Chapter III
April 14, 1912
"Will you pass the sugar, Hermione?" Ronald requested of me stiffly. Wordlessly, I obliged his request, and he placed two cubes into his coffee.
The brilliant morning found me and my fiancé, eating breakfast on the first class private deck. Despite the uplifting beauty of the coming day, he was still withdrawn and preoccupied. I couldn't quite place the source of his discomfort, but I also thought he was severely disgruntled. Or perhaps, he suspected something, because between feverishly stirring his coffee, he sent me glaring glances.
"Where were you last night?" he asked me quietly, his voice trembling ever so-slightly; was he barely managing to control his anger? I shuddered at the thought…
"Sleeping," I replied as calmly as I could. "I retired immediately after the reception."
The look in his eyes that met those words did not bode well.
"You wish to tell me," he spoke, deadly quiet, "that you returned to your chambers immediately after dinner. You were not…diverted, by accident, were you?"
"No," I said a bit more cautiously. "I -"
"Don't lie to me, Hermione," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing dangerously, "I witnessed everything, with my own two eyes!"
Quite suddenly, he shot up from his chair. "How could you! Have you no decency! How dare you call yourself respectable, associating with third class scumbags?"
I was severely startled by his outburst, and the sight of him, so intimidating, paralyzed me with fear! What would he do! Could he injure me?! I nearly panicked, with such scary thoughts traversing my mind…
My shock only deepened - with a great lunge, Ronald threw the table aside. It crashed to the floor, the porcelain dishes shattering into a million pieces, and the cutlery resonating loudly as it spread everywhere…
Ronald approached me, his chest heaving with anger, and he bent down, his face bare inches from mine; his eyes were ablaze with the rage.
"I forbid you," he spoke with an enraged whisper, sending chills down my spine, "to see him ever again. In practice, we are married, and you will honor and respect me. Understood!" he snapped, spraying spit in my face.
I nodded meekly, still unable to organize my thoughts. "Y-Yes," I stammered.
"Good," he said spitefully, and without another word, stormed off up the deck.
Still reeling from the intensity of the exchange, and clasping the armrests of the chair tightly, I saw a maid appear from somewhere within the bowels of the ship. She ran onto the deck, and looked around wildly - apparently, the sound of the crashing table had not proceeded unnoticed. At last, her eyes settled on my distressed self, and she ran hastily over to me.
"Oh, Miss!" she cried. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
The maid hassled over me, making sure I was indeed all right. "I am fine, thank you," I managed to say weakly. "A little unsettled is all."
"Madam, you need rest," she insisted. "I implore you, return to your quarters. I will assist you if I must!"
"No, no, I assure you, I am quite well," I argued my stand, a little stronger too. "Let me help you with this mess…"
And as if to assert my point, I stood up confidently, and started collecting the utensils that had spread all over the deck.
"Madam, please!" the maid sounded horrified. "I will clean this; you have no need to help me!"
"But," I attempted to reason, "I want to. Am I not free to do as I wish?"
"Of course," the maid was still feverish. "However, this type of work is certainly not worthy of your standing, Miss."
"My standing has nothing to do with my desires," I observed neutrally. "Now, please, let us work together to clean this mess."
The maid and I made a quick affair of the task. Soon, the broken china was placed in the dustbin the maid had brought over, and she had taken the utensils and the remnants of the breakfast away in the tablecloth. I placed the table in its original position, albeit with a few scratches present on it.
"You are generous, Miss," the maid bowed respectfully, "I thank you deeply."
"Think nothing of it," I replied easily. "It was my pleasure."
With that, the maid did not utter anything else, and departed back inside the ship. I, on the other hand, prepared myself to return to my own cabin.
My mother was in a high dudgeon when I arrived. She might have been expecting me - a suspicion that was confirmed by the hawkish, hateful glare she directed at me the moment I walked through the door.
"Hermione Jane Granger, how could you!" she seethed through clenched teeth. "Dishonour and embarrass me in such a disgraceful manner! Not to speak of the humiliation on your account! Do you realize what you have done? It is a whole wonder Master Weasley has not called off the engagement!"
"Mother -" I tried to intervene, unsuccessfully.
"You have soiled the family name, Hermione," she continued her diatribe. "I am indescribably ashamed to call myself your mother right now."
