Chapter I
April 12, 1912
The rays of the sun came through the dusty windows of the bar by the dock, and inside, men of all walks of life were sitting around tables, drinking, shouting and joking. The word was, though, some dimwit had bet a pair of Titanic tickets in a poker game, and that's where the excitement was centered. One Harry Potter, a ramshackle seventeen year old, and his friend through travels, Dean Thomas, were bidding to win the aforesaid tickets.
"Dean, come on, mate!" Harry called out. "Deal `em out."
"Last hand!" Dean shouted. "Whoever wins, takes the tickets!"
Around them, cheers and jeers echoed. "Idiots!" someone called. "It's the bloody Titanic. No way!" another said. Another round of laughter echoed. "The poor bastard, look at `im!" a third voice echoed ironically, and even louder hysterics followed.
"Seems we're keeping those tickets," the first player said, and slammed the cards on the table. "Straight!"
"Oy, good one, mate!" the second shouted to the surrounding cheers, before throwing his own hand on the table. "Royal flush!"
Yet, the look of delight on Harry's face did not disappear. "Good playing with you gentlemen," he said laconically, before showing his hand, "Full House! Hell yes!"
"You idiot!" one of their opponents said, "How could you bet our tickets! Idiot!"
"Boys, you better hurry," the barman said, "The Titanic leaves in five minutes."
Harry quickly grabbed the tickets from the table, swung his pack on his shoulder, and pushed his way through the crowd.
"Git outta the way! Dean, come on, we only have a minute!"
Before anyone could react or stop them, Harry and Dean rushed from the bar, and ran, as fast as they could, towards the majestic ship still docked on the side.
"Wait! Wait!" Dean shouted, waving at a crewman, who was preparing to disengage the walk from the door, leading to the ship's third class accommodations.
They ran up the path, and did so just in time. "Wait, hang on, we have tickets!" Harry tried to dissuade the porter. He and Dean held them out, and despite the porter's disapproving gaze, he permitted them to enter.
"Come on, let's go find our bunk," Dean said.
Barely managing to leave their sacks in their quarters, Harry and Dean quickly left and pummeled through the hallways, startling passengers and mounting one staircase after another.
At last, they came onto the top deck. It was brilliant, bathed in sunlight, and high above the docks. Grinning and exhilarated, Harry flung his sack aside, and ran up to the very end of the ship; he took hold of one of the ropes and stepped on the railings. He looked back at Dean, and then out into the horizon. By now, the docks were barely visible, and out ahead, nothing but the open and vast Atlantic Ocean spread out in front of them.
"I'm the King of the World!" he shouted at the top of his lungs "Whoooohooo! Whooo!!"
Dean couldn't resist, and joined his friend by the railing. "Whooohoooo!" he echoed him. "Bugger off, mate! I'm the King of the World! Whoooohoooo!"
Harry had already jumped back onto the deck. "Come down from there, Dean," he called his friend loudly. "You look quite the idiot up there."
**
"Hermione, dear, could you please pass me my fur? We need to be at dinner in fifteen minutes, you know we must not make young Master Weasley wait now," my mother said in one long breath; I still marvel how she could do it, even after all these years.
"Yes, Mother, a moment," I replied, going into the other room to retrieve her fur. I never told her, but I loathed the article, wondering how she could possibly want to wear it. "Here you are," I offered it to her, stepping back into the first room.
"Thank you, my dear," she embellished me. "Let me look at you."
I stepped back impatiently, permitting my mother to inspect my red dress; she asked me to spin around, and I obliged. Unwittingly, I knew she would find a flaw somewhere.
A disappointed sigh came from her, and I smiled inwardly to myself - my suspicions had proven correct.
"Come on then," she said. "We do not want to be late."
Reminding me of a peacock in her appearance, I watched my Maman strut out of our first class flat, and into the hallway. I followed her, trying to imitate her in the most ladylike way possible.
"Remember, Hermione," she whispered at me, as we walked, or rather, strutted along, "you must be respectful, obedient and agreeable. We both know you need to make a good impression on Master Weasley, as you will be marrying him, when we reach Philadelphia."
"Mama, are you positive about this?" I asked her uncertainly. "About the marriage, I mean."
"Certainly, my child," she reassured me quickly. "Your father left us with debts, and we need them cleared, as to regain our good name. You do realize this, do you not?"
"Of course, Mother, of course I do," I reassured her on my own turn.
"Good," she said. "Alas, we approach. Be on your best appearance and manners!"
Indeed, we were. The attendants at the doors smiled warmly, and admitted us with a courteous bow.
"Smile, my dear, smile," my mother urged me silently through her own rather forced smile. I followed her direction, grinning as naturally as I could in my otherwise humorless mood.
