Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, and once you read this story you will see how fortunate that is. I also do not own Star Wars, Twin Peaks, or any other movie, television show or comic I may rip off over the course of writing this story.

Drowned In Tears

By H.P. Smutfict

Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

-Edgar Allan Poe, The Conqueror Worm

~Chapter One~

Disillusionment

Platform nine and three-quarters was crowded just as it always was on the first of September. Hermione knew she should have been excited to be starting her final year at Hogwarts, but all she felt was dread. Something much more than the general atmosphere of collective tension was pushing her to run from the jostling crowd that seethed about her. But she fought that instinct and pushed her way onto the Hogwarts Express clutching Crookshanks' basket closely to her.

The ginger cat mewed pathetically; he never did like to be confined. After murmuring a few calming words to her pet, Hermione began her search for a cabin in which to relax for the journey. Quite frankly, Hermione was in no mood to sit with anyone or be forced to make inane small talk, but judging by the crowd she would have little choice in the matter. Every traveling compartment appeared to be taken and everyone but everyone was talking about Voldemort.

Was Voldemort still alive? Was he going to return again? Was Sirius Black's self-sacrifice worth it?

Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort. He was all anyone spoke of over the summer, and Hermione was sick of the entire subject. What she wanted now was to relax and perhaps enjoy the calm of an uneventful final year.

Glancing in through the window of one cabin she saw Ron talking animatedly with Lavender. She felt her face burn and, biting her lip, Hermione turned away only to collide with someone's chest.

"Oh my God, Hermione?"

Flushing a deeper red, Hermione looked up at Harry. Her voice only came out as a whisper when she saw the torment that still lived in her old friend's eyes. "Hi."  His shocked expression made her want to melt into the floor. Hermione tried to push by him. The confusing jumble of sympathy and anger she felt for him made her uncomfortable. It was the anger that won out, though, when he blocked her way.

"You look wonderful," he said in a low voice, touching one of the curls that had escaped her ponytail and was now spiraling down the side of her face. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Nothing." She jerked her head, pulling the curl from his grasp.

He offered her a sad smile. "I can see that's not true. You look beautiful."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. "What's that supposed to mean? Was I ugly before?"

"Th-that's not what I-"

"What was it you said to me?" She put a hand to her face in mock-reminiscence. "Oh yes... I don't know what your problem is, no one else wants you, Hermione." Using all her strength Hermione barged past Harry, knocking him into the wall.

"I'm sorry," said Harry pathetically to her back as she continued down the corridor in haste.

Without a glance back she spat, "Sod off, Harry."

In a desperate attempt to remove herself as quickly as possible from Harry's presence, Hermione turned into the nearest cabin where the Patil twins were giggling together over a magazine. Parvati was the first to look up at Hermione and her jaw dropped, brown eyes opened wide. She nudged Padma with her elbow and used her chin to direct her sister's attention to Hermione. Padma turned her head and a similar expression of surprise overtook her countenance.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione smiled and took the seat across from the twins, briefly taking notice of the huge nosegay of purple Heliotrope flowers next to Parvati. "You don't mind if I sit with you two, do you?"

Parvati shook her head to the negative. Finally finding her voice, Padma grinned widely and said with exaggerated sweetness, "I am so glad to see you finally did something with your hair."

"What?" Hermione bristled. The knuckles of the hand holding the handle of Crookshanks' basket turned white.

Taking the cue from her sister, Parvati spoke up. "Who could know that a coat of new paint could make something like Hagrid's shack look like a palace?" The twins exchanged looks of malevolent mischief.

Hermione rose from her seat, fighting back tears as Padma remarked, "Harry's sure to take you back, now, you know. I would say Ron would too, but he and Lavender have hooked up."

"Yes," agreed Parvati. "It's a shame, but you know what they say about too little, too late."

"Or maybe too MUCH, but still too late indeed," Padma said as Hermione marched from the cabin. The corridor was thankfully devoid of life, except for the Creevey brothers. She ignored their obvious surprise at her new and improved appearance and brushed by them.

It took everything in her power not to punch Colin when he snapped a photo of her, the flash leaving green spots before her eyes. Why was everyone making such a fuss over her transformation? Was I truly so hideous before? she wondered.

Breathing a loud sigh of relief when she finally found an empty cabin, Hermione flung herself into the velvet seat and willed herself not to cry. She refused to give anyone that satisfaction, even if they never knew.

