Hello! This fic you are about to read is loosely based on the film Titanic. While it will have many similarities to the film, it will also have major, major differences! I'm sorry if that is disappointing, but I cannot be blamed, as my imagination completely took over, and this practically wrote itself!

I mean, I already have 2 WIP's that I'm working on, so why not start another one?! (insert eyeroll emoji)

Also, the ship in this fic will not be the Titanic, for several reasons that will become apparent as you read the story!

Listening to the Titanic soundtrack while I write this has been awesome and I love it!

If you have any specific questions, please feel free to ask, and I love all comments!

Thank you to BlueGreenAndPurple, Cheesy, and ArrayofColours for their beta help! (internet friends are cool af just FYI)

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Day 1-

Hermione Granger placed her hand in the chauffeur's as he helped her step out of the brand new, extravagant 1912 Coupé de Ville. She smiled at him as she took his hand, and watched as surprise registered on his face; as if he were baffled that she would show gratitude for his help.

This caused another wave of discomfort to wash over her, a feeling she had felt frequently lately. She avoided his eyes as she stood up, now focused on gaining her footing.

She looked down and started to straighten herself up, knowing that her mother would not approve if her dress looked even a little bit wrinkled, no matter that she had just spent the better part of an hour sitting in a car. After she was sure that her dress was wrinkle-free, she finally allowed herself to gaze up at the large ship in front of her where she would spend the next seven days.

It was much larger than the one that had brought her to England just two weeks prior, and she had to admit to herself that it was impressive. The ship was sleek and black, and had the large letters 'MCL' painted in gold on the side. It certainly was the largest ship that she had ever seen in person, and from what she had been told, it was brand new — top of the line. She bit her lip and took one step forward, her eyes still on the ship in front of her, although her mind was a million miles away.

Home. She was going home.

Unfortunately, the prospect of going back to where she had grown up did not excite her in the slightest. She would only be living at her house for several more weeks before she moved out of it — permanently. The whole point of the trip they had taken was so that she could get a dress made by one of the world's best designers, who happened to live in London.

Her wedding dress.

Hermione was to marry a man that she barely knew, a man that she had only recently met; a man that she did not love. Her eyes watered at the thought, and the familiar desperation to escape formed another knot inside of her. The temptation of slipping away unnoticed into the busy crowd, never to return, crossed her mind; but she knew that she could never do that, so she fought the urge down.

She knew she shouldn't be as upset as she currently was. After all, she had been raised knowing that she wouldn't have much choice in the matter of who she would eventually marry. She had known that whoever it was would have to meet certain criteria, and would also have to live up to all of her mother's many expectations.

Growing up, Hermione had foolishly let herself believe that the 'perfect' man would never come along, and that she would be able to live her own life — a life away from her mother's clutches. It had been a pipe dream, she knew, but it had kept her content for many years.

That dream had vanished as soon as Hermione had been introduced to Draco Malfoy. Draco and his family were well respected, well known, and most importantly, rich beyond belief — just what Hermione's mother had been looking for. Draco's father owned the prestigious Malfoy cruise ship line they would be traveling on, owning over fifty of the most luxurious ships ever built, moving thousands of people across the ocean every day while raking in millions.

Hermione heard as Draco stepped out of the car and came up to stand beside her. She had only met him a little over two months ago, and he was still practically a stranger to her. While some women found him handsome, Hermione did not. He was attractive enough, but his eyes were cold and expressionless, and he was always serious. He had been extremely formal so far, though she sensed something darker just underneath the surface. Something that she was sure she would uncover over time, something that she was instinctively scared of.

Draco walked with an air of importance that demanded respect, and treated his help as if they were born only to serve him, something that infuriated Hermione. She might have been born rich and spoiled like he had been, but at least she was kind, something that she was beginning to think Draco Malfoy was incapable of.

They had met at a social gathering, where her mother had basically forced them to dance. Hermione did not think that the dance had been a success, as Draco had said very little while she rattled on due to her nerves; but when the night was over, he had asked to see her again, much to her mother's delight. Only a few weeks later, during a dinner at the Malfoy home, Draco had brought up the idea of marriage, to which her mother had accepted before Hermione could utter a single word to the contrary.

Since that night, things had moved at a rapid pace, and showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon. Life was now just a whirlwind of wedding preparations, and Hermione was stuck in the middle, not allowed to have an opinion or a voice in the matter. She had never been the kind of girl who's biggest dream was to fall in love and get married. She wanted more, she always had.

