A/N: Hi, welcome to the trope chapter.
Hermione woke slowly the next morning, her body clinging to the coziness as though it knew this would be the last magically enhanced night's sleep it would get for the remainder of the trip. The day's light was just starting to creep into the tent, and she guessed she had a couple hours before they planned to head to their next location. She shifted in her sleeping bag and was bringing her arm up to pillow under her head when she felt her heart turn to stone inside her.
There was an arm already there.
She tensed immediately as her mind processed the fact that somehow, at some point during the night, she had wound up with her back pressed tightly against Draco Malfoy, of all people, one of his arms slung around her waist and the other acting as her pillow. A quick assessment told her she was still on her side of the tent (she breathed a sigh of relief knowing she hadn't been the one to initiate the unplanned cuddle session)—and she wasn't drooling. Okay, so it could technically be worse, she thought. Count that as a win, I guess.
Hermione took a fortifying breath and tried to maneuver out of his hold, but she didn't have enough room to create any amount of space between them. She closed her eyes and called out to the universe for strength. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat.
"Malfoy."
The man in question grunted in his sleep, his arm tightening around her waist as he snuggled closer against her. Hermione felt her stomach flutter and hardened her resolve with a scowl.
"Malfoy." She nudged her elbow gently into his chest, very aware of the proximity of their lower bodies and not willing to do anything to close that space further. A litany of why, why, why, why, why echoed in her mind. "Malfoy, wake up. Get off."
He groaned in response, his top arm releasing its grip but still very present across her body. "Granger, please," he grumbled into her curls. "I finally slept well last night."
"What are you, still drunk?" she snapped. "You do realize you're effectively spooning me, right?"
"Well it's good to know my technique meets your standards," he huffed. "There's two layers of sleeping bag between us and" (he muttered a tempus) "three hours until we have to leave. Can we please just—?"
"Malfoy," she growled. "Get. the fuck. off."
He heaved a dramatic sigh that ruffled her hair and sent a (suppressed, thank you very much) shiver down her spine. "Fine," he grouched. He rolled onto his back and made to scoot backward to his side of the tent. Hermione lifted her head for him to pull his arm away and he let out a grunt, mumbling something along the lines of, "Wish I was as asleep as this thing."
She lay staring at the ceiling as Malfoy got himself situated back on his side of the tent. It was surprising, to say the least, how not alarming this all seemed to him. Sure, he had proven over the past several days that he'd grown past the blood-purist values he'd been raised on, but still—she was her and he was him, and they were not close. Close enough by necessity to share some trauma responses, apparently, but definitely not close enough for morning cuddles.
After a couple minutes, she heard another disgruntled huff as Malfoy threw back the top layer of his sleeping bag and climbed out. He made his way to the tent entrance and stopped, turning to face her. Hermione raised herself on her elbows and looked right back at him, refusing to show how awkward she was feeling just then.
"If I'm extra cranky today, it's your fault," he said, his sleep-disheveled hair doing much to neutralize the acidity in his narrowed eyes.
"Oh no, a cranky Malfoy," she shot back, rolling her eyes, "how ever will I cope with such an abnormality?"
He didn't dignify that with a response, but Hermione thought she saw his lips quirk before he turned and left. She sighed, flumping back to lay on the pillow. There was no way she'd be getting any more sleep this morning, but she could try to calm her mind—and her heart rate—before truly starting her day. She closed her eyes and breathed in.
One, two, three, four…
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
A breeze was blowing when they landed in the seaside town and Hermione was quickly grateful for the time she had spent that morning meticulously French braiding her bushy hair for no other reason, at the time, than to avoid facing Malfoy.
In fact, between packing up the remainder of her gear and devoting herself to the most involved hygiene routine she had ever put effort into, she had managed to stay out of his way for almost two full hours after he left the tent. By the time their paths had crossed again half an hour before their departure, they were both cleaned, fed, and ready to tear down the tent. Which they had done, thankfully, in silence.
Char dropped their arms and stepped forward, turning to face them both.
"Welcome to the Isle of Man!" she said, taking a deep breath of the salty air with a wistful smile. Hermione found herself doing the same. "You really lucked out, this is fair weather for springtime. The walk to the docks should take about 15 minutes, just a left out the end of the alley and onward to the water. You know who you're meeting with?"
