Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Henry stood in the center of the ballroom, nodding to himself. The ball had gone quite well, if he had anything to say about it. (Which he did, he planned the thing.) Master Adam, however, had taken to his usual… fits… and had retired to his special chair in the lounge. Henry smoothed his moustache, which grew so frizzy in the winter that Henry had to use piles more product than usual. Master paid him generously, because he was so much help, but it still put a major dent in his savings. Henry did not like winter.

“Cogsworth!” A shout sounded from down a connecting hall of the castle. A tall form slid down the polished floors and skidded to a halt far too close for Henry’s liking. The figure panted, clearly from the unauthorized exercise, before looking up at him.

“Lumiere.” Henry forced the name between his pursed lips. Master Adam insisted that they call each other by their last names, as much as it infuriated Henry. He wasn’t sure he knew any of his coworker’s names, besides Beatrice, but she, at this point, had become somewhat of a surrogate mother.

“I think that ball went swimmingly, don’t you think?”

“Of course it did. You think I would have allowed otherwise?”

“Oh no, of course not.” Lumiere amended, that infuriating grin still on his face. Henry sighed.

“What are you doing here, Lumiere? It was extremely risky of you to be so unprofessional so soon after the ball ended. What if guests were still here? What would it do to our reputation?”

“Calm down, Cogsworth. I made sure every guest was kindly escorted out of the castle by my own hand.” Lumiere did an exaggerated bow, extending his open palm to Henry. Henry huffed and turned away, walking down the main hall to the grand staircase, leaving Lumiere bent over like a fool in the center of the ballroom.

“Wait!” Lumiere stood up and chased after Henry, who was quickly making his way down the polished steps.

“What, Lumiere?” Henry deadpanned, turning his head back towards where Lumiere was standing at the top of the landing, his hand gripping the handrail.

“I-”

A thundering knock sounded at the door.

Henry and Lumiere’s heads snapped towards the sudden sound, and Henry gave Lumiere a ‘We’ll finish this conversation later’ glare before hopping down the last few steps and carefully unlocking and lugging open the heavy door. There, standing dwarfed in the massive doorway, was a small old woman drowning in a tattered emerald cloak. Her face was a greyed brown, wisps of curly white hair sneaking out of the large hood.

“Yes, madame?” Henry said, putting on his ‘host voice’.

“Is your master here?” She croaked, her voice dry and crackly.

“What business do you have with Master Adam?”

“No business, just a request.” Henry pondered this for a moment, deciding that if he sent Lumiere to fetch the master then he would face no consequence either way.

“Lumiere?” Henry called behind him.

“Yes, Cogsworth?”

“Go fetch Master Adam. This here woman says she has a request.”

Lumiere nodded, and ran off down the hall where he came from.

“Thank you, sir.” The woman shivered, the rain creating a thundering of noise behind her.

“How far did you walk in this rain?” Henry asked.

“Not too far. But where I’m going is much further.” Her tone suggested that she was not open to any more questions.

A murmuring of two voices began to grow closer. Henry could recognize the inconsistent and heavy-footed pace of Lumiere and the firm and echoing steps of the master.

“...iere? I was trying to recuperate from tonight, don’t you understand that?”

“Of course, of course. Cogsworth insisted.”

“Did he?”

Henry gulped. It seemed that even though he sent Lumiere, if this went sour it could be his head.

The two rounded the corner, and Henry nervously looked up at them, seeing Master Adam’s slightly rumpled suit coat and bare feet. It wasn’t often he saw the master like this. He most often sent them away when an episode like this was happening, which is why it was so risky to request him here now.

“Oh, hello sir. This woman here was requesting you.” Henry nervously stuttered. He tried to keep his composure, but his twitching upper lip easily gave him away. His moustache jumped up and down, writhing like a live caterpillar on his face. Master Adam scowled at Henry and discretely shoved him out of the way. Henry backed off to the side of the doorway, retreated to the shadows of where the torches didn’t shine to watch the event unfold.

“What do you want, woman?” Master snapped, his lips curling up in a snarl.

“I just want to stay for one night, just until the storm passes.” The woman croaked.

