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CHAPTER FOUR

Hermione was nervous about the head-slapping she had given Malfoy. When she walked past him she had done it out of instinct and anger – she always did that to Harry or Ron. She never expected Malfoy to take it so well, though. Not even a tiny ounce of pain. All through the boat ride to the big ship, Draco seemed lost in thought. Maybe it's his mother, Hermione thought, maybe she's done that to him before. A feeling of sadness came over her. As much as she detested Malfoy, he had gone through a rough life. Parents, Voldemort, and now the whole disowning thing – Malfoy had been to hell and back in his twenty something years.

Hermione knew that it would be no good to pity him, though – she knew men hated pity over everything else and she didn't want to anger him (seeing as he could plunge a knife into her heart any time), but she could try to be civil. As she was hauled aboard the large boat whose name she could not remember, Hermione decided that she would be civil to Draco Malfoy until she got the potion finished and left. There was no harm in trying.

Thomas, or maybe Wesley grabbed Hermione's arm, and shouted a spell. A moment later, Hermione left a tug behind her navel, not unlike to the feeling of a portkey yet still different, and found herself on the ship. The small brown boat had disappeared. The ship was large and there was a line of people waiting for their return. It was the crew.

"Cap'n!" The crew saluted.

Hermione looked at the faces. There were not many of them, not many at all, and they all seemed to be around the same age as Draco and herself, if not older. How exactly did Draco get to be captain? The faces were all decent looking, none looking that disastrous besides Leslie.

One short one came up to Draco. He had glasses on a windswept brown hair. "Cap'n, we have the cauldron and the equipment necessary to brew the potion. We're headed towards Ibenhale Port now, sir, they have a good range of potion experts there."

Draco shook his head. "That will be unnecessary, set the ship to sail to Parker Island immediately. We have our potion brewer. Welcome Hermione Granger to the Mare Maris Muliema please, crew."

Hermione nervously stepped into their view. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger,' she said unnecessarily.

Draco rolled his eyes.

A young boy with a lively face spoke up. "Hermione Granger? The Hermione Granger? Who fought alongside Harry Potter and Ron Wesley?"

"Weasley, Ron Weasley, and yes, that is me," Hermione gave a tired smile.

Another one with blonde locks asked Draco incredibly, "Where did you find her? Isn't she ministry guarded or something?"

Draco opened her mouth to speak but Hermione cut him off. "Actually, he kidnapped me and cursed me with a dark magic spell that is highly dangerous."

Draco snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes as if to quell his anger, then opened them again and barked, "What are all you lazy pieces of filth doing? I thought I wanted this ship to be headed toward Parker Island?"

They quickly scrambled off, taking out wands and casting spells. The ship quickly began gaining pace, gliding through the water as if it was flying. The sails had unfurled and the ship looked magnificent. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she looked back and saw Draco manning the wheel, tapping it experimentally with his wand. He looked so powerful, so majestic, and so charismatic, standing there. His robe whipped around him as the wind began to gust around the ship, lifting his hair high into the air. He looked like an angel.

"Sneak all the looks you want, Miss Granger," a sour voice said from beside her. "He doesn't fall for women."

Hermione, although startled by the appearance of the man, was even more startled by his choice of words. "Oh!" She blushed beet red. "You mean… you mean Malfoy's gay? Not that I have anything against gays! Of course! Just that – I – Malfoy –"

"NO!" the man interrupted, reddening as well. "You mistook my words. He's not gay! He just doesn't stay with women for very long. He takes them aboard his ship, beds them for a week or so, and then drops them off at the next town. So you're out of luck if you've fallen for his stunning looks. Like all the others."

Hermione felt the red rising into her cheeks. "No, no, dear god no! I don't like Malfoy at all, in fact, I loathe him. However I have decided that for the remainder of my stay upon this ship, I will be civil towards him."

The man's face lightened up considerably. "My name's Frank. You can call me Frank or Frankie, it's up to you. I'm the health person upon this ship, I issue out medicine and heal small cuts and wounds and bruises. However, recently one of the crew members was gouged in the stomach with the barb taken directly from one of the suckers of a kraken. I'm not skilled in this area of expertise, and I can't identify the poison… however we have found a potion that will help stop the flow of poison through his veins, but it's extremely difficult and I don't think I can do it alone. Please help."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then gestured to her cheek. "This may be a little… odd, but could you heal my cheek please? I would do it myself but I don't have a mirror and healing spells aren't my specialty."

Frank laughed. "Of course!"

He pulled out his wand and tapped Hermione's bruised cheek with it, and she felt warmth spread across her face. "Now, please follow me. I'd like to show you our injured crewmember."

