Draco Malfoy was cold. Not because of the bitter Atlantic air, or even the damp clothes freezing to his skin. He stared down at his friend's lifeless body.
Tommy...
He was gone. He knew he was gone, but Draco kept expecting him to crack a smile, sit up and admit that the whole thing had been a clever ruse.
How could Tommy be dead?! He was just there! He had been laughing and joking along with the rest of them as they worked to charm makeshift lifeboats.
Someone tugged on Draco's shoulder, trying to pry him away from Tommy's body. He clung tighter, refusing to part. He wouldn't leave him! He couldn't leave him!
"We've gotta go, mate," a voice said, reaching through the haze of despair that had clouded his mind. He shook his head.
"He's gone," another voice said.
"Why?" Draco asked, his voice cracking. He finally looked up to find himself gazing at Sam, who stared back at him, tears streaming down his face.
"I don't know," he said, wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. "I don't know why this happened, but we have to get out of here."
"Why?" he asked again, like a broken record.
"The water," Hermione said, sniffling. "It's coming."
Draco's eyes scraped down the deck until he saw the waterline crawling higher and higher. It was a mere 20 feet away. Part of Draco was tempted to let it take him away right then; to be swallowed by that frozen darkness and let the world pass away. It was all useless anyways, they would all be cold and stiff like Tommy by the end of the hour. Even if he managed to survive, what if Granger died? He couldn't face that. He couldn't face any of it.
"Come on, lad." Hamish said again, tugging at his shoulder once more.
"No," he said.
"Don't be stupid," Sam said, getting to his feet.
"Stand up," his Scottish friend ordered, voice stern.
Even if Draco wanted to, he couldn't. His bones had frozen, the cold locking his muscles in place as he cradled Tommy in his arms. He had never experienced anything like this; it was as though grief had paralyzed him.
"I can't move," the young Slytherin whispered.
"Maybe we should help him up," he heard Hermione distantly suggest.
Without a warning, Hamish gripped him by his shoulders and lifted him from the floor. In a flash, Sam was there to take their friend's lifeless body and lower him gently to the ground.
Draco stood on wobbly legs, registering slowly that he was no longer on the ground. He looked up to find Hermione staring at him, the remnants of dried tears staining her cheeks. Her brown eyes shimmered in concern. She enveloped him in a hug, clinging to him tightly, almost desperately.
"Come on, Draco," she whispered into his ear, "Tommy would want us to keep moving. He would want us to survive. He cared about us."
The past tense struck him then; Tommy was. Tommy no longer is. But even despite such a strange realization, Draco knew that Hermione was right. Their Irish companion would say 'we've gotta get the hell out of here!' or punch him in the stomach. Or both.
"Okay," he said, bringing his arms up to tentatively wrap around her waist. He could feel warmth slowly bleed from her body into his. He breathed in her delicate scent, still perceptible even beneath the salty smell of the ocean clinging to her skin and hair.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save him," she whispered back, tears warping her voice.
"It's okay." he said, his heart thudding dully in his chest.
They pulled away, brown eyes meeting silver. A thousand words passed between them, and Draco knew that they had to survive this. There was no way he could have found his soulmate just for the universe to kill them a few days later.
He looked down at his friend, asleep as the world bent and shattered around those left behind. He almost envied him.
"Let's go," Draco agreed, finally relenting.
. . .
Hermione Granger cast one last glance at Tommy's body before she was pulled around the corner and back into the second-class quarters. As they raced through the luxurious lobby, the lights flickered once more. She then heard the distant sound of plates and glasses shattering on the ground, almost harmonizing with the deep groan of the iron hull bending as the ocean swallowed the Titanic.
The young witch was grateful for Draco's hand in her own, because without it she didn't know how her legs would be able to move her forward.
As the group climbed the stairs, they had to cling to the rails and hoist themselves up, the angle of the ship having become so severe that it felt as though she were climbing up a steep mountain.
Where could they go? What could they do?
She thought they had been making progress, but with their friend having been murdered in cold blood, she understood now just how helpless their situation was. Even if Horace was gone, who was to say if Tommy would have survived the night at all? Perhaps he had simply been spared an icy, bitter end.
She gripped Sam's wand in her free hand, knuckles white. This wand was the one thing that could possibly save them in the end, even if she hadn't been able to save Tommy. She wouldn't fail again. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. No one else would die tonight. Not if she could help it.
When they let back onto the decks, the crowd had noticeably thinned, and the ominous realization that passengers had begun to abandon ship and jump into the sea struck her. She watched with muted terror as a dark-haired woman climbed over the railing to her right and let go, screaming shortly before disappearing from view.
Didn't she realize that she would freeze to death? Didn't she understand that they all needed to stay on board for as long as possible? Turning her attention back ahead of her, Hermione prayed that the woman could swim over to one of their charmed lounge chairs and pull herself aboard.
"What's the plan?" Sam asked, calling above the chaos.