"I am incredibly sorry," I pleaded vainly, "Mother, listen to me -"
"And hear what, Hermione?" she looked at me through teary eyes, "Of your blatant disregard for our family and honour? Is that it?"
"No, Mother, no!" I was becoming increasingly frustrated with my parent's obstinacy, "I do have an…explanation."
My mother paused, incredulity describing itself on her face. "An explanation?" she sobbed.
"Yes," I went on resolutely. "You see, I wanted a respite, a break, if you will - "
"A respite, Hermione?" The disappointment in her voice, as she asked the question, was worse than if she had been shouting.
"Yes, Mother," I consented, directing my eyes to the floor. "A respite."
"Of what," she asked me simply, the incredulous expression being maintained on her features. "Have I not been a good mother to you?"
"No, nothing of the sort," I said quickly. "My life, Mother - I wanted a respite from the strict convention that is my life!"
"You must be feeling ill, child," my kindly mother rejoined with concern after a few seconds' contemplation. "Lie down, I will call a doctor."
"Mother!" I exclaimed angrily. "I am most certainly not ill!"
She looked at me questioningly. "No?"
"I am perfectly fine, thank you!" I confirmed adamantly.
"Then why this irrational behavior, dear?" my mother replied in frustrated puzzlement. "I cannot comprehend what devil has invaded you that you act so inexplicably, almost…rebelliously."
"Of what devil do you speak, Mother?"
Those words caused an immediate change - my parent's expression became harder at once.
"You dare mock me, Hermione?" she replied coldly. "Your own mother? I demand that you apologize to me respectfully, and immediately following that, to furnish me with the reasons behind your unacceptable behavior. Do I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly so, Mother," I answered obediently. Despite my outward calmness, a snake of blazing, white hot anger reared up inside of me.
"Well?" she prompted me.
"Mother, please accept my apology," I forced myself to speak as calmly as I could, "I did not mean to insult you, and I am truly sorry for it."
"Good," my mother smiled, and continued in softer tones, "much better. Now, why have you been acting so oddly in the last two days?"
I scrambled to think of a legitimate reason that would satisfy my mother. "The journey," I replied convincingly, "Mother, you know I have not been on such a journey as this before, and the sea must be influencing me in a certain way. I am confident that once we return to land, I will be myself."
Of course, I knew this was a perfect lie - crossing paths with Harry was beginning to change me, and I could feel it. In fact, it was on the Titanic that I reflected on my life for what it really was, and the direction I needed to take thereafter. I needed to make my life my own.
"Rest, child," my mother offered. "I will leave you in peace for a few hours, but you must sleep. Regain your strength and reason."
"I will, Mother, there is no need to burden yourself with preoccupations about me," I placated her worries further, or at least, attempted to do so.
She left, believing my ruse, and I was once again left to my own devices. Deciding I was indeed rested sufficiently, and in perfect control of my mental faculties, I left the flat several minutes after my mother, and headed out onto the main deck.
I was intending to clear my mind of the most recent developments, and find time to think about my current situation. Quite incidentally, I ran into Mr. Andrews, the shipbuilder.
"Good gracious, you startled me!" I exclaimed. "How do you do, Mr. Andrews?"
"Miss Granger, I presume," he bowed politely. "I sincerely apologize. And I am quite well, thank you. What about yourself?"
"Excellent," I replied brightly. "Shall we take a stroll?"
"A capital idea," he smiled, "I was eager to find company as it is."
And so we departed, traversing the length of the ship, and I bombarded him with questions about the details pertaining to the construction of this gem of the seas we were currently sailing on. To be frank, I was eager on my part to escape the harrowing attitudes of the people who surrounded me.
"And the lifeboats," Mr. Andrews told me, and I was listening with keen interest, "they are constructed of the strongest wood, to be able to seat seventy people safely, and withstand the challenges of the harsh conditions at sea."
"Mr. Andrews," I observed, "speaking of the lifeboats, I only counted twenty, which means that multiplied by seventy, they can only accommodate a thousand and four hundred souls. What of the rest?"
