Chapter 2: Beauty And The Beast

A/N: hey guys! Super duper sorry for not uploading a chapter in forever, I've been super busy and I've just gotten rather sick with a fever, meaning I'm lying in bed with a headache, runny nose and sore throat. So have a chapter!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"Dumbleore didn't tell us what time you'd be getting here," Molly said with faux cheerfulness. "Not to worry though, there's plenty of food still left over from dinner."

"He doesn't eat food," Hermione cut in, her voice cold.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks anyways, Mrs Weasley, I've already had dinner."

It was clear that these words frightened the red-head woman a lot, and she was probably regretting ever inviting the vampire into her home. "R-Right," she stuttered. "We've made up Percy's bedroom for you. Ron, could you show him where it is?"

Ron shot his mother a dark look, but began walking back up the stairs anyways. Hermione followed, Harry letting out a sigh before doing the same. The hallways were dark and the floorboards creaked under Harry's weight, and he could hear Hermione's heartbeat pounding. Clearly neither of them were comfortable with being alone with him in the dark.

"If it was my choice," Ron snapped as they reached a door. "You wouldn't even be in this house."

"Same," Harry replied with a bored yawn. "It's not like being here is my choice."

"What I'm saying is," the redhead snarled. "If you try to pull anything, on anyone in this house, we'll throw you out under the sun."

"Fierce words for someone who's terrified at the sight of me. I can hear your heartbeat, remember?" Harry said smartly, opening the door. "Goodnight."

He slammed the door in their faces, and fell onto the bed in the centre of the room, bursting out into a fit of laughter.

Harry didn't know why he was laughing. Was it because of the hilarious thought of Ron actually trying to throw him into the sunlight, or was it because of the utter misery and pain he was trying to desperately to hide.

"Finding something funny, are we?"

Harry couldn't help but jump at the sound of a voice he knew all too well, his startled reaction making him feel rather foolish as he glared at Victor through the darkness.

"When did you get here?" Harry snapped.

"Oh, only a few moments ago," Victor said with a sly smile, his fangs poking over his bottom lip. "Your bad attitude isn't going to get you anywhere, my dear."

Harry sneered at him. "I don't care. Did you do what I asked?"

"Yes, yes. I did. From what I can tell, he's dreaming, but for some reason I couldn't manage to read his mind, or understand anything. It shouldn't be long until he wakes up, though," Victor replied easily.

"Really?" Harry said, shock written across his face.

Victor nodded. "It looks like it. Although his heartbeat seems irregular and I don't know what will happen when he does wake up. For now, just try to behave yourself."

Harry glared at him, flopping back down on the bed and staring at the dark ceiling. "I've behaved for far too long. I'm too bored to act like I'm still safe to be around."

"Well, even though you may not be safe, you will most certainly act like you are," Victor said firmly, a tone of authority in his voice. "You're not stupid, Harry. You will
keep yourself under control, or I will make you."

******

Draco was running desperately, his legs quickly tiring. Despite this, he kept on leaping over logs and bushes. If he didn't keep running, then whatever had killed that unicorn back there would be after him too.

He took a quick look behind him, seeing nothing but darkness. Relief washed over him for a moment; at least it wasn't appearing to be after him. Chest heaving, his breath was once again knocked out of him as he let out a girlish and terrified shriek.

A large half human, half horse creature was standing behind one of the trees, watching him with a look of curiosity and worry. He had a handsome, youthful face, and silvery white hair that was tied up in a long ponytail. The horse half of his body was covered in pale white fur, glowing slightly in the darkness. His skin was pale, his eyes a shocking shade of blue. A longbow was slung over one of his muscular shoulders, a quiver of arrows accompanying it.

Draco promptly fell over, scrambling backwards. He recognised what the beast was, a centaur, and knew that they weren't to be messed with. They were extremely dangerous magical creatures, capable of feats beyond some wizard's wildest dreams.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice was clear, commanding. Draco let out a small whimper before replying quietly.

"I-I was doing detention, and there was this m-monster, and I ran," he mumbled. "And I got separated from everyone and I'm lost."

The centaur's features softened and he took a few steps forward, offering a hand. Draco took it, the creature pulling him to his feet.

