Hamish lifted one of the sailors effortlessly. He tossed the young man casually over his shoulder as Draco Malfoy struggled to get his arms beneath the other sailor's armpits to hoist him off the floor. He grunted in frustration, gritting his teeth as he tried to tug the man upwards. What on earth? Were this muggle's bones made of lead?
He could feel sweat beginning to pool on his brow and he watched in envy as Hamish deposited the larger one in the closet with ease.
"Gentle, Hamish," Lottie murmured. "Set him down slowly."
"He's alright, lass," Hamish said, "he's just sleeping."
"Let me help you," Hermione Granger told Draco, "he's too heavy."
"I can do it," Draco grunted in response. He could see Hermione roll her eyes in his peripheral vision.
"I'll get the legs, Nick," Hamish said, clapping his hands together as he made his way over to him. Draco sighed in frustration, but nodded.
With Hamish's assistance, moving the unconscious man was easy. They shuffled their way into the closet, the sailor in tow.
"I guess I shouldn't call you that anymore," Hamish mumbled. "Since… yer probably not Nicholas after all."
"You can call me whatever you want," Draco said nonchalantly, bending his knees to deposit the sailor gently onto the wooden floor.
"Arse? Knobhead? Wanker?" Hamish supplied, letting his legs go.
"Alright, alright," The wizard grumbled. He was pretending to be annoyed, but mostly he was just glad that Hamish was talking to him again. Not to mention, it sounded like he was beginning to believe the truth of the situation. The truth that he had tried so desperately to explain to him.
"Hurry up, Draco," Hermione hissed from the hallway, "we've got to move along."
Hamish and Draco looked at one another, a thousand feelings floating between them. The Slytherin could feel the questions arising in his Scottish companion, but he knew they didn't have time.
"Lottie can explain everything," was all he said. "If you're willing to help her."
"Of course," Hamish responded, and released a shaky breath. "I won't be leaving her alone for another second. Not to mention… now I'm involved. I'm on the run. A criminal."
"Good," Draco grinned, reaching out a hand in a brotherly shake. Hamish bypassed it easily and enveloped him in a hug.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe yeh," he grumbled, and Draco stood in stunned silence for a moment. After a few heartbeats, the young wizard's arms came up to encircle Hamish in return. He had never had a friend whom he could hug in such an intimate manner, but he found that it was… nice.
"It's alright," Draco murmured back, his voice smothered by the man's shoulder. Normally he would have been embarrassed to be dwarfed and suffocated so completely, but in this instance it didn't bother him. Unlike his friendship with Crabbe or Goyle, the connection he had with Hamish felt substantial. Like the Scottish man had been a brother in a past life. He had heard other students at Hogwarts claim such a connection to their classmates and teammates, but he had never quite believed it to be true. Now he understood. He knew how deep the bonds of friendship could truly be.
Once they had broken apart, Draco caught Hermione's gaze from the doorway. She had watched the whole encounter, her lips pressed into a soft smile. Her eyes shimmered with… something that he couldn't quite place. He had to look away, his face warming.
"Ready, darling?" Lottie asked, popping her head around the corner. "You're sticking with me, right?"
"Only if you tell me who did that to yeh," Hamish said, walking over to Lottie and placing a gentle finger beneath her chin. He inspected her closely, but she pulled away.
"Okay, but we have to get going now," she said, her voice taking a stern edge. "We're running out of time."
"You remember the plan?" Hermione asked, and Lottie nodded. They had agreed that Lottie would be on stand-by just in case they failed to prevent the ship from striking the iceberg. She was to lead plan B until Hermione and Draco could take over. Draco swallowed. He really, really hoped they didn't need to use plan B.
"You can count on us," the blonde said, sticking her chin proudly into the air.
The two girls embraced tightly. It was then that Draco realized that Hermione's connection to Lottie rivaled his connection to Hamish.
"We can do this," Draco heard the witch whisper.
"We can," Lottie breathed.
