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Beauty is a Beast	By : Lenora Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 4134 -:- 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 make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Beauty is a Beast
- 1
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Dudley would have been a wizard so it’s obvious that I don’t own it. Please don’t sue me for my back scratcher.
A/N: This is my first challenge response, please review.

Summary: For TSS Contest #5 Challenge #4. The War is over and done with; however, every time Hermione Granger looks in the mirror, she is reminded of the Final Battle. Can anyone love this beast?
Author: Lenora Lupin
Rating: R
2nd A/N: Italics are for thoughts, dreams, and emphasis.

Beauty is a Beast

Hermione Granger stood a little off to the side as she surveyed the damage made by the battle. Hermione sighed in relief when she saw that her best friends were still standing. However, sounds of grief filled the air as the surviving members of the Order searched the bodies for loved ones.
“NO! Severus no! Wake up Severus!” cried the very familiar voice of Hermione’s best friend, Harry Potter-Snape. Hermione whirled around to see Harry clutching the body of his husband as he pleaded with the Potions Master to wake up.
“Charlie? Draco?” yelled the voice of Hermione’s other best friend Ron Weasley. He was searching through the sea of bodies for his brother and brother-in-law. Hermione began searching as well when neither of the men answered Ron’s call. Hermione felt her heart kip a beat when she saw a flash of platinum blonde hair a few feet away.
“Draco,” she said in relief, running over to him. A gasp escaped her lips when the wizard looked up at her. “Lucius,” she hissed. “Ro-” she was cut off by a flash of yellow light aimed for her face…
Hermione Granger sprang up in her bed, panting heavily. For once, she wasn’t cursing the buzzer of her muggle alarm clock. Reaching over to turn it off, she patted it lovingly. “Thank you old friend,” she whispered. She climbed out of her Queen Size bed and she stumbled to the bathroom.
“Good morning lovely,” the wizarding mirror greeted cheerfully. The mirror only received mumbles for its trouble.
Hermione showered quickly and she walked back into her room in only a towel. She dressed quickly and she walked into the living room while brushing her hair. Once the thick mass of hair was brushed to her satisfaction, Hermione waved her wand and the hair was twisted into a braid. Once her hair was secured for the day, she settled a silk scarf over her head. While still fixing the scarf so that it covered her face completely, she walked out of the house, locking the door behind her.
While Hermione might not have a long list of errands to do each week, she loved being out and about in the little Muggle village that she lived in. Due to the veil she wore whenever she left the house, most of the muggles just assumed that she was a devout Muslim woman that lived alone. And Hermione had never said anything to dispute their claims. She actually preferred it that way. Occasionally, a child would come to her house hoping to catch a glimpse of the hideously scarred woman that lived there. Hermione felt like the Grinch from that muggle movie during those times.
Anyway, on this particular day Hermione was on her way home from the store carrying a bag of groceries when she felt a hard push on her back.
“MUSLIM SLUT!” a teen’s voice yelled. Hermione whirled around to see a small group of teenage boys gathered around her.
“Yeah! It’s your people’s entire fault that we’re at war. Go back to Iraq and Afghanistan! We don’t want you here!” another teen cried.
Hermione opened her mouth to reply but she was cut off by a sharp kick to the side. The teens closed in on her as soon as she curled in to protect herself.
XxXxX
Narcissa Black-formally Malfoy- was walking in the village near one of her family’s many homes just admiring the beauty of the area when she heard something disturbing.
“MUSLIM SLUT...It’s your people’s entire fault we’re at war…Go back to Iraq and Afghanistan…We don’t want you here!”
Narcissa was appalled that someone could scream such things at another person. Narcissa had been sickened at the attack against the United States on September 11, 2001 as much as the next person, but she didn’t go around blaming an entire culture for it. Narcissa was grateful that her husband wasn’t around to see this…he’d probably join in. With intent to stop whatever was going on, Narcissa picked up her skirts and she rushed towards where the sounds were coming from.
But even what Narcissa was imagining was not nearly as bad as what she saw when she turned the corner. Four teenage boys were grouped around a huddling Muslim woman and were either kicking or punching her or even doing both. “Stop!” Narcissa ordered. “Stop right now or I’ll call the bobbies!”
