Beauty's Beast (Sequel to Blind Beauty) COMPLETE
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
20,835
Reviews:
110
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
24
Views:
20,835
Reviews:
110
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
An Errand
Chapter Number/Total: 11/24
Chapter Title: An Errand
Words: 1903 Words
Harry left Fred and George's shop with yet another big smile on his face. He loved delivering the potions to them because they were so thankful and ecstatic to see him with a box every week.
He stepped outside and was about to head to the Leaky Cauldron when he remembered that he had to go to the Apothecary today for a few ingredients. Pulling out a list from his cloak, he turned down the street and began to walk there.
A little bell rang when he opened the door to the shop. The old man that ran the place wasn't behind the counter. Mr Smellers usually greeted Harry by name. Harry looked around to see where the man was. "Hello?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. If the shop wasn't open, why leave the door unlocked?
Before he knew what was happening, a hand closed on the hair at the back of his head and a wand was pointed at his throat from behind. "Don't move," a voice growled.
Harry went still, one hand already reaching for his wand. "Let me go," he yelled, gripping his wand, heart speeding up in fear.
A dark haired man stepped out of the back room laughing, his wand also pointed at Harry. "Draw it, Potter," he taunted. "Because once we have you Body-Bound, it will get really interesting."
"What do you want?" Harry asked. At first he had hoped it was a robbery or something, yet the person was calling him by name, which meant it could be personal.
Vincent Crabbe stepped out then and grabbed Harry's wrist, taking his wand from him. "We owe you," he sneered.
Personal revenge for him killing Voldemort was the worst motive and Harry knew it. It sounded like they wanted something much worse than killing him outright.
"You don't even remember me, do you?" the dark haired man asked, coming close enough to look into Harry's eyes.
"No," Harry answered truthfully. Neither of the men had answered his question and it was making him nervous now. "Am I supposed to?"
"Potter, too high and mighty to even know his classmates," the man sneered. "Take him," he snapped and Harry felt himself taken on a Side-Along Apparition.
All Harry could do was curse himself for being so stupid. He should've pulled his wand out sooner, fought back while he could and said anything to stop this before it happened. He was wandless and didn't even know where he was now. Gregory Goyle shoved him to his knees as the other two men appeared near them.
Harry's hands tightened into fists as he quickly looked around. There seemed to be at least four men around him now, and Harry began to tremble -- remembering the last time he had been this helpless. He tried not to let his fear show, trying to concentrate on what he could do to get away.
"The Boy-Who-Lived," the leader sneered. "Tie him to a chair."
Harry frowned as he was lifted and shoved into a chair. It was too much like what had happened with Lucius, except this time he could see his attackers. "What do you want?" Harry asked again, shifting and trying to struggle against the stronger men.
"Oh, he doesn't like that does he, Adrian?" Goyle said, laughing as he forced Harry's hands behind his back.
Harry grunted, but struggled as hard as he could, panting hard by the time they managed to pull his arms back. Adrian ... Adrian Pucey was a Slytherin a year ahead of him. That's who it must be.
They cast rope spells to tie him to the chair. "Pucey," Crabbe said. "Who gets first go at him?"
Harry froze again, quickly beginning to shake his head once he heard the words. Honestly, they could've meant anything, but he'd been captured by these kinds of people before. There were only so many things they could do to him. "No!" he shouted. Not again.
"I do," Pucey said, and his voice was low and cold.
"No, don't." Harry was struggling again, even though it was no use. The ropes were too tight, and he wasn't accomplishing anything but wearing himself out.
Pucey sauntered up to where Harry was bound. He crouched down in front of him. "So what is it that you are afraid we will do, Potter?"
"Don't touch me," Harry whispered, gritting his teeth to try to stop himself from shaking.
"So you aren't afraid I will use Cruciatus on you?" the man asked, smiling.
Harry thought he would rather the curse than have them touch him, but he didn't reply, managing to glare at Pucey.
The man laughed. "I will give you a choice, Potter," he said. "I can use the Cruciatus on you until you beg us to kill you. Or ...."
Harry swallowed, weighing his options. "Or what ...."
"Well," Pucey smiled, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle, "since you are such a Muggle lover, we could do things much more physically."
Harry stopped to think, realising that either way, he wouldn't like what happened to him. "The ... the spell," he whispered.
Pucey shook his head and stood up, casting Cruciatus on Harry and smiling while the man screamed in agony. It felt even worse because Harry was still tied to the chair. He couldn't writhe as freely as he wanted to, which kept him tense. It seemed to go on forever and Harry would have sworn he was ready to die, to do anything at that moment to stop the pain. Then suddenly it was gone. There was laughter from the other men.