When she unlatched Crookshanks' basket, the huge animal bounded out, jumped to the seat across from her and immediately began to sharpen his claws on the backrest. Shreds of velvet and stuffing flew through the air and the young woman couldn't help but to laugh.

"Crookshanks!" She swatted the cat lightly on the rump. "Stop that!" He hissed in response and continued to decimate the upholstery. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione waited until he was finished and then pulled out her wand. "Reparo!" And the seat looked as if her cat had never touched it.

Crookshanks glared at the newly repaired seat. After sniffing it, he turned to give Hermione a look that could only be perceived as a scowl if he were capable of producing such an expression. The cat yawned then flopped down on the seat and proceeded to take his late morning, pre-lunch nap.

Hermione tried to concentrate on reading her new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, but her mind insisted on replaying the spiteful words of the Patil twins over and over. They'd made snotty remarks to her in the past, but nothing this blatantly cruel. What she couldn't understand was why they would be so mean in the first place. What had she done to deserve it? Perhaps the makeover she'd given herself had indeed been a mistake.

Perfect ending to a perfectly horrid summer, she decided, staring out at the swiftly passing countryside.

It had all begun so wonderfully. She and Ron had begun to date during the first week of the Hogwarts summer program that Dumbledore had set up in response to the Voldemort threat. Harry, in an attempt to distract himself from the pain of losing his godfather, had talked Ron and Hermione into taking their friendship to the next level because, as he explained, he was tired of watching them tiptoe around their feelings for each other.

Of course Hermione hadn't put up much of an argument. Ron had always been cute, and since he'd let his hair grow out he was almost roguishly handsome. She was blissfully happy with their innocent romance for the first few weeks... until about a month into it when Ron carved their initials into the lover's tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

*****

"What's this all about, Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to hide her elation at the sight of 'R.W.+H.G.' surrounded by a lopsided heart. She smiled at the red-haired young man, her eyes sparkling.

He blushed almost as red as his hair. "I just want you to see how much I really care for you," he explained.

"Oh?"

"Yes." He gently pushed her against the tree and kissed her. The kiss was rough, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, Hermione liked the flip-floppy sensation in her stomach. When he clumsily grabbed her breast, however, Hermione gasped and pushed him away.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"C'mon, 'Mione," whined Ron, "we've been together a month now..."

"What's that got to do with anything?" She crossed her arms stubbornly and glared at him.

"Well, Hannah only dated me for a week before we did it and..."

"Did it?" Hermione squeaked in an outraged voice. "You mean... sex?"

"Don't be so naive," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course I mean sex. You act as if you'd never done it before."

"I haven't!" Hermione shook her head.

"Oh come on... are you telling me you and Viktor never-."

"No! That's... disgusting!" Hermione began to stalk away toward the castle, but Ron grabbed her hand. With a tug he whipped her about and pulled her into his embrace.

"I love you," he murmured before she had the chance to react.

Hermione's body stiffened at his words. "Huh?" was all she could bring herself to say.

Ron lowered his mouth down to hers. "I love you," he repeated before kissing her once again. Hermione felt giddy in response to his words. She'd never in her wildest dreams believed any man would tell her he loved her. Wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's neck she returned his kiss with all the passion she could muster. This time, when she felt him paw her breast, she did not pull away.

"What is going on here?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice rang out. The young couple jumped apart and looked up into the older woman's livid face. She was one of the many parents who'd volunteered to help with the summer program since most of the teachers refused to give up their summer vacations.

"Nothing!" snapped Ron, irritated at his mother's interference.

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, young man!" She shook her index finger in Ron's face then grabbed his ear.

"Ow!"

Mrs. Weasley continued, " I can see perfectly well that you are trying to take advantage of sweet, innocent Hermione." She began to drag her son back to the castle by his ear. "Well, not on my watch, mister!"

*****

The hiss of the train compartment door sliding open brought Hermione back from her reverie. Looking up, she was shocked to see Draco slink in and close the door behind him. He barely offered her a glance before shoving Crookshanks onto the floor and taking the seat across from her. The cat shot Draco a nasty glare, stretched and then hopped up onto the seat next to his mistress to finish his nap.

Hermione's mouth was slightly agape as she peered across the aisle at the young man who'd so rudely invaded her private space. Malfoy had changed over the summer. There was something different that had nothing to do with his obviously matured appearance, though Hermione could not quite grasp what that was. He gazed back at her through a lock of silvery blond hair that had fallen over his face, his expression impassive, and his gray eyes sleepy.