They broke apart, and after a moment of heavy silence, the group of four split up.
"Good luck!" Hermione cried as their muggle companions made their way down the hallway.
"Don't fuck up!" Draco called to Hamish, who flipped him the bird as they rounded the corner and out of sight. Hermione whacked him in the arm.
"Ouch, Granger. That's my snitch-catching arm, you know," he whined.
"If we don't stop this sinking you won't have the opportunity to catch a snitch ever again."
"Fair."
"We've wasted enough time," Hermione stated, switching on her 'know-it-all Granger' voice. "Let's get changed before they wake up."
. . .
Discussing the plan to get changed into the sailor's clothes was all well and good, but once they were sealed in the closet with nothing but the two unconscious sailors, the reality of it hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. They really had to disrobe two young men without their knowledge or consent. She had never had to take off anyone's clothes but her own, let alone someone who was dead to the world.
She swallowed, pushing down her guilt as she unlaced the smaller sailors boots. She yanked them off one by one, trying not to think about how they were denying them suitable clothing. Maybe they could return the garments somehow afterwards… maybe they'd still be asleep by the time they were done. They just had to get through tonight and they would worry about the repercussions of their actions later. One predicament at a time.
Hermione had managed to pry him out of his sailors jacket and top, but she hesitated when she got to his pants. She looked to Draco, who had just finished collecting all the garments from the larger sailor.
As if reading her mind, he glanced down at her and said "do you want me to do that part?"
She nodded thankfully.
"Yes, please."
Once they each had a pile of clothes— and after an awkward moment of hesitation—they turned away from one another.
"Sorry," he said hastily, "I won't look."
"It's okay," she returned, face aflame. Looking at the clothes in her arms she realized quickly that her oversized, frilly undergarments wouldn't be suitable for the uniform. Their conservative nature made them quite bulky, and not exactly ideal for cross-dressing. She swallowed. Draco was a lot of things, but she knew deep down that he wasn't a pervert. She trusted him.
She heard a piece of fabric hit the floor behind her, and she realized then that he must have taken off his shirt. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she reached behind herself to remove the borrowed maid's uniform. With clumsy, trembling fingers she attempted to unlace the bow at the bottom of her back.
It wasn't until 30 seconds in of struggling that she realized Lottie must have accidentally knotted the string together. She groaned inwardly. Merlin, why her? Why now?
"Um, Draco?" She asked, looking down at her borrowed, too-small flats.
"Hm?" He asked, rustling with something behind her. She wondered if he had removed his pants yet.
"Can you untie me?" She asked, mouth dry.
He was silent.
"It's just the corset," she explained quickly, "Lottie knotted the string by mistake. It should be easy to unlace. Like shoes."
"Okay, I'll help you out of it," he murmured, voice raspy. She clenched her fists closed and open again. She could feel a strange heat pooling in the pit of her stomach and traveling downwards. She wasn't sure what was happening to her, she just knew that it was truly the worst time it could possibly occur.
She could feel the slight tug on her dress as he worked the knot free and pulled at the laces until the top loosened around her. She shrugged her shoulders downward and let the material of the uniform pool at her feet.
"Thanks," she breathed, her voice unable to rise above a whisper.
"You're welcome," he rasped back. She waited a moment, electricity skirting through her limbs at the thought of being unclothed so close to him. She could hear another rustle of fabric, and she wondered if he had begun to put the uniform on.
She convinced herself that it was just to make sure that he wasn't watching her, and she chanced a peek over her shoulder, only to catch the glimmering skin of his pale, muscular back. She watched dumbly as he pulled the undershirt over his head. She watched in fascination as the porcelain skin disappeared beneath the cotton fabric. She shook herself, turning back around.
But even though she was staring down at the wood floor, she could still see his bare back so vividly in her mind. He wasn't built like some sort of meat-head jock, of course, but he was certainly toned. Draco was the kind of fit only a quidditch player could achieve.