"Yes," said Hermione, referencing her notes. "Samuel, captain of the Pequod." She glanced at her wristwatch—they had around 40 minutes before their eight o'clock scheduled meet with the captain of their live-aboard. She shuddered just thinking about how early her day had started (and, really, the way it had started in general).
"Know of any cafés on the way?" Malfoy asked, stifling a yawn. "'m afraid I was woken up rather earlier than expected today." He shot a glare at Hermione and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh yeah, you can't miss them," Char said through a yawn of her own, waving a hand vaguely toward the alley's entrance to the street. "Alright on your own then, you two?"
"Yes, and thank you so much, Char!" Hermione said, reaching out to shake the other woman's hand. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you what an incredible opportunity this has been."
Char laughed. "That's one way to put it," she said jovially, turning to shake Malfoy's hand as well.
"Truly, thank you for everything," Malfoy said with a smile.
Char nodded to both of them and they exchanged a "Good luck with the rest of your research!" before she turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack.
Hermione sighed. "Wands out of sight?" she confirmed, glancing at Malfoy. He nodded without looking at her and started off toward the main road. She adjusted her pack on her shoulders and followed. It was going to be a long day.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
They arrived at the Pequod's slip a little before their meeting time, having stopped for tea (or espresso, in Malfoy's case, since the git was clearly hell-bent on parading his exhaustion) at an empty little coffee shop along the main road. Samuel was already on the boat, shuffling supplies and checking knots and doing whatever else it is that captains do. He straightened up as they approached.
"Ah, hello there!" he called to them, his sea-worn voice much too loud for their proximity. "You must be the student team."
Intent on making a proper first impression this time around, Hermione stepped forward with a smile. "Yes, good morning!" she said brightly. "I'm Hermione, and this is Draco. And you're Samuel?"
"Indeed I am." He hopped down onto the dock and made his way over, hand outstretched. Hermione shook it.
"Where's the rest of your gear?" Samuel asked, leaning around Malfoy as the two shook hands. "Your advisor mentioned you're studying whale songs, but you don't seem to have all that bulky equipment I see with most researchers who charter with me."
"Afraid the department couldn't spare the extra funding," Malfoy sighed, and if she hadn't known better Hermione would've had no trouble believing he was lamenting their imaginary school's budget decisions. "But we reviewed the list of onboard equipment and it'll do just fine for our needs over the next two days."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Malfoy over Samuel's shoulder as the two chatted. She could swear he'd stripped his posh accent almost to the bone, sounding more salt-of-the-earth than she'd ever heard him before. Not for the first time, it made her wary that he could shift his entire demeanor so easily.
"Right you are then," said Samuel. "How's about a tour?"
He showed them around the cozy live-aboard. The main deck was mostly open, with a few seats near the stern and an enclosed captain's helm close to the staircase. The space below was split into several rooms: a control and equipment room, a tidy kitchen, a rather cramped bathroom, and two separate sleeping quarters.
"You'll be sharing a room," Samuel said, looking a little uncertain as he came to a stop outside a worn door. "They told me that'd be alright. Two beds, of course, bunk style." He glanced sideways at Hermione.
"Oh yes, that's what we expected as well." She smiled warmly at the man for his consideration. "We've been tent camping up 'til now, so beds will be a real treat."
Samuel eased at that. "Right then, this is you," he said gruffly, making his way to the staircase as Hermione opened the door into the small room. "We'll be shoving off in a few minutes. Come on above when you're settled and we can get into some details."
"Brilliant, thanks," she heard Malfoy call behind her as she took in the layout. A bunkbed system was anchored into one wall and took up close to a third of the room. Across the way, so close Hermione could nearly touch them from the edge of the bed, sat a small dresser and a writing desk with a folding chair slotted at its side. She was drawn to a movement in the mirror above the dresser and tracked Malfoy as he took in their lodgings for the next two days. His eyes met hers in the reflection.
"It's bigger than the tent," he said with a shrug, then turned and tossed his pack on the top bed.
Hermione was unloading some clothes into the dresser when she felt the engine come to life beneath them. Malfoy froze in the act of sliding his notebook and pen into the top-left drawer of the desk, visibly tense.
