The world came back to Hermione Granger in bits and pieces. The slumber she slowly emerged from was heavy and deep, and her consciousness had to peel back layers of fog before she could come back into herself. For a moment she was back at Hogwarts, lying in her bunk before the promise of breakfast would drag her out from between her sheets. A yawn tore through her and her arms moved to stretch above her head, but something warm and solid kept her right hand pinned to her side. What was that?

After a moment of groggy confusion, she opened her eyes and saw Draco Malfoy lying next to her. He was the warm body pressed alongside her. As she gaped quietly down at him, everything came flooding back.

They weren't at Hogwarts.

They were on the Titanic.

They had been thrown back in time after fighting in the Department of Mysteries. And to top it all off: they were no longer enemies. They were… something else. Hermione's heart fluttered when she remembered the moments before they had drifted into sleep.

Not only had she kissed him, but Hermione Granger had told Draco Malfoy how she felt. She had dug into her heart and unearthed the astonishing truth of it all: she had cared for him in a way she hadn't felt for anyone else, and in an equally shocking turn of events, not only did he reciprocate her feelings, but he had asked her to abandon their time and stay with him. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she remembered his proposition to abandon Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and all of their loved ones. The fire in his eyes as he confessed that he could leave it all behind for her flashed through her mind, and warmth flooded her chest.

She didn't believe he had been thinking clearly, but the fact that he would say such a thing caused a strange stir in her stomach. If he had been telling the truth, what did that mean for them? Did he really like her that much?

Her eyes traced the contours of his face, marveling in the peaceful air his expression managed when unmarred with the burden of consciousness. His platinum strands cascaded into his angelic visage with a grace that her wild curls could never obtain. At that thought, a hand drifted to her scalp, feeling the messy strands of her bed-head flying every which way. She hadn't washed her makeup off properly before she had gone to bed, either. Even when she had pretended to go to sleep in order to trick Horace, she had been so tightly-wound she had forgotten then, too. She was sure she looked horrid. Feeling suddenly self-conscious at her indecent state, the spell was broken.

She gently extracted her arm from between their bodies and propped herself up, looking with heavily-lidded eyes to the window. What time was it? How long had they been asleep? If she didn't know better she would have guessed it could have been a full twenty-four hours. Although if it had been a full day, they'd be dead.

With that foreboding thought, she gently maneuvered herself to the edge of the bed, glancing over her shoulder at Draco. She could let him have a few more minutes of rest while she cleaned up, right? There wasn't any harm in letting him sleep a few more moments, and —even if it was a vain thought— she didn't want him to see her yet. For some reason, despite his adamant declarations that she was beautiful, she was self-conscious at her untamed bed-head & unwashed face.

She pushed herself onto her feet and padded towards the door, chancing one last look before she exited the room. She froze with her hand on the doorknob; he was so beautiful. The dappled sunlight poured in from the cracked curtains, casting an angelic glow on his porcelain skin. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and it took every ounce of self-control to not walk right back over and wake him up with a kiss.

Swallowing and hardening her resolve to clean herself up before she woke him, she pushed open the door and left. The drawing room appeared empty. She craned her neck to try and find any lingering figures, but she was alone. As she surveyed the empty space, she wondered where Molly was and if everything was alright. Obviously no sailors had knocked down her door and dragged Draco away while they had been sleeping, so she was assuming that all was well. For the moment, at least.

Hermione crossed the floor to the guest room Lottie had been placed in. She knocked softly.

"Come in!" Samantha's voice came.

She pushed the door in and stepped lightly inside. Samantha sat next to Lottie, who was propped up in bed. Her face looked even worse than it had the night prior, her right eye swollen completely shut. It took all of Hermione's energy to keep from cringing visibly.

"Good morning," she croaked, her voice rough from sleep.

Samantha smiled wryly, "It's 4:30 in the afternoon."

"I was about to go in there and wake you up myself, but someone wouldn't let me," Lottie interjected.

"Madame Brown told me to make sure you all rest," Samantha tsked, the sewing project in her hands falling into her lap.

Hermione's eyes widened as the two girls bickered.

"It's 4:30?" Hermione gasped, pulse quickening, "are you certain?"

"Quite," the maid said, pulling a pocket watch from her apron and clicking open the front. She nodded. "Yes, half-past four."

"Oh, Merlin." She gasped and the reality of their situation began to seep in. They had a mere seven hours before the ship would strike the iceberg and only 3 more after that before the vessel would sink below the surface and be lost forever beneath the icy waves. They were out of time.

