AN: Written for Secret Battles Competition (Round 2). I do not own Harry Potter. Prompts: Scarlet, hunger, fear, nightmare, startle, Angst, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco Malfoy, "Let me go," "You broke my heart," Beauty and the Beast AU, RegulusBarty(Jr.).

…

It had all happened within a matter of moments. At first, he was running, as fast as his legs could take him in the snow and dark, and then there was shouting behind him, and pain. So much pain. Draco had tried to escape from the clutches of the evil Beast inside, but she had eyes and ears all over. There was no doubt about that now.

Her cronies grasp him roughly by the biceps, and Draco winces, looking down at his right arm. Scarlet bleeds all over his shirtsleeve. "Let me go," he demands, and he struggles the best he can in the snow. They're taking him back to her. Fear roots itself in the pit of his stomach.

They drop him unceremoniously on the cold marble floor of the entrance hall, his knees slamming on the floor. They continue to hold his arms, as one of the men holding him startles Draco with his voice. "Oi! Black, Crouch! Cut it out will you?"

Two shadows move from the dark recesses of the hall, and out into the brighter light. They are two men, fixing their collars and zipping up their pants, no burn of shame on their faces from what they have obviously been doing. "Do we make you uncomfortable, Nott?" one of them asks, as he pushes back his wavy hair from his forehead.

"You two might as well get a room, if you're going to do that, Regulus," Nott replies. "None of us want to see it."

"Aw, come on. We were just having a little fun," says Regulus' companion, a thin, gaunt looking man. "And speaking of fun, look what we have here." He walks forward, toward Draco, and stops to lean down in front of him. Draco can see the bite marks and bruises on the man's neck, and he averts his gaze to the floor when he feels a finger under his chin. "Look, Reg, already on his hands and knees for us."

"He's not for you, Crouch! He's for the Lady. He ran away."

"Oh? Then she'll straighten you up better than we ever could." Regulus laughs cruelly as Crouch withdraws his finger and goes back to stand with him. Nott makes a noise of disgust as the two go back at it, their lips mashing together. Draco is torn from the floor and dragged up the grand staircase, heading all the way down the center hallway, towards a door in the back.

One of the men releases his hold on Draco for a moment, and knocks on the sturdy oak door. A sultry voice bids them to enter.

"Here he is, Lady Bellatrix. We found him running away, just like you said," says Nott in a strong, confident voice. "We thought you'd like to deal with him yourself."

The woman sitting at the desk in front of them, grins. "Yes. Thank you, Nott, Alexander. You may leave."

The two scurry out, leaving Draco to stand all by himself. His arm throbs as she hungrily looks him up and down, like a wolf. "You ran away, again? At first I thought my guards were lying, but when I looked out the window and saw for myself, you broke my heart," she says after a while of silence, her brown eyes boring into his grey ones.

"I'm not yours! I'm not yours and I never will be. Don't you understand? I'm not your plaything. I deserve better than being locked up in a cell. I'm your nephew for Merlin's sake!"

Bellatrix rolls her eyes. "What have you been doing? Reading Muggle fairytales? As long as you are under this roof, you don't get a choice!"

Draco glares at her for a second, before turning his eyes away, knowing how strong her anger can get. His eyes fall on the slightly open balcony window less than ten feet away, and thinks, that's where you're wrong. I do have a choice.

Draco knows the hard impact and impending broken bones from the fall is ten times better than being here because all he has is cruel, evil Bellatrix. He's got no one else. He's going.

He runs for the balcony window, shoving it open wide and pitching himself over, faster than his aunt can even comprehend. But instead of the crunch of bones he's expecting, Draco keeps falling and falling and falling deeper into the black void that's surrounded him.

He twists in the air, flailing his arms wildly, and screams. He screams and suddenly finds himself thrashing in his safe, warm bed, the covers tossed and hanging precariously over the edge. There is no pain in his arm, and Draco breathes a sigh of relief. He falls back against his pillow.

It was all just a nightmare.

A cruel, cruel nightmare.

…