"First time out to sea?" she asked lightly, surreptitiously trying to find the right level of bodily looseness for those 'sea legs' she kept reading about.
With a small jolt his hand started moving again. "Not as such," he said primly. "Though I've never been on a craft quite this size before."
Hermione did not doubt that.
Before she could respond, the boat began to move with a slight lurch. She felt her stomach twist a little—it was a new phase of the expedition, and she felt the familiar thrill of the unknown kindling inside her. Feeling herself start to smile, she cleared her throat, shifting to sit on the lower bunk as she continued pulling out some of the gear she'd want to have accessible in the next couple days. The majority would stay in her pack, of course, tucked out of sight underneath the bed. She didn't peg Samuel for a snoop, but one could never be too careful.
They continued unpacking awhile, carefully sidestepping one another in the confined space as the boat puttered out to sea. The waves rocked the vessel gently as they went, and Hermione soon found herself swaying in time with the motion as natural as walking. That is, until Malfoy stumbled into her.
"Merlin," he grumbled, grabbing onto the nearest bed post. "How are we supposed to get anything done while we're being thrown around like this?"
She couldn't help the grin that escaped. "'Thrown around?'" she said with a laugh. "You'd better hope we don't run into weather of any kind if this is what you consider rough seas. Doesn't Quidditch train you to roll with this sort of thing?"
"Like you're suddenly an expert," he sneered. "I'll have you know it's massively different to roll with it, as you say, when your feet are holding you to the ground."
Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to the desk, opening the center drawer and tossing a small box at Malfoy. "Here," she said crisply. "I brought enough for each of us to use one a day while we're on the water."
He stared at it for nearly a minute before looking back at her nonplussed. "Jewelry, Granger?" he deadpanned. "And here I thought you didn't like me."
"It's a motion sickness wristband, as you can very well read on the packaging," she said calmly, focusing her mind on listing the steps for brewing polyjuice potion in reverse order as she pulled on a hat. "The science behind it is simple yet surprisingly effective in calming delicate stomachs." She smirked as his blank expression twisted into a scowl.
"I do not have a delicate stomach," he shot back. "I'm being jostled, not retching over the rails."
"Suit yourself," she shrugged, pocketing her notebook and pen and heading out to join Samuel on the deck.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
Hermione pushed off the railing and made her way toward the open door of the helm when she saw Malfoy emerging from below. She'd been leaning into a brisk wind, one eye on the staircase as she took in the vast blue that stretched out in front of them. The bracing sea air was a hard shift from the stillness of the forest, a change Hermione welcomed body, mind, and spirit.
Samuel turned as they approached. "Ah, good timing," he said amiably, adjusting their course ever so slightly to the north. "We're getting close."
"How long have you been tracking this pod?" Hermione asked, notebook in hand. Somewhere to her left, she heard Malfoy click his pen.
"Oh, couple years now," he shrugged. "Most of the whales that come through here do so in the summer, traveling to Icelandic parts to feed. But this pod… dunno, there's just somethin' different about 'em. They don't spend all their time here, of course, but more than common." He shook his head. "They're an anomaly alright, but the way they sing, I got no complaints."
"You've been studying humpback songs a long time, yeah?" Malfoy asked in that strangely normal not-a-rich-prat voice he'd adopted.
"Nah, not studying, lad," Samuel replied with a smile. "Just listening and learning for… oh, I'd say four decades or so. Didn't always have all this fancy gear, though."
"Would you say this pod's communication is different from others', or just their territory habits?"
He pondered on that for a moment. "Well they're all unique, really, the way they sing," he said at last. "This group no more than any other."
Hermione had already filled a page in her notebook with Samuel's brief explanation and a multitude of questions she thought of. She quickly jotted down no unusual speech patterns in the space below Anything else that sets them apart? and tried to ignore the nagging awareness that she and Malfoy were, at the very least, academically compatible.
"I hope we see them today," Hermione said wistfully. Whale watching was something she had always dreamed of doing, a dream her parents had been well aware of. They'd all been in the process of planning a marvelous family trip to celebrate her upcoming graduation from Hogwarts when she'd had to go on the run. She swallowed thickly and scanned the surrounding waters.