"That still your choice?" Pucey asked.
Harry bit his lip, his head hanging as he panted. "N-no ..." he finally whispered. He knew they had him now. He couldn't endure the Cruciatus Curse and the longer he stayed alive, the better chance he had of getting away or maybe even someone coming for him. How long would it take before Draco realised he was missing? He was supposed to meet Ron, so help wouldn't come immediately. And then Draco would have to find him. Somehow he knew Draco would. He told himself that, trying to focus on getting through whatever the men would do.
Pucey reached a hand out and Crabbe handed him a knife. Harry looked away, not wanting to see what would happen next, even as small tremors continued to go through his body. He felt Pucey grab the front of his shirt. He brought the knife to Harry's neck then. Harry couldn't help but hold his breath, his eyes squeezing shut once he saw the knife.
He felt the knife shift and then it was tugging on the shirt and there was the sound of fabric ripping as the knife sawed down the front. Harry didn't breathe again until the knife had stopped. He still wasn't sure if this was a better choice than the spell, though. Pucey peeled his shirt back and yanked it away so that Harry's chest and shoulders were exposed. Harry shivered slightly in the cold of the room with his skin pimpling in fear as well.
Then the man reached to the bottom of Harry's trousers and began cutting up the inseam, exposing his legs. Harry's fear began to build even higher as the man continued to undress him, remembering why he had chosen the spell in the first place. The rational part of his mind was telling him to do whatever it took to survive, but the part of him that had been here before was screaming to do anything, even die, rather than submit again.
Pucey cut and tore until the trousers were open, then unfastened the waistband. Harry now sat wearing only the tattered scraps and his shorts.
"Wait," Harry said before he could stop himself. "Just ... don't ...." He didn't think it would help, but he wanted to say something.
"But you chose this, Potter," Pucey replied, smiling.
"Are there no other choices?" Harry asked, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
"Choices?" Pucey snorted, slowly running the blade of the knife along Harry's thigh, blood welling up in its wake. "My father is dead because of you and you ask me to give you choices?"
"Yes," Harry whispered, ignoring the pain from the knife. Draco had done worse.
"Fine," Pucey snapped. "Then I will. I can cut your balls off right now and feed them to you or you can suck my cock. Is that the kind of choice you want?"
Harry cringed, closing his eyes again. "No, it isn't," he mumbled, even though it was obvious which one he would choose.
Pucey used the knife to cut Harry's shorts open then, laughing bitterly as he did. "Time to make a decision," he told him, sliding the knife up his other thigh. Blood pooled on the seat of the wooden chair.
"I'll do the second one," Harry said quickly, once he felt the knife moving up too close for comfort.
Crabbe and Goyle laughed again, as Pucey stood and unbuttoned his trousers. Pucey grabbed Harry's hair, pulling him forward to his crotch.
Harry gritted his teeth as he was pulled close. He only ever wanted to do this with Draco, and even though he was being forced, he felt not only revulsion but an odd sense of guilt. After a long moment of hesitation, Harry opened his mouth for Pucey's cock, his eyes tightly shut.
Pucey pushed his cock into Harry's mouth. "Suck it or lose yours," he reminded him.
Harry shuddered at the thought. He did suck, moving as quickly as he could and using his tongue to press down in the right areas. Pucey's hand twisted in his hair, pulling hard and thrusting into him. Harry could've bitten down, but he didn't want to take the chance. He managed to keep up with him, tears only forming in the corners of his eyes when Pucey thrust a bit too hard a few times. After what felt like forever, Pucey emptied himself into Harry's mouth, grunting as he did. Harry swallowed as much as he could, trying to pull his head back as soon as he was done.
"My turn," Crabbe said beside him as Pucey stepped back.
"You only said yours!" Harry said, leaning back and shaking his head
"I only said I will castrate you if you don't do as I say," Pucey said, laughing. "And I still will. So give Vincent what he wants."
Harry made a pitiful sound, looking down at his lap. "Why are you doing this?" he gasped.
Crabbe backhanded Harry. "Fucking moron," he cursed.
Harry's head snapped to the side and he could almost immediately taste the blood and feel his lip begin to tingle and then swell.
"Thinks he's so important. Well now, let's see how special you are," Crabbe sneered.
Harry let his head rest on his shoulder, finally looking up at Crabbe through his hair. "You're just jealous," he said.
"Suck it," Crabbe ordered as he displayed himself to Harry.
Harry thought of completely refusing for a moment, but then he glanced over at Pucey and remembered his threat. Slowly, Harry leaned forward and pulled Crabbe into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could, torn between hoping the man wouldn't last long at all and the knowledge that he had to draw this out so they didn't kill him yet.