Without another word, Hermione Granger crossed to the vanity on the other side of the room, digging in the drawers for a washcloth and dipping it into the washbasin resting atop the oak surface. She scrubbed haphazardly at the smudged mess of colors on her lips and around her eyes. They had to act fast, and she had virtually no time to make herself presentable.

"Where's Draco?" Lottie asked, and her stomach did a little flip at hearing his real name. She didn't think she could ever get used to that.

"Who?" Samantha asked.

"Sleeping a little while longer," Hermione said as she worked the washcloth into her skin, "I need to do something with my hair before we have to get going."

"Going where?" Molly Brown's maid scoffed again. They ignored her once more.

"I'll help you," Lottie said eagerly. Hermione watched from the reflection in the warped mirror as Lottie threw the duvet cover off her legs and she leapt out of bed.

"Lottie, please," Samantha sighed, placing her sewing project to the side before standing up and grabbing her elbow.

"I can stand up fine," Lottie snapped, pulling away from her, "my legs aren't hurt. I don't need my face to walk."

"Fine," the raven-haired maid retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. "Forgive me for caring."

"Samantha, can you leave us alone for a few moments?" Hermione asked, a sense of urgency overtaking her. Samantha sighed heavily in return and exited the room, grumbling something that sounded like 'you can give give give all you want and no one appreciates a thing.'

Once they were alone, Lottie rushed behind her and began to untangle her friend's wild curls with her fingers. Hermione passed back an ornate hairbrush and Lottie took it dutifully.

"Do you have a plan?" Lottie asked.

Hermione bit her lip, mulling over the dozens of half-baked ideas that had been bouncing about her skull the last few days.

"Yes," she said as Lottie began to pull the brush through her strands, "but now that he's a wanted man and they think I've been kidnapped, it makes everything much more difficult."

"I want to help," Lottie said, and Hermione watched her determined expression in the mirror. Her face, though battered and bruised, was set in an expression that said 'I'm ready to do what I have to.'

"Lottie, I can't ask that of you," Hermione sighed, guilt squeezing her heart, "You've already been through so much because of me."

"That was before I knew what was at stake," Lottie said, setting down the hairbrush with a finite thud on the vanity. "We can't let this ship go down."

The blonde maid began to section Hermione's hair and tame it into a french braid.

"I'm serious, I'm not dragging you into anything else—"

"I may be naive, but I still know that if the ship goes down, Hamish will go with it," Lottie said, making direct eye contact through the mirror. Her blue eyes swirled with an even mixture of fear and determination. "I won't let that happen."

Hermione was taken aback at the fire in her gaze, never in a million years had she imagined Anabelle's timid, doe-eyed maid so eager to throw herself in harm's way for Hermione's mission. After a moment, a small grin tugged at the sides of her lips. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"We could use all the help we can get."

. . .

Draco Malfoy awoke suddenly, jerking upwards and gasping for air. He clutched at his throat as his body convulsed violently with spluttering coughs. He gulped down mouthfuls of oxygen and it took him a few disorienting moments to realize that he wasn't drowning in the black, frozen waters of the Atlantic ocean. He looked around at Molly Brown's personal quarters, taking in the plush curtains drawn over the portholes and the familiar ornate furniture surrounding him. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as the echoes of the chaotic nightmare faded away into a whisper. Everything came back to him in a shocking clarity: he had been summoned by Molly's maid in the middle of the night and had to sneak his way into their cabin. He had fallen asleep, but he hadn't been alone...

Granger.

The Slytherin glanced down to the spot next to him. It was there that he had watched her eyes fall shut and her breathing even out until he allowed himself to follow suit. Yet she wasn't there. If not for the feeling of her in his arms being so firmly cemented in the forefront of his mind, he would have wondered if it had all been a dream.

The crumbled, abandoned sheets made his stomach twist with dread. Where was she? She wouldn't have left him there alone, would she?

His limbs moved of their own accord: he tossed the sheets to the side and launched himself off of the unfamiliar bed. With astonishing speed fueled by his anxiety, he threw himself at the door and ripped it open, only to find himself face to face with Hermione Granger's doe-like gaze. As the fog of his sleep-tinged panic dissipated, he realized that she hadn't left him at all.

She was standing before him: alive and well. Her hair was folded into a loose braid down her back, a few curls escaping to frame her delicate face. She was still in her time-appropriate undergarments, a modest set of frilly cream-colored bloomers that kissed the edge of her knees, and the top — which was comparable to a white summer blouse he had seen his mother wear — covered most of her skin, but he still found himself dumb-struck. As Draco drank her in, he noticed that she looked awake and alert, her eyes bright and a dash of pink warming her cheeks. How long had she been up?