Even from a very young age, Hermione's mother had dismissed her talk of wanting to become a writer. Books had always been an escape from Hermione's boring and predictable life, and she had ideas of her own that were just itching to be written. The idea of her being anything other than a wife to a rich suitor did not bode well with her mother though, who loved to remind Hermione of this fact any chance she got.

She felt Draco put his hand on the small of her back, breaking her out of her thoughts, and she just managed to hold back an uncomfortable shiver at his touch. His hands were cold and bony, and ever since their first dance, Hermione hated the feeling of them on any part of her.

"Are you ready?" he asked her, as he too studied the ship. "We have a bit of a walk."

He said this disdainfully, as if he would rather have been dropped off right at the ship's entrance, even though it was impossible given the large crowd.

Hermione nodded her head, pasting a fake smile onto her face. Throughout the years, she had learned how to pretend that everything was fine, even when that wasn't the case. "Yes, I'm ready," she lied. Getting back home would be a step closer to her wedding, to the end of life as she knew it, and it was not something she was eager for.

She was unable to hold back another unpleasant shiver that ran down her spine as Draco pushed on her lower back, nudging her forwards. While to an outsider it may have looked like he was just helping her along, she felt as if he were doing it in an almost possessive and controlling manner, to make it clear to her which one of them had the upper hand.

Draco then took Hermione's beaming mother by the arm, his parents showing up right at that moment, giving them all smiles that lacked any warmth. Lucius Malfoy was very much like Draco — cold, stiff, and cunning. His mother, Narcissa, who usually had a reserved expression, seemed like she could be kind if Hermione was given the chance to get to know her, but the woman was timid, and only seemed to follow her husband around like a scared puppy with its tail between its legs.

Hermione had a fleeting thought that made her blood run cold. Would she end up like that one day? What if being married to Draco caused her to be timid and refrained, just as Narcissa was? She pushed the thought aside, not wanting to linger on it as she knew it would drive her mad. She smiled back at the Malfoys warmly, knowing that right now, she had to put on a happy face.

Together, along with Blaise Zabini, a tall and strong looking dark skinned man who worked for Draco, started making their way towards the ship, several men following them as they carried their luggage. Hermione heard her mother chastising the man holding the box that contained her wedding dress.

"You better be careful with that box, because if you damage the contents, you will be out of a job faster than you can blink," she informed him, the man's eyes going wide as he gulped.

While Lucius carried on rambling about how this was their biggest and best ship, Hermione tuned him out to focus on the throng of people around them. There were both rich and poor people, all of them excited to either board or watch others board the extravagant ship.

They walked up the long boarding dock, with Lucius leading them through the ship until they reached what he described as one of the finest suites. As they walked inside, Hermione couldn't help but open her mouth as she took in her surroundings. She was standing in an open room that had a large couch and several chairs next to a fireplace. It was beautiful. She studied the intricate details on the walls and ceiling, both adorned with pieces of wood that looked as if they had been ceiling was gold, and the walls were a deep, beautiful red.

Lucius and Narcissa left them to head to their own suite, leaving four of them in the living area.

"There are four bedrooms," Draco explained. "Each one has their own bathroom." He looked from Zabini to Hermione and her mother, who were still standing in the middle of the room, taking in the sight.

"This is lovely dear!" Mrs. Granger told Draco, who gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"I am glad you think so," he responded.

Hermione wondered how anyone could not find the room spectacular, but Draco was acting as if it were a dingy hotel room.

"Which room is mine?" she asked, anxious to get away, even if just for a moment.

Draco nodded to the first room on the left. "That one," he answered, giving Hermione the same tight-lipped smile he had just given her mother.

Hermione turned and headed that way, opening the door to find a beautiful bedroom in the same style as the living area. The bathroom had a large clawfoot tub, and she couldn't wait to use it. A bath was just the thing she needed to calm her nerves. Soon after she walked in, a maid entered with her luggage and started to put her clothes away. In order to not make it seem as if she were inspecting the woman as she did her job, Hermione reluctantly left her room to go join the others in the sitting area.

When she walked out, her mother was sitting down on the large sofa, sipping a glass of water, engaged in conversation with Draco, who was sitting in a large armchair across from her. Zabini was standing by the door, his large arms crossed in front of him with a menacing look on his face. The man gave her the creeps, and Hermione walked over to sit next to her mother on the sofa. Mrs. Granger was telling Draco about a shopping trip that they had taken when Hermione had been sixteen.