Chapter Title: An Errand
Words: 1903 Words
Harry left Fred and George's shop with yet another big smile on his face. He loved delivering the potions to them because they were so thankful and ecstatic to see him with a box every week.
He stepped outside and was about to head to the Leaky Cauldron when he remembered that he had to go to the Apothecary today for a few ingredients. Pulling out a list from his cloak, he turned down the street and began to walk there.
A little bell rang when he opened the door to the shop. The old man that ran the place wasn't behind the counter. Mr Smellers usually greeted Harry by name. Harry looked around to see where the man was. "Hello?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. If the shop wasn't open, why leave the door unlocked?
Before he knew what was happening, a hand closed on the hair at the back of his head and a wand was pointed at his throat from behind. "Don't move," a voice growled.
Harry went still, one hand already reaching for his wand. "Let me go," he yelled, gripping his wand, heart speeding up in fear.
A dark haired man stepped out of the back room laughing, his wand also pointed at Harry. "Draw it, Potter," he taunted. "Because once we have you Body-Bound, it will get really interesting."
"What do you want?" Harry asked. At first he had hoped it was a robbery or something, yet the person was calling him by name, which meant it could be personal.
Vincent Crabbe stepped out then and grabbed Harry's wrist, taking his wand from him. "We owe you," he sneered.
Personal revenge for him killing Voldemort was the worst motive and Harry knew it. It sounded like they wanted something much worse than killing him outright.
"You don't even remember me, do you?" the dark haired man asked, coming close enough to look into Harry's eyes.
"No," Harry answered truthfully. Neither of the men had answered his question and it was making him nervous now. "Am I supposed to?"
"Potter, too high and mighty to even know his classmates," the man sneered. "Take him," he snapped and Harry felt himself taken on a Side-Along Apparition.
All Harry could do was curse himself for being so stupid. He should've pulled his wand out sooner, fought back while he could and said anything to stop this before it happened. He was wandless and didn't even know where he was now. Gregory Goyle shoved him to his knees as the other two men appeared near them.
Harry's hands tightened into fists as he quickly looked around. There seemed to be at least four men around him now, and Harry began to tremble -- remembering the last time he had been this helpless. He tried not to let his fear show, trying to concentrate on what he could do to get away.
"The Boy-Who-Lived," the leader sneered. "Tie him to a chair."
Harry frowned as he was lifted and shoved into a chair. It was too much like what had happened with Lucius, except this time he could see his attackers. "What do you want?" Harry asked again, shifting and trying to struggle against the stronger men.
"Oh, he doesn't like that does he, Adrian?" Goyle said, laughing as he forced Harry's hands behind his back.
Harry grunted, but struggled as hard as he could, panting hard by the time they managed to pull his arms back. Adrian ... Adrian Pucey was a Slytherin a year ahead of him. That's who it must be.
They cast rope spells to tie him to the chair. "Pucey," Crabbe said. "Who gets first go at him?"
Harry froze again, quickly beginning to shake his head once he heard the words. Honestly, they could've meant anything, but he'd been captured by these kinds of people before. There were only so many things they could do to him. "No!" he shouted. Not again.
"I do," Pucey said, and his voice was low and cold.
"No, don't." Harry was struggling again, even though it was no use. The ropes were too tight, and he wasn't accomplishing anything but wearing himself out.
Pucey sauntered up to where Harry was bound. He crouched down in front of him. "So what is it that you are afraid we will do, Potter?"
"Don't touch me," Harry whispered, gritting his teeth to try to stop himself from shaking.
"So you aren't afraid I will use Cruciatus on you?" the man asked, smiling.
Harry thought he would rather the curse than have them touch him, but he didn't reply, managing to glare at Pucey.
The man laughed. "I will give you a choice, Potter," he said. "I can use the Cruciatus on you until you beg us to kill you. Or ...."
Harry swallowed, weighing his options. "Or what ...."
"Well," Pucey smiled, glancing at Crabbe and Goyle, "since you are such a Muggle lover, we could do things much more physically."
Harry stopped to think, realising that either way, he wouldn't like what happened to him. "The ... the spell," he whispered.
Pucey shook his head and stood up, casting Cruciatus on Harry and smiling while the man screamed in agony. It felt even worse because Harry was still tied to the chair. He couldn't writhe as freely as he wanted to, which kept him tense. It seemed to go on forever and Harry would have sworn he was ready to die, to do anything at that moment to stop the pain. Then suddenly it was gone. There was laughter from the other men.
"That still your choice?" Pucey asked.