"It's dangerous out here for a human as young as yourself. I'll take you back to the castle," he said, kneeling down. Draco's eyes widened, the centaur giving him an assuring smile. Deciding that he could trust him, Draco pulled himself onto the centaur's back.

"What's your name?" Draco asked as he began to walk, easily stepping over logs. The huge creature's mere presence seemed to make Draco feel a lot safer, he knew that as long as this centaur was here he didn't have anything to fear.

"Storm," he replied. "And you?"

"Draco," the blond replied. "What was that thing back there?"

"I don't truly know myself, Draco. Whatever it is, it's been killing the unicorns and drinking their blood," Storm replied with a grimace. "Eternal life, unicorn blood gives you. Yet a cursed life."

Draco nodded weakly. He knew about the effects of unicorn blood, he'd read about it a while ago in the library.

Soon they reached the tree line, the castle in sight. Storm knelt down, letting Draco slide easily off his back.

"Thank you," Draco said meekly. "If you hadn't shown up, I don't know what would have happened."

"You are very welcome," Storm replied with a smile. "It was my pleasure to help you. Stay safe, Draco."

Draco nodded, turning and running back up to the castle. He looked back, catching sight of the centaur standing at the edge of the forest, watching him and waiting patiently to see that he got safely back to the castle. Storm gave him one last nod before turning and galloping back into the forest, disappearing into the darkness.

******

I need somewhere to be alone. I need somewhere to cry. I need somewhere where no one can judge me for who I really am for once.

Draco ran along the seventh floor corridor, eyes stinging with tears. After a sleepless night, a day full of horrifically boring and tiresome classes, and a hurtful letter from his father, and Crabbe and Goyle being utter idiots like usual, he needed somewhere to just calm down.

Yet he knew of no such place, a place where someone definitely wouldn't find him didn't seem to exist.

Until now. To his utter shock, a door materialised. He gulped, looking both ways down the corridor before opening the door and closing it behind him. He'd never seen this room before, never even heard of a door simply appearing out of nowhere. He doubted anyone would find him in here for a while.

A choked, rattling breath escaped his lips, followed by a ragged sob as he crumpled to the floor. The second year Slytherin simply ignored his surroundings for the time being; crying until his throat was sore, his face felt stiff, and he had no tears left to shed.

When he finally looked up, he couldn't help but frown at the room he was in. Was it a room where they simply stored things, perhaps?

Piles upon piles of junk and random items littered the seemingly endless room. Piles of broken chairs and desks, old looking chests that's contents remained a mystery. Stacks and stacks of books, and at the back, what seemed to be a tall, black cabinet.

Draco frowned, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and standing up, walking over. He had a feeling he knew what this cabinet was, as it was definitely no ordinary box. It seemed to radiate magic, dark magic, and Draco could feel it.

His curiosity was piqued, so he turned and walked swiftly from the room, remembering its place in the corridor as he made his way to the library.

He walked amongst the shelves, avoiding the other students and shielding his face to the best of his ability. He grabbed books that looked useful off the shelves, quickly amassing a large stack of them. After waiting for ten minutes for the hook-nosed librarian, Madam Pince, to check all the books out, he began carrying the stack back up to the seventh floor.

He'd never been that strong, and if he wanted to levitate the books with his wand that would mean putting them down, and the stack was too big for him to levitate without his wand. Despite his arms aching with fatigue, he was nearly there. Just a few more corridors to walk through.

Draco let out a sudden yelp as someone bumped into him, causing the pile of books to tumble to the floor. Ignoring whoever had bumped into him, he knelt and and began picking the books up, scared that some might have been damaged to the point where he'd have to show Madam Pince. She was frightening regardless, but if you damaged one of her books, you were a dead man.

Whoever had crashed into him had fallen rather ungracefully, but moved quickly to help pick up the books while rambling an apology.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, I wasn't looking," the boy mumbled, Draco recognising his voice and freezing.

It seemed that the boy had recognised him at the same time as well, his bright green eyes widening. Harry Potter stared back at him with an equal amount of shock, an air of uncomfortableness surrounding them.