“What do you have to offer? Gold, riches? You couldn’t have anything that would suit a prince like me, given your haggard appearance.”

The woman extended a wrinkled, dull hand from her cloak, her weak fingers stubbornly clasping a bright rose, it's perfectly blossomed petals vibrant and crisp, not a single leaf out of place.

“I only have this single rose.”

The master sneered at her small offering, smacking it out of her hand. She recoiled, and slowly bent down to pick it back up, her bones creaking. She carefully dusted the rose off, still perfect and unharmed.

“Leave, you hag! Your appearance would taint the majesty of my castle.”

The woman wordlessly extended the rose again. A silence grew as Master stared at the rose, his expression growing confused, then fading into anger.

“What do you want?” He shouted.

“Do not be deceived by appearances.” The woman said. “Beauty is found within.”

“What did I say, woman! Leave! Leave, you… Beast!” Master’s voice was more loud and booming than Henry had ever heard it. He looked to Lumiere, who was standing off to the side of the stairs, twisting his fingers together. When they locked eyes, they could tell the other was thinking the exact same thing.

“The master is going to kill us.”

Their wordless conversation stopped them from seeing the exact details of the transformation. All they saw was a bright flash, and the woman was gone. Her tattered emerald cloak lay abandoned on the front steps, quickly gathering rain and mud. In her place was a beautiful enchantress, whose dark skin glowed with youthful beauty, her long hair and pale cream dress contrasting incredibly. Master Adam’s eyes grew large, fear creeping in.

“Madame! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have insulted you so, of course you can stay the night, what can I get for you? Lumiere! Cogsworth!” The master crept down to the floor, kneeling and bowing his head towards her.

“Silence, Adam.” No one had ever had the nerve to call the Master by just his given name. “I have seen who you are. No ruse can change that. You are an insult to royalty, an absolute disgrace to your parent’s name. I knew them, and I know you. You treat your servants, the people who care for you most in this world, like mere objects.” She spat the last word, her spittle flying into the master’s face as he knelt down and lifted his chin. “Your face doesn’t quite suit you.” She turned his head in her hands. “Your body should reflect your heart, shouldn’t it? Maybe I should make you what you called me. A Beast.” She stood again, and with one swift movement of her arms, Henry saw the last human expression on his master’s face.

Pure fear.

Chapter Text

What Henry saw next would be seared in his memory until the end of his days. His master writhed on the floor, letting out screams of pain that slowly began to grow more animalistic as his body swelled, popping the seams of his velvet coat. Fur sprouted on his bare forearms, and his fingers grew to the size of sausages, massive claws ripping through the tips with a horrifying noise. His nose lengthened and fused with his mouth to create a snout, massive fangs popping up from his lips as he spat his old teeth out. Horns horrifically sprouted from what used to be his forehead.

Henry watched on in horror, unable to move or take his eyes away, the only sound in the deafening silence being the crackling of bones. When the silence finally truly took over, in his master’s place was a massive Beast, heaving on the floor, already a mass of muscle and fur almost two metres tall. Scraps of luxurious fabrics lay in tatters around it, and the enchantress stared emotionless at him, before leaning down and uttering a few words into his now long and floppy ears. Henry strained to hear them, but before he could, she was gone, the rose laying on the floor, looking a little less vibrant than before. Henry creeped forward and picked it up, feeling like it was important. He cradled it to his chest and ran over to where Lumiere was standing in a similar state of shock, his gaze still locked on the lump on the floor, its massive hand-like-paws curled in tight fists.

Before Henry could speak to Lumiere, a rumbling voice sounded from behind him.

“Cogsworth. Get my mirror.” Henry froze, before quickly nodding, and after realizing his master couldn’t see him, let out a weak ‘yes, sir’. He left Lumiere standing there, straight and unmoving as a candlestick, and bolted up the stairs and down the hall to the lounge. Sitting on the arm of the master’s chair was a small, silver handheld mirror. Cogsworth carefully grabbed it with the hand that wasn’t clutching the rose. He knew how much Master Adam cared about the mirror, though he didn’t know exactly why. When he got back downstairs, Henry saw that Lumiere had broken out of his stupor and was kneeling next to the master, rubbing his now furry back. Henry could see from Lumiere’s expression that he was uncomfortable touching the fur, but hoped that this could lighten the blow from Master later.