They stared at one another and Draco felt the tension in his chest unwind.

"You're still here," he stated.

She blinked in bewilderment.

"Of course I am. Did you think I would leave you?"

After a moment he leaned backward and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I dunno," he mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious, and hating himself for it. "I've been having nightmares."

Her gaze softened and she stepped toward him, crossing the threshold into the room. He backed up slightly, but she reached out a gentle hand to cup his porcelain cheek, halting his retreat. His heart fluttered in his chest, and he resisted the urge to step away and put distance between them. He wasn't used to physical contact like this, and the tenderness she offered him felt undeserved after all he had put her through.

"I promise I won't leave you alone in this," she said, voice firm with conviction. Draco couldn't help the stirring in his heart, nor could he stop his mouth from gravitating towards hers. His attraction to her was magnetic, and as their lips met in a gentle promise, all he could do was wonder how he had never felt it before they had boarded this vessel.

"Did you want something fresh to wear?" A voice came from outside of the door, slicing through the warmth of their moment. Embarrassed, Draco jumped away from Hermione. His gaze whipped to the door to find Lottie standing in her nightgown, a pile of clothes folded neatly in her outstretched hands. "Since we can't fetch any clothes from the cabin, Samantha has so generously offered one of her uniforms…"

She trailed away as she noticed the tension in the room, her eyes flicking from Hermione and Draco.

"Miss, you're in your…" she swallowed, voice barely above a whisper, "you aren't decent."

The young witch, as if having forgotten the current state of undress she was in, glanced down in surprise. Draco watched as the blush traveled from the tips of her cheeks to swallow even more of her lovely face. Merlin, he hated how alluring she looked in that moment.

"Lottie, um—" Hermione began, glancing sheepishly at Draco, "where we're from… the future, I mean… This could be something you would wear outside on a nice summer's day. It's not really considered indecent."

Lottie blinked in shock, looking almost like she didn't believe what was coming out of her friend's mouth.

"It's true," Draco added, his voice still raspy from sleep. He cleared his throat. "Women wear even less than this in public at the seaside."

"Well, alright," the maid relented, still gazing wearily at Hermione's shoulders and calves. "I still insist that you get dressed, Miss."

"Please, Lottie. You know I don't like it when you call me that," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sorry. Hermione," Lottie flinched, finally entering the room and pushing the garments into Hermione's hands. "I will help you get changed."

"Thank you," Hermione said, placing the pile down and pulling up a white blouse to inspect. Draco watched the way her delicate fingers traveled down the sleeves, as if to determine the size.

"While Draco waits outside," Lottie said firmly, snapping him out of his trance. He looked at the maid, who glared back with piercing blue eyes.

"Bloody hell," the Slytherin mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught gawking. He needed to take a cold bath or something.

"Sorry, Malfoy. I'll be out in a moment—"

"Alright, alright," he snapped, grabbing his discarded overshirt and boots from the floor and fleeing the room. Why was he embarrassed? They had barely been snogging, and her outfit was perfectly decent! Merlin, this world and its bloody staunch views had begun to affect him.

When Hermione emerged fifteen minutes later, Draco had already redressed himself in the steward's white uniform in a total of thirty seconds flat. He had begun to think of the night before them in the dim silence of Molly Brown's regal sitting room, imagining the iceberg looming in the distance. He could feel it getting closer and closer, and a cold sweat had begun to break out on his skin. The task ahead of them felt impossibly heavy, and he wondered how the night would unfold.

Her entrance had broken him out of his tumultuous thoughts, and he smirked when she stepped into the room.

"Nice hat, Granger," he grinned at the addition to her uniform. She hadn't been wearing one last night, and he had to actively suppress laughing at the frilly little thing pinned atop her head.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she grumbled, adjusting it self-consciously.

"They'll be looking for her," Lottie stepped into view, a sour look on her bruised face, "we need to make sure she blends in as much as possible."

It was then that Malfoy noticed that the maid was dressed as well. Not in her usual uniform, but instead an oversized blue dress, undeniably high class, but unremarkable. He wondered if they had scrounged in Molly's closet for it. It was comically large, and the belt wrapped around her waist did little to salvage the baggy material.

"Is she coming with us?" he asked, looking in alarm to Hermione.

"She insisted," the witch sighed. "Besides, she'll be helpful."

"With a face like that?" Draco scoffed.
"I'll wear a scarf and a hat," Lottie snapped, folding her arms indignantly.

"Yes, Draco," Hermione added, a harsh edge to her voice, "Especially with a face like that."

. . .