"One second," Hamish said, halting their trek upwards and toward the bow. He pulled himself easily up and onto the roof next to them. She craned her neck as she gazed upwards and watched him survey the situation. He spun slowly until he was facing down toward the stern that was rapidly becoming flooded. "There's another lifeboat!"
"How?!" She called back, heart skipping a beat, "I thought they had all been sent off!"
"It looks like it's an extra one, but they're struggling to get it down from the level above!"
"Then that's our plan!" Draco added. Hamish nodded before crouching and jumping back down. The ground shook slightly as his feet connected with the deck. If anyone could help do some heavy lifting, it was this giant.
It felt intrinsically wrong to run down and toward the waterline, but she knew it was all they could do to try and survive. They instinctively linked arms as they neared a thick wall of panicked men, and Hermione could just barely see half a dozen sailors trying fruitlessly to rock a collapsible lifeboat onto a few measly oars acting as the most flimsy ramp in all of muggle history. She bit her tongue in frustration, how was this the best plan to get these extra boats down? Was there no end to the bone-headed engineering behind this cursed vessel?
"I'm going to go help," Hamish said, breaking their link and pushing forward.
"I'll go with him," Sam said, turning to Hermione and Draco. His hand was outstretched, and the young witch stared in incomprehension.
"Can I have my wand?" He asked.
"I thought you were afraid," Draco piped up from behind her.
"Hermione was right. There's no time," he dismissed, shaking his head.
Hermione brought the wand up and placed it hesitantly in his hands. The young witch watched mutely as the Native American boy closed his fingers around the handle before whirling around to chase after Hamish. She felt as though her hand had been chopped off, which was foolish, she knew… After all, it was his wand. She knew he deserved to use it until the end, but it hurt to let it go. They would be essentially helpless now. What if they were separated from their friends? She could see the ocean edging closer and closer to them, now only ten feet away from the sailors and the last collapsible lifeboat.
"Should we go help too?" Draco asked in her ear.
They watched as Hamish ran up, offering a helping hand to the sailors. They barked at him to go back behind the line.
"We would just be in the way," Hermione responded, looking over her shoulder at the Slytherin.
Several screams rang out, and the young Gryffindor turned just in time to see Hamish gripping the collapsible lifeboat just above the deck, face red from exertion. Hermione realized then that the oars had buckled beneath the weight of the boat, and if Hamish had not been there to grab hold of the side, it may have just splintered and broken on the ground.
"He did it! Let's try to get a spot," Draco said, urging her forward.
A sharp, young cry reached her ears above the chaotic din. Hermione froze. She knew that sound anywhere. Draco tried to push her forward once more, but she remained still, straining to hear.
Another high-pitched scream.
"What are you—"
Not wasting another moment, Hermione ducked beneath his grasp and ran out of the crowd. Her head was on a swivel as she searched for the source of the noise.
"Granger!" Draco called to her distantly, but she ignored him.
"Mama!" the voice cried again, and her heart leapt into her throat.
A child.
Heading toward the source of the noise, Hermione's hands began tingling. She heard a strangled, high-pitched sob ring out from behind an overturned lounge chair. It was tucked away in the corner of the promenade, and the Gryffindor approached it quickly.
She peered over the chair to find a little girl, no older than three years old, sobbing in a crumpled mess in the corner. The baby looked up at her with frightened, blue eyes. Hermione's heart ached, and she instinctively reached out to her.
"I'm here," she told the little blonde girl, straining to pull her up and out of the makeshift hiding spot she had created. Her clothes were undeniably third class, worn and dirty.
"Mama!" she sobbed again, tears and snot dripping down her flushed cheeks.
"We'll find your mum," Hermione soothed, looking down at the baby in her arms. "What's your name, sweet girl?"
She didn't respond, her round face reddening from the ocean wind. She wailed and Hermione shifted her, patting her on the back.
"Shh shhh," the young witch tried again, "you're alright."
Her attempts to calm the child were fruitless, and as the wailing increased, so did Hermione's terror. She no longer had to save her friends, but also this precious, scared girl. Where was her mum? Had she placed her there for only a moment as she arranged a spot on the lifeboat?
Hermione whirled back around, searching the crowd for anyone who could come and claim her. Draco materialized from the crowd a moment later.
"You can't run off like that, are you daft?!" he snapped, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed.
"I couldn't just ignore her!"
"Who even is she?!" Draco cast a bewildered glance at the sobbing little girl. "Where's her mum?"
"How am I supposed to know?! She's a child, and she's alone!"
"Then let's get her on the boat," he growled impatiently, "we can't just wait around for her mum. She's probably dead."
Hermione gasped indignantly, attempting to cover the toddler's ears.
"Don't say that!"
"What?! It's probably true."
"Malfoy," Hermione warned, shooting him a look. Even if it was the end of the world, it didn't mean he could be so cruel.
"Come on," he ordered, pushing her forward and back through the crowd. Hermione pressed the girl to her chest, trying her best to shield her from any stray elbows.
