Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**Beastly**

**Hermione Granger has just dissaparated with Harry and Ron after Yaxley caught a ride with them to Grimmauld place. she gets separated from her friends and winds up at a mysterious old house inhabited by a beast who must find someone to love him before its too late, will she grow to love him or will finding out his true identity overwhelm her growing affections?**

_**Chapter 1; Splinched**_

Hermione smashed into a towering oak tree with so much force that she was knocked back onto the gravel path beneath her. For a moment she lay dazed and gasping for breath before she recalled what had just happened; Yaxley had followed them to Grimmauld place! she had dissaparated them to the first place she could think of; the forest of dean. Unfortunately, she soon realized looking around, this was not the forest in which she had camped with her parents years before and there was no sign of Harry or Ron. They had somehow been separated. _Where in Merlin's name am I?_

She was lying on some sort of driveway that was almost hidden from the road by a cluster of trees akin to the one she had met with moments before. She suddenly realized that she had splinched herself. Through the bottom right leg of her trousers she spotted a fast growing warm,dark, red stain. The thought struck her then that either or both of her friends could be lying face down in a puddle of their own blood, separated from one or more of their limbs because of her ineptitude. she prayed that they were safe and sound at her intentioned safe haven. she bit her lip as the pain in her leg stepped it up a notch and she began to feel dizzy.

To top everything off her wand was missing, so she couldn't heal herself, neither did she possess the handbag she had been carrying with her for so long, hopefully the boys would find the essence of dittany she had packed if they needed it. she needed to move, she needed to clean the wound. Hermione squinted down the drive to the large house at the end, there was no illumination within and the lawns and flowerbeds were overgrown so she supposed there was a chance the house was empty. Limping, she passed a garden overflowing with beautiful roses and reached the door. After taking a long, careful breath, she pushed in the door, which she found to be slightly ajar, a closer look showed the door was peeling paint and had rusted hinges. The hall was dark, the chandelier above dusty. her footsteps echoed loudly upon the once polished marble floor potentially alerting anyone who may be lurking about of her presence. shadows that could have hidden many a death eater loomed over her but wary as she was, her vision was swimming before her eyes from the blood loss and she was becoming more and more unsteady on her feet.

Hermione limped through one of the doors leading off the hall, it led into an opulent living room. she made for the couch, hoping to have strength left to tear some materiel from her clothing to bandage up her wound as she simply didn't have the energy to find water let alone clean out her bleeding wound. As she sank onto the couch she noticed the glass that littered the floor from broken photo frames and a huge mirror that loomed over the fireplace. She had just reached out to tear a strip of cloth from her cloak when a voice shattered the silence;

"Granger?"

Hermione jumped up from the couch and turned to see who had spoken. She accidentally leaned down on her injured leg and the explosion of pain stole the breath from her body. All of a sudden the floor rushed up to meet her but she never felt the impact of the hard marble as a pair of strong calloused hands caught her mid air. The last thing she remembered was a very tall person standing above her, their features hidden in shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Beastly**

**Hermione Granger has just dissaparated with Harry and Ron after Yaxley caught a ride with them to Grimmauld place. she gets separated from her friends and winds up at a mysterious old house inhabited by a beast who must find someone to love him before its too late, will she grow to love him or will finding out his true identity overwhelm her growing affections?**

_**Chapter 2**_

Hermione awoke in a strange bed in a strange room in the dark. it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust and even then it was difficult to decipher the time of day or night as the windows across from the bed were boarded up. she attempted to sit up and immediately lay back down as a wave of pain and nausea overtook her.

"miss must not move much, the master said so. miss will hurt her leg" said a high pitched voice to her left, it wasn't the voice she had heard before losing consciousness but that of a house elf. the little creature snapped its fingers and the room glowed with candle light, showing it to be a particularly hideous specimen. Hermione noted that the creature was rather old looking but the towel wrapped round its waist was snowy white, indicating that it was content.

the room itself was beautiful; floor length expensive looking curtains that half hid the boarded up windows, burgundy painted walls and rosewood furniture, it all screamed wealth. whoever her potential friend or captor was, he had expensive tastes, she noted also that the one mirror in the room which sat above a small dressing table, was broken, its shattered pieces crushed to powder within the frame. there were also some lighter patches on the walls of the room where once pictures might have hung depicting the owner of the house and their family.  
"what's your name?" she asked, hating the tremble in her voice. "and who is your master?" she remembered that he had called her by her surname, the fact that he knew her name did not bode well.