Hermione nodded, following Frank down through the hatch into the lower quarters of the ship. It was already a large ship from the outside, a beauty with ebony furnishes and penderson bark (a magical tree which was a gorgeous dark, rich brown and floated and sailed perfectly in water) but the inside was magically enchanted to be even bigger. It was gorgeous, the size of a quidditch field inside, with large black doors on either side. The hatch opened up to a winding marble staircase, and the floor was marble squares rimmed with gold. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, but there was nothing inside the giant room, besides the walls, which were adorned with large, flat mirrors.

"It's for balls we hold," Frank explained as he led her down a winding hallway that was the size of her house. "Occasionally at each port, we invite the town to come attend the ball we host on our ship. It gives the women a chance to dress up and feel beautiful – they hardly ever get the chance living in those fishing towns."

Hermione looked at him, touched. "That's so sweet and thoughtful! There's no way that Malfoy could agree to that, though."

"Actually," Frank said, leading her through one final doorway, where groans and moans could be heard from inside. "Mr. Malfoy was the one who designed this ballroom and came up with the idea."

Hermione paused at the door handle, looking at him. This was a whole new side to Malfoy. That was… interesting. She had other matters to worry about, though – this man's sickness. She opened the door and stepped inside, and was greeted by a fresh wave of hot air. The whole room was burning up. She fumbled for a light switch, but there was none, and the room was pitch black.

"Lumos," Frank and Hermione both said, and Hermione almost recoiled in horror.

On the bed was the worse condition of poisoning she had ever seen in her entire life. The man lying on the bed looked deathly. His skin colour was completely off; it was a yellowy green, splotchy and in some places faded into a stark white that was nearly see-through. Hermione immediately switched into nurse mode, conjuring up a mouth mask and tying up her long tresses into a ponytail. She checked the poor man's eyelids, throat glands, hands, fingernails, and everything that was necessary. He had a large puncture wound in his side, below his rib, the size of the hole you make when squeezing your forefinger and thumb together. It was jagged along the edges and bleeding, and surrounded by a disgusting coat of watery purple pus. She could see into it, straight inside, bloody and disgusting. She gagged before remembering she had to be professional.

"What potion do you suggest, Frank?" Hermione asked quietly, afraid to disturb the sick man.

"It doesn't have a name," Frank said, pulling Hermione out of the room and closing the door behind him. "We attacked a small village a fortnight ago and we found an old crone living in a small wooden house. They claimed she was senile, but she used to be a famous healer and people came to her from far and wide. We raided her house and found an entire chest-full of spells, potions, and recipes. They're in Mr. Malfoy's room at the moment; he doesn't want anyone touching them."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure these potions can be trusted?"

"Well, there isn't much else we can try anymore. Paul's very close to dying." Frank said sadly, his eyes and face looking drawn and tired from late nights spent reading through potionbooks and spellbooks.

Hermione set her jaw. Paul was a human being, just like her. It did not matter who his captain was or what his profession was. It didn't matter his age, or his background. He was a man and he dying, and Hermione would do everything in her power to save the young man.

"Show me to Malfoy's quarters." She said determinedly.

A moment later, there was a pop and Jasism, the dark skinned fellow, was standing next to Hermione and Frank. He was tall and broad, with warm brown eyes and weathered face although he did not seem that old. He was muscular and firm.

"Jassim, take Hermione to Draco's quarters. She'll be working on the potion there." Jassim nodded and Frank turned to Hermione, saying, "The potion I want to use should be the first parchment you see when you open the chest."

Hermione nodded, Jassim grasped her elbow firmly, and with a pop they appeared in front of a large, mahogany door. The door handles were silver and intricately deisgned, with snakes winding around the base of them. The door seemed to have a tint of green in it as well. Typical Slytherin.

Jassim's deep voice bounced in the hallway. "This is Mister Malfoy's quarters, where the spellchest is kept. Make sure you wash your hands before you touch any of the parchments because they are quite old, and conjure some gloves if you think you're clumsy. Mister Malfoy will not be happy if you ruin a spell."

The door swung open and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Did she say room? It was more of a penthouse. The colours of the room were, oddly enough, a blend of different colors, black, silver, red wood, green and gray, but it contrasted well. Against the wall of the room was a large, high canopy bed with a beautiful cover. The floor was marble and various paintings adorned the walls. Hermione ducked into a small door she saw in the corner of his room, and found herself in the bathroom. The bathroom was huge, with a tub and a separate shower. It was gorgeous. She washed her hands thoroughly and conjoured a pair of old fashioned white gloves.

She went back outside, into the room, and settled down in a plush armchair next to a roaring fire. "Accio spellchest!" she called, and a large, brown treasure-chest type of chest was pulled towards her, where it stopped and flipped open.

Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped. The chest was bigger than she thought it would be and it was filled to the brim, overflowing with parchment and books and quills and random scraps of odd things there and there. It was wonderful, like a dream. Hermione had never seen this many spells and potions before! How interesting they all would be… She quickly spotted the one Frank had been talking about; it was resting on the very top of the rest and was old, very old indeed. Hermione picked it up and read it, her brow furrowing and biting her lip.

It was a very potent, very powerful, and very dangerous potion to make. If brewed correctly, it would remove all poisoned blood from a body. This was very dangerous because although it removed all the poison, the blood loss could very well kill the poisoned victim. It was painful and agonizing, and it took almost four months to brew. Hermione looked over the ingredients. Dragons blood, semion tongue, crushed bellbeetle wings, boomslang skin, powdered agoarn horn… this list of banned items went on and on. How the crew managed to find all of these things was amazing, if they had actually done it. Hermione didn't know, as she hadn't seen the cauldron or the ingredients.

"I can do this," Hermione murmured to herself. It would take a lot of patience, hard work, determination and perseverance, but those were all traits Hermione saw in herself. "I can do this."

****

Draco stormed into his room two hours later, pulling open the silver handled doors and stomping inside. Frank hadn't shut the fuck up about bloody Hermione Granger and how 'amazing' and 'gentle' and 'kind' and 'generous' the girl was, and it was driving him up the wall. It was selfish, but he didn't want the little muggle-born in the way of him and the crew. Draco groaned, throwing himself on his bed and shutting his eyes.

He had to keep Granger; she had been the best at potions (he grudgingly admit) during their schooling days, and she worked in the ministry at the department of magical substances. If anyone could heal Paul, it would be her. As much as it pierced his ego and hurt to say, Granger was the best person for the job. She was such a know-it-all and such a nerd that she should be able to do it.

His mind drifted back to the little sundress incident. He didn't know what had come over him to agree to Leslie's request… maybe it was the fact that inside, he had wanted to see what Hermione looked like under - PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, he shouted in his mind. Make yourself seem like such a pussy.

People had talked back to him before – not many, of course, because most ended up dead, but none of them had ever hit home like Granger had. He knew that whatever he did, he wouldn't rid himself from the taint and smell of death eater his father had imprinted in his mind. As much as he hated his father's choice and his actions, he had still always wanted Lucius to be proud of him. Hermione had nailed center when guessing why he was killing all the ex-death eaters – he wanted to prove to the world, to himself, that he wasn't part of their group, no matter what they said, and his father would be avenged. His father had died because Voldemort had lured him in. If he couldn't kill Voldemort, the second best option was to kill all his followers.

Hearing a little murmer in the side of his room, he looked over, and found the topic of his thoughts sitting in his favourite plush leather chair, her head nodding on her chest and a neat pile of parchment spells on the floor next to her and another three on her lap She had been going through them and had probably fallen asleep.

Draco's eyes fell on her peaceful face. Why couldn't he look away? Hermione looked peaceful and content, with a small smile gracing her features, her curls falling haphazardly all over the place, creating an attractive effect. The light of the fire danced on her face, making her look young, innocent, and gorgeous.

Draco tried to push the thought out of his mind. This was mudblood Granger he was thinking about, he tried to tell himself. As he exited his quarters a few moments later, Hermione's fire-lit face was still imprinted in his mind.

Weak. So weak, he repeated in his head.

***

Hermione woke up - a blanket around her shoulders and her head lying against the couch arm, a much more comfortable feeling that how she should've felt if she had fallen sleep in the way she remembered. Also, there hadn't been any blanket… It must've been Jassim or Frank, checking up on her. A pile of parchments she had been going through were by her feet, and the extremely interesting ones were in her lap.

These parchments could be god-knows how many years old, but Hermione was captivated by them. Dark magic or no dark magic, these were forgotten spells that were extremely helpful in battle and other areas.

Her thoughts strayed back to her job at the ministry. They would kill to have spells like these in their grasp, but god knows what they'd use them for. Although Hermione worked for the Ministry, she didn't exactly like them nearly as much as she should – she had grown wary of them ever since they began pulling stints from Sirius Black to the foul Umbridge. However, she enjoyed her potions job, and didn't want to leave it.

She distractedly wondered if anybody was worried about her. Would Maylline notice her missing? Since Ben didn't return, she probably thought they had eloped or something. Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, recalling the letter she had sent Harry – it had asked him not to disturb her, as she wanted to be away from everyone for a little bit… Oh, god. Nobody was going to find her. They didn't even know she was missing.

It's okay, Hermione. Brew the potion you can leave in a couple months.

She sighed, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was actually going to be living on this ship for the next few months. With Draco Malfoy. Her life had just taken a very, very unexpected plunge and Hermione had been lost in the process.

***

xLC