A/N: So hey uh I haven't been active in a while… the explanation's in my profile if anyone wants to know.
Okay so, I only have 4 chapters of this story written up. I don't know if I'd ever finish this or not but it's been lounging around my files for maybe a year so I finally decided now that I'd publish it because why not.
Tags: Slash, Fairytale AU (Beauty and the Beast)
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
The small town of Hogsmeade is cheerful and exuberant, its residents lively and friendly. Everyone knew each other, treated their neighbors as if part of an extended family. And although they have their own prejudices and active rumor-mill, they weren't as close-minded as small towns are wont to do.
Surrounded by vast forests and mountains, the closest city is a day's travel away. It wasn't the fault of the distance—well, not entirely (on-foot travel would still take three days). Hogsmeade had an old-world, medieval theme going on. That is to say, there was also a noticeable lack of advanced technology.
Harry came to a quick conclusion that he liked that.
It means that he was left to his own devices at least five days in a week; Uncle Vernon having work in the nearest city Harry hadn't bothered remembering the name of and his cousin Dudley attending a school in the same city. Aunt Petunia didn't like the 'simple provincial life' Hogsmeade had to offer and followed her husband and son.
Sometimes he wondered why they even bought the cottage in Hogsmeade.
But Harry rejoiced in their sudden impulse of buying the cottage—in a show of wealth, Harry was sure. It was ultimately better than when they were in suburban Surrey where everything and everyone almost seemed to be cut from the same dough. Here at Hogsmeade, Harry didn't even have to follow them to the city and instead left him in the little cottage they treated as a vacation house.
"Mornin' Harry!"
Harry smiled, "Good morning Mr. Goldstein. How is Anthony?"
"Oh you know him," Mr. Goldstein laughed jovially, the contents of the small crate he was carrying jiggled as he did so. "Always wandering the woods. I swear that boy will get lost some day and my wife would go into panic."
"Anthony told me he knew the woods very well," Harry responded, ducking down as a long piece of wood swung where his head was. "Good morning to you too Mr. Entwhistle."
He was ignored by Mr. Entwhistle, as is usual.
"Well," Mr. Goldstein said, "Not that it's not great to have a chat with you, lad, but these bottles aren't gonna deliver themselves, you know?"
"Of course Mr. Goldstein."
It felt good, having built his own reputation in this little town instead of his relatives whispering things—playing the devil's advocate—to their neighbors.
In Hogsmeade, he's Harry Potter, the small fifteen-year-old occupying the well-tended cottage at the outskirts of the town. No one questioned his lack of adult supervision—no one questioned his tendency of wearing large clothing that hung over his thin, scrawny frame.
Except for Hermione but she's one of the 'odd' things in town.
Not that they could talk, with a town named Hogsmeade with stores named like Dogweed and Deathcap as well as The Three Broomsticks, odd doesn't even cover it.
But in all his fifteen years of existence, moving in to Hogsmeade was the best part of it.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
There was an abandoned railway extending from the deeper parts of the woods and to somewhere far away. No one really knew where it leads to. Despite its relatively new and noticeably not rusty metal rails, no train has ever passed through it.
The villagers had their theories though. Some said it lead all the way to London, some said it would lead to the Otherworld. Harry had to blink when he heard the last one but apparently, being a little town in the Scottish highlands meant they would have a degree of belief in their folklores.
But anyway, Harry would have been glad to explore where it leads but a thick copse of large trees blocked its path on the side leading to the forest and heading the other way just had Harry exhausted with a feeling that he wasn't even half of the way there.
Still, despite his fruitless explorations, Harry liked walking along the metal rails. It was in one such walk that Harry had the pleasure of meeting Anthony Goldstein, the other boy always exploring the edges of the forests, to his parents' concern. They'd talked, shared their thoughts—not memories, no, never that—lapsed into long, comfortable silences and became friends.
"Hiya Harry," Anthony greeted, his back facing the messy haired boy.
"Hey Anthony," Harry greeted back, stopping beside the taller boy. Harry wrinkled his nose. Of course majority of the people are taller than him. "Have you explored a newer part of the forest?"
"No," The blond shook his head forlornly. "I did catch glimpse of taller trees but then I remembered mum wanted me to fetch some herbs. When I went back I couldn't find it."