After Hermione had explained the plan to the two of them in hushed tones, careful that Samantha couldn't hear and possibly relay any of the information to anyone, they had quietly exited the room after a rushed "thank you, goodbye" to the maid. Not that they didn't trust her, it was just less complicated if they kept the fate of the ship and everyone on board to themselves, especially if they were able to break the curse and rewrite history. No need to cause unnecessary panic.

"I don't like this," Lottie said from under her oversized hat and scarf to shield her battered face from any onlookers. "We should have left out the window."

"They'll be looking for suspicious activity," Draco reminded her in a low voice, keeping his pace in time with theirs. They had decided on a speed somewhere between "late tea-time," and "leisurely stroll."

"This is the safest way, Lottie," Hermione added under her breath before smiling and nodding at a passenger walking by them. Blending in was the best course of action, since they would be searching for 'suspicious figures,' sneaking around would simply put a target on their backs.

All Lottie did was huff in response, and Hermione navigated them through the maze of corridors to avoid the grand staircase and any central areas where they could be recognized. If someone spotted them and reported them their entire mission could grind to a halt in an instant. She felt like a caged animal, adrenaline pumping through her veins as her eyes zeroed in on any face she could see. Once she was satisfied that one wasn't eyeing them suspiciously, she would continue on to the next person.

There were quite a few White Star Line crew members, although none of them had spotted them since they were too wrapped up in their evening tasks. There were more first-class passengers, and she even recognized a few men and women from dinner, but none of them looked their way. Being "The Help" was quite literally synonymous with being invisible in the first-class world. While that idea was deeply problematic, at the moment she was just thankful that they could slip by undetected.

Despite her adamance at keeping their walk to a reasonable pace, it took a lot of self-control to keep from quickening her steps as they neared closer to the decks outside.

Lottie opened the porthole first, peering left and right before giving them the okay and propping open the door for them. As Hermione crossed the threshold into the outside world, she blinked in the afternoon sun, which was already dipping dangerously low on the horizon, the sky taking a warm pink hue. She realized then just how little time they had. Her heart was lead inside of her chest.

"Keep an eye out for any sailors," Draco murmured, craning his neck over the guardrail at the decks below. As far as Hermione could tell, they were in the clear.

They quickened their pace as they passed the dozens of lifeboats to their right, a cold chill running down Hermione's spine at their presence. If she and Draco failed, they would be lowered (or plummet) into the rough ocean below in just a few hour's time.

"Hope these things are sturdy," Draco grumbled from beside her.

"Even if they are... there aren't enough of them," Hermione said.

"Don't talk like that," Lottie snapped from behind them, "we can do this."

Hermione took a shuddering breath, glancing over her shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed by any shadowy figures. The coast was clear for now.

"You're right," she relented and hardened her resolve. "We can do this."

Once they crossed the gates and headed down the steel steps into third-class, they knew that it was only a matter of luck from then on out. Hermione kept her head on a swivel as they passed by dozens of passengers. They were lounging and chatting as their children ran up and down the decks, their joyous laughter stabbing her in the heart.

"Wait!" Draco hissed and grabbed them both by their elbows to guide them to the guardrail overlooking the ocean below. Hermione instinctively ducked her head, studying the crashing waves at the hull below like they would uncover the secrets to save the ship. The three of them held their breath and Hermione was about to ask what the problem was when she heard three sets of boots behind them. Once they had passed, she chanced a peek over her shoulder to find three sailors quickly making their rounds, gazing half-heartedly at the passengers around them…

They had barely even glanced their way, passing by without a clue. And Hermione noticed that they looked bored; perhaps their day-long fruitless search had begun to wear on them. With that thought, she could feel the knot in her stomach unwind a little. Finally, a good sign!

"Oh, dear," Lottie squeaked, and Hermione could feel her trembling beside her.

"We're okay," Hermione said, watching as they made their way further to the stern of the ship. "We're in the clear."

"Let's go," Draco said, and she could see him watching the sun dip lower in the sky warily, soon the ocean would swallow it whole. "We're running out of time."

. . .

Draco Malfoy was not a particularly claustrophobic person, but he could feel the ship closing in around them as they made their way through the third class corridors. The knowledge that the hallways they were walking could soon be filling rapidly with icy ocean water sent a chill down his spine, and to be honest, it made him a little nauseous.

The ship felt a little more sturdy under his feet once he began to recognize their surroundings: this was the path they had taken last night. As they bypassed each gate without a problem, he noticed Hermione's mouth tug upward into a smug grin. He watched as she briefly rattled the broken locks on their way through each one.

As they passed by a lone bench, a familiar bell rang in the back of Draco's head.

