Titanic : Harry potter

I don't own any characters


1. New chapter

a adaptation from the movie by me! Bella


HERMIONE GRANGER... Rose DeWitt Bukater

RON WEASLEY... Jack Dawson

MINERVA MCGONAGAL... The Unsinkable Molly Brown

DRACO MALFOY... Caledon Hockley

On the pier horsedrawn vehicles, motorcars and lorries move slowly through the dense throng. The atmosphere is one of excitement and general giddiness. People embrace in tearful farewells, or wave and shout bon voyage wishes to friends and relatives on the decks above.

A white RENAULT, leading a silver-gray DAIMLER-BENZ, pushes through the crowd leaving a wake in the press of people. Around the handsome cars people are streaming to board the ship, jostling with hustling seamen and stokers, porters, and barking WHITE STAR LINE officials.

The Renault stops and the LIVERIED DRIVER scurries to open the door for a YOUNG WOMAN dressed in a stunning white and purple outfit, with an enormous feathered hat. She is 17 years old and beautiful, regal of bearing, with piercing eyes.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania." Hermione says flatly.

A personal valet opens the door on the other side of the car for Draco Malfoy, the 30 year old heir to the elder Hockley's fortune. 'Cal' is handsome, arrogant and rich beyond meaning.

"You can be blase about some things, Hermione, but not about Titanic. It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian cafe... even Turkish baths." Cal turns and fives his hand to Rose's mother, Ruth Dewitt Granger, who descends from the touring car being him. Ruth is a 40ish society empress, from one of the most prominent Philadelphia families. She is a widow, and rules her household with iron will. "Your daughter is much too hard to impress, Ruth." He says politely.

Gazing at the leviathan Ruth talks to Cal, "So this is the ship they say is unsinkable."

"It is unsinkable. God himself couldn't sink this ship." Cal speaks with the pride of a host providing a special experience. This entire entourage of rich Americans is impeccably turned out, a quintessential example of the Edwardian upper class, complete with servants. Cal's valet, Spicer Lovejoy, is a tall and impassive, dour as an undertaker. Behind him emerge two maids, personal servants to Ruth and Rose. A White Star Line porter scurries toward them, harried by last minute loading.

"Sir, you'll have to check your baggage through the main terminal, round that way-" Cal nonchalantly hands the man a fiver. The porter's eyes dilate. Five pounds was a monster tip in those days.

"I put my faith in you, good sir." Cal saids simpily.

"Yes, sir. My pleasure, sir."

Draco never tires of the effect of money on the unwashed masses.

"These trunks here, and 12 more in the Daimler. We'll have all this lot up in the rooms." Lovejoy tells the porter

The White Star man looks stricken when he sees the enormous pile of steamer trunks and suitcases loading down the second car, including wooden crates and steel safe. He whistles frantically for some cargo-handlers nearby who come running.

Draco breezes on, leaving the minions to scramble. He quickly checks his pocket watch. "We'd better hurry. This way, ladies." He says to the women. He indicates the way toward the first class gangway. They move into the crowd. Trudy Bolt, Hermione's maid, hustles behind them, laden with bags of her mistress's most recent purchases... things too delicate for the baggage handlers.

Draco leads, weaving between vehicles and handcarts, hurrying passengers (mostly second class and steerage) and well-wishers. Most of the first class passengers are avoiding the smelly press of the dockside crowd by using an elevated boarding bridge, twenty feet above.

They pass a line of steerage passengers in their coarse wool and tweeds, queued up inside movable barriers like cattle in a chute. A health officer examines their heads one by one, checking scalp and eyelashes for lice.

They pass a well-dressed young man cranking the handle of a wooden Biograph "cinematograph" camera mounted on a tripod. NANIEL MARVIN (whose father founded the Biograph Film Studio) is filming his young bride in front of the Titanic. MARY MARVIN stands stiffly and smiles, self conscious.

"Look up at the ship, darling, that's it. You're amazed! You can't believe how big it is! Like a mountain. That's great." Daniel says to the bride.

Mary Marvin, without an acting fiber in her body, does a bad Clara Bow pantomime of awe, hands raised.

Draco is jostled by two yelling steerage boys who shove past him. And he is bumped again a second later by the boys' father.

"Steady!" Draco yells at them angrily.

"Sorry squire!" The man yells back at him annoyed.

The Cockney father pushes on, after his kids, shouting.

"Steerage swine. Apparently missed his annual bath." Draco says annoyed.

"Honestly, Draco, if you weren't forever booking everything at the last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family." Ruth politely says.

"All part of my charm, Ruth. At any rate, it was my darling fiancee's beauty rituals which made us late." Draco says indicating it was Hermione's fault.

"You told me to change." Hermione says irritabley.

"I couldn't let you wear black on sailing day, sweetpea. It's bad luck." Draco says.

"I felt like black." Hermione snapped.

Draco guides them out of the path of a horse-drawn wagon loaded down with two tons of OXFORD MARMALADE, in wooden cases, for Titanic's Victualling Department.

"Here I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites... and you act as if you're going to your execution." Draco said itritablly.

Hermione looks up as the hull of Titanic looms over them...a great iron wall, Bible black and sever. Draco motions her forward, and she enters the gangway to the D Deck doors with a sense of overwhelming dread.































































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