AN: My attempt at a romance fairytale. Beauty and the Beast, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Takes place several months after the Final Battle. I have never been good at writing short stories but here it goes and you'll on Fanfic .net have been teaching me how to write romance. This will have two or three parts, under 20K.

Preamble

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, much to Madam Pince's horror.

He ran through the stacks. The war was over but none of them had found rest. Harry couldn't shake his nightmares, Ron was directionless, and Hermione had become obsessed with finding a way to restoring her parents' memory.

But Hermione's spell work had been too good, her memory charm was irreversible.

There was nothing to be done.

Nothing.

"Hermione!" Harry roared, sprinting into the restricted section, he could see her bag peeking out from the furthest aisle.

Professor McGonagall had contacted him when she saw Hermione dragging her listless parents into Hogwarts.

"Hermione!" he cried as he rounded the corner, her bag, her cloak, and her wand lay on the ground. There was no other sign of her or Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

Madam Pince caught up to him, panting, "There is no running- in, the, library, Mr. Potter."

He didn't point out that she had just been breaking her own rule, rather he approached the stacks, his Holly Wand in his hand.

One book had been pulled from the shelves. It was a pretty book, with a suede cover embossed with gold leaf borders.

The title read simply, Beauty.

Harry reached his hand out toward the book only for Madam Pince to catch his wrist in a bone crushing grip.

"It's cursed," she said sharply.

Harry met the older witch's gaze, "Is she in there, is she cursed?"

Madam Pince's only answer was a narrowing of lips.

He wrenched his arm from her grip and reached for the book.

The moment Harry's fingertips touched the book, a bright light engulfed him and when the light faded he was gone from his world.

In addition to the title Beauty, golden words wrote themselves only the warn suede; And the Beast.

Written by Jacob Apples.

Prologue

Once upon a time, there lived a clever girl who had two loving parents in a small town.

In a time long ago, there lived a fearful prince in a small kingdom.

The girl dreamed of a better world, one where she had a purpose beyond taming her unruly hair and mucking the stalls of her parents' barn.

The prince believed he would forever be alone in his castle deep in the woods, where his every need was met but where no one ventured and no one spoke.

The people in the girl's town thought her the most beautiful girl in the land and urged her parents to marry her off.

The servants of the prince's castle were mute, and as cursed as he, for though none of them could remember how they had angered the witch, the servants were trapped as household objects, from furniture to the teacups, while the prince had been twisted into a hideous form, of twisted limbs, large claws, and a pelt of dark wild fur.

She wished to see beyond her town, her little village settled in a shadow of a valley. But she had not the means to go, not as an unwed farmer's daughter.

He longed to be freed from his empty fate. But he could not leave the castle grounds without all his servants perishing.

They were cursed and only true love could save them.

The Beginning of a New Day

"Bonjour, Père Robert," Belle greeted, her brown eyes glinting as her eyes scanned over the sparse shelves.

Searching, searching. Searching for something new.

"Bonjour, ma cherie. Nothing new today I'm afraid," he greeted warmly. "But you may reread any of the others that you like."

She smiled, though the hope in her eyes dampened. She would be twenty-two this day.

Twenty-two. Old maid, they called her, well they whispered behind her back. Belle did not care what they said, there was no man in this town who could hold a conversation that wasn't about hunting, fishing, or a faraway war they had returned home from.

She was not that interested in killing things for sport, though she would have liked to know more about the war, but aside from the armies each man single handedly taken down, there was little fact, little reason for why they had gone to war.

Belle thought she would have liked to fight, to protect her family, her town, her kingdom, but she was a woman and such things were not her place.

She ran her fingers over the books on the shelf, the titles smiled at her in the dusty room; La Coupe de Feu, Prince de Sang-Mêlé, and Les Reliques de la Mort.

The author of these books was her favorite novelist, and Belle often pretended she was a character from those pages. She was supremely glad that the town priest didn't know what the novels were about. Most thought she read fairy tales, but not even her parents knew the heroes in her books were witches.

Witches were a sore subject in their Kingdom. Legend said that two decades ago a witch had cursed the royal family that protected their lands.

Some blamed the war on that witch, some said the royal family and their court had simply died because of an onslaught of the Plague.

Regardless of what had befallen the royals, no one knew in fact what had happened, nor did anyone know where the castle was. Which seemed strange to Belle.

How did one lose a castle?

But no one had a logical answer for her, if they deigned to answer her at all.

She was a maiden, and no one took anything she said seriously, not when she suggested that the children of their town be taught to read nor when she suggested that girls could be just as brave as boys.

No, no one took her seriously, not even Père Robert as he waved her goodbye with a bemused smile on his lips as he beheld her with the small child's book in her hand.

A book of friendships and new beginnings, of a boy discovering magic, and be freed from his mundane world.

As she walked home, greeted by everyone who crossed her path. She wished magic would find her.

An Arrangement

"I won't do it!" she yelled at her parents.

"You are twenty-two," her father repeated with a strained patience, "You must marry and Gaston-"

"He's a brute!"

"He's a war hero!" her father snapped, standing he towered over his petite daughter, "And you will show him and your father respect. You will be wed on Sunday morning."

Belle just shook her head, Sunday was tomorrow.

"Ma petite fille," her mother crooned, "you are no longer so little, you must begin to start a family, or it will be too late."

Belle turned to her mother with pleading eyes, "But, Mama, I don't love him."

Her mother's dark eyes were not unkind but neither was she close to folding, "We have given you freedom long enough, Belle, your beauty will fade sooner than you believe and there are lesser me-"

"I don't want to marry him!"

Her father struck her across the cheek, "You will respect us, girl, you will respect your mother, and you shall respect me, who has kept your burden these years. Curb your pride, know your place. You will be a married woman of title tomorrow, and you will be grateful."

He stormed to his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

Belle sank to her knees on the kitchen floor, the dirt likely mussing her dress, she didn't care, the dress had seen worse working in the garden and the fields.

Her mother bent to kiss her forehead, "It will not be so terrible as you believe. You will learn to love him, and the children you shall bear him -you will know love such as you have never imagined."

Belle said nothing, a hollow emptiness filling her core.

She would never know adventure, never be allowed to be her own person, not with a man like Gaston as her husband.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed liked that, frozen on her knees as the light waned from the sky and the candlelight flickered out from her parents' room

Belle stood stiffly, brushing off her aching knees. Looking out the window, she could make out the horizon of the treeline.

The moon was bright tonight.

She acted before her thoughts caught up to her quiet movements. She stuffed a loaf of bread and few apples into her small bag. She crept out of their humble home toward the stables.

Philippe greeted her with perked ears and the swishing of his tail. Belle raised a finger to her lips, as if a horse could understand such a gesture, and quickly as she could, she saddled the great clydesdale.

Slowly, she walked Philippe out of the stable, his large hooves thudding against the packed earth, her parents did not leave the house.

And with one last look behind her, Belle mounted the horse and disappeared into the night.

AN: No, not terribly ingenious, but I have a sister and we grew up watching Disney. So here's my first crossover, inspired by art of Hermione and Belle. Please review if your interested in my completing this short?

P.s. Spoiler, her parents aren't going to die.