"I got the most wonderful dress there, the fabric was —"

Hermione let out a loud laugh. "I remember that day! Cedric was —" Hermione stopped, instantly regretting her words as her mother shot her a glare.

One of her mothers 'rules' was that she not bring up Cedric Diggory, especially in front of her fiance.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Granger forced a smile in Draco's direction. "Cedric was a family friend. He died in a skiing accident two years ago now. He was only nineteen at the time."

Hermione bit her lip, fighting back tears at the memory. Draco, however, gave her mother a sympathetic look.

"I am sorry to hear that. That's horrible," he said as he sipped his own glass of water.

Hermione could tell that the sympathy wasn't real though, and that Draco couldn't care less. She bit the inside of her cheek. The man was stiff and emotionless as a tree, and she was liking him less and less every day.

"I miss him," Hermione let out quietly, earning her another hard glare from her mother. She then stopped talking, knowing that she surely would be reprimanded for her words later.

"Yes, well- that's life," said Mrs. Granger in a short tone, and Hermione had to fight the urge to glare at her mother, instead focusing her eyes on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"I know it's a bit early," Draco began, "but we could start to head down to dinner now. I can have my father show you both around the deck of the ship before we reach the dining area. I'm sure he would be very happy to do so."

"Oh, Draco, that would be lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Granger. "I do enjoy the company of your family, and I'm sure that Hermione feels the same!"

Her mother turned to look at her, her eyes demanding her to agree. She then turned to Draco.

"Yes, that sounds lovely," Hermione said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion, sounding much like the man whom she was looking at.

Draco stood up and helped pull Mrs. Granger to her feet. "Of course. We will be family soon, after all."

Hermione shuddered at his words as Draco turned to help her up. She thanked him, and they stared at each other. As they did so, she saw nothing in his eyes. No affection, no fondness, nothing whatsoever. She looked away first, giving him a polite smile as he stepped back.

He led them out of their suite, and they walked down a long hallway where Draco stopped to knock on another door, a young man in a suit answering the knock.

"Are my parents currently in their suite?" he asked the man, who seemed quite young and appeared very nervous by Draco's presence.

The man nodded. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Shall I go get them for you?"

"Would I be here if I didn't want you to get them for me?" Draco snapped, and Hermione winced at the embarrassed look on the poor boy's face.

"Y—yes sir. Right away sir." He stepped back, and the three made their way through the door into the living area.

Draco's parents' suite was extremely similar to their own, and as they walked in, Narcissa Malfoy walked out of one of the bedrooms.

"Draco! My dear, why are you here?" she asked, her face a mixture of affection and worry.

"I would like Father to give Hermione and her mother a quick tour of the deck before we head down to dinner," Draco answered, not returning his mother's loving look.

Just then, Lucius Malfoy walked out of the same bedroom that his wife had walked out of moments earlier.

"Draco," he greeted his son with a curt nod.

"Father," Draco said as he returned his father's nod. "Would you mind gi—"

"I heard you just a minute ago, and I would love to show the beautiful Granger women around," Lucius answered, causing Hermione's mother to let out a girlish giggle.

Together, the six of them made their way out to the upper deck. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek as she heard Lucius explain that the upper deck was only for the people who were upper class, and that the 'commoners' were absolutely not allowed up there.

"At first, I wanted to make it so that the middle and lower class wouldn't be able to get on my ships at all," he was saying. "But then again, the less fortunate sometimes need to travel too," he said in a mocking manner, earning him a laugh from everyone except Hermione, who found his words disgusting. He was talking about people as if they were nothing, just because they didn't have as much money as him, and she detested that kind of talk.

As Lucius went on, Hermione started strolling, heading to the railing about ten feet away, hoping that the others were too busy talking to notice her absence. When she reached the railing, she put her hands on top of it and leaned forward, deeply inhaling the salty smell of the sea as she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun shining on her face. She wanted to throw her arms up, to let her hair down and feel the wind run through it, to spin around and watch her dress twirl around her. Instead of doing what she wanted, she stood still, knowing that any of those actions would earn her a stern talking to from her mother, and judgement from the Malfoys. She opened her eyes, smiling at the delightful thought. She imagined acting a fool, and Draco ending their engagement because of it. Wouldn't that be something?