"Hamish! Sam!" Draco cried, but was quickly drowned out by the shouts of fear and the groaning of the iron hull.
"Women and children only!" she heard a sailor say, and from the way the crowd was shoving forward and toward the last lifeboat, she knew it must have been in vain. The crowd was being held back by a thread; if it snapped… there would be no hope left. It would be a free-for-all.
"Please!" Hermione called, suddenly racked with fear that they wouldn't make it on before all of the spots were taken. "We have a little girl! Let us through!"
"We have a child!" Draco cried, a hand waving above the crowd as his other arm wrapped protectively around Hermione. Several men turned to look, as if unable to believe there was still a baby aboard the sinking vessel.
"You there! Come forward!" a sailor said, pointing to Hermione. It was a battle to shove into the crowd, but they managed to break through and into the clearing. She watched as Hamish helped a young woman in as Sam assisted the sailors in retrieving the oars from below the hull of the lifeboat.
In a moment of dull shock, Hermione realized the water was now rushing toward their feet. The ocean hissed and roared as it devoured the Titanic right before her very eyes, and she knew that it was now or never. She rushed forward and toward the boat, wanting to place the child in before the seawater would meet them.
"Hermione!" Hamish said, offering out a hand, "come on, lass."
"Take her first!" Hermione cried, holding out the child, and Hamish plucked her from her grasp and placed her into the waiting arms of a woman in the front row.
"It's our turn now," Draco said, taking her hand and guiding her to the lip of the boat. She panicked for a moment, was it right to take these spots? Would they even allow Draco on as well? But as she glanced around at all of the chaos, she realized that Sailors had bigger problems to tackle The water had arrived, and the strong current was beginning to sweep several of them off of their feet
Panic was rising, and she could tell that it was going to boil over soon.
She felt Hamish's strong arms lift her up and into the boat just in time for it to begin rocking wildly. The women inside screamed as the water carried it backward and into the ocean. As the crowd of men realized that the ocean had finally risen up to meet them, dozens of them rushed forward, attempting to clamber into the boat.
Hamish tried to intercept them, but there were too many for him to block in time.
"Get back!" a sailor on board snapped, pushing them away with the end of his oar. "You'll swamp us!"
"Come on, get in!" Hermione said, reaching a hand out to Draco, who was already lost in the crowd.
She watched as he broke through, reaching out for her as well—and the end of the sailor's oar landed squarely in his chest and pushed him back. A flash of annoyance passed over the Slytherin's face, and he tried to step forward once more.
"Get back, I said!" the sailor barked, waving the oar in his face.
"Draco!" She cried.
"My girlfriend's on there!" Draco snapped back indignantly, the water rising just above his knees. Despite the chaos, her chest warmed at the proclamation of their relationship status. The boat rocked abruptly then, the women screeching in terror around her. Hermione was pulled roughly back into her body. Now was not the time or place to worry about their relationship titles! They were floating steadily away from the ship, and Hermione began to stand up; there was no way she was leaving without him.
The Gryffindor watched as Sam and Hamish dragged her boyfriend back onto dryland, Sam explaining something in his ear before holding up his wand, as if to demonstrate a point.
What were they saying? Hermione strained to read their lips.
Draco nodded before a man stumbled back in a desperate attempt to get out of the water, knocking the wand from Sam's grasp. The wand went flying backward and into the raucous crowd behind them.
"No..." she breathed to herself. That wand was their lifeline.
She watched as Sam chased after it, ducking down and into the mass of men, disappearing from view.
"Draco!" she cried, panic rising in her throat. The only reason she had boarded the lifeboat was because she thought he could join her, but now that she understood it was no longer a possibility... She stood up straight, placing her foot on the edge of the boat, ready to dive in.
"Sit down, woman!" the sailor barked from behind her.
"Stay there, Granger!" Draco called to her, drifting further and further away. She hesitated, sitting back down while her mind whirled, unable to comprehend an end to this without Draco.
"But what about you?" she cried back, straining to be heard over the screams and across the distance. They must have been twenty feet away by then, the sailors rowing away as if their lives depended on it.
"We'll figure it out! I'll find you once this is all over!" he called, his voice fading as he floated away. She swallowed, a deep, unsettling feeling flipping her stomach. No. She couldn't do this! She stood up once more, hands and feet tingling in apprehension.
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, the young witch stepped up onto the lip of the lifeboat before jumping clumsily into the North Atlantic. The surface came too soon, shattering against her skin like a pane of glass and knocking the air from her lungs. She gasped instinctively, accidentally allowing the ocean to flood into her nose and mouth. She broke the surface, coughing and spluttering as she paddled forward. The water felt somehow colder than it had inside of the ship, and her mind churned to a halt as the icy sea bled through the wool of her trousers and the cotton of her button-down.
Skin burning and teeth chattering violently, Hermione reminded herself that she needed to keep swimming. She could hear shouting all around her; from behind and in front of her. Some voices called her name, some called out to god, others just cried and screamed for Merlin knew what. And beneath it all: a kind of low, slurping hiss—horrifying and everywhere. It was the sound of the Titanic taking on water, succumbing to the impossible weight of the deep. She pulled herself through the water, thankful for the life jacket. Without it, she would have certainly been dragged below by the heavy material of the uniform and the clunky weight of her boots.