"Ah, there is not need to worry," he replied easily. "The Titanic is unsinkable. She is constructed of steel, the strongest metal known to man. Nothing is capable of damaging her irreversibly. Now, if you'll excuse me for a bit, Miss Granger, there is a gentleman right over there, to whom I need to talk to," Mr. Andrews pointed out the finely dressed and imposing figure of an indeed solid man. "The owner of the White Star; I will be back shortly," he explained in an undertone, and departed towards the aforementioned gentleman.
I was just beginning to worry what I would do, when suddenly, quite unexpectedly actually, a hand grabbed my mouth, and another around the waist. Immediately panicking, I tried to scream, but without avail - my struggle against my captor was fruitless, as various horrible thoughts of murder and torture sped through my mind…
I heard a door open, and then quickly slam shut. I drew in a deep breath and rushed forward. Taking in my surroundings, I realized I was in a deserted hallway, with my captor behind me. Rapidly turning around, I prepared to confront him, tooth and nail, to preserve my existence…sweat formed on my forehead, as I stood on tenterhooks…
He didn't move. Instead, he took off his hat, and raised his eyes to look at me.
"Harry!" I cried. "What is going on?"
"Hermione, calm down," he rejoined urgently. "We'll be heard otherwise!"
"Why are we here?" I asked, regaining my composure.
"I needed to talk to you," he explained. "It is really important."
"Harry, I am sorry, but I have been forbidden to talk to you," I said quickly, trying to not show emotion - admittedly, it was painful uttering those words. "Please, leave me be. I have to go." With that, I made for the door, but unfortunately, I did not count on Harry's stubbornness.
"Wait," he grabbed me by the arm, and pushed me against the wall, so I did not make another attempt at escape. "Hear me out, please."
"Alright," I consented, but tried, and failed, to sound impatient. A part of me did not want to leave this hallway.
Harry paused, took a deep breath, and looked down.
"Look," he started with hesitation, "this may sound far-fetched, strange, or even weird, but it is the naked truth." He paused again, frustrated, still holding me pinned against the wall.
"Harry, what is it?" I prompted him gently. "What is on your mind?"
"I have been thinking it over and over, and I can reach no other conclusion. I am not deluded, as much as I have tried to convince myself of that…"
"What are you on about, Harry?" I asked, more urgently.
"I know I have nothing to offer you, nothing to insure you with…hell, even I drift where the winds take me, but I'm involved now, too much even…I'm attracted to you, Hermione, and very much too," he was feverishly passionate now, "I…I think…no, I know, I know I am in love with you!"
Merciful Heavens! In love with me? I looked into his eyes - intense, bright and fixed on me - it was impossible that he was lying!
"Are - are you positive of that?" I stuttered. As my mind slowly comprehended the revelation, a parallel question arose within me about my loyalty and affections…
"I am," he answered huskily, "Believe me, Hermione, I mean what I say."
I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time; cry, because of my fiancé's prohibition to see Harry, and laugh, because I was becoming more confident by the second that I was hopelessly in love with him too…
"Harry, I am so sorry," I replied quietly, my voice shaking and my eyes burning, "but I can't. I just can't!"
"Hermione, wait one second," he spoke softly. "I can see the fire burning in you, but if you keep hanging out with your family, that fire will go out…tonight, ensure you are not observed, and meet me at the bow near sunset. We can talk then."
I briefly nodded my assent, but I do not think he noticed it. Distraught more than I already was, I bolted through the door, and left him standing there.
What could I do? I realized my situation held more questions than answers, and the thought only succeeded in depressing me more. As each second passed, I became increasingly convinced that I, too, was in love with Harry. I had permitted to draw me naked, after all! I do not recall bestowing such honours on another man before - besides, I knew my fiancé was rather uptight and traditionalistic to permit himself the indulgencies of freer life, which I so badly wanted.
Conformity! I hate the word! It is what my mother and Ronald expect of me, without question. My feelings do not matter, and I am supposed, no, expected, to maintain an image of virtuousness and obedience, so commonly held in the already parting Victorian lifestyle. They cared little of my feelings, views and personality. What was more frustrating even was ma mere's blatant disregard for my opinion - she had presumed I was ill and imbalanced.