"Maybe you went in a different direction?" Harry suggested, following the other boy as they began walking into the thick foliage.
"Yeah, I thought so too."
The forest in the north wasn't explored frequently. In fact, one could also say it was avoided.
Because of the eerie, almost unnatural, silence that fell over the area, most of the villagers stayed away from it. Hunters didn't even bother exploring deeper, the absence of animal tracks telling them how futile it would be. And even now, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
The only noises he could hear were their steady breaths and the crunches made by Anthony's boots on the forest floor. There were no crickets, no birds, not even the creaking of branches as the wind was just as absent as sound. Yes, Harry knew why the villagers would avoid these woods. However, the eerie silence isn't without its charm. Harry found himself accompanying Anthony a few times in the duration of their friendship.
"How is Hermione?"
This was also why Harry was a welcome companion to the quiet Anthony. Aside from Harry being as quiet as the other boy, Anthony also has a sort of… interest in Hermione.
"Why wouldn't you just come with me to Madam Puddifoot's?" Harry shot back. "You could talk all you want with Hermione."
The look of disgust on the other boy had Harry bursting out in laughter.
Madam Puddifoot's was the only tea shop in Hogsmeade that doesn't serve as a bar and was relatively quiet compared to The Three Broomsticks. It proved to be a great base for Harry and Hermione who loved sitting and reading. However, despite its calm atmosphere and good food, the décor was rather… not to everyone's taste is the kindest way to put it.
"Alright, alright, not Madam Puddifoot's," Harry stifled his giggles. "But really, she's been pestering me who I'm 'supplying personal information to, you git'. Do you know how hard those tomes she's holding are? I think I still have a bruise on my arm."
"You told her?" Anthony's voice was accusing.
Harry raised his hands. "I already told her I have no interest in her. It was all her genius that figured you out."
Looking at the boy beside him, Harry let a sly grin tug at his lips at the blush and stunned expression. "October 27th, dear Anthony. I'd drag you out kicking and screaming and naked if you don't come. I'm sure your mum would be more than happy to help me."
Harry almost skipped as he left his stunned friend.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
When they first arrived in Hogsmeade, the snow had just melted (to a degree) and the Holly wreaths packed away for the next Christmas season. It was then that Harry learned that the small town—or village, as some referred to it—only ever celebrated the major, commercialized holidays despite the people's Scottish origins. For all they warned of superstitions and beliefs, not many actually follow it.
He could care less about superstitions, having lived in relatively-urbanized-Surrey for a decade and a half.
Until he met Luna.
Luna was what some would call a waif. Particularly the only waif in the small town of Hogsmeade, but even that title was kind of useless. She occupied a room at Hog's Head that, although unofficial, the owner had given to her as a place to sleep in. Not entirely homeless, but it still stood that she grew up on the streets, alone, until she stumbled into Hogsmeade.
She wasn't quite an outcast, no, but her dazed and dreamy expression almost always drove people away from her. Not to mention the strange creatures she would often speak of.
Harry had been warned by well-meaning neighbors as soon as he had settled in and left behind by his relatives. He was still jumpy and scared at the changes then, unsure of where he stood when his relatives turned their nose up at the quaint little village and left for the city.
Then just as he was finishing packing away the last box of Dudley's trinkets, a knock on the door disrupted the silence.
"Your house is quite lovely. I don't think I've seen a space as clean from Wrackspurts as this one—they tend to make people's brains go fuzzy."
And that was how he was introduced to the blonde, bare-footed, odd girl with a penchant for wearing a necklace of bottle caps and Dirigible plum—though Harry thought it's really just Radish but Luna was adamant that the plums exist—shaped earrings.
Harry, with his hard-earned and beaten-into patience, had smiled and politely said thank you. Luna had taken that as a positive response and 'adopted' Harry as her friend. He was sure that wasn't how you make friends but Luna was the first ever friend he had, so it wasn't like he could tell what was proper or not. (And Harry revels in the utter warmth that enveloped him at the thought)
It was odd how the 'outcast' of the little town was the one who introduced Harry to everyone.