She wasn't sure how long she had been swimming, or how far she had gotten, but she knew she would reach him eventually. Move, and keep moving, she told herself, or you'll freeze to death.
"Hermione!" a familiar voice reached her. The young witch looked up to see Hamish swimming toward her, his limbs pumping through the water much quicker than she had managed. She was so stunned to see that he had thrown himself in to rescue her, she stopped where she was, lightly treading water as he approached. She realized dimly that he wasn't wearing a life vest. Didn't he know that wasn't safe?
"W-what…" she began, but her mouth couldn't get the words out, as her teeth were chattering too violently.
"Come on, lass! Swim!" he huffed, gritting his teeth and grabbing the shoulder strap of her life jacket in his fist before tugging her suddenly towards him. She had to struggle to keep her mouth above water as he propelled her forward, holding onto her as he pumped and kicked them back onto the ship. A few moments later she watched as Hamish was able to right himself and stand up, the waterline coming up to his stomach. She tried to touch her feet down as well, but she was still too short. She blinked the seawater from her eyes and could finally see Draco waiting. He was knee-deep in the water, his hands gripped tightly in his hair.
A sudden metallic snapping sound rang out, the water around them erupting in an explosion of seafoam.
"Hermione!" he cried, "Hamish! Look out!"
Metal and iron screamed above them, and Hermione looked up just in time to see the giant smokestack bending and caving in right above them. Blind panic encased her as she realized there was nothing they could do. It was going to crush them!
Instinctively, Hermione closed her eyes and winced away, waiting for the end.
But instead of a sudden impact and darkness, she felt herself being pulled from the water and thrown forward. She hit the wooden deck in the same moment a massive impact sounded from behind her. Like a bomb going off inside of the ocean.
Ocean water rained down on her, and she cracked open her eyes, unable to comprehend what had just happened. She looked over her shoulder, trembling violently and dripping wet.
The funnel bobbed violently in the ocean where she and Hamish and at least a dozen other people had just been swimming.
Her heart stopped... Hamish.
"Hamish!" Draco cried from above her, his voice tearing out of his chest as a guttural sob. "No!"
Hermione sat up, head aching and limbs trembling. Had he? Had he been…
Draco began to start forward, sloshing into the ocean and towards the quickly sinking smokestack. It was then that she realized that the funnel had landed atop him after he had thrown her to safety.
Her wet hand clapped to her mouth as she realized that there was no way he could have survived such an impact. She choked back a sob. Lottie's crying face flashed through her mind's eye.
"But what about you?"
"I'm a Scot. I'm a survivor."
"Promise?" she asked, sniffling.
"Cross my heart," he told her, drawing an 'X' over his chest. "Now, go on. I'll see you once this is all over."
"Draco, don't!" She sobbed through quivering lips, dimly registering the tears and snot quickly freezing to her face. She expected him to stop and turn around, but he kept wading away through the frozen water. She couldn't lose him, too!
The Gryffindor looked around desperately for Sam, tears blinding her vision. Surely he could talk some sense into Draco. Yet, as she scanned the terrified faces around her, she realized that none of them belonged to their Native American friend. Where had he gone? What had happened to him?
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she realized that things had completely come undone. She and Draco needed to stay together now more than ever.
The young witch stood on shaking legs and raced back into the water. She pushed through the frozen sea until she could grab Draco's wrist, halting him in place. He looked over at her, eyes bewildered and clouded with grief.
"There's no use!" She choked out, "He's gone!"
"Maybe he's just trapped underneath!" Draco snapped back, trying to jerk out of her grasp.
"That thing has to be at least fifty tons," she explained, hot tears streaming down her face. "There's no way he survived."
The funnel sank into the ocean, the top of it steaming and sputtering as water rushed inward. As they watched helplessly, she could feel the pull of it tugging at her trousers. The current would suck them under if they weren't careful. She pulled again on Draco's wrist, tugging him backward.
He turned around slowly, looking pale and lost. She, too, felt like the earth had been pulled out from underneath her. Hamish had died saving her, all because she had made the boneheaded decision to jump from the lifeboat.
If she hadn't have done that, he would still be here. Guilt stabbed into her like a knife.
Despite the wet, cold chaos around them as the hundreds of passengers scrambled for their lives, the two teenagers resided in a dark, quiet bubble. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were left floating helplessly in the wake of their friend's demise. They wordlessly looked at each other, both only sixteen and yet having aged a thousand years in the course of twenty minutes. They were too young to feel such grief, too young to know how dark the world could be. First Tommy, then Hamish, and on top of it all, Sam was off Merlin knew where.
"I can't find Sam!" she gasped through her tears, suddenly remembering.
"He lost his wand,' he murmured distantly, as if recalling a memory that had happened years ago, not minutes ago, "he was trying to find it."