Neither knew what exactly to do. Draco didn't have Crabbe or Goyle around, and was rather defenceless against Harry without them to remind him how to act. And Harry didn't have Ron and Hermione scrutinising his every move either, so neither were brave enough to snap at the other. Draco knew he probably looked like a wreck, it was likely his eyes were still red. Harry wasn't much better, he looked frustrated, his hair messy and sticking out at odd angles.

To Draco's surprise, Harry lowered his gaze and carried on picking up the books, Draco feeling rather dumbfounded. Why was Harry helping him? He was supposed to hate him.

With some difficulty Draco managed to gather up all the books again, standing I'l and doing his best to balance the pile.

"Need any help carrying these?" Harry asked meekly, one of the books still in his hand. Draco's eyes widened, and he tried not to stutter uselessly.

"I can manage," he murmured, Harry giving him a quick nod and standing on his toes to put the last book on top of the stack.

When Draco rounded the corner he let out a shaky breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in.

Harry had helped him. Draco's heart was racing, and he knew his face was probably bright red. Harry Potter, with his beautiful green eyes, crooked glasses, and adorable smile that never ceased to make Draco's heart skip a beat had just willingly helped him. That was enough for him to scream and jump for joy, but he quickly reminded himself that he wasn't supposed to feel this way.

After two years of calling the boy horrible names and saying awful things about his deceased family, Draco was overcome by a sense of self loathing so fierce it made him nauseous.

Trying to control himself, he hurried back to the hidden room. He opened the door as soon as it materialised, slipping into the room and walking back over to the tall, black cabinet and opening one of the books.

******

Draco sighed in relief and amazement as he stepped backwards, relishing in triumph. The huge cabinet standing ominously in front of him was now, hopefully, functional.

A vanishing cabinet. That's what he'd recognised it as.

And what a hell it had been to try and fix it. Draco's curiosity to where the object could potentially transport things had grown unbearable. It didn't allow itself to be fixed with a simple 'reparo', whoever had broken it in the first place had obviously wanted it to stay that way.

Yet despite the difficulty of fixing the cabinet in the first place, he couldn't help himself. It gave him something to focus on, to think about, a matter to draw his attention away from other things wreaking havoc in his life.

He looked around, picking up a small globe from one of the piles. It looked an awful lot like the remembrall he had taken from Neville in their first year. Draco frowned, remembering how painful yet how amazing it felt to have Harry's full, undivided attention, just in the worst way possible.

Scolding himself for letting his mind get out of control again, he pulled open the black door, it swinging open with a creak. Nervously, he placed the small round object in the space and closed the door.

After counting down from twenty, he cautiously pulled the door back open.

The remembrall sat in the space, shattered. A wisp of smoke flew past, emanating from the remains of the shattered glass.

Draco gulped. This didn't exactly give him many clues as to where the cabinet was connected to, and he wasn't exactly brave enough to transport himself.

He gathered up a pile of books he'd brought into his arms, turning to leave the room. He jumped as a loud bang echoed, the door of the cabinet having slammed shut.

******

Draco felt like crying. He felt like breaking down into a mess of tears, anguish and depression, purely because his father was making him watch this atrocity occur.

Harry had started screaming as soon as he'd woken up, demanding to be let go. Draco could see the fear in his bright green eyes, the way his hands shook.

The blond teen stood stationary, trying to keep his expression as blank as possible. His father had a cruel grin on his face at the thought of finally triumphing for the dark lord, at the thought of possibly ruling beside him. Fenrir stood behind them as guard, his gaze trained firmly on Draco, who shifted uncomfortably, feeling preyed on.

A vampire Draco recognised walked in, looking around with a frown. He was tall, dark, and bewitchingly handsome, yet he looked rather... Upset. Peter Pettigrew followed, the rat-like man snivelling with glee.

Harry looked up, betrayal and utter hatred in his eyes as he glared at Draco. Draco's resolve faltered for a few seconds, his eyes stinging as tears threatened to spill over, a flash of pain coming across his face. Harry seemed to notice, his eyes widening as he realised he just might have a chance.

It all seemed to get rather blurry then, Draco stumbling backwards. The light was leaving Harry's eyes ever so slowly, his angry expression quickly turning to pain and fading to a blank one.