Conversation with Luna was a different experience, kind of like deciphering Dante and Shakespeare with all the odd words and expressions. Sometimes Harry got it wrong—Luna won't ever tell him if he's wrong or not but the little twitch on her lips would always be telling—but most of the time he got it right.
And that was how Harry knew Luna wasn't quite normal.
She knew things. It was what led Harry to think that all her creatures weren't quite as nonsensical as Hermione—his second friend with a nose perpetually stuck in a book—insisted it to be. Her words, preceding some sort of accident, would hold a tone of warning, hidden behind her creatures and vague allusions.
But that didn't change anything. It just served to make Harry and Luna to have a deeper connection.
After all, he's also a freak.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
In the dead of the night, in the stillness between midnight and dawn, no one should be outside their homes. It was the absolute truth and law in the quaint little town, however unwritten it may be.
Harry had heard from Hermione that it came from the more skittish of elders, saying that red and black-robed men would sweep through the streets with their cursed taint. They said those men were the messengers of Death, the servants of the Morrigan. Anyone caught would never be heard of again.
Harry had seen no harm to this tradition and so had followed it with no question. But then when curiosity ate at him—an itchy and insistent thing that it is—he peeked through the window.
And then he felt a chill run down his spine at the sight.
He hadn't seen any red or black-robed men, no, but the usually cheerful town seemed…abandoned.
It was disconcerting. Privet Drive, with its proudly normal residents, never looked as dark and deserted as Hogsmeade did in the dead of the night.
Not even when terrorist attacks became frequent.
So Harry shut the curtains, resolved to never break curfew because what was the point, and continued on his life.
It was probably the only tradition strictly followed by everyone. It was why Luna was given a room to sleep in every night. It was also probably why no one dares to travel in and out of town in the same day.
He was just grateful that whenever the Dursleys were in town, they would always be asleep long before midnight and stay that way until the next morning.
The dead of the night deserves what it is called in the little town of Hogsmeade.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
The twenty-seventh of October dawned bright and early. Harry grinned and hurriedly made his way through his morning rituals, nearly making a mess of his small trunk of clothes in his haste. Pulling on an old sweater, he made sure that everything was covered before darting through the door.
He was glad for his foresight of finishing as much of his chores as possible the day before, leaving him with a free schedule this bright Friday. Although, there was already a roughly drawn itinerary in his mind that he had to go through—a not so free schedule then.
First, he had to stop by the Grangers to remind Hermione that she'll finally meet her 'stalker' and then go straight to the Goldsteins to make sure Anthony was ready. Because his friends were troublesome children, Harry appointed himself as the shepherd.
And so, with a noticeable skip in his step, Harry weaved through the morning crowd and headed for the one and only dentistry clinic in the town. It was probably the most modern building with its white, smooth walls and tiled floors. There was also a moment for amusement when you notice that it was sitting adjacent to Honeydukes.
He pressed the button that would alert the inhabitants of the second floor and waited.
He didn't have long to wait when the door opened with a squeal of "Harry!" and then he was eating bushy brown hair.
"'M- Mione," Harry coughed but hugged back. "We've seen each other not too long ago."
She pulled back but still clutched his hands, face flushed, "Yes, uhm, right. It's just—"
"You're kind of crushing my hands," Harry teased.
Hermione blinked, confused, before huffing, "Alright, see if I care the moment someone asks you out."
Harry raised an eyebrow, "'Mione, Anthony didn't ask you out. You asked him out. Through me. How creative of you."
"I didn't see you complaining."
"I'd have more than arm bruises if I complained."
"I don't even hit that hard."
"Mione," Harry gasped dramatically. "Have you seen how heavy those books are?! If you can lift them up, much less hold them with one hand while walking, you can hit hard enough to bruise!" Harry grabbed one upper arm from the girl. "Look at these biceps!"
Hermione looked as if she was ready to kill him on the spot.
When Harry left the Grangers, he was rubbing at his shoulder. Hermione really doesn't hit that hard but for all Harry jests, his body is brittle and easily bruises. It was from lack of nutrition growing up, he was sure, and there wasn't anything he could do but to live with it.
Shaking his head from his thoughts, Harry made his journey to the Goldsteins' cottage. There was no need to dwell on such things. His life changed for the better the moment his relatives left him here in Hogsmeade.