"We should help him," Hermione suggested, pulling on his wrist once more.
After a long moment, Draco nodded. They turned back around and began their ascent upwards, a darkness looming over both of them.
. . .
Draco was being knocked every which way by the panicked men and women around him, and normally it would have enraged him, but he couldn't care less. He was freezing. He couldn't feel his feet. Tommy was dead. Hamish was dead. Hermione had almost died. Sam was missing. There were no more lifeboats. Their only wand was lost.
This was too much, it was all too much.
He felt the pressure of Granger's fingers in between his own, and he remembered why he had to keep going.
"Where could he have gone?!" Hermione asked. For a moment, he couldn't recall who she was asking about. Then it clicked: Sam.
"It's alright, mate!" Sam explained, tugging Draco back onto the deck.
"Why?!" he snapped, impatience overcoming him.
Sam held up his wand. Draco looked at it for a moment before realizing, oh.
"She's safer there! With magic there's a better chance that we'll survive if there are only a few of us," the American Wizard said, nodding vigorously.
Draco opened his mouth to assent, but a man appeared out of nowhere, stumbling back and into Sam. The collision caused the wand to fly from his grasp and into the raucous crowd of men behind them.
"Shit!" Sam cursed, diving in after it.
They climbed upwards, the incline having grown so steep that they needed to rely on the guardrails to hoist themselves upwards. They headed toward the bow, all the while looking for Sam. They peered through the night, trying to see past the hundreds of people and the absolute chaos, but he knew it was all for naught. The surviving passengers scrambled upwards, clawing and scratching past each other; all the while screaming and crying for God to save them all… it would have been hard to find Sam even if there had been a blinking, neon sign above his head. Swallowing roughly, Draco came to the conclusion that they were on their own.
"Forget him!" The Slytherin boy said quickly, overcome with a sense of urgency, "let's just get to the top!"
Hermione didn't say anything, she just squeezed his hand tighter, as if she also understood that it was a hopeless mission to try and find their friend.
As they climbed higher and higher, the crowd began to thicken. Everyone seemed to have the same idea as them: stay onboard until the very last second. Draco tightened his grip on Hermione as they struggled upward. He pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, searching for the best path.
The lights flickered once more, and he knew that they probably only had a minute or two left of light. Soon they would be plunged into darkness, and he needed to make sure they were situated in a decent spot before then. The thought almost made him laugh out loud. What kind of spot could be any semblance of 'decent' on a sinking ship?!
They passed hundreds of people, some praying, others sobbing, some getting ready to jump the hundred or so feet to the ocean, and he refused to let himself dwell on how every one of them would be dead within the next few minutes. All he could focus on was his and Hermione's survival.
As they climbed up the last set of iron stairs, Draco dimly realized that he could see the top of the bow. He gritted his teeth, unsure of what they would do when they reached it, but he was certain they had to.
"Come on, Granger!" he called over his shoulder. "We're almost there!"
Once they cleared the iron staircase, they clambered up, their boots struggling to gain purchase on the ever-increasingly steep incline. His hand reached out desperately, stretching into the night, hoping to grab hold of the bow's iron guardrail before it was too late.
The young wizard watched as the old man beside them scrambled for something to grab along the deck. Unfortunately for him, the deck provided no such salvation and he frantically ran uphill until the angle became too steep and he fell back. Draco looked away, unable to witness the clumsy and unlucky spill.
With his resolve to survive hardened, he hoisted himself up the final stretch of the deck and his hands closed down on the guardrail before them. He was relieved to finally be able to lock onto something sturdy as the ship rose higher and higher into the air. He dragged Hermione up until she was tucked protectively under the crook of his arm.
The lights flickered once again before plunging them all into ceaseless darkness. The hundreds of passengers shrieked in terror, suddenly faced with the horrible profoundness of night, and the Titanic groaned ominously below them as if laughing at their misfortune.
"Fucking hell," Draco breathed, watching in horror as people slid down the length of the promenade and into the black night. It was like they were being dragged away by an unseen monster.
"Draco, I'm scared," Hermione breathed, trembling in his arms.
"I am too," he responded, clinging to her with all of his strength.
It was then that the ship jolted seemingly of nowhere, and the sound was indescribable—a deep, reverberating groan beneath an avalanche of splintering wood and shattering glass. A roar and a screech, like a chunk of old metal bending against its will. Then came the violent shuddering and snapping: as if the Titanic herself were seizing. Then they were in freefall, but instead of continuing their descent backward, they were plunging forward at a neck breaking rate. Draco's stomach lurched unpleasantly as Hermione screamed beneath him. They clung to one another, unsure of what was happening until their descent abruptly stopped; the ship landing roughly in the water as Draco bit down accidentally on his tongue.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as the ship bobbed in the water, their world having been promptly and violently righted once again. But as he looked around, he realized that the sinking hadn't just miraculously stopped...
The Titanic had broken in half, just like Hermione had described.