I wandered aimlessly, still absorbed in my worries. Harry, first and foremost. Here was a man, who appreciated my thoughts, feelings and personality, despite my initial reluctance and hostility towards him. In addition, he had saved my life, at a time when I had wanted to end it all. On his turn, Harry was considerate, sincere and honest. His openness inherently made him much easier to communicate with, devoid of the awkwardness and pretense that was always associated in the presence of my mother, fiancée and his parents. To be in love with Harry…it was strange, yes, as I had known him for a mere two days, but oh! how extraordinary those two days were! It was a comforting thought nonetheless and seemed…right, natural, and not forced, in contrast to my current affairs.
**
I whiled away the several hours until sunset in the typical manner of a first-class woman, such as myself - by talking about nonsense with other proper ladies in the lounge, and even engaging in a very respectable game of bridge, which I also happened to win on more than one occasion. On her exit earlier today, my mother had mentioned discussing the wedding, and now, she was nowhere to be found. I was confident she was in the private company of the admirable Weasley family, setting order to the crucially important event that was due to take place in Philadelphia, once we arrived.
Assured they had left me to pursue my own occupation on the ship, I excused myself from the rather dull discussion I was a part of, and departed to leave my necklace in my flat. As beautiful as it was, it was heavy to wear, and I felt my neck needed relief from its brilliant burden. That task I completed with relative efficiency, since I did not meet a familiar face on the way.
The time Harry had specified came, and I departed, as inconspicuously as I could manage, to the bow of the Titanic. As I appeared on the main deck, my gaze was drawn to the horizon - the sky was awash in the orange, yellow and pinkish hues of the setting sun. It reflected in the water, which was as still as glass. The sight was beautiful, pure and breathtaking…I almost forgot myself and my purpose, gazing wistfully at it…
Tearing my eyes away from the setting sun, I turned to close the final leg to the bow. I saw Harry, with his back to me, and looking out towards the vastness of the ocean as the wind blew chaotically in his hair. He must have heard me approaching, because he faced me right before I was intending to call out to him.
"Hermoine," he smiled, sounding delighted. "You came."
"I did," I breathed, my heart suddenly beginning to race. "Though I can assure you, I cannot explain why."
"That is perfectly understandable," he muttered. "Take my hand; I want to show you something."
He professed his arm forward. "What do you want to show me?" I asked, suspiciously.
"Do you trust me?" he countered testily.
"Yes," I heard myself answering before my mind had registered the response.
"Then take my hand," me instructed me softly, and in spite of myself, I did. "Now close your eyes." I glanced at him questioningly, but obliged his request.
"Be careful now, step forward slowly," I heard him saying. "That's it, now step up."
"Harry!" I exclaimed, unsure of what he was requiring me to do.
"Don't worry, Hermione, I am here. Trust me," he effectively reassured me. "Good, now step up with the other foot, and you'll be steady."
Cautiously, I found my footing again, and my alarm decreased substantially. "No peeking yet," Harry breathed in my ear.
"What - "I began, but he cut across me.
"Shhh," he whispered, "Free yourself, and spread your wings…"
I heeded the instruction, and found myself easily relaxing. As if they had a will of their own, my arms extended outward of their own accord…a peaceful elation overtook me, and I let the sound of the wind, mingled with the smell of the ocean intoxicate me…
"Do you feel as if you're flying?" Harry's words washed over me.
"Mmm, yes…" I replied distantly.
"Open your eyes."
They fluttered open - and I gasped! I was standing on the rails at the very nose of the ship, with Harry behind me, and the open ocean in view, meeting with the fiery sky on the horizon.
I was speechless - the incredible chills, the emotion traversing my body in this magical moment…time seemed to stand still. From the corner of my eye I noticed Harry was looking at me, and my head instinctively turned to face him…
We locked gazes; The fire, the passion I felt at that moment…drawn, I released my thoughts, and gave rise to my desires…our lips met in the softest of kisses…thrills went down my spine, as the intensity slowly grew…my heart was racing…I was free, at last…
I involuntarily shiver when I recall that day; it was one of the most extraordinary moments of my life, and I still consider it as such, even now.
Ever so slowly, we parted. "My god," I breathed, as I slowly regained my senses. "Harry…"
Harry's mind was quite possibly still at sea, but his focus definitely was - his eyes were distant, observing me calmly. "Yes?" he muttered.
I paused for a second; trying to connect my thoughts, I found myself entirely powerless to do so.