Harry bit his lip, his head hanging as he panted. "N-no ..." he finally whispered. He knew they had him now. He couldn't endure the Cruciatus Curse and the longer he stayed alive, the better chance he had of getting away or maybe even someone coming for him. How long would it take before Draco realised he was missing? He was supposed to meet Ron, so help wouldn't come immediately. And then Draco would have to find him. Somehow he knew Draco would. He told himself that, trying to focus on getting through whatever the men would do.
Pucey reached a hand out and Crabbe handed him a knife. Harry looked away, not wanting to see what would happen next, even as small tremors continued to go through his body. He felt Pucey grab the front of his shirt. He brought the knife to Harry's neck then. Harry couldn't help but hold his breath, his eyes squeezing shut once he saw the knife.
He felt the knife shift and then it was tugging on the shirt and there was the sound of fabric ripping as the knife sawed down the front. Harry didn't breathe again until the knife had stopped. He still wasn't sure if this was a better choice than the spell, though. Pucey peeled his shirt back and yanked it away so that Harry's chest and shoulders were exposed. Harry shivered slightly in the cold of the room with his skin pimpling in fear as well.
Then the man reached to the bottom of Harry's trousers and began cutting up the inseam, exposing his legs. Harry's fear began to build even higher as the man continued to undress him, remembering why he had chosen the spell in the first place. The rational part of his mind was telling him to do whatever it took to survive, but the part of him that had been here before was screaming to do anything, even die, rather than submit again.
Pucey cut and tore until the trousers were open, then unfastened the waistband. Harry now sat wearing only the tattered scraps and his shorts.
"Wait," Harry said before he could stop himself. "Just ... don't ...." He didn't think it would help, but he wanted to say something.
"But you chose this, Potter," Pucey replied, smiling.
"Are there no other choices?" Harry asked, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
"Choices?" Pucey snorted, slowly running the blade of the knife along Harry's thigh, blood welling up in its wake. "My father is dead because of you and you ask me to give you choices?"
"Yes," Harry whispered, ignoring the pain from the knife. Draco had done worse.
"Fine," Pucey snapped. "Then I will. I can cut your balls off right now and feed them to you or you can suck my cock. Is that the kind of choice you want?"
Harry cringed, closing his eyes again. "No, it isn't," he mumbled, even though it was obvious which one he would choose.
Pucey used the knife to cut Harry's shorts open then, laughing bitterly as he did. "Time to make a decision," he told him, sliding the knife up his other thigh. Blood pooled on the seat of the wooden chair.
"I'll do the second one," Harry said quickly, once he felt the knife moving up too close for comfort.
Crabbe and Goyle laughed again, as Pucey stood and unbuttoned his trousers. Pucey grabbed Harry's hair, pulling him forward to his crotch.
Harry gritted his teeth as he was pulled close. He only ever wanted to do this with Draco, and even though he was being forced, he felt not only revulsion but an odd sense of guilt. After a long moment of hesitation, Harry opened his mouth for Pucey's cock, his eyes tightly shut.
Pucey pushed his cock into Harry's mouth. "Suck it or lose yours," he reminded him.
Harry shuddered at the thought. He did suck, moving as quickly as he could and using his tongue to press down in the right areas. Pucey's hand twisted in his hair, pulling hard and thrusting into him. Harry could've bitten down, but he didn't want to take the chance. He managed to keep up with him, tears only forming in the corners of his eyes when Pucey thrust a bit too hard a few times. After what felt like forever, Pucey emptied himself into Harry's mouth, grunting as he did. Harry swallowed as much as he could, trying to pull his head back as soon as he was done.
"My turn," Crabbe said beside him as Pucey stepped back.
"You only said yours!" Harry said, leaning back and shaking his head
"I only said I will castrate you if you don't do as I say," Pucey said, laughing. "And I still will. So give Vincent what he wants."
Harry made a pitiful sound, looking down at his lap. "Why are you doing this?" he gasped.
Crabbe backhanded Harry. "Fucking moron," he cursed.
Harry's head snapped to the side and he could almost immediately taste the blood and feel his lip begin to tingle and then swell.
"Thinks he's so important. Well now, let's see how special you are," Crabbe sneered.
Harry let his head rest on his shoulder, finally looking up at Crabbe through his hair. "You're just jealous," he said.
"Suck it," Crabbe ordered as he displayed himself to Harry.
Harry thought of completely refusing for a moment, but then he glanced over at Pucey and remembered his threat. Slowly, Harry leaned forward and pulled Crabbe into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could, torn between hoping the man wouldn't last long at all and the knowledge that he had to draw this out so they didn't kill him yet.