"Mister and Missus Weasley," my mother simpered politely, as we approached the lavishly decorated table, around which our hosts were already sitting. "And young Master Weasley! It's truly a pleasure to see you again."
"Good day," I curtsied politely, and offered my own greetings to the company.
"Please, do take a seat, Missus Granger," Mrs. Weasley offered the remaining two chairs to my mother and I. "And you too, Miss Granger, join us."
"I say," Mr. Granger spoke in his deep voice, "let us leave the formalities. We are all nearly family, it is only appropriate we address one another less formally…call me Arthur, my wife Molly, and our son Ronald. Otherwise, it does seem a tad awkward, wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, yes, yes," my mother hurried to assent Mr. Weasley's sentiment. "I quite agree. Likewise, I'll be happy if you address me as Antoinette, and my daughter as Hermione."
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again," Mr. Weasley spoke generously, turning to me. "You have a beautiful name, dear."
"Thank you kindly," I offered my widest smile. "And, Arthur, your own name is legendary."
"You are well read, Miss," he complimented me again; it seemed then, for a lack of suitable conversation, awkward small talk was our only outlet.
"You make me blush, sir," I relayed to him warmly.
"Speaking of legends," my fiancé intervened in the exchange, "I have personally heard that the very ship we are on, at this very moment, neither Thor, nor Neptune, can sink."
"Oh, really?" I asked with interest. "Unsinkable?"
"Quite so, yes," Ronald continued enthusiastically. "She is constructed of the strongest steel, with the more recent technological developments - she is truly magnificent."
"Titanic, indeed," I quipped, laughing politely, "I agree entirely with you…Ronald."
"Dear," Mrs. Weasley turned to me curiously, "I simply have to ask you."
"Yes?" I turned my attention to her.
"I have been wondering, my dear," she went on in her most formal tone, and it was even somewhat giddy, I thought. "How many children can we look forward to?"
My face burned at the casualness, with which the question was asked. That's not something as bland as the weather! Children are an important matter! And what was most important, I had not considered it - not one bit!
"I…I don't know, ma'am," I mumbled out embarrassedly. "I suppose I have not thought about the children at length."
To my surprise, both Mrs. Weasley and my mother looked incredulously at me.
"Why, when I was a maid of your years, maybe a little older," Mrs. Weasley pronounced impressively, "young Ronald here was already born."
"Oh," was all I managed to respond with, "that is admirable, Molly."
"Thank you, indeed," she swelled importantly.
"Yes, most definitely," my mother hurried to enter in the conversation, "I fail to understand why today's young people are wanting to marry later. I think our class is the only one with any sense left," she ended rather huffily.
My mother happened to be very conscious of class…she had this notion of being part of the elite, or superior society…I do not think she ever managed to overcome that notion of hers.
"My heavens, Antoinette, you are completely right," Mrs. Weasley affirmed with a gasp of surprise.
"Mrs. Granger, if you will allow me to say," Ronald, my fiancé, intervened in his deep voice, "class is a very peculiar animal."
"An animal?" exclaimed my mother, no doubt appalled by the use of such a comparison. "Do please explain yourself, Master Weasley."
"Certainly," he said, "I am quite convinced the French did possess the right idea of eliminating the bourgeois class, but the rise of capitalism and the emergence of the captains of industry, as such are the fine gentlemen aboard this vessel, the creation of an upper, influential class is inevitable, despite the intent of the Revolution."
"Certainly an intriguing thought," my mother agreed. "And I certainly share your view on capitalism. I daresay America is a bastion for business, capitalism and wealth."
I caught my mother's pointed glance in my direction, and I hastened to keep up appearances.
"Ronald," I chirped, smiling widely all the while, "you are indeed a deep thinker; I am certainly awed at your ability to reason so comprehensively."
My mere was satisfied by my response, and her expression showed it quite plainly. Truth be told, politics interested me little; in fact, it thoroughly bored me. The opposite could be said of my mother, and apparently, my fiancé. My would-be father and mother-in-law were also engaged in the discussion of capitalist ideas. On several occasions, I attempted to profess an opinion, but my mother put her hand over my own under the table, and compelled me silently to be quiet and attentive, just as a future virtuous wife should be.
I really did attempt to remain as interested as long as I could, but with time, I drifted away in my own thoughts. My reflections turned more and more to my own condition. And I thought; I thought hard about my situation. I yearned freedom from the established convention that was my life. My father passed away when I was still a child, and throughout my young life, my mother directed my decisions and influences. I was her…doll, to put it in perspective.
"Hermione, love," I heard Ron's voice say distantly, and then his hand touched mine. I jumped, surprised at how wrapped in my own world I was.