Harry was carried down to the dungeons, body limp, and Draco had never understood why his father didn't just kill Harry then.

Then there was the pain. The undeniable, white hot, agonising pain that wreaked his every muscle as teeth sank into his chest and shoulder from behind, blood immediately raining down his chest, shirt torn off by Fenrir's brutal fangs.

He lay, broken on the floor of his own manor's dungeon, hearing his mother screaming and his father yelling, feeling weaker and weaker as the blood dripped from his body.

******

Draco's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment he simply lay there, wondering where he was. It took him a few moments to notice that he was in his bed at Grimmauld Place. He was quick to notice how heavy his head felt, and how hot he was, kicking off the blanket and feeling a wave of nausea run through him.

He was in a cold sweat, and could feel his heart thundering in his chest. Had he had a nightmare?

Draco drew in a strangled, ragged breath, which wasn't the best idea as his throat felt like it was on fire. He dissolved into a coughing fit, his coughs wracking his body and making it feel like his ribs might break.

Finally, with tears in his eyes, he managed to cease his coughing long enough to grab the glass of water on the bedside table. He downed it in one, and slowly, the unbearable prickling sensation in his throat ceased.

For a few seconds he simply sat, breathing heavily. He managed to divert his gaze over to the doorway as the door opened.

Remus stepped in, eyes widening. "Draco, you're awake," he breathed, disbelief in his voice and an expression of shock written across his face. He quickly moved over to the bedside, sitting down. "We thought you weren't going to make it."

"W-What?" Draco croaked, voice scratchy and hoarse from not being used.

"Here," Remus pointedly avoided the question as he grabbed some tissues, holding them to Draco's nose. The younger werewolf quickly noticed the red staining them; he'd gotten a nosebleed.

He'd never had a nosebleed in his life, except for the time Hermione punched him in the face and broke his nose. He supposed that was warranted, but it had never happened so suddenly and without him noticing like this.

"You really don't look well," Remus said with concern in his voice, studying Draco's face for a moment. "Give me a few minutes."

Draco nodded weakly, drawing in deep breaths to try and keep his head from spinning as he held the tissues to his nose, eventually having to reach for more. He could hear Remus speaking to Sirius outside the door.

"It's worse than we thought, Sirius. Could you send for Newt?"

"Sure. I'll tell him it's urgent."

Remus walked back in, looking stressed. He sat down on the bed, giving Draco the most comforting smile he could. "Don't worry, you'll be alright soon. Newt has the most medical expertise out of all of us, and he'll be here soon."

"Okay," Draco mumbled. "What happened? Why am I so... Sick?"

"We don't really know what entirely happened ourselves," Remus sighed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Fighting in the ministry," Draco frowned. "Is Harry okay?"

"Harry's fine," Remus replied. "We found both of you out cold. You'd cracked your skull, and Harry had used all his magical reserves up. There was this huge crater in the ground, we don't know how it exactly got there but he figured that Harry had done it. You fell into a coma, and you've been asleep for a month."

"A month?" Draco asked, looking remotely horrified. Remus nodded, looking weary.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Draco," came a familiar voice, Draco looking over to the doorway to see Newt Scamander standing there, looking happier than he had in a long time. The colour had returned to his face, his eyes were bright and full of life. It was a wonderful change to the old, vaguely grumpy and depressed Newt Scamander.

Standing behind him was Credence, also looking like he'd recovered well from all he'd been through. He was still pale, dark circles still under his eyes, but other than that, he looked relatively normal.

"When did he wake up?" Newt asked, setting his suitcase down on the floor and opening it.

"About ten minutes ago," Remus replied.

"And what's happened since then? Any vomiting, coughing, headaches, loss of vision?"

"I coughed for a while, and my throat hurts. I feel kind of nauseous, and everything is vaguely spinning," Draco replied, wincing. "Then I got a nosebleed."

"Right, well as long as there's no projectile vomiting, because I hate vomit," Newt huffed. "We should be alright. Did you cough anything up, or did you just cough?"

"Just coughed."

Newt nodded, opening his suitcase and stepping into it, disappearing into the darkness. Remus followed, wanting to speak to him.