"Well there's plenty of daylight left for us to try, and the weather seems like it'll hold," Samuel said, eyes scanning the nearly cloudless blue sky. "Chances are we'll be able to take the dingy out after lunch. If they decide to show themselves, that is."
She glanced at her watch and suppressed a sigh. It was only ten-thirty.
"For now, we just keep our eyes on the sea. If they're far off, we'll see what looks like relatively cylindrical puffs of smoke on the horizon. That's the spout, or the blow." He grinned at them sideways. "As in, 'thar she blows!'"
Hermione chuckled. Malfoy looked perplexed.
She wasn't sure how much time passed as she swayed with the gentle rocking of the boat, eyes drifting over the expanse in front of her. Somewhere along the line she'd made it a personal goal to be the first to spot the telltale exhalation, and as time went on she became increasingly and uncomfortably aware that her competitive side was getting deeply invested in the idea of trouncing Malfoy in yet another area. Not healthy, she scolded herself, and not helpful. Still, she leaned further out over the railing, as though the extra reach would actually make a difference in what she could see.
Hermione nearly catapulted backwards when a spout suddenly burst upward not twenty yards away. She was on her feet immediately, scrambling back to her spot as Malfoy rushed over to the railing. Samuel cut the motor.
"We'll wait 'til we see the next one," he called from the helm, his eyes skimming the ocean in front of him. "There's usually a few breaths in a set, then they may dive for ten minutes or so. Best to know where they're headed."
Hermione was vaguely aware of Malfoy moving towards the back of the boat but couldn't spare him a glance. She didn't care if he was the one to spot them this time. She just wanted to see them again.
They didn't have to wait long.
"Off the stern, two of them!" Hermione's head turned so quickly that she heard her neck crack. Her eyes darted to where Malfoy was pointing and locked onto the dissipating clouds of water vapor. She rushed to join him.
"Well, that's awful nice of them," Samuel said, ambling over at a much less frantic pace and smiling at the surrounding ocean. "They've decided to join us for lunch."
Much to Hermione's surprise, the whales continued to surface within a relatively close range over the next hour or so. Eventually, Samuel asked her to "keep an eye on the pod" while he and "the lad" brought up the equipment from below. It barely occurred to her to make sure Malfoy was okay handling and transporting unfamiliar muggle contraptions (and electronic ones at that, her mind pointed out), but when she glanced his way to confirm, he just snorted and rolled his eyes with a smirk before turning to follow the captain.
From what she saw as her eyes alternated between tracking whale spouts and following the men as they loaded the dingy, Malfoy was either naturally intuitive with scientific equipment or disturbingly convincing as an actor. I guess he would have had to be, she thought with a pang. She shook the thought from her head and continued her watch.
They ate a lunch of simple sandwiches on deck, all of them keeping one eye to the sea. Samuel filled them in on the plan: take the dingy out shortly after the meal, drift out to the center of the pod's sightings, drop the mics, and have a listen. Simple. Thrilling.
Terrifying.
Hermione tried not to think about how big humpbacks were. About how if one were to splash its fluke too close to their dingy, the thing could easily capsize. And how if that same fluke were to hit her directly—above or below water—she could be inadvertently and anticlimactically killed. Not likely, she acknowledged, but possible.
Still, she was more excited than scared, and as Samuel helped her onto the dingy not half an hour later, she knew that most of her trembling was from anticipation.
Once all three of them were seated, Samuel untied the lines connecting the dingy to the boat deck and, with a gentle shove, pushed them away from the Pequod. Occasionally he would paddle with one of the small oars aboard the craft, but for the most part they were content to drift as they scanned for the now-familiar spouts.
When they were around 50 meters out, Samuel clapped his hands together with a grin. "Let's see if they're singing today, shall we?"
Hermione nodded, her heart somewhere in her throat as she scooted forward to help with the equipment. Fortunately, that mostly consisted of their captain pointing to different pieces of gear for her to pass over.
"It's a bit particular," Samuel said fondly, snapping parts together as she handed them to him. She watched carefully, trying to memorize how the equipment fit together and thanking the universe that he wasn't questioning the relative lack of technical skills from the two student researchers who had chartered his services.
