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Lost in the Tale	By : sappysappysappy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 6456 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not profit from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Warning: this chapter contains a character's death.

Chapter One – Murky Beginnings

Sarah wandered into the back garden feeling full. She made a face. When she was grown up she wouldn't force anybody to eat beans and sausage. She wouldn't be that mean. Everybody was still milling around the burned house at Spinner's End. Sarah's nose wrinkled. The whole neighbourhood stank from the fire now. She could see Jeremiah and Millie there. Jeremiah would probably try to say this proved the house was really haunted. Sarah snorted. She knew the truth. Vagrants had found out that the house was deserted and camped there on a regular basis. She saw them sneaking in from time to time trying to look like they had any business there. One of them probably wasn't careful and set the whole place on fire. Serves him right.

Father said it was a gas explosion. He heard it from the authorities. He told mother anybody who still used gas after all the disasters last year was completely bonkers. In Sarah's opinion, the authorities called accidents gas explosions so they wouldn't have to do any investigating. Mother thought so too. Why would they keep an abandoned house connected to the gas? It was silly. But father told Northern Gas to buzz off and bought a coal stove. He didn't trust them any.

She thought she remembered the owner of the 'haunted' house. A black haired fellow, tall and thin with a pasty, angry face. He was interesting and mysterious, unlike Jeremiah's silly ghosts and bogeys. Didn't go out much and was seldom there. But she hasn't seen him in over a year. He was probably gone. Dead, or moved somewhere.

Sarah climbed her oak. There wouldn't be any fire stink up there. It was much better than that old house. It was magical with life and beauty, not spookiness and abandonment. And up there she could read and not have to listen to Jeremiah's ramblings. She wanted to start The Count of Monte Cristo again. She wondered if the school suspected what happened to it, not that there was anybody there now that it was summer.

Suddenly her hand felt something. Parting the leaves she discovered a tatty old book lodged in a tree branch. Delighted, she pulled it to her. Now here was good magic. Settling in her secret spot, surrounded by green leaves from all sides, she examined her find.

It was an old fairy-tales book. When she opened the cover, pages started falling out of it in big chunks. She tried to catch them but at her touch they turned to dust and vanished. All that remained of the book, she saw, was the Beauty and the Beast tale. She touched the pages, feather-light, fearing that they too would vanish away, but they were all right. Sarah smiled. She hasn't read this story in years.

Placing the book on her knees she started reading.

Once upon a time, there lived a Prince. He did not have much, for his kingdom was small and its lands poor, but he had a good mind and a true heart. One day he met a princess from the neighbouring kingdom. The princess was beautiful and kindly and the Prince fell in love with her. The princess liked him well enough but when he asked for her hand, the princess refused him. She told him she couldn't marry him because, although he was a Prince, he was poor and ugly. Surely, the Prince argued, with his clever mind he could gain riches enough to satisfy her? He vowed that all that he had and all that he will ever have would hers. But the princess refused him again. Perhaps one day, she told him, he wouldn't be poor, but he will always be too ugly to be her husband. So saying, the princess left him and soon after married another prince, one that was rich and handsome enough for her tastes.

Broken hearted, the Prince returned to his castle and swore never to love again. Many years he lived alone in his castle with only a few faithful servants to serve him. Though he became wise and powerful he did not find happiness, for his heart never stopped longing for the one he lost.

Among the Prince's servants there was an envious and knavish fellow called Cuff who, wishing to have the Prince's castle for himself, plotted to get rid of him. One day, finding the Prince distracted, he hit his master with a cudgel, put a curse of forgetfulness on him, broke his magical sceptre to pieces and banished him into a distant land.

*~*~*

Far away, in a cold and forbidding forest that stretched for many leagues, there lay hidden an enchanted castle, too lovely to behold, where winter never entered. Behind this castle grew a lovely garden where the loveliest and most fragrant flowers of the land grew. Loveliest of them all were the tall rose bushes at the heart of the garden.