On his way, Luna sidled up to him, matching his steps with a bounce.
"They'd be great together," Luna commented in her airy voice. "I can see the Gwynwids tying them together."
Harry didn't know what Gwynwids were but if Luna said they'd be great together, then they would be.
The rest of their short journey was done in silence. And before Harry knocks on the wooden door, Luna gave a "see you later Harry" and promptly disappeared.
Shrugging (Luna will show herself later anyway), Harry knocked.
The door opened and he was faced with Mr. Goldstein. There was a moment where they stared at each other awkwardly before Mr. Goldstein cleared his throat.
"Well, I think I know what you're here for."
"Yes," Harry let a small grin tug at his lips. "I'm here to make sure Anthony doesn't bolt."
Mr. Goldstein raised an eyebrow, eyes shining with amusement, "Would you need our assistance?"
Harry bit his lip, deliberating, "Would Mrs. Goldstein be available for the day?"
"Why," Mr. Goldstein made a show of being surprised, "I'm sure my wife would clear her schedule for her only son."
Then the two shared a sly smirk. Mrs. Goldstein, after all, was known to be a scrupulous planner. That, in its self, would have been fine if she wasn't a romantic. Those qualities made her the unofficial match-maker of the town.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
When Harry was snickering at the meeting between an excited Hermione and bashful Anthony, Luna had mysteriously appeared beside him and had dragged Harry all the way to the Haunted Shack. Harry had never been there before, having heard the rumors but not really mustering up enough curiosity to explore it yet.
"Luna," Harry finally spoke when they stopped. "Why are we here?"
"Hush." Luna made a shushing gesture and tugged at his arm. "You'll disturb them."
Harry sighed, "Shouldn't you at least put on shoes? Or even slippers?" He pointedly stared at the protruding roots and sharp embedded stones on the dirty ground.
Wide blue eyes stared at him with confusion. "But they would make too much noise. That was what the Nargles told me when they stole mine from me."
"Then your feet would hurt," They've already had a variation of this conversation and Luna was either very stubborn or was always honestly confused. He doubted the latter.
"They don't," Luna answered as if offended. "The Brownies were rather nice and offered me a nice home but I don't think I should. They healed me with their nasty potions too."
Of course Luna would be offended. And yes, Harry's going to ignore that potions comment; Luna was known to collect herbs and what-not, mixing them together to make pastes that he was positive actually worked. Harry had a vague recollection of what Brownies were but it was escaping his grasp. Unless baked chocolate fudge could now talk and heal people. Yeah, he didn't think so.
"Alright," Harry finally conceded, defeated. "But what are we doing here?"
Luna just turned to her left and stared. Harry followed her sight with a confused frown. A minute of staring at more trees passed and Harry patiently waited. Then another minute ticked by. And the—
Wait.
Harry concentrated on hearing, even going so far as to hold his breath.
And there it was, a barking and rustling. It was growing louder and closer. Harry turned to look at Luna to ask what is it about but she wasn't beside him anymore, having walked closer to the Shack and the barking.
Harry cursed and trudged towards her, "Luna! It's dangerous to ju—"
"Shush!" Luna uncharacteristically snapped and then crouched down, looking as if she was calling something to her. "Come on Padfoot. Harry won't hurt you. You can come out from there."
Harry blinked but did shut his mouth despite the questions he had. He looked back to the direction Luna was facing and almost did a double take. A large, black dog cautiously trotted over to them, its fur shaggy and matted with grime. It was large for a normal animal but skinny too, its bones jutting out beneath its skin and visibly shifting with every move. There were traces of cuts, too. Ugly scars that looked old and young.
"That's right, come on Padfoot," Luna coaxed. "No one will hurt you here. See?"
Harry crouched down at the sharp tug Luna made on his sleeve and held out his hand to the sniffing animal.
"See, Padfoot?" Reaching out her hand, Luna rubbed at the dog's head while Harry let it sniff at his. "Harry isn't bad. We won't hurt you."
A smile bloomed on his face when the large dog whimpered and nosed at his hand, as if urging to be pet. When he continued to hold it still, a rough tongue licked at his fingers and Harry had to chuckle before obliging.