"Hang on," he said, and stooped down to feel underneath the piece of furniture. Sure enough, his hand connected with a large, cool piece of iron. "Got it."

Hermione's eyes widened in recognition before he even pulled the large pair of pliers out from under the bench.

"Brilliant!" Hermione cried.

"W-what is that for?" Lottie squeaked.

"Well, we need to knock them out with something, right?" Draco said, giving the maid a teasing wink. Lottie looked like she might faint, but Hermione grinned openly at him. He resisted the urge to pull her into a kiss. Instead, he took her hand and began their journey inwards once more.

Right before they reached the entrance to another corridor, they heard a few men approaching. Just to be safe, they pressed themselves into the wall as the voices passed.

"What do you think they're serving tonight?" an unfamiliar voice came.

"Same as always," another man returned.

"Ah, bread and shit stew."

"Come on, lads. It's not that bad."

"Oh riiiight! It's your favorite, Jonathan." A third man chimed in. "I forgot Shit Stew was a delicacy in Bristol."

"You better watch your mouth, O'Connor!"

Even as their laughter and jeers faded down the hallway, a hard lump settled in Draco's stomach. The men had reminded him of Hamish, Tommy, and Sam. Their teasing dialogue sounded heart-achingly similar to the kind he'd had with his companions. For the hundredth time since Tommy's fist had connected with his stomach, Draco regretted how he had handled their situation. He wished they could all still be on speaking terms.

The loss of their friendship was staggering to him, and he was shocked to feel so affected. After all he didn't feel that strongly about his pure-blood magical friends, so he never would have expected three rowdy muggles to cement themselves so firmly in his life in such a short period of time.

"Draco, are you alright?" Hermione asked from beside him, and he looked down to find her chocolate eyes gazing up at him in worry. His heart jumped into his throat and he wondered when she had begun to read him so easily.

"Yes." He said, mentally shaking himself, "I'm alright."

"How much further?" Lottie huffed, her voice smothered underneath the thick wool scarf, "It's a tad hot under all of this."

"Sorry, Lottie," Hermione said, turning her attention to her petite friend. "Let's keep moving."

They began their trek once more, the pliers in tow. They were placed discreetly between Hermione and Draco's legs, which did make it a little difficult for the two of them to walk smoothly and quickly. As they descended further into the belly of the ship, the doors looking less and less residential and more industrial, he was confident that the coast was finally clear enough; he hoisted them upwards until they were lying heavily against his right shoulder. They felt oddly powerful positioned like that, and part of him couldn't wait to give them a swing.

"Just a little bit further…" Hermione said, cutting through his surprisingly barbaric thoughts. She quickened her pace, squinting at the etched numbers on the doors before her, and they had to jog to keep up. Soon the ground began to rumble at their feet, and with that, he knew that they were drawing near their destination.

Draco had a surreal moment when he realized that the subtle vibrations of the floor beneath them were actually the result of the Titanic's heart and lungs working tirelessly in the Boiler Room. In fact, they were essentially standing atop the magnificent vessel's rib cage.

"Here!" She led them around a corner and Draco was dumbfounded to find a dead end. There was nothing more than an emergency hose attached to the wall! He was about to question if she had found the right spot, but as he studied the small space further, he realized that there were two nondescript doors opposite of the dangling hose. If Draco hadn't been looking he wouldn't have seen either of them, it was like they weren't meant to be found. Once again he found himself impressed with Muggle architectural ingenuity. Even without cloaking spells and disillusionment charms, they managed to ensure certain objects would blend into the background with nothing more than paint and clever design tactics.

"Where are we?" Lottie asked, her voice small. Draco looked down at her, wondering if she was regretting her offer to help.

"If I remember correctly…" Hermione said, pushing open the door to her left to find a darkened room. She stood on tiptoes and tugged on the string to click a light on. It flickered to life to reveal a broom closet— not one unlike the closet Draco had sought refuge in their first morning aboard the vessel.

"If this is the utility closet, then that one is the entrance to the boiler room," the witch thought aloud.

"Bloody hell," Draco praised, pointing to the closet. "Can't believe our fortune with that. Great place to stash the bodies."
Lottie's blue eyes bulged from beneath her hat.

"Malfoy, please!" Hermione admonished before turning to her friend. "Don't worry, we won't kill anyone."

"We're just going to let them have a little nap," Draco reasoned and winked at the maid, who scowled back at him.

"That's not funny!" she snapped, her face reddening.

"Lottie, we have to focus. It's time." Hermione said, a stern edge to her voice.