Dawn stole into the beautiful rose garden. Sleepy birds peeked from under their wings and cooed softly to greet the new day. In the grass below, a field-mouse raised his quivering snout timidly to test the day. Down the gravelled path strolled a monstrous Beast, half wolf, half pig, all teeth and bristles, walking on its two hind-legs in semblance of Man and took a gentle huff from the rose-bushes, sighing mightily. All was peaceful in the garden.

Nearby, a naked man woke with a splitting headache and came inches from skewering himself on one of the lovely rose-bushes. Stifling a yell, he looked around him and spied the ghastly beast coming his way. Whispering "Werewolf!" in horrified panic, the man silently retreated until, with a crow of delight, he came across a tool-shed from which he nipped after short deliberation a heavy shovel.

Hiding behind one of the bushes he waited for the Beast to appear. And appear it did, hands clasped behind its back, a red rose behind its ear and smiling a very toothy little smile. With a yell, the man sprang forth and swung his shovel at its head with all his might. The Beast didn't have time to defend itself. A crunching sound filled the air and its head turned in an unnatural angle. The Beast fell to the ground, dead.

The birds took flight, screeching. The field-mouse ran to the other end of the garden and hid. The bushes rustled in the wind. Death has entered the garden.

The man took a heavy breath and sat down on the path.

Where was he? Who was that awful beast? He couldn't remember anything. His mind was a blank. Even his own name was lost to him. He stared at the ugly corpse beside him and retched. What was he to do? This day hasn't started well. He was in someone's garden, he was stark naked with only a stolen shovel to his name, he'd just killed some nameless beast and his head was killing him. He touched his forehead and found a goose-egg there. It bloody hurt.

The Beast was probably someone's beloved pet, he thought. Or maybe even the gentle owner of the place, under a curse. Nah, not bloody likely. That Beast was malevolent. It would have torn him to pieces if he'd let it. If anyone tried to accuse him of killing it he'd bloody tell them it was bloody self-defence, nothing more and nothing less. Maybe he was the owner of this place. All he did was defend his property from dangerous beasts. That sounded better.

Deciding not to take unnecessary risks, he hefted the shovel and, sweating profusely, dug a deep pit. Dragging the Beast to it he shoved it in and covered it with dirt, finishing the job with handfuls of leaves and gravel to hide his handiwork.

It was midmorning. The naked man looked down on himself. He was all covered in dirt and sweat and bruised from his work. Down the path he went, not looking back, leaving the shovel where he found it. The rose bushes turned into peonies, then to an open meadow with Elder trees, touch-me-nots and primroses. In the middle tinkled a small stream lined with willows and myrtles and ending in a crystal-clear pond. The man hurried to pond and washed himself in it until, at last, he felt clean.

Climbing to the top of a nearby hillock, he surveyed his surroundings. The garden stretched around him, beautiful and serene. Across the stream he could see orchards full of fruits and colour. Behind him, in the direction the Beast came from, was a bright palace built in a rococo style. He noticed a tree-lined avenue leading out from its other side. It led into a misty coniferous forest that he could now see surrounded the grounds from all sides.

Choosing a different path from the one he came from, he approached the palace. Glass doors in ornate metal frames opened into a mirror-lined ballroom with frescoed ceiling. Gathering his courage, he entered, his privates covered with held leaves, into the palace.

The overdone Master Bedroom wasn't hard to find. The gilded closet was filled to the brim with spiffy suits of clothes in turquoise and sunny yellow colours. The man scowled. Who the devil would want to wear such travesties? Gritting his teeth angrily he admitted to himself that it was going to be him. He needed clothes and these were his only options. Turning his back on the mirror, he donned them. There was one thing missing, though. Namely, shoes, and socks for that matter. There didn't seem to be any about. Finally giving up in disgust he left the room barefooted.

Feeling even more naked encased in these dapper clothes than when he was nude, he searched the palace more thoroughly. As he walked its halls he realized that nothing felt familiar about it. There was no tingle of recollection, no feeling of belonging. He looked down at his clothes. They were definitely not his style, whatever that happened to be. This wasn't his home.