"Oh no," she breathed, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes. "This is it."
"Great." he deadpanned, licking his lips.
Sure enough, the bow of the Titanic began to rise once more.
"We need to get on the other side of the guardrails," Hermione ordered urgently, and he looked down at her in confusion. "We're going to be straight up in the air."
He didn't need to be told twice. Before the angle could become too steep, he stepped up and over the iron rails until he was clinging to the opposite side. He held out his hand for Hermione to grab, and she clasped it, climbing up to join him.
He could feel her shaking as the bow rose once more into the star-speckled sky, and fear gripped him. This is what they had been trying to avoid; this is what she had been trying to save them all from since the very beginning. Their failure punched him in the gut, as if plunging into the North Atlantic wasn't punishment enough… he needed to feel guilty on top of it.
Draco glanced around at all of the people around them, some having made it over the railing and others not having been able to. He looked to his right, making eye contact with a young boy who dangled helplessly, no older than twelve or thirteen. With a dull blow to his stomach, the Slytherin realized he looked suspiciously like one of his Italian cabinmates.
A flash of recognition came over the kid's face, and Draco realized that it was his roommate. He wondered dimly where his older brother was.
"Auito me!" the Italian boy pleaded, reaching his hand toward the witch and wizard. Draco reached for him, but he knew that it was useless. They were too far away.
The Slytherin watched in mute horror as the preteen's fingers slipped and he dropped suddenly down, smashing into a jutting piece of equipment and tumbling roughly into the darkness.
It was too much. It was all too much. If they survived that night he suspected he would have to see his family's shrink every day for the rest of his life.
"Now what?" he asked Hermione, voice trembling slightly as they bobbed uselessly, several hundred feet above the roiling, black ocean.
"Now it sits here for a few minutes," she called back, still straining to be heard above the terrified screams of those around them.
"And then?" he asked.
She didn't respond. He blinked, terror rising in his chest.
"Granger, what then!?"
"What do you think, Malfoy!?" she snapped back, looking over her shoulder with sharp brown eyes. "It sinks! We're going to go under!"
He pursed his lips, feeling foolish. Of course, that was the next step. He pulled her tighter into himself, drawing a sliver of comfort from how her back met his front. She molded into him perfectly, as if they were made to be together.
"You know, Granger," he said in her ear, "if this is how we die, that would be a right shame."
"And why is that?" Hermione asked, a hint of impatience cutting through her fearful tone.
"We only shagged once."
"Oh, shut it!" she snapped back.
It was then that they felt the ship begin to sink back down, the uncomfortable feeling of descent churning his stomach once more. The water rose up to meet them: bubbling and spewing as it consumed the rest of the bow.
"Hold onto me," she called up to him, but he only vaguely registered what she was saying. He was too distracted, hypnotized by the dichotomy of the quiet, uncaring night and the roaring plea of the humans aboard, praying to survive, screaming and cursing to the heavens. "Hold your breath and don't let go of me!"
"What!?"
"Draco! The suction of the ship is going to try and drag us down. We need to stay together! Hold your breath and kick for the surface!"
The young wizard held her tight, the water a mere ten feet away.
"Okay… Okay!" he called, preparing himself for the bitter cold.
"We can do this!" she cried. "We can make it!"
Before he knew it, the water was there, right at their feet. He pulled them upwards until they were standing straight up into the night. He held both of her hands, clinging to her until his knuckles ached. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut, and he followed suit.
. . .
The black sea swallowed Hermione. She flailed out her hands, the current spinning her in wild circles. Despite their attempts to stay together, he had been ripped suddenly and violently away from her as the Titanic pulled them down in her wake. She reached out in vain, trying to reach for him in the frozen cold. Her lungs began to burn. The ocean was everywhere, pushing, begging to be let in. As the current sucked her even deeper, a bitter fog entangled her mind.
Where was Draco? And even more urgently… where was the surface?
She needed air. She needed it now.
Bubbles teased her as she felt herself being pulled… she didn't know where. Until she looked up, the salt burning her eyes—there, a dim, blue glow. The sparse starlight.
She kicked wildly, straining for release, needing oxygen.
She broke the surface, erupting into the chaotic and deafening world of survivors. Waves sloshed at her from all angles, and she struggled to keep her head above water as she gulped down greedy lungfuls of bitter Atlantic air. Despite having been in the water several times that night, the cold was still a shock to her system. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she treaded water and swiveled in a cold, slow circle. Where was Draco?
"Where are you!?" she heard in the distance, and a jolt of recognition surged through her. That could only be him!
"Draco! I'm here!" She called up into the night sky, her breath huffing out of her like steam from a smokestack.
She tried to listen above the sound of hundreds of panicked passengers thrashing about, but it was easier said than done.
"Draco!" she tried again, looking every which way. She didn't see Draco, all she saw were the hundreds of crying faces, ominously lit by the stars.