The teens stopped, looked at Narcissa, and took off running. She ignored them in favor of the woman who was still huddled in the fetal position in the street. Narcissa took great care to not startle the woman as she kneeled next to her. “Is she okay?” a woman asked after walking out of her store.
“Get the healer,” Narcissa said. The woman nodded and she rushed off down the street. Narcissa laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly, helping the woman into a sitting position.
“Yes, I am fine,” answered a mechanical voice. Narcissa blinked, she had seen the woman a couple times in the village and she had never heard her speak. She now knew why. The woman was mute and used a magical implant to help her speak.
“Would you like a medi-witch?” Narcissa asked quietly. The woman shook her head.
“No, I am fine,” the woman said.
“Well at least let me walk you back home,” Narcissa offered. The woman looked at her for a moment, before nodding.
“Thank you, I would like that.”
The two women picked up the groceries and began walking down the street. Thoughts whirled around in Narcissa’s mind as the women walked. She was pulled out of her musings when the other woman stopped in front of a charming cottage. “Oh it’s lovely,” Narcissa said softly, wonder creeping into her voice.
“Thank you. Would you like to come in?”
“I would love to,” replied Narcissa. The two were soon inside the cottage. Narcissa removed her coat and turned to face the woman. She gasped.
Standing before her was Hermione Granger, older and even more beautiful than the last time Narcissa had seen her, right after the final battle when Narcissa had volunteered to help in St. Mungo’s. The woman’s glossy brown hair looked every bit as healthy as the woman and her brown eyes stared at the blonde woman sadly.
“I know I am hideous, but can you please not stare,” Hermione begged, her brown eyes pleading.
“Hermione Granger! I do not want you to say that ever again! You are not hideous. You were harmed by a horrible man I was unfortunately married to for twenty-three years. Besides,” Narcissa said, a wan smile on her face, “You’re not the only one he favored with that particular spell.” Narcissa lifted the skirt of her dress to show Hermione a large, ugly puckered scar that twisted around her calf to end just under her kneecap. “He gave me this when the medi-witch informed us that Draco’s birth was too strenuous for me to successfully give birth to another child. My husband was a Slytherin through and through. He wanted at least two boys in case one of them proved ineligible to take over the family.” She pulled back the long sleeves of her dress, showing several ugly scars on her arms. “He gave me these when Draco married the Weasley boy…and this when Draco carried their child,” she said, baring her collarbone where scars spelt out the word ‘Bitch.’ Narcissa looked up when she felt a soft touch on that mutilated piece of flesh.
“I’m sorry Narcissa,” Hermione said softly, caressing the scar.
Narcissa looked up and into Hermione’s chocolate brown eyes. “It’s an old hurt and I’ve come to accept that Lucius was a sick bastard. I did nothing to deserve what he did to me, but he did it and I cannot change it. Just like what he did to you is not your fault. You’re beautiful, inside and out.” Narcissa looked at the clock over the mantle. “It’s almost time for dinner. You are welcome any time you wish to come to the house. I live in the Black Manor house up the road. But I must be going or the cook will serve me cold tomato soup like she did when I was a child and was late for dinner.”
“That sounds horrible,” Hermione said. Narcissa chuckled.
“Not really, it just taught me not to be late to dinner. Trust me, Cook cares about me. She always made sure I ate if I was late to dinner. Once I married Lucius, if I was late to dinner, I didn’t eat. Well I’m off,” she said, walking to the door.
“Mrs. Malfoy-”
“Narcissa,” she insisted.
“Narcissa…I would be honored to come to your home for dinner. Just…not tonight. I will see you,” Hermione said, watching Narcissa walk out the door and down the road. “You’re not how I remember you,” she said softly. She closed the door and turned back to her living room.
XxXxX
It was a week before Hermione had worked up the courage to go to Narcissa’s home for dinner. She wrote a note to Narcissa to let her know that she would be coming to dinner. She searched her closet frantically for something to wear.