With that thought in mind, she took a deep breath and pulled the undergarments covering her torso up and over her head before quickly dawning the undershirt of the stolen uniform. She imagined him stealing a glance at her the same way she had him, and to her surprise, the thought of it didn't horrify her. It simply stoked the flame inside of her that licked at her skin and nerves. Merlin, what was wrong with her?
The shirt was still warm from the sailor's body heat, and that snapped her out of her strange, oddly tingly reverie. She was reminded about the weight of their task, and – not to mention– the mission they had ahead of them. They had incapacitated two innocent men for the sake of everyone on board, and to top it all off, they were stealing the very shirts off their backs. This was no time for such... fantasies.
She removed the rest of her underclothes before quickly pulling the borrowed pants up and tying the belt on it's tightest option... Which was still too loose. She sighed inwardly, cursing her luck.
"Are you… decent?" He asked.
"As decent as I can be." She responded, working the golden buttons on the jacket closed.
When he turned around to face her, he couldn't contain his grin.
"Bloody hell, that thing swallows you," he said, "you look like a child."
"Thanks for the boost of confidence," Hermione grumbled back, pulling on the black, golden encrusted cap. She tucked the end of her braid up until the length of her hair was hidden beneath the hat. "Do I look like a boy, at least?"
"Maybe a twelve year old boy," he laughed. "But I don't think people will be looking too closely at us."
"Right," she nodded, bending down to lace up the large, shiny black shoes.
"Can you tie mine too while you're down there?" Draco asked, wiggling his feet in front of her face. She batted him away.
"Malfoy," she said, tone warning. To be honest, she was relieved for the light-hearted tone to his voice. She needed a reprieve from the heaviness of their task. After double knotting each shoe, Hermione glanced at the two sailors. She sent a silent prayer up to whoever that the men would wake up in time if they failed.
She looked at him in trepidation.
"They'll be alright," he said, and after a moment she nodded.
She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. This was their chance. They could rewrite history.
"Let's go," she said exiting the closet, Draco Malfoy close on her heels.
. . .
The moment that Draco wrenched the inconspicuous door open, the hallway filled with a wave of heat and noise.
"Quick, quick!" Hermione hissed, pushing him inside and shutting the door behind them. "Someone will hear!"
"What?!" He called, instinctively covering his ears from the horrendous noise.
"Never mind!" She cried back, also pressing her palms to the sides of her head. "Let's go!"
"Where?!" Draco asked, looking around the small space. It was a stale, white room, cramped to the point of claustrophobia, with spigots and gauges lining the walls and ceilings. Across from some sort of steaming boiler in the corner of the room, was a gap in the floor with a steep looking set of stairs leading into the bright heat below. He peered into the hole, and was dismayed to see a wave of steam coming from underneath. "Down there?!"
"Yes!" She hollered, nearing the precipice. She braced herself on the white guardrail beside her and began to lower herself down.
"We'll cook!" He cried, sweat already beginning to pool on his brow. The naval uniform he dawned was several layers of thick wool, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a heat stroke while down there. "There must be another way!"
"Don't be a coward!" Hermione snapped, making eye contact only briefly before steeling herself and climbing down until the top of her black cap disappeared beneath the wood floor. Draco couldn't help the flash of annoyance that coursed through him. He was not a coward.
"Bloody Gryffindors," he grumbled, having to pull his hands from his ears to brace himself on the white guardrail as well. He stepped backwards, dangling a foot into the empty space. It took him a moment to realize that they weren't just steep stairs. No. It was practically a ladder, barely any discernible angle to the iron rungs to constitute steps. After a few shaky steps down, he chanced a look below him and saw Hermione making her way down confidently. Her delicate hands clinging to the rails as she swiftly edged down into the steaming, iron jungle.
If she could do it, so could he.
As Draco made his way downward, the sounds of the roaring boilers below them growing in intensity, he wondered what his father and mother would think of him now: assisting in a helpless mission to save a thousand muggles. Putting his life in imminent danger. They would be livid.