"Hermione!" she heard distantly to her left, and she spun around. The young witch tried to paddle in the direction she had heard her name, but her body was already beginning to slow down. Attempting to navigate the sea of flailing limbs and unanswered cries, Hermione kept pushing forward, hands reaching out desperately.
When she felt a hand latch onto her own, she knew it was Draco's before she even saw him. Relief flooded her limbs as his face floated into view, his grey eyes wide with determination and panic.
"Swim, Hermione!" he called. "We need to swim!"
She didn't ask where they were swimming. She didn't even ask why. She didn't think, she followed him surely into the cold, dark night.
. . .
Draco Malfoy paddled forward and through the water. He couldn't believe how cold it was. He was surprised his heart hadn't stopped when he was sucked down with the Titanic, but none of that mattered now. They had to keep moving. They had to survive.
He had one plan left: find one of the enchanted lounge chairs they had tossed off the ship and climb aboard. He knew it was a stretch. At least a thousand people must have been splashing around them; the most lively graveyard in the history of the world.
There: he saw it in the distance, a floating chair. Their salvation.
With chattering teeth and spasming muscles, he pushed down the stabbing pain and swam forward, Hermione in tow.
"Draco!" she called from behind him, having spotted the chair as well. "Th-there!"
"I-I know!" he cried back, already struggling to speak. "I… see it!"
Yet, as they approached the piece of enchanted furniture, Draco watched as two men swam toward it before they could reach it. He halted in his spot, bitterness twisting his chest at having lost their last opportunity…
"W-what?" Hermione asked, before peeking over his shoulder. "No…"
Draco was angry. He was angry that their last chance at survival had been stolen right out from under their noses. Angry that they had made that makeshift lifeboat themselves but they couldn't even use it. He had half a mind to swim over there and demand they hand it over. After all, Granger was a girl! Didn't she take precedence in this day and age?
Draco watched as one of the men lifted the other up, dragging him out of the ocean by his collar. He squinted through the darkness, realizing then just how small the man was as he clambered up and onto the wood.
"P-papa, get on!" the high-pitched voice floated across the night sky.
Draco blinked several times. That was no man. That was just a kid. A father and a son. He squeezed his eyes shut in chagrin.
Fuck.
Now what would they do?
Draco swam in a cold circle until he was facing Hermione. He looked at her pale face, blue in the starlight. Icicles had begun to form in her brown, slicked-back hair, and he couldn't help but notice that she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
"Wh-what…" he huffed, struggling to speak. "What do we do?"
She breathed in short spurts, eyes squeezing shut in pain.
They didn't move for several moments, allowing their lifebelts to keep them afloat as they pondered their hopeless situation. The echoes of death and sorrow rang around them, and Draco wondered if Sam was out there, one of the lost souls crying to a deaf heaven.
"What c-can we do?" she said, cracking open her eyes to look at him in agony.
He knew then that they could swim around for a few minutes, attempting in vain to find something to climb aboard… but he also understood that she would never take a chance at survival away from anyone else.
"What do y-you think?" he hissed through chattering teeth. Not only was he growing colder and colder, but he could also feel himself growing weaker.
"Hold… me," she whispered, eyes shimmering in the starlight.
He swallowed roughly, moving his arms to pull her closer. At least he hoped he was, he no longer could feel his arms.
"D-do the lifeboats come back?" he asked.
"Not for a long…" She took a shuddering breath. "Long time."
Draco's frozen heart dropped into his stomach. So it was really over, wasn't it?
"Maybe it was better that Tommy and Sam..." he murmured, unable to finish his thought. She nodded beside him.
"At least their endings were… quick," she whispered darkly.
They clung to one another, trembling in the wake of their failed mission.
. . .
Hermione didn't know how much time had passed, but the horrified screams and cries had begun to fall silent around them. The sea eventually stilled, too, no longer disturbed by the hundreds of flailing limbs.
"It's... getting q-quiet," she whispered in Draco's ear. The chattering in her teeth had subsided, instead graduating to her entire body. The shivers had become almost seizure-like, and she strained to keep control of her limbs.
"I guess it's th-the end, isn't it?" he murmured back, and her heart squeezed. Tears carved a fresh path down her cheeks, even if her mind had begun to slow and grow foggy… she understood what he was saying.
"I g-guess it is," she said, clinging to him. Holding tight to the boy she loved. How could she say goodbye? "These v-violent delights have... have violent ends."
She didn't know why that quote came to her then, but it felt right. It felt true.
He breathed shallowly. An echo of a laugh.
"W-what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's Sh-sh…" she began, but a sudden spasm racked her body, and her lungs seized uncomfortably before she was able to finish her sentence. "Shakespeare. A muggle author."
"Y-you'll have to show me his work wh-when we get back." He pulled his head away until they were no longer resting cheek to cheek, but gazing openly at one another. Hermione was struck then at how different he looked. His skin was sheet white beneath the starlight, deep dark circles ringing his eyes. His lips had also turned a deep purple while a snow-like substance had frozen into his eyebrows and platinum hair. He looked on the brink of death. Did she look just as bad? Was this what death was?