“Here, Master.” Henry ran up to him and set the mirror in front of him. All of a sudden, the master’s hulking head snapped towards him, and Henry fell over in shock, being careful to shield the rose.

“What is that?” he growled. Henry saw the master’s eyes flash in pain when he realized he could do that now. Growl.

“The rose that the enchantress offered you, Master.”

“GIVE IT TO ME!” the prince bellowed. Henry flinched, and Lumiere moved to take his hand off Master’s back, but Henry shot him a look and passed the rose over, careful not to make contact with his master’s claws. Master Adam stared at it, seemingly enraptured. Then, slowly, he motioned for Henry to give him the mirror too. Henry slotted it into his massive paw, and moved back next to where Lumiere was standing.

Master Adam stared wordlessly at himself in the mirror, turning his head back and forth with a blank look on his animalistic face. Then, without warning, he stood up, knocking Lumiere over and forcing Henry to catch him. Master dejectedly and silently turned around and walked up the stairs, his now apparent 2 and a half metre height causing him to stumble a bit. He eventually made it to the top, and before he disappeared from sight, Henry saw him stare at the rose in his paw and squeeze it, regardless of the thorns.

–

“What do we do now?” At the sudden noise, Henry yelped and dropped Lumiere into a heap on the floor.

“Ouch…” Lumiere grumbled, standing up and dusting off his trousers.

“I forgot I had caught you, Lumiere.” Henry admitted, wiping his hands off.

“Well you could have at least apologized?” Lumiere retorted. Henry agreed that could be in order.

“Well, Lumiere, I apologize.” Henry shot over his shoulder as he walked down the opposite hall the master went down.

“Where are you going, Cogsworth? Shouldn’t we go help Master?” Henry heard the telltale thumping of Lumiere trying to catch up with him.

Henry stopped in his tracks and whirled around, causing Lumiere to bump right into him.

“Lumiere, do you really think that is a wise idea? The master just got transformed into a Beast, for God’s sake. We need to leave him alone. He was bad enough before this. We’re just lucky we got out of this without being executed or thrown into a dungeon. For now.” Lumiere looked at Henry, before slowly nodding and moving his gaze to the floor.

“Good. Now, we need to inform the rest of the castle what has happened. Who is still here?”

“Well, seeing as it’s Christmas, I expect only the ones who live in the castle to still be here. So, Mrs. Potts, Chip, Madame De La Grande Bouche, and Babette.”

Henry quickened his pace.

“That’ll have to do for now. The rest of the castle can find out once they return from their families.”

“Shouldn’t we let the master tell them?”

“Well, we wouldn’t want any of them to have a shocked reaction and set the master off, would we?”

“... I guess not.”

“Exactly, Lumiere.”

The rest of their walk to the servant’s quarters was in silence, the quick tapping of their shiny shoes hitting the marble floors.

The place where the servants deemed ‘more important’ stayed was surprisingly nice compared to most others. It presumably used to be an old series of guest bedrooms, all unused by the master with his “only letting guests in for special events, and even then, never overnight” policy. There was a large common area that connected all of them, and most often, when not working, everyone could be found there, working on their own personal projects or simply talking.

When Henry pushed open the large door to the commons, the amount of noise that hit his ears was much larger than usual.

“Everyone, something has happened!” Henry shouted. The conversation didn’t lul.

“Everyone!” He shouted louder. Eventually, Henry elbowed Lumiere, who cleared his throat and cried, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Everyone finally quieted down and turned to the two, who were panting from all the yelling.

“Yes, boys?” Beatri- Mrs. Potts said, Chip still on her lap from where he had been playing with her knitting needles.

“We have some… unfortunate news.” Henry grimly stated. This got everyone’s attention, and they immediately focused on this so-called news.

“Someone knocked on the door shortly after the ball concluded, and when I opened it, an old beggar woman had come to ask for shelter. Once I got the master, he refused her. She then turned into an enchantress and…” Henry choked up a bit. Their future was so unsure now, forced to care for a Beast. “She turned our master into a large Beast.”

