The Beauty of the Beast [Dramione]

Troubled Thoughts

So, school has started, and I've already got the app that is counting down the days until next summer is here...shows how committed I am to my grades.

Before someone starts screaming at me for not updating in a month or two, I want to say my muse plot-bunny thing has been taken captive by the evil clutches of writer's block, and is suffering from creativity withdrawal. So, that said, if this chapter seems unusually bland, pray for my muse.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Harry Potter series!

Brown eyes. Those brown eyes that showed a broken soul behind a curtain of blood-stained brown hair, naturally beautiful skin stained permanently with mud and bruises that blossomed beneath. Those brown eyes that pleaded, called out to him. Draco. To save her. Her enemy.

He watched in horror as his Aunt raised her wand again, and Hermione's small form shivered and quaked with fear, terror convulsing her body and her throat being torn out by her hoarse screams. Sweat covering every inch of her body as she strained against the pain, fingers scraping against the stone ground, nails tearing her skin, forming long red scratches down arms and legs, knuckles bleeding.

The screaming stopped, and the figure of the girl lay limp, unmoving. Draco's breathing quickened, eyes searching for some sign of life. Her found none. Suddenly, those eyes. Those brown eyes. Covered by the sheen of death, now filled with hate and loathing and unsatiable anger. Monster. The word formed on the dead girls lips. Monster. Demon. Wicked. Cruel. Monster. Monster!

Draco awoke, shaking and shivering, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his consciousness. A curtain of hair was across his face. Hair that was not his. Long, black, silky hair. He tilted his head to the left, and came face to face with an unknown female countenance. He quickly shut his eyes. 'Please tell me I did not go out and find a prostitue and bring her back here only to have meaningless sex with her. Again. You're not a schoolboy anymore Draco! You don't even know her name!

No, no, I know her name, let me think...Ab...Abby...Abigail! That's it.'

He opened one eye, hoping against hope that the other half of his bed would be empty. When his wish was not fulfilled, he grimaced in annoyance, and pushed himself up on his elbows, re-situating himself from underneath the girl. 'Abigail' he silently reminded himself. The light hurt, and he felt a stabbing pain in his head.

Without fully opening his eyes, Draco tried to get his feet into a pair of green slippers that had been laid at the foot of his bed for him by a house-elf. After trying three times to get the shoes on the corresponding feet, and failing, his eyes snapped open in annoyance, and he yanked them on, simultaneously grabbing his robe from where it lay draped on an armchair next to his bed. He found a pair of silk pants halfway across the room, underneath a skimpy lace bra that left nothing to the imagination. He threw the vile thing on the chair, along with it's corresponding thong.

He pulled the pants on over a pair of boxers, and wrapped the robe around him, loosely tying it around his waist so just a hint of his alabaster chest was visible. Smirking at himself in the mirror, Draco carefully combed his hair back in an attempt to look more esteemed, but only accomplished a slightly more disheveled look.

Sighing, he headed into the bathroom and turned on the tap of the bath. Steady streams of water poured from the mouths of two intertwined serpents at the head of the bathtub, filling a marble bath not unlike those in the prefects bathroom, and despite its size, the tub was soon filled.

Draco shed his clothes without preamble, and stepped into the slightly steaming water. The coolness of the side of the tub startled him as he leaned back against it, but he quickly relaxed and closed his eyes, re-energizing for the day ahead.