"I'm no-one" Hermione's head shot in the direction the voice had come from. he stood at the door, his face hidden beneath his hood, though there was something familiar about him that she couldn't put her finger on. "no-one? how do you know me?" she had no idea what side this man was on or even whether she was in danger here, her only hope, it seemed, was to try to learn as much about her situation as possible.

"never mind that, you just concentrate on getting better. I'm afraid i didn't have any dittany and only a fundamental knowledge of healing spells, the best i could do was cast a protection spell against infection and stop the bleeding, the wound sill has to heal on its own."  
Hermione was impressed; anti infection spells were tricky. he didn't sound much older than herself as far as she could tell. he dressed all in black, his ace hidden by the hood on his jacket. the house elf disappeared with a snap of its fingers and a loud crack and reappeared a moment later carrying a tray laden with food and laid it across Hermione's knees. looking at the array of dishes made Hermione's stomach rumble loudly making her curious as to the length of time she had lain prone in the bed "hey...no-one...how long have I been-" she stopped talking once she realised that both the mysterious stranger and the house elf were gone. so much for detective work. she chastised herself before digging in to the meal

Hermione felt sleepy after eating but couldn't let sleep take her as there was still so much she needed to know. how had she come to be here of all places? where were the boys? wee they al-right? who was the mystery man and why wouldn't he show her his face? where precisely was she and what was going to happen to her here?

for that night at least her questions were going to go unanswered. eventually she was unable to keep her eyes open any longer and was engulfed by a healing, dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Beastly**

**Hermione Granger has just dissaparated with Harry and Ron after Yaxley caught a ride with them to Grimmauld place. she gets separated from her friends and winds up at a mysterious old house inhabited by a beast who must find someone to love him before its too late, will she grow to love him or will finding out his true identity overwhelm her growing affections?**

_**Chapter 3**_

_****_Draco looked in on her a few times during the night. he should owl his father. Handing the mud-blood over would certainly help him to win back the dark lords favour. So why couldn't he bring himself to do it? She stirred in her sleep and he saw the flicker of pain that crossed her face. The wound on her leg was deep. as he changed the bandages by hand and rubbed a healing salve into the wound he recalled how pale she had been when he came across her in his living room and how worried he had instantly become for her. He had caught her as she fell and for a moment had feared that she had spotted his face.

That was it, his face was the reason he didn't write to his father. It could have nothing to do with her. he had never had anything but hate for the girl lying in what was once his own room. She was nothing to him, he had nothing to do here and nothing to interest him. She was merely a break in his morbidly boring new existence.

throughout his whole life, Draco had been given everything he had ever wanted; sweets, toys, books, brooms, anything his heart desired apart from the only thing his heart had ever needed.

Malfoy manor was a cold place filled with cold people. Narcissa Malfoy had no time for her son, he was the nanny's business untill such a time as he could take care of himself. She had had the nanny bring him out to be shown off at their little soirées and get togethers and he was expected to be on his very best behaviour. Any mistakes, any messes and he was punished severely.

It was to his fathers study that Narcissa sent him when he made a mistake. Lucius Malfoy was as cold as the marble that Draco would walk across to get to the imposing mahogany doors with their snake head handles. He would knock on those doors and wait for them to be pulled open by the tall white-blonde man within. Lucius believed in discipline. Draco remembered the snap of his fathers ebony cane against the soft flesh of his thighs. He still had the scars.

He tried his best to be good, to always look clean and tidy for his parents friends, to never have a hair out of place so his mother would not be annoyed with him. He tried not to spill his drink at the dinner table and to always use the proper cutlery. In time he got good at being perfect. His father no longer caned him but lectured him on what was expected of a Malfoy, of what truly mattered; looks, money, power and blood.

Draco embraced the chance to emulate his fathers beliefs, he grew to be handsome and vain. While in hogwarts the girls in his house(and quite a few in others) threw themselves at him, he gladly caught them, used them, and hen ignored them one by one. He attracted powerful friends and used his family's status to his advantage, never forgetting the only things that mattered. Hoping to one day make his father proud. Praying his mother would look at him with more than casual disinterest or cold disappointment in her gaze.