As if having been abruptly doused with a cold bucket of water, the maid suddenly paled. With shaking hands she reached up to pull off the oversized hat and unwrap the wool scarf from around her neck. Her black eye and swollen lip looked even angrier and uglier under the yellow electric bulbs lining the hallway. Draco had to actively try not to cringe in response, and his own bruise pulsed painfully in a moment of empathy.

"Right," Hermione said, taking the articles of clothing from her friend, "do you remember the plan?"

"Cry. Scream for help. Run to find some sailors," Lottie said, counting off an imaginary list in her head.

"How many?" Hermione asked.

"Was it two? Or three?"

"No more than two," she reminded firmly. "And what if they try to get help?"

"Don't let them."

"Right. Distract them," Hermione nodded, suddenly looking pale. She was obviously putting on a brave face for her friend, but Draco could see right through her.

"Don't forget how you got down here, retrace your steps," Draco piped up. "It's easy to get lost."

"Try not to go too far," Hermione added. "I'm sure there will be someone close by."

"Try to memorize the numbers on the doors around to lead your way!"

"Oh! Try to find sailors our size—"

"Alright! Alright!" Lottie cried, cutting them both off and throwing her hands into the air. "Relax, you two!"

Draco and Hermione glanced at one another and clamped their mouths shut.

"You're asking me to cry, for Christ's sake! It's the only thing I'm good at," Lottie finished, a hint of humor glinting in her fearful gaze. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her blonde curls, centering herself.

"Okay," she said, squaring her shoulders, "I'm ready."

"Alright," Hermione said after a moment, looking back at her friend. "We'll be here."

"You can do this," Draco said. He did not feel confident that she could do it in the slightest, but this was the best plan they had.

"Good luck," Hermione said and offered the maid a weak smile. It was tight with worry.

After one more serious nod at the two of them, Lottie's expression crumbled. She choked on a false sob and spun on her heel. The witch and wizard watched as she ran clumsily down the hallway, crying loudly.

They glanced at one another.

"She should be an actress," Draco said, impressed.

"You're telling me," Hermione snorted.

"HELP ME!" She sobbed from down the corridor: a loud, screeching siren in the dead silence of the hallway.

Hermione jumped at the shriek, and Draco grabbed her hand instinctively and pulled them until their backs were flush against the wall. This way whenever someone would round the corner, they would have the element of surprise.

"Bloody hell," she whispered, her chest rising and falling with a quickened, panicked pace, "how can we pull this off without magic?"

"Scared, Granger? Suddenly all out of that Gryffindor bravery?" Draco teased, giving her hand a soft squeeze and trying to lighten the mood. Truth be told, he was afraid too… but he would never admit it, of course.

"Oh, please," she rolled her eyes but didn't pull her hand away. "Being brave doesn't mean that you aren't afraid. It means that you are afraid, but you stand your ground and go through with whatever brings you fear nonetheless."

He snorted.

"That's the difference between Slytherins and Gryffindors. Slytherins know when it's time to quit and practice a little thing called 'self-preservation.'"

"And yet," Hermione said, looking up at him with a sharp intensity in her gaze, "here you are, Draco."

Draco Malfoy had to look away, still a little uncomfortable with his new-found integrity. A week ago he never would have been caught dead in a situation like this. He would have high-tailed it out of there before you could say 'Cornish Pixies.' But there he was, standing with Hermione Granger, a pair of sitting ducks.

No wand.

No magic.

Nothing but a muggle tool in one hand and a muggle-born girl in the other.

Even with the seconds ticking by until chaos would inevitably explode, Draco felt strangely content. As long as he had her next to him the world felt sturdy beneath his feet.

. . .

Hermione Granger clung to Draco Malfoy's hand like he was the only thing tethering her to this earth. The moments ticked by as they waited for Lottie's return, and her palms became increasingly cold and clammy. She resisted the urge to pull her hand away to wipe it on her apron.

His declaration that she was afraid had been an understatement: never before had she had so much riding on her shoulders. The only thing standing between 1,500 unsuspecting passengers and an icy, bitter end was their mission's success.

"How long has it been?" Draco whispered from beside her.

"I have no idea. I don't have a watch," she said back. "It can't have been more than five minutes."

"I don't like how long it's taking," he grumbled, and she was about to agree when the sound of someone whistling down the hall cut them off abruptly. Their mouths snapped shut and they glanced at one another. Another passenger? Or an officer making his rounds?

As the man got closer, it was easier to make out the song he was whistling. It was a sad, lilting tune, and soon heavy footfalls could be heard accompanying the haunting melody. Whoever it was must have been quite large. Hermione prayed that they wouldn't notice them huddled against the wall once they had passed by. The sounds grew louder and louder, and Hermione wondered if it were possible for her heart to jump out of her chest.