He let his hand glide over the gilded back of an ornate chair a sighed. Who was he, then? He went back to the empty ballroom and looked for a long time at himself in a mirror. He was a tall man, thin and angular. His skin was pale as parchment; his hair, black as coal. His face was framed by shoulder-length curtains of shiny, oily hair. From its midst a prominent aquiline nose thrust out. He fingered it for a moment before, with a decisive gesture, brushed the hair away from his face. Two black eyes returned his gaze, blank as his memory, empty as his identity. There were no answers in them. He examined his hands. His fingers were long and delicate. The hands of an artist, or a scholar mayhap? But that wasn't enough. He took off his tunic and kneaded his arms and chest. They weren't muscular but there was a wiry strength in his arms, a hardness to his chest beneath the thick mat of black hairs that covered it.

He put his clothes back on. He was a nameless man in an empty palace. Empty and yet well tended. He turned around in a circle. "Who are you? Show yourselves." he shouted. The utter silence of the house mocked him. Angry, he paced in front of the mirror. "Well, I claim this place. Might as well, since, no one else is here to do it. By right of conquest if that beast was your master, and by the undisputed right of necessity, since I have no other place to be in," he laughed bitterly. "What say you, will the invisible servants serve the nameless stranger? It would be fitting, wouldn't it?"

The air stirred in a soft whisper. No other reply could be heard. Silence, once more, claimed the edifice. The nameless man left the ballroom. Returning to the Master's bedroom, he took off his clothes and lay beneath the covers in the soft bed. Sleep did not come easily to him. He felt rudderless and without hope. What was his challenge just now but empty defiance? He had no aim and he had no name. Without them his life would be utterly meaningless. Disconsolately, he fell asleep.

Sarah put the book down. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go. Poor gentle Beast was dead and in his place an interloper now lived in Beast's lovely castle. Though, he did remind her of the Beast a little. Maybe he belonged in a Beauty and the Beast tale. Not that that justified what he did. More importantly, she was captivated. She wanted to know what happened to the nameless man who must be the heartbroken prince from before. He sounded so hopeless near the end. He's killed Beast, but on the other hand… he didn't know the Beast was harmless. The Beast was very frightful looking. It took Belle ages to accept him. Sarah pursed her lips.

The problem was, there was nothing there after he fell asleep. The pages after the last line were blank. It was almost as if the book was waiting for something.

"Sarah Miller! Are you hiding up there? Come down, you have to wash up before dinner." Her mother called from the door.

Sarah almost yelped but managed to keep her silence.

"I know you're up there. I'm giving you five minutes before I bring the ladder."

It was an empty threat. Mum almost never brought the ladder but Sarah didn't want to test her. It would ruin her secret place to have mum moving the branches and letting the sun in. She looked back at the book and bit her lip. What to do? A certain idea was brewing in her mind and she decided to go with it. She pulled the Bag of Treasures to her. The Bag of Treasures was her old schoolbag where she kept her secret tree-treasures. Fishing her purple pen from it she hanged the bag back in its place and chewed on her pen thoughtfully. In the Beauty and the Beast story she knew, there was this good fairy who would scold Belle in her dreams for her foolishness and tell her what she should do. She liked that fairy. Without her there would have been no happy ending. She started writing.

The good Fairy Treesong appeared in his dreams. She was a stout little fairy gowned in a majestic dress of leaves and acorns from the wise oaks of eld.

The fairy spoke to the man. "You have acted in a beastly manner toward the gentle Beast, nameless one. Therefore I name you Beast. Like Adam you have woken in a Garden of Eden and sinned there dreadfully. Therefore I name you Adam. Henceforth you will be Adam Beast."

The fairy has spoken and it was so.

Treesong stared sternly at Adam Beast. "The Beast whom you have killed was set a task. His palace and its servants were cursed along with him until he fulfilled that task. Therefore, if you wish to find happiness, if you wish to be accepted as the rightful owner of this palace, you must complete that task in his stead. The task is this. You must find a woman who will love you and wed you willingly. No coercion can you use. No trickery. If you do not fulfil this task, in the end your fate will be the same as that of the Beast you so ignorantly slew.

Treesong left Adam Beast to his rest and flew to the garden. On the Beast's grave she planted forget-me-nots. Summoning his spirit, she blessed it with the name Gentle Love.
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Lost in the Tale