"I think…I love you too."
Yes, I admitted what I had been denying to myself for the past day, almost - I had fallen irreversibly, in the span of two days, for Harry Potter…
**
Eventually, I headed back to my quarters, with Harry in tow. My intent was to spend a few more enjoyable hours with him, until the time came for me to confront my sour reality once again.
To my horrible surprise, I found one Mr. Lovejoy, a close associate of Ronald, and the afore-chosen best man, right at the first class gates, looking at me with unbidden malice. I froze, fixing him with a stunned look of my own. Beside me, Harry stopped, confused, glancing from me, to him, and back.
"Miss Granger," he chose his words carefully, his eyes flicking towards Harry. "I shall require you to come with me as expressly as possible. And if you will, not in Mr. Potter's presence."
"Why need I come with you?" I answered a second later, after I had comprehended what was being asked of me.
"Master Weasley wishes to have a word with you, and he is rather adamant about it, I am afraid," he explained in stronger tones. "If I were you, Miss Granger, I would not try his patience."
"Tell Ronald," I said decisively, "that I will not be able to see him tonight. I am preoccupied with other matter for the rest of the evening."
"Miss Granger," Lovejoy went on with malicious glee. "Master Weasley also authorized me to forcibly bring you to him, should the circumstances arise. And seeing you won't have the will to cooperate," he finished, and very unexpectedly, lunged for me.
I instinctively jumped back, and Harry stepped deftly between me and him. "Don't touch her," he warned threateningly.
"Step aside, sir," Lovejoy said, almost annoyingly. "I have no desire to deal with you as well."
"And I don't intend to let you hurt her, either," Harry replied icily, standing his ground.
"I am warning you, sir," Lovejoy raised his tone, "I would rather not have this confrontation escalate."
"Let us pass and I won't be forced to pummel you to pulp," Harry threatened Lovejoy further; the latter paused, as if a thought had entered his mind.
"Alright, you win," he conceded, shifting his eyes to me. "I'll stand aside."
I knew I could not trust this man. From my encounters with him, I was quite aware he had various machinations behind his outward appearance that were always different than his professed intentions. And as we passed, I deliberately expressed my distrust silently by fixing him keenly; he only smiled coldly at me.
We walked in silence through the corridors of the first class accommodations of the ship, feeling on edge for some unfathomable reason. Lovejoy's abrupt change of attitude was not convincing at all.
"Halt, Ms. Granger," his cold voice transplanted itself from my thoughts to reality. "I must insist you come with me."
I turned around, and saw him, not three feet from where Harry and I were standing. "Excuse me?" I retorted, all the while thinking how he could have appeared so quietly and without notice.
"I have been tested enough, Miss Granger," he became more stern. "Please, do not force me to take external measures!"
"Hermione," Harry whispered from the corner of his mouth, "on three, run."
I nodded discreetly to indicate I had heard.
"One, two…three!"
Without waiting for a second invitation, I dashed after Harry, as quickly as my heeled shoes would permit me, and did not turn back Lovejoy.
"Hey! Where are you going?" he shouted after our retreating backs. "Come back here!"
The sound of his heavy boots hitting the floor, as he ran after us, reached me. "Harry!" I gasped. "We need to lose him!"
"Right," he replied, panting a bit himself. "The elevators!"
Heavy and lumbering, Lovejoy puffed along behind us, but his age and weight finally said their word - exhausted form the exertion, he slowed down, and even if we could still hear him coming, his steps had grown dimmer to the ear.
"The elevators are this way," I said nonchalantly, and taking Harry by the hand, I led him down another hallway. In the space of a minute, we reached the doors, but among that, another welcome sound re-asserted its presence- that of heavy boots running along.
"Are you going down?" Harry asked the piccolo in the elevator, before I had tried to.
"Yes," he replied, dignified.
"Good then," Harry said and looking back, his eyes widened in horror as Lovejoy appeared at the end of the hallway. "Hurry!"
I dashed inside the cabin, and Harry came in after me.
"Hold the door, man, hold the door!" Lovejoy yelled as he ran closer, but thankfully, It was too late.
"I apologize, sir, you must wait for the next round," the piccolo called out formally.