When he made it to the end of the ladder, he jumped the last few steps onto the iron grating below. He released a shaky breath, sweat pooling at his brow and dripping from his underarms. He paused to look up and see where they had come from.
"Salazar, how far down does this bloody ship go?!" He cried, looking back down at her. She shouted something at him, but he couldn't make out her response. The thunderous roar of the fires beneath them, accompanied by the shouts and grunts of the men below drowned her out. The place was a nightmare of heat and noise. How anyone could work in such conditions, he had no idea.
When she realized he couldn't hear her, she wordlessly took his hand and began to pull him across the iron catwalk. Draco's attention was jerked to the path ahead of them. It was an impossibly narrow walkway, and as he peered down through the fog of steam he could make out dozens of men shoveling some sort of dark rock into what looked like round, oversized ovens.
Would the workers notice them, two strangers a mere meter or two above their heads? If they did, would they think anything of it?
He swallowed and dragged his gaze up to Hermione's back. Those were the men they had to save. As a matter of fact, they would be the first to go if they failed.
When they rounded a sharp corner, Draco realized with a sigh that they had to climb down even further. He wasn't typically afraid of heights or steep drops, but to be in such a tight, narrow space— one where he could barely breathe, no less— made him feel particularly vulnerable.
Hermione paused her trek downward, glancing over her shoulder. She looked to him and then the bright red spigots on the wall across the catwalk. He could see the wheels churning in her brain. She bit her lip and turned around until she was facing him once more.
"What?!" He asked, straining to be heard over the industrial racket.
"I think those are the pipes for the overflow of steam!"
"And?!"
"This is a steam engine! Thomas Andrews explained it to me!" She shouted, pointing to the massive boilers below them. "There are compartments of water above the fire in the boilers. The water is being evaporated into steam! The more molecules of steam means more pressure on the piston, allowing more power to the turbines! Which in turn increases the speed of the ship! If we open those valves up even more, there'll be ventilation for the steam!"
He stared at her, uncomprehending. Molecules? Pistons? Turbines? Who did she think he was? She looked at him expectantly and he shook his head.
"In english, Granger!" He snapped, "I'm not a muggle scientist! I have no idea—"
"Just listen!" She cried and grabbed his face on her own, looking him in the eyes. "If we open up the valves, it'll slow down the engines! Maybe not by much, since there are dozens on all of the different boilers, and we couldn't possibly turn them all in time, but perhaps it could make the difference in speed needed!"
"So we turn the little wheels?" He asked, simplifying the plan. She nodded, brown eyes sparkling in excitement. He leaned in to kiss her, and she smiled against his lips. He didn't want to show it, but he was– once again– ecstatic at such a brilliant, yet simple move.
He pulled away and asked, "why didn't you just say that in the first place?!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but he could see a small smile still tugging on the corners of her mouth. She seemed to be optimistic for the first time all night. It did a little to inspire him, too.
The young witch edged past him and aligned herself with the first little wheel nearest to them. She reached out with tentative hands to grip the red valve and took a moment to study the trail of pipes attached to it. She craned her head back and Draco followed her gaze. It seemed to travel straight up to what he assumed to have been the smoke stack.
Hermione looked downwards to the laboring men below them, no one seemed to have noticed the two intruders so far. They were all too wrapped up in their work to even look above their shovels and the flames.
After taking a deep breath to steel herself, Hermione Granger tugged on the valve until it rotated towards the left. She grunted from the exertion and the awkward angle she had to manage it from. After a few solid rotations, the girl leant back and wiped her hands on her pants.
"Did it work?" He asked in her ear.
"It's hard to tell, but I think I felt a bit of a shudder once the steam was released," she said over her shoulder, "try the next one."
Draco obeyed, moving a few feet away until he was in front of the next red spigot. He placed his hands on the round iron handle and turned to look at the witch, who had already moved on the next one.
"Which way?!" He called.