"Where did you find him?"
Luna hummed, running her fingers through matted and patched fur. "I didn't find him. He found me."
"Is that so," It was more of a statement than a question. Luna was odd like that, but he had grown used to—heaven forbid fond of—it. "Well then," Harry fixed his eyes on the dog, Padfoot, "Thank you for finding Luna. She tends to become lost in her own head."
It wasn't an insult or a teasing remark. Sometimes, Harry would really get worried whenever Luna falls silent and stares at the world as if she wasn't there. He feared that there would come a day Luna won't suddenly snap back to reality with a story about Dragons and Kelpies and how they had to be hidden by the government in a conspiracy.
Padfoot barked in answer.
Harry grinned and continued to give the dirty dog attention. "How long have you known… him?"
"Just this summer," was the airy answer, "Padfoot told me he was looking for his pack."
Told her. Harry wasn't even going to ask.
"Would you keep him?"
Harry blinks at the question and looks down at the dog, perked up as if it knew they were talking about him. He thought of the cold silence in the cottage, the utter stillness that led him to explore the bustle of the little town. Then he thought of the Dursleys, of Aunt Petunia's impossible standards, of Uncle Vernon's fondness for violence, and of Dudley's cruel nature.
Staring into grey eyes—unusual for a canine of any type but Harry had long since realized that anything related to Luna had a taste of oddness in it—Harry knew his decision.
"I don't think I can," It was worded so as to lessen the implication because Luna looked so hopeful that Harry didn't think he could say a resounding no. He doesn't offer up an explanation.
The mere thought of subjecting a helpless creature to the scrutiny of the Dursleys, even for just a day at most, made every fiber of Harry's being to recoil. No one deserves that.
Luna's disappointment showed on her face, most especially her wide eyes.
"But," Harry hurried to add, feeling guilty at the face of disappointing his most precious friend. "I'm sure he can accompany us in the town without having to house him in my cottage or sneaking him in under old man Dumbledore's nose."
"He can't stay out at night."
"He's been doing fine by himself already, yeah?" Harry's tone softened. "The Haunted Shack is his best bet until we find someone interested enough to care for him."
The people of Hogsmeade may be kind in nature but not everyone would be fond of a dog as dirty and skinny—and scarred—as Padfoot.
Luna's answering nod had a reluctance to it but otherwise seemed accepting of his decision. Hog's Head does not allow pets of any kind inside, well-bred or not. Even if Luna wanted to keep Padfoot, she can't and Harry wouldn't take the chance of the creature crossing paths with the Dursleys.
"Alright," Harry grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Let's stalk Hermione and Anthony!"
The giggle and bark he received told him everything.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
High Street is the main street of Hogsmeade. It has a wide, cobblestone pathway that sustains the most traffic; people carrying sacks and crates, pushing wheelbarrows and dragging wagons for deliveries. Shops are placed side by side in no particular order with some small alleyways that lead into the residential streets.
Harry always thought this kind of set up isn't ideal for an isolated town like Hogsmeade. There were too many shops, too many odd supply stores for a village of one hundred nothing residents, surrounded by mountains and forests.
And then there were the Fridays.
As their group of two humans and one canine trudged through the cobblestone streets, Harry sensed a sort of expectation in the people. It always felt like something should happen during Saturdays, an expectation of… reception.
Really, it wasn't obvious—it wasn't even anything the people are talking about. But Harry always had to be sharp if the Dursleys are expecting guests so that he could make himself scarce. So this type of tension was something Harry was familiar with. What made him wonder was that whenever Saturday comes, there was nothing—nothing out of the ordinary.
This was one such Friday.
Harry brushed the feeling off with practice and looked to Luna. "D'you know where they might be?"
Luna tilted her head to the side and stared off into nothing. Harry waited, patting Padfoot's head as the dog obediently sat beside him without bounding off.
"In front of the old Ollivander's."
Harry nodded, trusting her words. They started their journey to the old, abandoned store, keeping to the side so as not to dodge the hurrying people.
When they were near—just one more block and a turn—Harry stopped in his tracks.
"Luna?"
"Yes?"
