Title: You're Beautiful

Summary: Harry's in Belize on assignment, and the Aurors just got a huge tip *dun, dun, dun*

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, unfortunately.

Word count: 1,320

A/N: Someone I know is going through this situation, and they mean the world to me. I guess I'm just trying to get out what I think they deserve; how they deserve to see themselves. Enjoy!

Harry was currently in Belize. The Auror department got a tip about ex-Death Eaters who were kidnapping and torturing those whom they saw as traitors to the Dark Lord's side during the war. Kingsley owes me, he thought as he walked through the grubby streets of Corozal, on his way to meet the Head Auror to plan how best to carry out the attack.

"After assigning Aurors around the city, we have pinpointed their location to this abandoned warehouse," Said Auror Robards, pointing to the map. "I think it best if we raid it; see if any of the captives are still alive, then we can deal with the offenders. We suspect that there will be a complete dungeon underground, so we have to move fast…."

The day of the raid, Harry, although not the 'head honcho' of this operation, who wasn't even here anyway, led the three other Aurors. Typical. The Ministry loves to show off the Boy-Who-Lived. He came to a corridor and quickly looked down it, giving the all-clear. He and his fellow Aurors checked each door, looking for one that led downstairs. Harry found it and cocked his head to indicate to follow him. Once they got past a few warding spells, they crept down to the main corridor that held all the prisoners; luckily, no Death Eaters seemed to be guarding at the moment, and they separated. Harry received a rush of adrenaline even as his heart plunged when he suddenly heard a high-pitched scream from the cell directly to the side of him.

Harry poised himself to strike as he clutched the handle; he yelled Expelliarmus as he heard Stupefy upon entrance. The bulky Death Eater's wand clattered to the floor and Harry wandlessly bound him to a nearby chair. He rushed to the crumpled mass of limbs in the corner of the room, whose arms were suspended above their head by a chain hanging from the ceiling. He vanished the entire contraption with a wave of his wand and caught them in his arms, checking for a pulse. Thank Merlin!

Unfortunately, Harry soon learned the captive he rescued was the only one to survive, whom they didn't know the identity of since the (they discovered) man's face was bruised and bloodied. At St. Hodgings, the local wizarding hospital, the team was required to wait while the healers worked on the man, who'd apparently along with being beaten daily had also been sexually violated and gradually drugged over the past ten months. After about an hour, Harry, Stephen, Miles, and Taylor were allowed to see the now conscious man and inquire about the identities of the other torturers. Wait…..is that Malfoy? Harry couldn't explain his feeling of guilt as he looked at all the bruises and scars marring Malfoy's body.

"Umm, you can handle this on your own, yeah? We…we're gonna go start on the paperwork," said Auror Miles Dinklow.

"Why would you guys leave before we questioned him? It's our job to do this," gritted out Harry, his fury at the whole Ministry slowly creeping through the forced façade.

"Look," sighed Miles as he led Harry to the corridor outside the room. "It's Malfoy. If we don't head out now….well let's just say I cannot be held accountable for what I do around that Pureblood arsehole. He had so much opportunity to right his misdoings, and instead he followed his sleazy git of a father right into the clutches of a ruthless tyrant. We just….we can't."

Harry couldn't contain it anymore. "You know what? Just get the fuck out of here! I can't believe you idiots even got into this department; you don't even care about anything unless it directly involves your sorry arses. And, if you'd be so kind, tell the Minister I quit. I'm sick of all the prejudices, all the pressure to be the perfect poster-boy, and all the stupid inter-office politics that shouldn't have anything to do with our performance! Now get out of my sight, you worthless bastards."

"What about the questioning? The identiti-"

"I'll do it, just go!"

"Ma-Draco?" whispered Harry.

"Yes Potter?"

"Do you, umm, remember anything about the other people w-who hurt you?" Harry stammered. Again, that gnawing feeling of guilt rippled through him as he looked at his school-boy crush. Draco still had bruises around his eyes and his jaw, but the most-lasting damage lay on the right side of his face; a giant scar spanned from the top of his forehead down to the bottom of his perfect cheekbone. Knowing how much Draco prided himself on his looks, or at least did back at school, Harry's heart almost broke imagining how he felt.

"All I remember is the one that always violated me had red hair, a very heavy dusting of freckles, quite a stocky build, and measured at about 6'5. The rest of them always kept hoods up and masks on."

"Do you remember how many there were?"

"About three or four," Draco said in a small voice.

Harry filled out a form and used one of the establishments' owls to send it to the Ministry, along with a note explaining why he wanted to terminate his position, just in case. He returned to Draco's room, and his heart did break as he saw Draco, clutching a mirror, silent sobs racking his lithe body as he traced the scar with his long, nimble finger.

"Draco," Harry began in a gentle, soothing voice. "It's not that ba-"

"What do you care, Potter? You can't stand me, anyway. Why are you even still here? Shouldn't you be at your precious job, enjoying people worshipping at your feet?"

"Draco, I quit. I'm tired of the Ministry using my name to get ahead, and especially of my co-worker's attitudes, but enough of that. Believe it or not, I still care about you; why else would I have saved you from the Fiendfyre? I've let the animosity between us go. Now, will you let it go too, and tell me what's so wrong about a scar?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like you, with wild hair and an all-over awkward body, to know what it's like….Potter," Draco said between a fresh wave of tears. "You know as well as I do what a git I am. Seriously, I couldn't even carry out my duties well enough to please the Death Eaters. The only thing I've ever been good for is my beauty, and now that's gone. You should have just left me; what am I good for now?"

Harry crossed the room to sit on the bed next to Draco's thighs and gently coaxed the former Slytherin into his arms, cradling him into his chest as Draco cried. "Draco," Harry cooed as he stroked the silver-blond hair. "This scar doesn't define you. Yes, in school, you were kind of a prat, but over the years I saw more and more that you are a good person. Do you remember the summer before seventh year? How the Snatchers brought me to your manor, and you didn't give me away? Don't you realize I would have died had you not done that?"

Malfoy hiccupped, and then said lamely, "I didn't know that was you."

"See, I don't buy that, not for one second; I could see it in your eyes, Draco. And, besides, how could a scar ever do anything to tarnish your good looks?" He said the last part in a small voice.

"Potter?"

"Look, I've always thought you were beautiful, and this scar doesn't change anything. As I just said…you're a great person, you always have been, and that's more important….I-I (really like you)….I gotta go."

"Wait!" Harry couldn't stand the desperation in Draco's voice and knew his resolve would crumble soon; Draco only need ask. "Will…will you come back tomorrow? The healer said I'd be here another day, a-and I don't want to be here alone."

"Sure," said Harry, beaming. "I'll see you then," he added and gave Draco's hand a reassuring squeeze before exiting into the corridor. Guess it wasn't just a school-boy crush….

Hey, thanks for reading! I actually have an idea for a second chapter. Would anyone be interested? Remember reviews make the world go round (or at least mine, which is the only one I particularly care about :P)!