"Left! Remember: Righty tighty, lefty loosey!" She shouted back. He grinned incredulously, raising his eyebrows. She wrinkled her nose at his expression, continuing: "Shut it, Malfoy! It's a muggle rhyme to help you remember! We all learn it as children!"
"Brilliant! It's a rhyme that doesn't even rhyme!" He laughed and she just shook her head in bewilderment. He turned his focus back to the valve, and he made quick work of hoisting it counterclockwise. It wasn't a simple task, and he really had to put his back into moving the stubborn spigot.
And then there it was: a shudder.
He imagined a flood of steam rushing upwards, and he couldn't contain his grin. He never imagined sabotaging the largest muggle-made machine to be so satisfying.
After the first two dozen valves or so, Hermione's progress began to slow down. In his peripherals Draco caught her clenching and unclenching her fists before shaking out her hands in pain.
"You alright?!" Draco called, nearing close to her and taking her hands in his own. "Is it hurting?"
"I'm okay!" She called, "Just need a bit of a stretch before continuing, that's all!"
He nodded, "Do you want me to take over from here?"
She began to say something when Draco saw a figure from over her shoulder. Thinking quickly, he whirled her around until she was standing behind him, hidden from view. The young wizard straightened up, putting on his best "I'm-supposed-to-be-here" front. The figure, partially obscured by steam and smoke, made his way through the fog.
"You two!" He barked, barely audible over the racket of the room.
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione said from behind him, ducking even lower.
As the man got closer to them, Draco made him out to be one of the stokers. His face was covered with soot, and he was wiping his hands with a dirty rag. Had he seen them? Did he realize what they had been doing? With the way the man carried himself, it was evident that he must have been someone higher up in the ranks.
"What are you two doing down here? This ain't your domain!" The whites of his eyes were a sharp contrast with the blue-black soot dusting his visage, and they narrowed in suspicion.
"Conducting an emergency inspection," Draco said, lowering his voice and tilting his chin into the air, "Captain's orders."
"Well I didn't get no call about no bloody inspection," he snapped, trying to look over Draco's shoulder at Hermione, who he imagined was doing her best to stay out of sight.
"Sorry, old sport," the young wizard continued, edging over to shield her from his prying eyes. "We're just following orders."
"This is poppycock! Ain't no posh officers goin' to be inspecting my boilers," the man snapped, throwing his hands into the air. "Do they think we're not capable?! I'm more than bloody capable! For three bloody months my men and I have toiled and trained—"
"I'd be more than pleased to release this responsibility to you, my good man," Draco interrupted him, spotting a way out. "We don't want to step on any toes."
That seemed to take the man by surprise, and his angry monologue seemed to die on his tongue. He blinked and leant back.
"Right," he said, nodding, "as it should be. I'll have my men get right on it. What boilers did they mention?"
Draco stiffened, he had no idea how to even begin to answer that.
"All of the boilers in Boiler Room six," Hermione piped up from behind him, voice cartoonishly deep. "We were on our way there."
"Boiler room six," Draco relayed calmly.
"Ah, that ain't my jurisdiction, but I'll let Higgins know," the man said, tossing the rag over his shoulder and jerking his head in the opposite direction.
"Be sure you do," he said.
"You two be careful down here, one wrong move and you'll be up in flames," he teased, showing his rotten teeth in a wicked grin. He cackled at the two teenagers' discomfort. "Now scurry on back to where you belong."
"Have a good evening," Draco said tightly and gave a quick formal nod before turning on his heel and following Hermione down the iron catwalk quickly.
"Merlin, that was close," Hermione said once they were out of earshot. "We have to move on."
"But we barely did anything-" Draco said, "we should at least do one or two more boilers."
She shook her head, "They'll be watching for us now, word spreads fast."
As they rounded the corner they came upon half a dozen untwisted valves that they had missed in their first trip around.
"I'm at least going to do these ones," he said. Her gaze flicked to the valves and then back to the direction of the angry Stoker.
He didn't wait for her permission, he simply moved forward to loosen them as quickly as he could. She sighed from behind him.