The man passed by them, unbeknownst to their presence. The moment Hermione's eyes landed on the shock of red, curly hair jutting out from under his newsboy cap she realized who it was. Hamish. Draco stiffened in recognition beside her.

Almost on cue, Lottie's cries could be heard echoing toward them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Merlin.

"This way, officers!" Lottie's high-pitched voice came, and Hermione heard Hamish's whistles cease. She didn't dare take a look, but she could visualize him clearly with his head turned, looking over his shoulder in curiosity at the commotion. She couldn't believe their misfortune. Hamish would complicate everything.

As their frantic footsteps neared, a cold sweat broke out on Hermione's forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don't turn around, keep walking. Don't turn around, keep walking! Please, please, please keep walking.

"Down that way—" Lottie began to say, but her sentence dropped into dead air.

"Lottie?" He choked out, and with a punch to her gut, Hermione realized her prayer for him to keep moving had fallen on deaf ears, "What happened to yeh?"

"Hamish?" Lottie whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"Is this the man?" A gruff, Cockney voice came. One of the officers she had summoned.

"Oi! Down on the ground," a second voice ordered, "you're under arrest!"

Hermione felt Draco tense beside her, and she gave his hand a cautionary squeeze.

"What? No!" Lottie cried desperately "This isn't him!"

"Did someone do this to you?" Hamish asked, voice cracking. "When? Who?"

"Hamish, not now—"

"Where is he then?" An annoyed response came.

"Down that hall!" Lottie called.

"I'll tear that dobber limb from limb!" Hamish roared, and the sound was low and guttural. Like a bear being loosed from a cage.

"Wait, Hamish! Not you!" Lottie cried.

"Here we go," the Slytherin said, pushing Hermione out the way. She would have chastised him for man-handling her if the situation hadn't been so dire.

Three sets of boots neared. He braced himself, winding back his arm, pliers at the ready.

The moment the first sailor turned the corner, baton ready and eyes searching, Draco swung the iron tool at his face. It connected with a sickening crack, and the man dropped to the ground like a rag doll. Hermione raised her hands, hoping for some miracle that her magic could be summoned. It seemed as though it would happen in emergencies. This was an emergency, right?

The second Sailor rounded the corner and tripped over his friend, sprawling clumsily atop the wood floor.

"Bleedin' Christ!" the man cried.

Without a moment's hesitation, Draco raised the tool once more, ready to bring it down onto the unsuspecting sailor's head. Hermione watched— almost in slow motion— as Hamish arrived on the scene: a massive whirlwind of tartan clothes and ginger hair. His body eclipsed the entryway, fury bright in his green eyes as his sights settled on the raised weapon. The burly man ripped the pliers from Draco's hands, throwing it to the side, the iron clattering loudly against the wall opposite of him. Hermione flinched away from the sound, terrified. It was then that she realized that Hamish hadn't recognized them, rage clouding his vision.

She barely had a moment to breathe before Hamish began to move once more. He hunkered down, shoulder first, and with an angry growl he barreled forward. He slammed roughly into the Slytherin boy, knocking him off of his feet. The impact sent Draco careening towards Hermione, sliding to a stop at her feet. She dove over his body, shielding him from the man above.

"No! Hamish!" She pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut in a moment of wild fear, her ear was pressed against his chest. She could hear his heart beating rapidly, matching her own panicked pace, "It's us!"

It was then that Lottie skidded around the corner, blonde curls wild and tears streaming down her face. "Darling! Stop!"

Silence. No one moved for several moments. Hermione's heart hammered inside of her chest. She cracked an eye open and Lottie made eye contact with her from across space, silently communicating their fear and uncertainty.

"I-I know who you are!" The second sailor cried. He was huddled against the wall, a trembling finger pointed at Draco. His eyes bulged in shocked recognition as he worked to form a coherent sentence, "You're the bloke everyone's looking for! Nicholas!"

His fearful gaze scraped down to his partner, out cold on the ground beside him. After a moment of indecision, he pushed himself up onto trembling legs, clutching his baton weakly. He must have been 19 or 20, a lower rank sailor who was most certainly unfit for a confrontation like this.

"Nicholas?" Hamish asked, his anger taking a backseat to momentary confusion. Once the reality of the situation unraveled before him, their identities becoming clear to him, he deflated like a balloon, his shoulders slumping. He studied his companion with pained eyes, "yeh did this to Lottie?"

"No!" Draco spluttered indignantly, "You've got it all wrong!"