Wait, she thought, why am I getting so worked up by this? It’s just a dinner. Dinner with the former wife of the man that cursed me. Dinner with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She groaned. Hermione had hoped to find friendship with another woman again. She missed the companionship of having a female friend after the final battle when her closest female friend, Ginny, had been killed. “Oh for heavens sake Hermione, it’s not even like she sees girls like that!” she muttered. Quickly dressing, Hermione put her veil on and walked to Narcissa’s manor house. Once she reached the beautiful home, she knocked.
The door opened to reveal a butler around Narcissa’s age. “May I help you?”
“I am Hermione Granger. Narcissa invited me to dinner,” Hermione said, feeling self-conscious about her mechanical sounding voice. The man nodded and he stepped back to allow Hermione inside the house.
“Mistress Narcissa is in the den. I will take you there,” he said, leading her through the halls. Hermione’s eyes roamed the walls as they walked, taking in the portraits of the Black ancestors. In what seemed like no time, the butler stopped before a closed door. After knocking, he opened it. “A Miss Hermione Granger, Mistress Narcissa.”
“Oh good, send her in,” said the familiar voice of Narcissa Black. Hermione walked into the room and she felt a sense of awe take her over. Though it wasn’t quite as grand as Malfoy Manor, Draco had shown her a few pictures of it, Black Manor was quite splendid. “Welcome Hermione,” Narcissa said. “How do you like my home?”
“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said, gazing around.
Narcissa smiled and she moved to the door that connected the den to the hall. “Could you inform Cook that we’re ready to begin,” Narcissa said. The butler nodded and he moved off towards the kitchen. “I’m very glad that you decided to come,” the blonde woman said, as she led Hermione into the other room.
“You invited me,” Hermione pointed out. Narcissa’s smile dimmed slightly, so she only came out of politeness, she thought. “And I so wanted to see your home…and I wanted to see you again,” Hermione said, smiling shyly.
The elder woman felt her spirits rise at those words, and she mentally kicked herself for getting her hopes up about the lovely young woman before her. “Shall we sit?” she asked. Hermione nodded and two of the footmen appeared to help the women sit down.
The two women ate a wonderful meal and they conversed avidly throughout the five courses. The servants kept the wine flowing because they hoped that it would help their mistress be able to talk to the woman that had kept Narcissa so animated and happy for the last couple weeks. They hoped that Miss Granger would stay a while…maybe forever.
“Ya know, H’rmione,” Narcissa said, slurring her words as she leaned foreword, “I c’uldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you. So beaut’ful.”
Hermione blushed; Narcissa had obviously had much more wine than she had if she was calling the younger woman beautiful. Hermione had no illusions about what she looked like; the curse that had hit her disfigured her for life. She got up from the table and she walked over to the blonde. “Narcissa, I think you’d better lay down. You’re starting to talk nonsense. You’re calling me beautiful again.” She reached for Narcissa’s hand to help her up but instead found herself tugged foreword into Narcissa’s lap. “Narcissa what-”
“Shu up!” Narcissa slurred, covering Hermione’s lips with her own. “Star’ing to love you. Love you ‘Mione,” Narcissa giggled before passing out, her head falling onto Hermione’s chest.
Hermione nodded to one of the footmen and the two of them helped the blonde woman up the stairs and into her bedchamber. Noticing a writing desk in the room, Hermione rushed to it and she wrote out a short note. Leaving it next to the blonde’s head, the brunette kissed the sleeping woman on the cheek and walked out, closing the door behind her.
XxXxX
The next morning, Narcissa woke up to a pounding head and a dry throat. She fumbled around in the bedside table for a vial of potion that she had confiscated from Draco years before. Knowing it was one of Severus’ potions and had a forever fresh charm on the glass, she tipped it back. Sighing in relief, she opened her eyes without risking damage to them. Once she did, she noticed a folded piece of her writing stationary sitting beside her head. Reaching over, she opened it.
Narcissa,
I just wanted to thank you for dinner last night, I had a lot of fun. However, you might want to talk to the servants, I think they set you up. I would love to come back another time to continue where we left off before you fell asleep. Meminisse Memoria (1) might help you remember what I was talking about. By the way, I feel the same way about you.
Yours,
Hermione
Narcissa read the note, said the spell, and she lay back against the pillows with a silly smile on her face. “Hmm…perhaps I should give the servants a bonus…” she mused.

FIN

1. Remember memory
- 1
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Beauty is a Beast