Babette snickered, before hiding her face behind a dark glove.

“Very funny Cogsworth, I didn’t peg you one for jokes!” She teased.

“No, Babette. It’s true.” Lumiere spoke up. It was very unusual for him to be as quiet as he is, and if it was a joke, Lumiere would have immediately given it away.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

“I’m going to get everyone some tea. I’ll be right back.” Mrs. Potts abruptly moved Chip off her lap and pulled him after her as she walked towards their personal kitchen.

Madame de la Grande Bouche was stroking FrouFrou on a large armchair, her hair down from the intricate updo it was for her performance today. She stared at nothing, her tinted lips pressed together in worry.

Henry and Lumiere finally stepped further into the room, each sitting down in their designated spots. Henry had his own plush armchair, and Lumiere took the loveseat with Babette. The silence continued, nobody knowing what to say.

Mrs. Potts finally returned with the tea, little Chip balancing a tray of precariously stacked teacups, looking as if dancing as they rattled against their little porcelain plates. Chip walked around and handed everyone an empty teacup, seemingly unaware of everyone else’s emotions. He was a child, how could he know? Mrs. Potts walked around, carefully pouring tea into each cup, giving a weak smile to everyone.

They knew she was doing her best. She had known Master Adam since he was a boy, previously a nanny while his parents did important business. Once he got old enough to take care of himself, he kept her around, but no longer paid her mind.

Henry carefully blew on his tea, before taking a sip. Mrs. Potts always seemed to have a way of making the tea perfect for everyone’s taste, with no need for milk or sugar. Despite the wide array of opinions, Mrs. Potts never failed.

“What do you mean, exactly, by a Beast?” Madame spoke up, setting her half empty cup on the table in front of her.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Madame, a Beast two and a half metres tall, covered in coarse brown fur. I felt it myself.” Lumiere snapped. He paused, then continued. “I apologize, mademoiselle. That was very rude of me.”

“You are just fine, Lumiere. It would be a stressful situation for anybody.” Madame amended.

“Yes, yes, thank you Madame.” Lumiere slumped more in his chair, his nice suit coat crumpling. Henry scowled and straightened his own posture more.

“Well, it’s getting late everyone. How about we sleep on it and discuss more in the morning?” Mrs. Potts broke in. She had sat down as well, and Chip was now playing with her amber hair.

Everyone tiredly grumbled their agreement and stumbled off to their own rooms, quietly shutting the door behind them. Henry, after making it safely to his room and making sure that the door was tightly, securely locked behind him, started his meticulous evening routine. Carefully wash the product out of his moustache, change into his pajamas, climb into his silk bed, and read a greek classic for exactly half an hour, as shown by the grandfather clock directly in front of his bed. He blew out all the candles but one right next to his bed and nestled down for a few pages of one of his favorites, Homer’s Iliad.

He scribbled a few notes on a paper with some ink when he thought of things he deemed important, and once dry, folded and put it into the book, holding his place, before settling down for the night.

Chapter Text

Henry woke feeling a bit stiff.

He didn’t quite know why, but his joints took a bit more coaxing to get warmed up for the day ahead. He was getting a bit older, but he was still spry enough to have jumped right out of bed the prior morning with no issue.

Henry groaned as his knees crackled. He had only stood up from where he was sitting on his bed, but his joints had quite literally been creaking ever since he woke up. His moustache was also unnaturally tame for this time of year. Henry leaned into his mirror, staring at his reflection. Well, he guessed, it wouldn’t hurt to have to use less product than usual. He put a bit in, smoothing it out ever so slightly, and continued on with his morning.

Just a few little things.

That’s it.

–

“Today is terrible!” Lumiere groaned. Henry huffed.

“Why, Lumiere? What makes today so horrible?”

“Well, it’s not that bad, but I’ve just been so stiff today. I can’t even do a backflip correctly!”

“A backflip?”

“Well, as a boy it was one of my favorite tricks to show off. I just jump off the ground…” Lumiere leapt straight up, tucked his legs into his chest with his arms, and vaulted backwards, before landing back straight up, albeit stumbling a bit.