In just a few minutes, a moderately complex microphone system was ready to be lowered into the ocean. Samuel leaned forward in the dingy, reaching under the front seat until his finger found a switch. He pressed it and, after a second, a soft static could be heard. Malfoy leaned forward, his interest piqued.
"Let the concert begin," Samuel said lowly, and his voice filled the air around them, picked up by the sensitive mic. He grinned at the pair and jerked his head. "Come on, one of ya help me drop this in."
Malfoy slid smoothly across the bench to the other side of the gear assembly and hooked his hands under the horizontal pole opposite Samuel. At the captain's nod, the two men lifted the strange system over the side of the dingy and carefully lowered it straight down into the water. Hermione caught a flash of color at Malfoy's wrist and noted distractedly that he was wearing the wristband she'd thrown at him earlier.
And then they waited. For what felt like an excruciating amount of time, they neither heard nor saw any hint of the whales who had been swimming nearby for the past hour.
"Mmmm." Samuel had closed his eyes and was leaning back against the prow of the small craft, a contented smile on his face. "Here they come."
Hermione and Malfoy both leaned toward the speaker, trying to distinguish anything at all amid the muffled sound of empty ocean. She held her breath for what felt like ages until—
A hollow, piercing moan came through the speaker as clear as a bell, and it rent Hermione's heart and cocooned it at the same time. Her hand flew to her mouth, the other automatically reaching for Malfoy's arm. But he was just out of range, and her fingers found themselves gripping the seat instead.
The slow, intentional melody rose and fell with disconcerting irregularity and was soon joined by another, deeper voice. Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes and didn't even try to stop them from falling. It was haunting and old, born of the depths of sea and time, and she closed her eyes and let it fill her.
Then the lower song stopped, switching abruptly to a series squeaks and clicks that reached a comically high register. Hermione opened her eyes with a surprised laugh, incidentally catching Malfoy's gaze. She was certain the joy she saw on his face was reflected on her own. This moment was neither magical nor muggle. It was pure wonder at the overwhelming beauty of the natural world, the true world, the world not separated by human ideals. And in this moment, she felt genuinely happy that he was there to share it with her.
Time passed and the whales communicated. Hermione and Malfoy had long since brought out their notebooks, scribbling furiously whenever a new question or observation struck them. For the most part they were quiet, simply enjoying what Hermione thought must be the most magnificent conversationalists in the world, but occasionally one of them would ask Samuel about his experiences or request his insight. By the time they had rowed themselves back to the Pequod, she felt like she was floating. (As it was, she was most definitely swaying quite a bit for the rest of the evening from the hours spent so much closer to the waves).
"Go on and rest, if ya like," Samuel told them as they finished unloading the gear from the secured dingy. "Dinner's in an hour."
I'm glad he took the top bunk, Hermione thought a few minutes later as she dropped backwards onto her bed, not unlike a Victorian fainting lady. Her heart was pounding in her chest from the day's excitement and her stomach was still dropping at the memory of the unpredictable vocal patterns and bone-deep resonance. By the time Malfoy entered the room, she was giggling inanely, one arm slung over her eyes, the other resting lightly across her waist. She heard him pause in the doorway before continuing into the room.
"Alright there, Granger?" he asked in what she assumed he was hoping sounded casual. He probably thought she was cracking again.
"Ohh yes," she said serenely. "This is just… release." She chuckled some more, low and satisfied, and thought she might have heard him join her.
She heard the door click shut after a few moments and began to doze, sprawled as she was on the narrow mattress. It felt like less than a minute later that she registered the sound of the door closing again.
"Half an hour until dinner, in case you wanted to get a shower in before," Malfoy's voice told her from somewhere outside of her heavy brain fog.
She mumbled a grumpy mmph but slowly began the process of dragging her mind to at least functional wakefulness. By the time she managed, Malfoy was sitting at the desk, bent over his notebook and twirling his pen between his fingers. Hermione blearily gathered her things from the dresser and headed to the small bathroom, hoping a shower would wake her up enough to avoid passing out over dinner.