"There will be another way to slow the ship down, Draco." She stated, reaching out to place a hand on his bicep as he worked the last spigot counter clockwise.
"Fucking hell, Granger" he cursed. They were running out of time. He could feel the iceberg approaching faster and faster. "We're minutes away from certain doom."
"Language," she chided. "We have to keep our heads on straight, Draco. We at least have one or two more hours."
. . .
Despite her calm proclamations of an excess of time to Draco, Hermione Granger was beginning to worry. Her first and safest form of sabotage to the Titanic had been sabotaged itself. She had considered the night taking this turn, but the next course of action was much more treacherous, having to speak directly and try to fool the Chief Engineer. She had really hoped it hadn't come to this.
"Where are we headed now?" Draco asked, stopping her before she continued her trek across the iron catwalk, she looked at him in trepidation.
"The engine room," she told him, "we have to speak to the engineers."
"And say what?" Draco asked incredulously. "We've got to bring the engines to a dead stop?"
"No, of course not," she dismissed, tucking a few loose curls back into her cap, "just that the captain has ordered the speed to be slowed down to ten knots or so."
"Or so?" Draco rolled his eyes. "That'll show them we mean real nautical business."
"Don't be cruel, Malfoy," Hermione said, voice wavering. "I'm doing my best here... I don't see you coming up with any ideas."
Draco stared at her, mouth hard. She could swear she saw a flash of guilt in his grey eyes, but he didn't relent.
"I'm not trying to be cruel," he said slowly, "I'm trying to be realistic. These are real sailors, Hermione. They'll know if we're faking it… And I'm going to be the one to do the talking, so I'd really rather know what I'll be saying with confidence."
"Okay fine," she snapped, "since you didn't stay with Thomas Andrews and I during our meeting yesterday, I'll have to spoon feed you exactly what to say!"
"For the love of— Granger!" He said, looking around in bewilderment, "is now really the time to fight?"
"You have made this so difficult!" she cried, tears blurring her vision. "Not only have you been entirely unhelpful in the early days of planning to save everyone on board, but now you snap at me at every step of the way because my plan isn't perfect!"
"Hermione…" He said, voice softening as tears streamed their way down her cheeks. It was only the third or fourth time she had cried in his presence, but she still hated herself for doing so. There was too much. Too much on her shoulders. Too many lives at stake. She couldn't do it. She wanted to melt into a puddle.
Hermione caved in on herself, a wave of anxious tears overcoming her. Sobs wracked her body, despite her attempts to collect herself. The only thing she wanted to do was succeed. She wanted to save everyone… She just wanted to be the hero that everyone believed her to be. Unfortunately 'The Brightest Witch of her Age' was nothing more than a scared child.
"I- I can't do this-" she began.
A warm body interrupted her, wrapping her up in his embrace. He held her tightly, as if he feared she would escape.
"I'm sorry," he said, the apologetic words still sounding foreign coming from his mouth. "I shouldn't be so harsh."
"Draco," she whispered thickly against his chest. "They could see us."
"You're not alone in this," he said, ignoring her protests, "I'm here."
After a few moments, Hermione's arms drifted up to wrap around his middle. She squeezed him tight.
"Promise?" She asked.
"I promise." He said.
A/N: Thank you again for patiently waiting! For this chapter I had to sit through a video on how steam engines worked… It was confusing and boring but I sat through it and learned a thing or two… The things I do for fanfic.
If you liked this chapter, let me know! If you feel like you know where this is going, let me know so I can see if I'm being painfully obvious or not lol
Also I just wanted to say this real quick: trans people are valid. If you are trans you ARE the gender you identify as. JK Rowling does not reflect my beliefs, and her TERF nonsense does not apply to this fandom or the world she has built.
I love you all, and I'm sorry she has caused such damage with her ignorance. We will all just have to pick up the pieces and build a brighter, more magical future without her.
You are loved. You are real. You are pure.
I love you. We all do.