But thanks to the curse his looks were destroyed. He was hideous; bald and scarred, he looked like a burn victim and no amount of healing potions or counter curses would change it. He remembered his mothers face when she recoiled from him that night, his aunts laughter and Voldemorts amusement, an amusement which turned to annoyance as he realised the curse was beyond his power to lift, an annoyance that swiftly turned to rage as he screamed for Draco to be taken from his sight.

All the money in the Malfoy vault would not have been enough to help him, nor none of his fathers powerful connections. Neither of his parents had contacted him once since he was moved to one of their summer homes way out in the country. Left on his own with Boog the houseelf he felt as though he would soon loose his wits. He was trapped there, quite literraly as his father had put a cursed barrier around the estate allowing entry to anyone but exit to none until his father saw fit to lift it. Months had passed slowly and painfully until she came.

Perhaps it was the thought that just maybe he could be rid of the curse, though that hope faded very quickly, who could ever love a monster like him? Perhaps it was because he was finally disillusioned about his father and about Voldemorts cause...for whatever reason, he didn't hand her over.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER; ALL THINGS BELONG TO JK ROWLING**

**Beastly**

_**Chapter 4**_

it was a few days before Hermione was able to move around properly. it was difficult to keep track of time as the only light entering the room was from candlelight and she slept frequently. Boog the house elf brought her her meals and she grew strong enough to move about the room with the little elfs aid. The man with no name made few appearences though she had a feeling it was him that tended to her leg rather than the elf as her bandages were changed when she slept. Sometimes there were books left by her bed too and once a note letting her know that if there was anything she needed she was to let Boog know and it would be taken care of. She was filled with a burning curiosity about the house and its occupants but Boog was tight lipped about his master and their life there.

The books were interesting; some were contemporary, others extremely old and she read them all with the same fascination hoping they would tell her something about her host. A break in her newfound routine came when Boog informed her that the master hoped she was well enough to join him for dinner the next evening. She mulled the offer over in her mind. S_hould she go? Well it was the only way she had a hope of answering some of the questions swimming round in her mind and she was becoming frightfully bored of being stuck in the one room. But what if the information she would recieve was not something she wanted to hear? _In the end the pros far outweighed the cons on her mental list and she accepted the offer. "The master has chosen something for you to wear" Said the elf, indicating the big old rosewood wardrobe across from the bed.

Hermione was filled with a nervousness she couldnt explain. On shaky legs she crossed the room and peered into the wardrobe, removing the dress fromm its hanger and laying it out on the bed. She recalled the last dress she had warn and the way Ron had looked when they danced together. Her friends were never far from her mind, especially the red head, but then it had been a long time since he was far from her thoughts. Sighing she returned the dress and sat on the bed to spend another few hours emerssed in one of the latest round of books that had been left for her by her mystery host.

The next evening she entered the dining room, guided by boog and sat in her appointed seat. "The master will be with you shortly miss." He informed her before dissappearing, presumably to the kitchen. Hermione adjusted the sleeve of her dress, it was a dark purple calf length number with an oval neckline and three quarter length sleeves, to the waist it clung to her body before flowing out gently. The colour did wonders for her eyes and the overall product made her feel more her age than even the dress she had worn to Bills wedding. She wore her hair up and a pair of soft, flat black pumps had been left in the bottom of the wardrobe for her, which she was glad of as the mere thought of heels made her leg ache.

She waited impatiently for her host, picking at the embroidery on her cloth napkin.

**Draco**

He wathced her from the door as she sat and waited for him. She looked magnificent. The dress had been a good choice. Steeling himself to enter the room he took a deep breath and reminded himself of the charisma he had once possessed, unfortunately all that did was remind him of what he had lost and what he was now. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the cold marble floor before him and had to close his eyes tightly to force back his anguish and the wave of self pity that washed over him, threatening to drown him. He had thought that he was ready to show her, to talk to her honestly but there was no way. The faces of the leering death eaters an enraged Voldemort and his disgusted parents swam before his eyes and he turned away, berating himself for his own weakness. He left her there, waiting for him. There was no way


End file.