"Y-yes?" I asked faintly, my voice faltering slightly.
"Are you feeling well?" he inquired gently.
"I think I will go for a lie-down," I said. "However, thank you for your concern."
"Would you prefer me to escort you to your quarters?"
"No, no, that's quite alright," I deterred him quickly. "I can find my way back well enough."
And so I left, hearing the mutters accompanying my leave, behind me; honestly, I did not have a care what my mother was whispering with my fiancé's family - hopefully they attributed my exit to seasickness.
I retreated to my chambers, eager to let myself adrift in that bliss which is slumber. Lying down on the bed, I closed my eyes, and felt the sound of the ocean lull me away…
**
By the time I awoke, night had already descended. My return to consciousness was rather abrupt, as I had had an unsettling dream, which scared me with its reality and vividness; I still recalled it, even if I was wide-awake.
My husband-to-be, Ronald Weasley, was the center of my dream. I dreamt I was an old maid, scrubbing the floor, while he sat on a sofa chair, one leg over the other, and berated me for the smallest detail. In the end, I took a knife, and was about to stab myself, when I awakened with a violent start.
My mother still had not returned, and I figured she was still quite possibly involved with Molly, while father and son were engaged in the traditional business of drinking brandy with fine cigars, while discussing important business and political matters in the so-termed Gentlemen's Chamber of the Titanic.
A sudden, desperate feeling, reared up in me quite unexpectedly. I had had enough; I couldn't go on pretending any longer. I was tired of upholding an image of virtuousness for so long, for the sake of my mother, and for a man, who I was not even positive I loved. My frustration had been enough; I wanted to break free, to release myself…
Perhaps I could. A wild thought struck me, and without even thinking of the implications in my frenzied state, I broke from the apartment, and ran, as fast as I could to the bow of the ship. To end it all…that would be my respite! My relief!
My heels cluttered against the wooden deck as I ran. The night was quiet, and the heavens strikingly clear and beautiful, but I took no notice. My resolution was set, final and irreversible.
I reached the bow, and looking around, I saw nobody. The watch on my necklace indicated the time was eleven - just an hour to midnight; perhaps if I waited, and no-one came to look for me…
No. I grasped the cold railings, and stepped up on the bottommost bars. Carefully, I transferred myself over, careful not to accidentally step and slip on my dress. If I looked back, I could see the black abyss of the dark ocean below me. Ever so slowly, I turned to face it, with my back to the ship - to my old life. The clutches of death seemed ever more inviting…
"What are you doing?" came a quiet voice behind me.
I turned my head to see who was speaking to me. My eyes settled on the lanky figure of a rather poorly dressed young man - about the same age as me, I would say; he was quite probably in the steerage, judging by his attire.
"Go away!" I snapped. "It's none of your business."
He continued to approach. "Go away, or I will let go!" I threatened vocally.
"Alright, alright," he said, backing off slightly, "but all I'm saying is, that's not a good way to go."
"What do you mean?" I asked him, in spite of myself.
"Well, only that the water down there is really cold, and it's not going to kill you right away…it'll be kind of slow and painful, actually."
Inexplicably, my resolve began to crumble, but even more mysteriously, I found the strength to keep my resolve.
"How do you know?" I challenged him.
"Well, from my own experience," he told me casually. "Fell through the ice one winter in my childhood, and I still remember it. The water pierces you, as if a thousand knives are plunged in your body at once. You can't think, you can't breath, or function…your mind is only on the pain."
"You're lying!" I accused him.
"Miss, believe me," he spoke gently and calmly, "I am only speaking the truth."
"Why should I believe you?" I huffed even more audibly.
"Look, you don't have to," he told me. "But if you go in, I'm diving in after you."
"You can't do that!" I replied, appalled. "You're crazy!"
"Really?" he smirked. "Everybody says that, but with all due respect ma'am, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." He took off his jacket.
"Well…" I stammered, "You don't know me. Why would you want to jump in after me?"
"That's the way it is," he said easily, taking his shoes and socks off, "you jump, I jump."
"Leave before someone notices us!" I exclaimed.
"I'm not going anywhere," he remained adamant, and rolled up his pants around both ankles. "So, are you jumping?"
He came up right behind me, and whispered, "You jump, I jump."
I couldn't move.
"Come on," he said gently, "give me your hand." He proffered his own to take mine.
Without knowing how he had convinced me, I placed my hand in his, and grasped it tightly, afraid to let go.
"Careful now," he instructed me further. "Turn around, slowly. I won't let go."
Strangely, his words reassured me, and I made to do as he said. Feeling the foolishness of my decision, I looked down into the abyss one last time, and internally shuddered. I was going to end down there, in the bottomless ocean, dying in pronounced pain. No, I wouldn't have it.