"Do you have a problem, Granger?" He crossed his arms over his chest and Hermione noticed his shoulders had broadened since she'd seen him last.

She shrugged. "Not really." Hermione was doing her best to hide her prejudice against the Death Eater spawn. He couldn't help who his parents were, after all.

"Good," he retorted in a bored voice, "because even if you did, I'm not leaving."

"Whatever." Hermione opened her book back up and attempted to read. She didn't get very far, however, when a chill pulsed down her back. Looking up, she found Draco's eyes perusing her. Feeling suddenly exposed in the tiny pleated uniform skirt she was wearing for the first time since she'd had it altered to a more flattering length, Hermione tugged at the hem to try and cover the thigh he was so obviously staring at. Realizing she'd caught him looking, Draco returned his gaze out the window. Hermione went back to her reading.

Moments later the chill returned and she knew he was looking at her again. Bracing herself for what she believed was an imminent smart remark, she asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to say something?"

He yawned. "What would you like me to say?"

Hermione didn't respond at first. Draco acting so... un-Draco-like flustered her. "Aren't you going to insult me?"

"Would you like me to insult you? I wasn't aware you were into that sort of thing, Granger." His mouth twisted into an impish grin.

"What?" she asked, confused. Draco raised an eyebrow at her and she suddenly felt as if she missed something she shouldn't have. "Oh... never mind." She looked away, blushing at the horrible chuckle that assaulted her ears.

Resting her forehead against the window, Hermione listened to the rhythmic chugging of the train. The sound lulled away her tensions and her eyes slowly closed.

*****

"Problem solved," Ron whispered into her ear as he sat down for breakfast and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"And what problem is that?" Hermione glanced up from the Daily Prophet. Ron grinned at her then kissed her gently under her left earlobe, a place that always gave her the shivers.

"It's a surprise," he said in a low voice. "But I'll tell you this... my mum won't be able to disturb us this time."

Hermione gave him her most sincere smile. "I can't wait," she lied. Four times they'd attempted to consummate their love and all four times Mrs. Weasley had happened along at the most inopportune moment. Ron's mother seemed to have a sixth sense about the matter, and for that Hermione was secretly grateful.

Smack! Her book hitting the train floor brought Hermione back to the present. She looked up to see that Draco was nowhere to be found and the door was open. Half-hoping he was not going to return, Hermione stood and stretched. Recognizing the squeaking and clattering of the snack cart, she walked into the corridor and found herself face to chest with Draco who, judging by the bottle of pumpkin juice and assorted snacks in his hands, had the same idea as she.

He said nothing but looked down at her, frowning. His eyes looked strange... they held none of the cold arrogance of the Draco she had come to know and despise. No... these eyes seemed to hold a torment that Hermione could not begin to grasp. But that was ridiculous; a rich spoiled boy like Draco could never be tormented could he?

His spicy, exotic cologne wafted over her and she felt dizzy; her stomach began to churn madly. Deciding she must be allergic to the fragrance, she stepped to her right to go around him, just as he did the same. She moved to her left, as did he. This happened several more times before Hermione lost patience.

"Wait," she said, putting her hands on Draco's shoulders to ensure that he didn't move. His arms were hard and muscular beneath the cool silk of his shirt; he was so obviously not the scraggly boy she'd met in their first year. A lump formed in her throat. "You stay still," she croaked out and attempted to slip through the narrow space between him and the wall, refusing to look at his face.

Her left breast brushed over the hand that held the chilled bottle of pumpkin juice, and they both froze. A bolt of sensation charged from where his knuckles grazed her nipple. From the top of the bottle a droplet of cold condensation fell onto her breast where it peeked from decolletage of her low-cut white blouse. The bead of moisture rolled over the curve of her breast and met that very same nipple which was in contact with Draco Malfoy's hand. Waves of gooseflesh erupted all over her skin and she visibly shivered.

Panic-stricken and humiliated at her body's reaction to her enemy's physical contact, Hermione jerked away and hurried to the cart. She was just paying for her own pumpkin juice when she heard a familiar voice in the cabin behind her.

"The nerve of her," complained Padma. "That Granger girl shows up looking like THAT and she's already trying to seduce Malfoy."

"Yes," agreed her sister, "it wasn't enough that she shagged Ron and Harry."

Padma responded with a snort. "She'll be going after Neville next."

With a furrowed brow, Hermione scuttled back to her compartment where she stopped short at the door. With quaking hands, Draco was measuring out a few drops of a green, glowing potion of some sort into his pumpkin juice. It was obvious from the way he was half-turned with his back toward the door that he was trying to hide his actions.