"He didn't!" Hermione cried, sitting up and clasping her hands together in a pleading motion. "It's all a misunderstanding."

"It was him!" The sailor argued, pointing a finger at Draco. "He's got that stolen uniform! He's been terrorizing the ship!"

Hamish looked like he didn't know what to believe, his massive chest heaving from beneath his tartan shirt.

"Hamish, it wasn't Nicholas," Lottie reasoned from between hiccuping breaths.

Hamish looked down at the maid, eyes clouded with confused impatience.

"Then who did it?"

"You don't know him," she explained, eyes averted as she tried to obscure her face with her hand, "...and it's not important right now."

"Are you kidding me?" the young sailor cried. A sharp laugh tinged with hysteria burst from his mouth. "He broke into a first-class cabin and pummeled a man to a bloody pulp! He sabotaged White Star Lines property! Not to mention, he beat that poor girl and just knocked Smith out!"

"Hamish," Draco said from the floor, trying to keep his voice even. "You know me."

"Do I?" the Scottish man asked, his voice marred with suspicion and hurt.

"Enough of this!" the antsy sailor snarled, raising his baton and lunging at the witch and wizard. Hermione's hands flew up in response, trying to summon the familiar spark she felt when enchanting a spell. Her mind screamed, her jaw clenched, and the blood in her veins sizzled as she attempted to bring forth her magic.

At the same moment, Draco was rushing to stand, attempting to right himself into a defensive stance.

The Sailor's baton flew towards Draco's head, which remained terribly vulnerable as he struggled to stand upright. Hermione watched it all happen in slow motion, and she squeezed her eyes shut, hands still desperately outstretched.

'Please, please, please. Petrificus Totalus! Immobulus! Stupefy! Anything!' She cried inwardly.

The sickening crack never came. She opened her eyes to find the young man was hovering inches above the ground. Hermione's jaw dropped, and she glanced at her open palms. Did it work? Had she managed to perform wandless magic yet again?

"Wh-what are you doing?!" he cried, clutching at his collar as his feet kicked uselessly below him. "Let me go!"
"Sorry, lad," Hamish apologized, "I really am."

It was then that the Gryffindor realized that she hadn't managed to wandlessly cast a levitation charm; it had been Hamish who had intervened, scooping up the sailor as if he were nothing more than a five-pound sack of potatoes. The Scot was clutching the back of his uniform, the material curling effortlessly in his massive fist. Once again, Hermione was stunned at his sheer size and strength, and she was thankful that he was no longer using it against them.
They all watched in stunned silence as Hamish brought him into a chokehold, wincing in regret as the boy kicked and thrashed.

"Sorry," he murmured between labored grunts, "I'm so sorry."

Hermione watched as Lottie squeezed her eyes shut and brought her fingers up to plug her ears. She didn't blame her; it was a violent thing to witness. Even the young witch, who was no stranger to the brutal ways of the world, found herself looking away. She had only known Hamish to be a gentle giant, something akin to an overstuffed teddy bear, but now she was witnessing his true potential.

Soon the thrashing ceased, the boy falling limp in Hamish's arms. The Scottish man gently let him down until he was resting against the ground next to his friend.

"Sorry you had teh see that," Hamish grunted, rolling his shoulders.

"Mate, I'm glad to have seen it," Draco admitted, letting out a nervous bout of laughter. He stood up, brushing off his pants and offering a hand to Hermione. She took it and stood onto shaky legs.

"I'm not," Lottie said, her face scrunching up as tears carved rivers down her flushed cheeks.

"Aw, lass," Hamish cried, face crumpling in guilt as he reached a tentative hand towards her, "it was only teh protect them."

Hermione closed the distance between them and the unconscious sailors, kneeling down and pressing two fingers to each neck. She heaved a sigh of relief once she had confirmed both of their pulses.

"They're alive."

"Thank God," Lottie whispered.

"So you believe me now?" Draco asked Hamish, voice full of hope, "You understand?"

Hermione held her breath as Hamish squared his shoulders and gazed evenly at the two of them.

"I'm not goin' teh pretend that I understand what's goin' on," he said, green eyes glinting with determination, "but I believe yeh, and I'm here to help."

A/N:

Player 4 has entered the game! Thank goodness for Hamish.

Sorry again for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Also I got some art commissioned for this fic. From the talented avendellart on IG! It's the scene where she's hanging off the back of the ship, and it's so so beautiful! They are SO amazing. Go check it out!

Please review. I know I don't update often because my life is bonkers, but please know that each and everyone one of your nice words GIVE ME LIFE and INSPO! I'm not giving up on this fic. Show me some support if u like it!