For the first time, I managed to take a proper look into this man's face. He was handsome with messy black hair and green eyes; for an unfathomable reason, he mesmerized me…
I didn't even feel it happening. He was holding my hand, and I was stepping up onto the second railing to pull myself back onto the deck, when I suddenly lost my footing, and slipped back down.
Panic enveloped me, as I had never experienced it before in my life. Or since, for that matter.
"Help me! Help" I shouted loudly, as my feet dangled above the black water.
"I'm holding you!" my new companion told me. "Calm down! Just pull yourself up!"
My panic subsided, but I still whimpered in fear, as horrifying thoughts of plunging to my death flew through my mind. Yet, I retained a semblance of self-control, and using him as my anchor, I dragged myself back up.
"That's it," he was saying, "that's it. Now just step onto the railing - slowly, that's it."
Before I knew it, I could feel the wood beneath my feet. Only then did I realize I was shaking with exhaustion, and my feet gave way. I fell right into his arms, exhausted, wishing to sleep, but still incredibly relieved I would live to see another day.
"I never asked you," I spoke after about half a minute, once I had caught my breath, "what is you name?"
"Harry Potter, Miss," he said somewhat formally, "And you?"
"Hermione Jane Granger," I introduced myself, in the manner akin to my upbringing. "Good to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter."
"You'll have to write your name for me, Miss Granger," he told me with a slight smile, "Nice to meet you too."
"Thank you," my eyes went down, as I mumbled my gratitude, suddenly very keenly aware of the circumstances.
"What's going on here?!" came several loud voices, as rushing feet ran in our direction.
I raised my eyes to see my fiancé, along with two crewmembers running as quickly as their feet would carry them, towards my saviour and me.
"Sir, step away from the lady," one crewmember roared towards Harry Potter's direction. "I said, step away sir!"
"Alright, alright," he replied, evidently startled and annoyed, "I haven't done anything."
The crewmember rushed forward, and grappling with him, cuffed his hand behind his hands.
"Not done anything, have you," he sneered, seeing the clothes spread out messily onto the deck.
It was then that I realized what the situation seemed to be, and what he perceived had happened. I clutched Ronald's coat around my shoulders, and I hastened to clarify the matter.
"Sir, wait!" I declared loudly, "This man saved my life!"
"What are you on about, Miss?" the other crewmember asked. "Mr. Weasley, do attend to her recovery, she has obviously been badly frightened."
"Aye, good sir, most definitely," Ronald moved and turned to me. "Come on, love, you need rest."
"I am quite in retention of my faculties," I retorted severely. "Listen to me!"
They all stopped, and even Harry turned to me questioningly.
"What did you want to say?" Ronald asked me quietly.
"I…" my voice faltered, "I wanted to see the propellers of the ship, and I was leaning over the parapet, but in my inattention, I almost fell overboard. I would be on the bottom of the ocean, had it not been for Mister Potter's timely intervention."
"Is this true, you no-good scum," the crewmember, apprehending Harry, sneered at him.
"Every word," he answered quickly. "Ask the fish even, if you want."
An awkward silence fell over, as the validity of my account was being considered, judging from the suspicious expression on my fiancé's features.
"Well then," the second crewmember declared jovially. "The boy's a hero! Mr. Weasley, you will have to reward him for saving your wife!"
Slightly annoyed, Ronald was hasty in taking a twenty-pound note from his pocket.
"Thanks, mate," his voice was slightly ironical, "go buy yourself something nice," he added, looking with marked air of superiority over my saviour. I, however, wouldn't release the matter that easily.
"Ronald," I observed with purposeful disdain, "do you value my life at a mere twenty pounds?"
He seemed startled for a second at my question, looking at me with incredulity. Then, just as smoothly, he recovered his confident air.
"Perhaps," he said with a cold smile, "Mister Potter would consent to joining us for dinner tomorrow night, at the First Class dining hall? That is, to embellish us with the details of his undoubtedly heroic deed?"
By now, his hands were free of the cuffs, and he considered my fiancé carefully. "For sure, count me in," he agreed. "I'll be there tomorrow night."
"Excellent, then," Ronald continued. "We will see you tomorrow night, sir."
He made a small bow of goodbye, and him and I turned to leave.
**
Harry couldn't quite place this girl. Nowhere had he seen a woman before, as well off as her, try to put an end to her life by jumping from the keel of a ship. There was something about her that intrigued him, but he couldn't quite place what it was. Deciding to dismiss the matter for the time being, Harry put his jacket and shoes back on, before stretching out on the bench he was laying on an hour before, and lighting another cigarette. Above him, the stars continued to shine with brilliant clearance, as the Titanic sailed on through the night…
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