As the elevator slipped beneath the floor, I smiled up at Lovejoy's purely livid expression, and laughed out loud, when I saw him grumbled under his breath. A second later, though, he glanced at me, and rushed off in another direction.
"That was a close call," I told Harry, elated. "I am glad he's no longer after us."
"Are you crazy?" Harry rejoined apprehensively. "He is descending the stairs, and he saw the piccolo press the button for the bottom floor."
"You mean the cargo hold?" I asked uncertainly.
"I suppose, if that's what the last floor is," he observed. "And seeing how slow we're moving, he'll be waiting for us at the door."
I should not have underestimated Lovejoy's determination, when I was quite aware of that trait of his character. All I could do now was hope that he would not intercept Harry and I at the cargo hold - and even, I told myself, we could hide among the goods in the cargo bay, and frustrate him that way…
After an intense, slow minute, the elevator stopped descending, and halted with a small shake.
"Last stop," said the piccolo, and opened the door. I was ready to punch, kick, and perform the most unladylike mannerisms, to free my path should I find it blocked. Beside me, I felt Harry stiffen, and I inferred he also expected a physical confrontation.
To my immense surprise, the corridor outside was deserted. Still not trusting the ominous quiet, I and Harry ran out of the elevator, thanking the piccolo in our haste, and looked around for another door or passageway out. In the meanwhile, the elevator creaked back up towards the main floors of the liner, and we were left to our own devices.
"There they are!" two voices suddenly shouted.
Startled, I turned around, but did not have time to think, Seeing a door to the right a small distance further down the corridor, I seized the opportunity, and dashed towards it. Harry followed my lead quickly, and soon, we were through it. The crewmen's steps had speeded up, which only meant they were rapidly gaining.
It was as if we had walked into an inferno. Above us, massive boilers were under immense pressure from the steam that was produced by the heat of the fire in the kilns below. Men were shoveling coal into the kilns, and most were black as demons from the soot that was kicked up; the fire illuminated their blackened and sweaty faces. A foreman was walking in the central aisle between the two rows of kilns, and occupied himself by assuring the rhythm of the workers. The sound of the burning fire, the cling of shovels, and the yells of the workers were deafening.
As he was looking around, however, his eyes shot up to see Harry and myself. "Hey! What are yer kids doing here?" he shouted, waving at us.
Instead of answering, we ran forward, through the multitude of shouts and exclamations by the firemen. "Go on outta here! This `ere `s no place for yeh!" a voice accompanied our departure, and just as we arrived at the exit, we turned around and saw the crewmen who were pursuing us, enter the boiler room. To my delight, the foreman stopped them, and refused to let them pass. They argued, threatened, but to no avail, and at length, were forced to return to the corridor on the other side. I slipped through the exit, and Harry followed behind me.
"Peace at last," I breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall to quiet my beating heart.
"Definitely," Harry agreed. "A pure stroke of luck, that was…"
I looked up to see where we were. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I could make out the multitude of crates and chests of luggage and goods. In the dim light, I noticed several new and shiny automobiles gleaming.
Harry must have noticed where I was looking, because he directed his steps towards one of the three cars in view. Smiling to myself, I followed him.
He took hold of the door handle and turned it. "Where to, m'lady?" he asked grandiosely with an artistic bow. Going along with the play, I climbed inside the lavish coupe.
"To the stars," I commanded equally impressively.
"Right away, Miss," Harry rejoined sarcastically, and in his turn, took the driver's seat.
From inside the coupe, I rolled down the window that separated the passengers from the driver.
"You know, Harry, I would much rather have you keep me company back here," I said innocently, poking my head through the opening.
"Would you?" he turned to face me. "I am all, but a poor driver, after all."
"Certainly," I said, "come on." And grabbing him by the arms, and dragged him through the window in the spacious rear quarters. He squirmed to accommodate himself through and eventually, collapsed on the seat next to me.
"So, as far as I gather, Miss, you would prefer me to keep you company?" he continued, but the bravado in his voice quickly died when he looked at me properly.
No words were needed; I only moved forward and kissed him deeply.
"Tonight, Harry, take me, and make me yours," I whispered huskily. "Here and now."
**
"Damn, it's bloody cold tonight," Johnson Brody cursed, looking out towards the dark ocean.
"Aye," his colleague, David Whittaker, affirmed. "Iceberg watch will be a pain."