Just then, a flash of color from the lower deck caused her to look down. Her eyes were drawn to two men who were pushing at each other playfully, the taller of the two trapping his shorter friend into a headlock. They were behaving as if they were a couple of children rather than two grown men, and Hermione held back her smile at the sight of them. She realized that the flash of color had been the taller man's ginger hair, as it stood out brightly in contrast to a sea of blondes and brunettes that were also on the lower deck. She watched them, wondering how it would feel to be able to play like that, longing for a friend of her own. The only friend that she had ever had was Cedric, and she had felt utterly alone since he had died.

Although she stared at both of the men, it was the taller one who garnered most of her attention. At first glance, there was nothing particularly special about the man, except perhaps the vibrant color of his hair. He was certainly in a lower class than she was, his clothes told her that much, and although the fabric looked worn, he didn't look dirty. He wasn't very close, but from what she could tell, he was handsome, and was made even more so by the big goofy grin he wore on his face.

As if noticing her eyes on him, the man looked up and met her gaze. Normally, if she had been caught staring, she would have turned her head away immediately, but as their eyes locked onto each other, Hermione found herself unable to do so. It was as if there were something connecting them, his bright eyes captivating her and making it so she could barely breathe. He was no longer smiling as he stared intensely back at her, his head leaning a bit to the side as if he were just as enthralled with her as she was with him. Without breaking eye contact, he took several steps in her direction, as if he was being involuntarily pulled by an invisible string towards her. Leaning against the railing, Hermione was already as far as she could go, but she had a feeling that if she wasn't, she would have also taken several steps towards him.

The moment was then broken as Draco walked up behind her, placing his hand on her upper arm. The feel of his hand on her snapped her back to reality, and she hastily turned away from the man on the lower deck. She sent a dutiful smile to Draco, hoping that it looked genuine, while also hoping that he hadn't caught her in a staring match with another man. Her heart was still beating like mad from what had happened just moments ago, but she pushed the ginger man from her thoughts the best she could, not daring to look back at him again.

"We are about to head to the dining area," Draco informed her, apparently oblivious to what had just transpired.

Hermione nodded as she sighed in relief, her hands going up to her head as she realized that the wind had let loose several curls out of her updo. Draco then turned to go stand with his parents, while Mrs. Granger rushed towards her daughter, an annoyed look on her face.

"You need to get that hair of yours under control!" she hissed, her face appearing as if there was some form of mild disaster going on, rather than a few stray curls popping out of her daughter's bun. "It is unbecoming," she added as she stared at Hermione's head like it was personally out to get her.

"I'll stop by the bathroom and fix it before dinner," Hermione said, trying not to feel offended. She had dealt with her mother her whole life after all, but she had gotten worse the older Hermione got, especially after meeting Draco.

As she started to follow the others, Hermione didn't turn back around. Somehow though, she knew that the man was still staring, and she could practically feel his eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

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After being formally introduced to several families that were friends to the Malfoys, they all sat down at a large table for their dinner. The food, of course, was delicious, and Hermione made sure to finish her plate, much to her mother's displeasure.

Unfortunately, the talk around the table consisted primarily of her upcoming wedding. Hermione had tried her best to pay attention, not wanting to be rude, but thinking about the wedding was making her feel anxious. So she smiled, but made little comment on the subject. She could feel her mother's stern gaze on her, letting her know that she was not acting excited enough about her upcoming nuptials.

Hermione was drinking wine, and she knew that she should stop, as she could already feel it affecting her. The conversation was starting to grow fuzzy, and the people seemed to be talking to her from a long distance, even though they were only a few feet away. They all started asking her questions, and she tried her hardest to keep up, but it was difficult, as they were throwing question after question at her.

"How are you going to wear your hair?"

"What dishes will be served?"

"What color will the tablecloths be?"

She tried her best to remember all of the answers, but she didn't actually know much, as her mother had been the one who had made most of the decisions as she had stood idly by.

"Excuse me," she finally said, breaking the oncoming slaught of questions. She wobbled a bit as she stood up. "I'm sorry, I—I need some air before I head up to bed."

She looked around at the table to see her mother giving her a disapproving look, which she chose to ignore. The Malfoys seemed indifferent, but everyone else had the courtesy to give her a concerned look as they nodded, wishing her goodnight.

She turned, making her way out of the crowded dining area as fast as she could, not bothering to look back.