The fading witch wondered what the ministry would tell her parents. She thought of her mother, soft and warm. She recalled her father, kind and strong. The fact that she would never be able to see them again stabbed into her heart.
She hoped Harry and Ron knew that she had died trying to save innocent lives, even if she had failed. In a moment of regret, she realized that she wouldn't be at their side when they brought down Voldemort and restored peace to the Wizarding World. She prayed to whatever god listening that they would protect and assist her boys on their dangerous mission.
Never again would she walk through the corridors of Hogwarts, nose stuck in a book. With a dull thud of her heart, she realized she never got to take her end-of-year exams. She had studied so hard... How unfair.
"G-granger?"
"Right. Shakesp-pear," she said, pulling herself from her dark thoughts and attempting to crack a smile. "M-maybe the school library… has a few of his works."
He fell silent then, his mouth pursing into a tight, purple line.
"Listen…" he huffed out suddenly. "The reason why I was at th-the Department of Mysteries.."
Hermione blinked, registering slowly what he was trying to tell her.
"Th-the Dark Lord wanted me t-to join their ranks," he said, and Hermione's stomach churned uncomfortably. "But there were rumors of a pr-prophecy… that I would ruin my family's… pure b-bloodline."
"How?" she asked, frozen mind working overtime to understand his confession.
"F-falling in love…" he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling her even closer, "with a m-muggleborn."
Despite her slowly freezing insides, an inexplicable warmth flooded her limbs. He cracked open his eyes, the silver reflecting the thousands of speckled stars peeking out from the heavens.
"Th-that's why I was there… in the hall of prophecies," he continued. "I wanted to destroy it… to prove m-my allegiance."
"So… you…" Hermione breathed through cracked, stone lips.
"I love you, Hermione," Draco murmured, the shadow of a smile gracing his blue visage. She knew that they were dying. She knew that there was no hope… but Merlin, that smile. This boy. Even if they left the earth in the next minute, Draco Malfoy loved Hermione Granger. And she loved him back. And that was an undeniable truth, whether or not they were around to revel in it.
"I love you," he whispered again. When her lips touched his, salty with tears, she felt the kiss making her warm again. Suddenly she was as warm as the sun. All the anger, all the ridicule, all of the years of strife and fighting… melted away. There was nothing left but love.
She fought to stay conscious, her arms wrapped tightly around him. But the body wants what it wants. The cold begged to be let in, and she realized then that she was tired of fighting. Her eyelids were growing heavy… and a powerful, unstoppable desire possessed her. It wasn't the desire to live. It was to sleep.
The thought seemed to rise, not from within her, but from all around her. It wasn't so much a thought, but a question. The ocean was no longer freezing her out, but holding her in its arms, waiting for her answer.
Darkness swept over her, but it wasn't the empty nothingness she had always expected. Instead, it felt like a strange sort of gravity, pulling her away… pulling her somewhere else.
Vertigo overcame her as she was sucked backward and tossed head over heels.
Death was not peaceful, she realized distantly. It was… dizzy?
Her world stopped spinning all at once, and she became aware of a strange sort of warmth all around her. It took her a few moments to adjust before she realized...
She wasn't floating.
She was lying down.
And… was that a dull, warm glow behind her eyelids?
Like a newborn baby, Hermione cracked open her eyes to be introduced to the world once more. She regretted it instantly, having been blinded by a golden light. Her head was pounding in response, and she couldn't help but groan in pain.
"Is this… heaven?" she croaked, trying to reach an arm out, but something caught on her wrist, halting it in place. The young witch felt a stab of frustration course through her. What kind of heaven was this? She never could have foretold that there would be such discomfort in the afterlife.
It was then that a strangely familiar scent reached her: parchment and... ink? And a whiff of something different, less familiar… she had smelled this years ago. A draught of some kind. Where was she?
"This isn't heaven," a rasping, friendly voice answered her, and a large, warm hand encompassed her own. Something inside of her stirred at his words; she knew that voice.
She blinked her eyes, willing them to focus as she craned her head towards the man who had spoken. A kind face and a long white beard came into focus. Her heart fluttered.
Why was Dumbledore in heaven?
"Professor?" she asked dumbly, voice cracking. "When did you die?"
"You're not dead, my dear child, and neither am I," he soothed, confusing her even further. As he gazed down at her through half-moon spectacles, her mind scrambled to make sense of things.
The old man gave her a soft, patient smile before saying, "we're at St. Mungos."
A/N: To say that writing this chapter was a challenge would be an understatement. It finally feels like this story is becoming what it was always meant to be. I'm thankful to have finally reached this point. It's so easy to get disillusioned with a long-form story, and there were a few times where I thought to myself. "Who even cares? No one would mind if I stopped writing it tomorrow." But in the end, I always managed to remember why I write: to tell the stories that I would want to read.
I can't say for sure how many chapters are left, I would like to say 2 or 3, but it could be more. Feel free to review if you're feeling kind and generous. I always love to know what you guys think.