"Did you ever find those binoculars, by the way?" Johnson inquired, "The captain ordered we ought to have a pair tonight."
"No," David rejoined sadly. "They've disappeared without a trace. Bur really, even in this pitch blackness, we ought to see anything big enough to sink the ship."
"Yeh, you have a point," Johnson said. "How hard could it be to see an iceberg?"
"Not very, it can't be," argued David, "They're bloody huge."
"Still, binoculars would have been helpful," Johnson observed.
"I'm going to go for a cup of coffee," the other said. "I'll bring you one too."
"Alright," the latter replied, and glanced out towards the ocean. "Wait a second, Dave. Do you see that in distance?"
"Eh?" David turned back, and squinted towards the impenetrable wall of darkness. "That's a silhouette of some sort…might be just our imagination…"
The Titanic's rapid speed quickly allowed for the clearance of any doubts as to what the mysterious object might be.
"It's a bloody iceberg!" Johnson shouted. "It's an iceberg, dead ahead! Ring the bell, damn it, ring the bell! I'll go warn the captain!"
David put his entire strength to alerting the crew as loudly as possible. In the meanwhile, Johnson jumped down the latter, several steps at a time, and rushed towards the bridge.
"Iceberg! Dead ahead!" he panted, storming through the door. "Turn to starboard, quickly!"
"Calm down, man," the first officer stepped forward. "What are you talking about!"
"We'll crash head on into a bloody iceberg unless you avoid it!" Johnson was nearly hysterical. "Quickly, look!" And he pointed out of the window, where the imposing figure of ice was indeed becoming more imposing.
"Hard to starboard!" the first officer commanded. "Turn it all the way! Engage the engines in full reverse! We must slow down!"
The chaos was complete. Orders were issued to the engine rooms, and the measures implemented hurriedly, haphazardly, but entirely. By now, the iceberg was quite distinct.
"The wheel is locked!" shouted the sailor at the helm. "God be with us…" he muttered.
Up at the crow's nest, David watched apprehensively, as the ship approached the iceberg, and was beginning to turn. "Come on, come on, come on, a little more…" he murmured under his breath, as if trying to coax the Titanic into avoiding the iceberg.
The monstrous body of the iceberg loomed, ominous and dark. Someone standing at the rails on the deck could reach out and touch it.
A strong vibration travelled through the ship, as the hull struck the iceberg. The first officer, standing on the balcony of the bridge, felt the tremor of the railing he was grasping in apprehension. Fearing the worst, he walked back inside the bridge.
"Find out if there has been a puncture," he ordered coolly, "If so; make arrangements to seal the watertight doors. Hurry now."
"Yessir," the sailor replied, and set about to perform the assigned task.
**
"Harry?"
"Hmm?" he responded absently.
"When we dock, I'm coming with you," I declared resolutely - as it happened, that thought had been pervading my mind for the entire day.
He rubbed my shoulder slowly, and replied thoughtfully, "What of your family? You can't just leave them."
"I know, Harry, but they will have to understand that I am my own person, not the porcelain figure they want me to be," I explained solemnly. "It will be painful, I agree, but they will have to adjust."
"This…this is crazy," he said after a minute's silence. "We've known one another for three days, and now we've practically eloped. Let alone talking about a future together."
"I agree," my answer came swiftly, "and I enjoy every second, because something tells me I have made the right decision."
"Strange - " Harry began, but then stopped himself abruptly. "Did you feel something?"
A slight tremor travelled through us, and I was not entirely sure what it was. "A vibration, that's what I felt," I said.
"Let's go up to the deck," Harry went on urgently. "I have a bad feeling if we stay here."
I decided not to object, and followed his lead. On the way to the deck, we did not meet a soul, and when we ventured into the cold night air, an extraordinary sight met us - pieces of ice were sliding on the deck, and children were running around and playing football with them.
"What is that?" I asked, astounded.
"There are icebergs in this part of the Atlantic," Harry explained. "And I could be losing my mind, but I would say we seem to have had hit one…"
"Maybe that's what that vibration was?" I hypothesized.
"Possibly," he agreed.
"I want to go see if my family is alright," I insisted. "And you are to come with me."