"Are they doing something… you know…"
Luna looked at him with confused eyes. "No, I don't know…"
Harry pursed his lips, not believing what he was going to say. "You know… what people do if they are dating…"
"Oh!" Luna blinked. "You mean holding hands?"
"No," Heat crept up his neck. "You know, that." He made wild gestures, hoping Luna would spare him the embarrassment.
"That?"
Honest confusion colored Luna's face. Harry wondered, not for the first time, how this girl can be as perceptive as she is and be utterly naïve at other things. Not that he can talk.
When Harry was just about to just tell her—dear God, this is embarrassing—Padfoot, having remained silent through their journey, barked, startling the two humans. And then as if a light bulb was switched on, realization dawned on Luna's face.
"Oh!" Luna beamed at the dog. "Thank you Padfoot." Then she turned to Harry with a smirk, eyes glittering with knowledge. And oh Gods how did Harry not know Luna would exploit weaknesses. "You'll just have to see, yeah?"
And then Luna dragged Harry—again—through the last block and turn it would take to reach the old Ollivander's shop, Padfoot at their heels.
"Hello Anthony, Hermione!"
Harry twitched. "Luna!" Then he turned to hiss to her ear. "We were supposed to hide."
"It's more fun this way," Luna declared and as if in agreement, Padfoot barked and bounded over to the two—thankfully not in a compromising position—people sitting on the steps, watching with bewildered eyes.
"Harry?" Anthony called in confusion, absently patting the thin and dirty dog. "Where've you been? You just disappeared earlier."
"Luna dragged me to see Padfoot," was his dry reply. "So how has your day been?"
Hermione jumped in the conversation with excitement. "Oh Anthony's been great! We went to the music shop and he played this song for me—"
Harry settled beside Luna, who was sitting cross-legged in front of the couple, and smiled as he lets Hermione's chatter and Anthony's flustered stuttering wash over him, Luna's presence an amused audience adding her opinions with Padfoot's scuffles in the background. He felt warmed, even with the permanent chill in the air. Contented and…happy.
Yes, Harry thought, teasing the new couple, he would gladly fight for what he has now.
And if that meant hiding parts of him—the deeply cherished part he nurtured—to keep this amazing, warming little thing… it was a small price to pay. It would sit there, festering deeper, until the time he would need it to protect this.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
With the coming Halloween, Harry thought the little village would be bustling with activity to put up the necessary decorations. In Surrey, although Harry had never had personal experience, Halloween was probably one of the most prepared for occasion outside of Christmas—oh, it wouldn't do for number 6 to best us in the décor.
Apparently, in the little town of Hogsmeade, Halloween wasn't celebrated. At least, not quite the same way as Harry knew.
Halloween—Samhuinn—night was the sole exception to the unwritten rule. In the stead of midnight, residents are to be in their houses at twilight and only emerge at the dawn of the Samhuinn day. There should be no light or any sign of the living to avert the evil that crosses from the Otherworld. Samhuinn is, after all, a liminal time where it is easier to cross between this world and the Otherworld. It was optimal time for the creeps to come out.
It was odd for someone new in the town like Harry and while he isn't pagan—the tradition clearly being of pagan origins—his friends urged him to follow it.
Then, as all his other decisions in the oddities of Hogsmeade, he agreed to follow.
It was when he and his friends were parting ways for the twilight which screwed with that decision.
The only ones left outside were a few stragglers, children whom their parents are already dragging inside their painted doors. Anthony was the first one to notice this.
"The sun is setting, we should go."
They all quickly agreed but as the last door shut, Padfoot let out a sharp whine.
Luna stood stock still—still as if frozen in place and Harry felt anxiety curl at his gut—as they all paused.
Then with a deep growl, the large but skinny dog lunged and ran to the direction of the forest in the north.
"Padfoot!" Harry shouted in an aborted motion of chasing after the dog.
"We should go after him," Luna spoke, her voice sounding almost dazed. "The Centaurs won't take the intrusion kindly."
Hermione sighed in exasperation, "Centaurs don't exist, Luna."
"Centaurs or not," Anthony cut in, lips pursed as he watched the sun set lower. "We have to get him back. The forest in the north is easy to get lost in."
Harry shared a look with the other boy before nodding. "I'll go."
Then he was off.
:::…~~~-0-~~~…:::
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