination, how could someone so utterly breathtaking kiss him and hold him?
"You're the beautiful one," he said. He hadn't intended to let it slip, but it was like his lips had a mind of their own.
She glanced up at him, her eyes widening in shock.
"Don't look so surprised," he grumbled, "you are."
"I feel like this is a dream," she whispered back, unable to hide her smile.
"I thought you said it was a nightmare," he said, referencing their first night aboard the doomed vessel.
"You're the dream, Draco," she said. "I don't know why it took coming here for me to realize, but you're so much more than I thought you were."
"...I've had to learn a lot," he admitted slowly, pushing down the uncomfortable feeling that always followed admitting his faults, "You've taught me so much."
Hermione shook her head.
"You learned on your own," she said, "all it took was a change of scenery."
Draco pondered that, and after a moment, he realized it was true. Sure, she had pushed him down the path by refusing to work alongside him while he held his bigoted views, but he had been forced to find his way back on his own. The truth that muggles- and subsequently muggleborns- had been just like him; just as sentient, as bright, as longing and full of life that he was… it had been a hard pill to swallow, but he had no choice but to force it down. The programming of his father had already been waning thin when he had heard of his prophecy, yet the glaring truth of it all had been impossible to turn away from.
She gave him another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than the last. He felt a stirring in his bones, and he wished to prolong it. He wanted to take her in his arms, to hold her and kiss her until they were the last two beings in the universe. He wanted to forget about Hogwarts. He wanted to forget about his father and their complicated past. He wanted to leave their world- their time behind.
When she broke away, they both paused to catch their breath, gazing deep into one another's eyes. Brown met silver, and he could see the same shimmering passion in hers that he felt flickering inside of his heart.
"Let's stay," he blurted, "we don't have to return to our time. Fuck Hogwarts. Fuck England. Fuck the future."
She stared at him, speechless.
"Draco…"
"We could." He explained, sitting up. She sat up, too, watching him with hesitant eyes. "We could save the ship and stay. Dock in New York. Work and live… Together."
She gave him an incredulous look, "You would want to work?"
"I would!" He said, gathering her hands in his, "if that meant we could be together."
She stared at him and then down at their interlocked fingers.
"We couldn't just abandon our friends and families."
"I could," he said truthfully. Sure, he would miss his mother, but there was nothing left for him there. Not when he could have what was before him then: the most incredible, intelligent, and beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.
She studied him, trying to see some sort of unspoken truth. She took a deep breath.
"Let's rest," she said, breaking their hold and gently pushing against his chest, "you're tired. You aren't thinking clearly."
"I am," he said, gripped with a sudden intensity. He needed her to believe him. He didn't lie down, instead he took her chin gently in his hand. "I would stay here with you."
She smiled weakly, eyes filling with moisture.
"Draco, let's talk about this later," she whispered, "we need to sleep. We have a mission, remember?"
"Okay..." he relented and dropped his hand. He let her press him into the bed with a gentle palm. She settled down and curled into this side, her head resting on his chest. Her brown hair tickled his chin, but he didn't mind. She smelled so good, and Merlin, was she soft. He wrapped his arm around her, and he reveled in how perfectly they seemed to fit together. It was truly like they were meant to be together.
They melted into one another, their hearts beating in tandem. He was inches from sleep when he heard her voice, rousing him from the edge of slumber.
"Remember how I said no one could do wandless magic?"
He grunted in confirmation.
"I did it," she whispered, "I forgot to tell you, but that's how I stopped Horace."
After the shock from her admission faded away, he smiled and drew her in closer, "of course you did, you bloody show-off."
A/N:
You would think a pandemic would be the perfect excuse to hunker down and write, right? Wrong. I am sad & unmotivated. Hahaha. This chapter had been waiting a while to be edited, and I finally felt inspired to finish it. Please forgive the inevitable typos.
I know three months is a long time, and I'm sorry. I wanted to update at least once a month, but it seems like life has other plans for me.
Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. This was certainly my favorite chapter to write so far. Enjoy one of the last quiet moments in this fic, hahahaha.