"Can't you go by yourself?" Harry sounded uneasy. "I don't want to confront your fiancé and that Lovejoy fellow."
"Then, do tell, how do you expect me to deal with them by myself?" I challenged him.
"A fair point," he concurred. "Come on then."
I entered my flat, expecting it to be empty, or in other words, that my mother, fiancée, and his family, would still be chattering away in the First Class lounge.
Contrary to my expectations, however, they were all assembled in the living room, sharing uneasy glances, and seemingly waiting for something.
"Ah, Hermoine, dear," my mother sounded falsely elated. "How good of you to join us, and…you too, Mr. Potter," she said his name with distaste.
"I can take your jacket, Sir," Lovejoy offered his services to Harry, and while the latter eyed him strangely, complied in the decency, shown by our former pursuer.
"Hermione," Ronald said neutrally, "I don't see you wearing the necklace I gave you."
"It is a heavy piece of jewelry," I replied dryly, "I felt I wanted my neck to relax for a while."
"I am afraid the matter is much more serious than that," Ronald rejoined gravely. "Unfortunately, it has been stolen, and I have an educated suspicion of who the perpetrator may be."
"Really?" I asked, not quite able to make a connection to this new development.
"Lovejoy, would you be kind enough to check Mr. Potter's jacket for the missing necklace?" Ronald turned to his associate with an air of certainty.
The latter made his way to the hooks, where Harry's jacket had been placed, and thoroughly searched the pockets. Surprisingly, I saw something glint in his hand.
"Found it," he said, "Mr. Potter is a thief!"
"I swear," Harry jumped up in his defence, "I have no idea how that necklace ended up in my pocket!"
"Lies will not save you, Mr. Potter," Ronald observed coolly. "Lovejoy, assure that this thief is apprehended and kept under control until we reach port!"
"Aye, sir," Lovejoy ascertained. "Come along, you."
"Hermione, don't you believe me?" Harry asked desperately. "Come on, you know I didn't steal that necklace!"
I did not know what to believe. I expressly trusted Harry, and I did not see how he could have carried out the crime. But on the other hand, I also had a duty to trust Ronald, and his conviction seemed unshakeable. Harry was carried out by Lovejoy, but my uneasiness only increased.
"You see what associating with such people brings to you, dear?" my mother pointed out complacently, "Thieves, murderers, and the scum of society!"
Anger arose within me, and I fought hard to contain it…I knew Harry was innocent - he had been with me the whole day. I did not know my mother and fiancé would stoop to such low ground, to frame the only genuine person whom I had known up until that point of my life.
**
"Mr. Andrews," the captain walked into the ship designer's office. "Good evening."
"Good evening, sir," Mr. Andrews looked up from his desk. "How can I help you?"
"The first officer relayed to me the unfortunate circumstances that we now find ourselves in," the captain said urgently. "From you, I need an estimate about the integrity of the ship."
Mr. Andrews opened a drawer in his desk, and took out several rolls of blueprints. He spread out one that illustrated a detailed cross-section of the Titanic.
"Has there been flooding?" he asked directly.
"Yes, the forward compartments have been flooded," the captain replied immediately.
"The Titanic is capable of staying above water with up to four compartments breached, sir," Mr. Andrews explained. "That, however, is the absolute limit."
"I have received word of five compartments that have been flooded," the captain said.
"Five compartments?" the latter was shocked. "You are sure of this?"
"Completely, Mr. Andrews," the captain answered gravely. "It does not bode well."
"Not at all, not at all," Mr. Andrews stood up and walked around his office anxiously. "The Titanic is sinking, sir," he admitted after a minute's silence. "The only viable alternative is to evacuate the ship, while we still have the time. At the rate it is being flooded, we have a little less than two hours, before the Titanic disappears under the waves.
The captain's strength seemed to fail him, and he sat down on a chair near the door, trying to comprehend the reality and intensity of the situation.
"Two hours?" he repeated faintly.
"Two hours," Mr. Andrews affirmed quietly. "Beginning to load the lifeboats will be the soundest policy at the moment."
"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," the captain replied, and rising from his chair, left the office to orchestrate the evacuation of the doomed ship.
Mr. Andrews looked regrettably at the elaborately designed clock on the mantel of his fireplace - in less than two hours, he knew, many would perish.
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