"I never did thank you," Draco spoke weakly, trying his best to smile at Credence, who looked slightly taken aback.

"For what?"

"Helping us out at the ministry. I doubt either of us would've made it out of there if you hadn't held the Death Eaters off while we ran," Draco replied.

Credence smiled, a true, genuine smile. "It was my pleasure to help you. Newt knows what he's doing, I'm sure you'll be better in no time."

******

"Is he really going to be okay?" Remus asked, watching as Newt grabbed random bottles and boxes of different herbs and other ingredients off the shelves.

Newt sighed. "Depends. Comas are quite dangerous, especially in the weak state he was already in when he cracked his skull. I'm surprised he woke up, I didn't expect him to make it through. We just have to hope that his sickness clears up soon, otherwise that could be a big problem."

******

"Where's Harry?" Draco asked as Remus walked back in, sitting down on the bed. Newt and Credence had gone back downstairs to talk with Sirius.

"He's at the Weasley's house, I think. He got there last night."

"Can he come over here?" Draco asked. "I want to make sure he's okay, I can't sense him for some reason."

"Maybe you're just tired still. You've been asleep for a month, your senses just might still be asleep. I'm sure you'll perk up in time," Remus replied. "I'll ask Sirius if they can come over for dinner."

******

"Are you okay?" Newt asked, Credence shrugging weakly in reply. They were standing in the main living room, awaiting the Weasley's arrival.

"I'm alright, just nervous," Credence replied.

"It'll be fine," Newt said with a grin, wrapping his arms around Credence and pulling him close, leaning their foreheads together. "You know at my philosophy is?"

"You've told me this already," Credence deadpanned, looking unimpressed.

"And I will tell it to you every time you start to worry, because," he paused.

"Worrying means you suffer twice," they both said in unison, Credence less enthusiastically.

"For some reason that doesn't make me feel much better," the black haired boy said quietly, leaning his head on Newt's shoulder as the man rubbed his back comfortingly.

"I wouldn't worry too much. We can leave early if you want to, it's just rude to not show a face at least."

******

Harry got out of the Weasley's hired car, stepping out onto the sidewalk. Orange and yellow glows from the sunset bathed his snow coloured skin in a heavenly light, practically making him glow.

The house standing in front of him made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He wanted to see Sirius and Remus, but did he really want to enter the house where Draco was still asleep?

It seemed he didn't have much of a choice, Mrs Weasley knocking on the door. Remus answered, giving them all a welcoming smile and opening the door further to let them all in. Harry raised an eyebrow at his expression. The werewolf looked rather happy with himself.

Harry stepped into the house, Remus closing the door behind him. Harry detected all of the heartbeats in the house at once. Remus', Sirius', Newt's, Credence's, and Draco's. Although Draco's seemed much... Closer, perhaps. Almost like he wasn't still locked in sleep's crushing and unrelenting embrace. Yet it was somehow still different from the others, in a sort of worrying way. Like he had a heart condition, causing his heartbeat to sound irregular.

His brain began firing confused and panicked thoughts through his mind as he caught a scent of the young werewolf in the corridor, and he turned to Remus. The older werewolf had his arms folded across his chest, a small grin on his face.

Without another word to any of them, the vampire dashed up the staircase, pushing open the door to Draco's room with a newfound sense of urgency.

The werewolf was sitting by the fire, a look of pain and frustration on his face. He was trying to manipulate the fire in the fireplace, but it was almost as if the simple spell that even Ron could do caused him pain and was difficult.

As soon as Draco sensed his presence in the room he leapt to his feet, a happy grin breaking out across his face. "Harry!"

Harry grinned in reply, pulling Draco into a hug and holding him tightly, burying his face in Draco's shoulder. "I was so scared that you wouldn't wake up," he mumbled, feeling his eyes sting.

"Have a little more faith in me than that," Draco breathed weakly, smiling. Harry just shook his head ruefully, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I missed you," he whimpered, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck and resting their foreheads together. Draco accepted the embrace happily, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "It's been absolute hell without you here."

"I'm here now," Draco murmured, leaning down to brush their lips together ever so softly. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

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