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\
After dinner—which she stayed completely conscious for—the three of them sat around the small kitchen table with steaming mugs of tea, chatting about their research. The established backstory for Hermione and Malfoy was that they were at the early stages of their study, and it seemed to be doing its job in rationalizing their relative inexperience around the equipment. Hermione had started to worry that her initial reaction to the whale songs this afternoon might be a bit too awe-struck for an academic in the field, but Samuel soon put her mind at ease when he insisted how refreshing it was to see scientists who hadn't lost their sense of wonder around the work they were doing.
Before long, the captain stood up and stretched before walking over to the control room. A few seconds later, the watery echoes of the surrounding ocean crept through the living quarters. Hermione felt her eyes go wide with excitement, prompting a chuckle from Samuel as he came back to wish them goodnight.
"It's not certain we'll hear from them," he said with a shrug, "but no harm in trying." She heartily agreed.
By the time Hermione was lying in her bed twenty minutes later, surrounded by the sounds of muted underwater movement and strangely aware that Malfoy was lying directly above her, there had still been no hint of the whales' return. She sighed.
"Can't they just sing once more tonight?" she whined rather petulantly. Above her, Malfoy laughed.
"Patience isn't one of your fortes, is it, Granger?"
She hoped he could feel her glare through his mattress. Based on his answering chuckle, he could. She decided to shift the conversation to be a little more productive.
"Do you think this will help us establish a connection at the Black Lake?" she asked quietly, not entirely comfortable discussing the specifics of their magical expedition with their muggle captain in the adjacent room.
"If anything, I imagine we'll be more at ease if we find the colony's communication to be similar. Maybe we can get some practice in emulating the sounds, but I don't think we'll be able to actually apply it in our communication attempts."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Hermione teased, "It might help us convey our needs. Really, we could start on this trip!" She gathered a deep breath and pitched her voice low with a hint of wailing. "Caaaaaaan yooooouuuuuuu heeeeeelp uuuuuus speeeeaaaak toooooo merfoooooolk?"
She felt the bunk shift and Malfoy's head appeared over the side of his bed, staring at her incredulously. She couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped at his horrified expression.
"What the bloody hell was that?" he hissed.
"Just trying out something I saw in a movie," Hermione chuckled. "Maybe that's all it takes to speak whale! Unless you could do better, O Master of Linguistics."
"Granger, I'm not doing that," Malfoy deadpanned. "So far, Samuel doesn't think we're strange." He glanced at the wall across from the bunkbed. "Well, at least he didn't before now. Let's try to keep it that way, yeah?"
"Spoilsport," she shot back, and he smirked before rolling back up onto his mattress.
After a while, he broke the silence again. "What movie was it?"
"Hm?" Hermione had been starting to doze, her ears still straining for any sounds coming from the ocean around them.
"What movie was it that has someone trying to speak whale… like that?"
"Oh," Hermione smiled. "It's relatively recent. Finding Nemo. It's animated—drawn out and then made to appear in motion using artistic methods and muggle technology. It's quite remarkable. One of the most realistic depictions of water in the history of animation."
She heard him grunt above her and wondered how much of that he'd even understood.
"How could I watch it?"
Hermione blinked. "The movie?"
He huffed in response and she shook her head lightly, realizing how obtuse she must sound. "Er, I actually have a copy of it," she said finally, intentionally powering through the awkwardness that was creeping through her. "It requires a specific system in order to be viewed, but I have all that, too. You're welcome to come watch it sometime, if you'd like."
There was a pause, during which Hermione continued ignoring the tightness in her chest. She was about to mention that there were plenty of other ways he could watch it, although most were in the muggle world, when a melancholy voice shattered the uncomfortable silence. She jerked upright with a soft "oh!" They were back.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there, clutching the bedsheets to her chest and listening to the haunting melodies that flowed through the speakers and into the darkness around them. After a while she heard Malfoy sigh, the sound pulling her gently from her reverie. She unclenched her fingers and laid back down, closing her eyes as their strange language washed over her. She wanted nothing more than to stay awake, listening to the harmonic dance for as long she could, but she felt her body get heavier as her mind began to drift into a welcoming darkness of its own.
The last thing she heard was Malfoy's ridiculous "Gooooooood niiiiiiiiight, Graaaangerrrrr," and she barely had the energy to laugh in surprise before she was out like a light, a contented smile on her face.