Not wanting to be accused of spying, Hermione slid the door shut with a dramatic bang. The young man started and looked up with an odd expression. Pretending not to notice, Hermione flopped down and resumed her pretended act of reading. Over the top of her book she surreptitiously peeked at Draco who was audibly gulping down his dimly glowing juice. When he was finished, he tossed the empty bottle to the seat beside him and continued to gaze broodingly out the window.

If he weren't Draco Malfoy she would have allowed herself to be attracted to the young man reclining before her. He truly was beautiful now that maturity had begun refining and softening his features. The potion was having a quick but steady effect and Hermione watched as his expression lightened and a smile began to play on his full lips. His almost feminine lips would have been Hermione's favorite feature if she allowed herself to think that way. At a close second would have been those pale eyes of his, the way he looked at her through his silvery eyelashes and lifted one eyebrow at her would have been devastating had she been able to acknowledge it.

Take, for example, the way he gazed at her at the moment. His eyes no longer held the appearance of deeply disturbed fathomless pools, instead they appeared inquisitive, boring into hers, causing her to blush right down to the tips of her elbows.

When Malfoy smirked at her she quickly turned her face away, thoroughly mystified at the fact that they had been staring at each other for at least five minutes. Much to her surprise she heard no self-satisfied chuckle or disparaging remark from her travel-mate.

Instead Draco inquired, "So, why aren't you with Potty and Weasel?"

Hearing no mockery in his voice, Hermione looked up to study Draco's face. Although he used his insulting nicknames for her former comrades, she could not find sarcasm in his voice. Had he not heard the rumors? Mystified at his seeming sincere interest, Hermione responded with a shrug and a sad smile.

Not wanting to seem rude Hermione asked, "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco returned her shrug. "Just felt like being somewhere quiet."

"Oh. I guess I feel the same way today." She managed a wan smile.

Those were the last words they spoke during the journey. Hermione kept her nose buried in her far too boring textbook and Draco fell asleep. At one point after Crookshanks' afternoon snack, the ginger cat jumped up onto the young man's chest and napped there for the rest of the train ride.

"Traitor," Hermione hissed at her pet, only to receive in response a baleful yellow glare and a flick of a fluffy tail.

Hermione was able to focus her mind on everything but Malfoy until they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. As Hermione was boarding one of the horseless carriages that would bear them to Hogwarts castle, her foot became entangled in her robes.

She was tumbling forward when a hand grabbed her elbow to offer her support. Looking up, Hermione found herself staring wide-eyed into the face of Draco.

"Thank you," she mumbled, taking a seat. He did not respond but slid in right next to her, much Hermione's surprise. What was happening with the young man that he would shun the company of his Slytherin cronies and instead choose her presence?

Although this was a short journey she had taken many times before, the tension of Draco's presence made it feel like an eternity. Because they were not alone both felt the need to keep up the pretext of animosity and so did not communicate at all.  Every time one of them moved, their legs or arms rubbed together. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least, and by the time they arrived at their destination Hermione's nerves were in tatters.

As she alighted the stairs at the entrance of Hogwarts Hermione felt a presence behind her. "See you around, Granger," Draco whispered close to her ear, his breath a caress on her flesh. Then he brushed by her and became lost in his push to the front of the crowd.

Excerpt from the journal of Hermione Granger dated July twentieth.

 I cannot believe it, my first real relationship is over and it wasn't even two whole months long. And the way it ended was just horrible. I can honestly express that last night had been the worst of my life.

Ron's surprise turned out to be a room at the inn at Hogsmeade. Apparently he'd told his brothers Fred and George about his frustration at Mrs. Weasley foiling his plans at... getting me alone… and they'd paid for a room for us. It was a sweet gesture, I suppose.

Unfortunately, they'd gotten us the honeymoon suite and that room had to be the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. Everywhere I looked there were nothing but cherubs and hearts. And the bed, oh just the thought of it made me want to run in fear. It was a circular platform that hovered in the center of the room and revolved slowly when you gave the command.

The worst thing is that between the free champagne and the motion sickness caused by the bed, I got so sick. I would have thought he'd understand, but a side of Ron Weasley emerged that I'd never seen before.

When I told Ron that I couldn't go through with our... um... consummation, he got so mean! The last thing he said before he stormed out was, "It's not like anyone else will ever want to screw you."

He said he loved me. How can he say that to someone he supposedly loves?

Is it true? Does no one else find me attractive?