“See! There was a stumble!” He whined.

“Lumiere, it’s fine. If anything, yesterday probably did a number on all of us. That amount of… stress can’t be good. My own joints have been creaking like a rusty old clock hand.”

“Maybe you are becoming a clock, Cogsworth! The amount of precision in you would certainly fit it.” Lumiere joked.

“Very funny, Lumiere. I can’t stop laughing.” Henry exaggeratingly said. “On another note, how is Master? Has anyone checked on him yet?”

“I know Babette tried to this morning, but couldn’t get in. He locked the door to his room.”

“Oh dear.” Henry muttered. “Let me try to get through to him.”

He dashed down the hall towards the West Wing, where he knew his master slept. Henry rushed up to the large door and knocked strongly three times. It didn’t hurt his knuckles as much as it normally did.

“Master? Are you in there? It’s He-” he paused. “Cogsworth.”

“Go away, Cogsworth.” A raspy voice replied, muffled by the many centimeters of wood.

“Master, you need to take care of yourself, regardless of… what you look like.” Henry awkwardly finished the sentence.

“Cogsworth, no one wants to see me.”

“Master, there are only six people in this castle besides you right now. It must be safe to come out? They all know about your… predicament.”

“Yes, but only you and Lumiere have actually seen me. And that’s two people too many.” Master gruffed.

“Master, you must. It’s going to happen eventually, or you're going to die in there. And then what will happen to all of us? We could not find other work before here, what makes you think now will be any different? I know you care about us a little, even if it’s just because we clean and make you food.”

Silence followed.

Henry shuddered as a sudden thump sounded, a couple more following it, and the door inched open with a creak.

“Okay, Cogsworth. Just don’t let anyone mention it.”

“Of course, Master.” Henry did a quick bow, then pulled the door the rest of the way open for Master Adam. The master stepped out, his large paw thumping on the floor. Henry saw that he had changed into clothes that his late uncle had worn, having a much larger figure than Master himself. However, the ankles of the trousers were up to his calves, and the sleeves of the simple poet shirt rested tightly at his elbows.

“Good to see you, sir.” Henry said, bowing again before leading the master to the dining room. He had seen Mrs. Potts helping prepare meals for the servants, so he thought that having Master there wouldn’t cause too much more of a hassle.

As they stepped through the archway that separated the main hall from the dining room, the sounds of chatter and clinging of china stopped. Everyone turned their heads to Henry and Master Adam standing in the doorway, the master shrinking under their gaze. Henry quickly and angrily mouthed to everyone, hoping they would see him.

“Act like nothing is different!” he exaggerated. He saw some of the people in the room give him eye contact and a slight nod, and hoped that the ones who didn’t would get the message.

“Hello master! Pleasure to see you this fine morning!” Lumiere greeted with a wide smile and a bow. Henry could see Master relaxing a bit at Lumiere’s casual attitude.

“Of course, Lumiere. It’s always a pleasure to see me.” He said in his usual gruff attitude. This made a few more people in the room deflate in relief as they recognized him.

Master walked to the head of the long table and pulled his chair out sharply, before sitting down.

“Now, what’s for breakfast.”

Mrs. Potts brightened. “Fresh eggs, bread, and berry jam, master. All freshly prepared this morning.”

“Good.” he simply replied.

Everyone held their breath as Mrs. Potts set a plate in front of the master. He struggled to grip the tiny silverware in his massive paws, and eventually found a careful balance of holding it between the claws on his used-to-be thumb and index finger, before scarfing down the larger than usual serving size, only dropping his utensil a couple dozen times. Once his plate was empty, everyone scrambled to ask if he wanted more, what they could do for him, “Do you want some wine?”, “How about a hot towel?”. Master just gruffed and stood up, walking straight out of the room and leaving Henry to scramble after him.

“Anything else, Master?”

“Cogsworth, leave me alone. I came out of my chamber, you should be satisfied with that. Have my dinner ready at noon, sharp, and my supper at seven.”

“Of course, Master, of course.” Henry stuttered. He watched the master lumber off, his paws hitting the marble floor with large cushioned ‘thump’s. After the sound had echoed off into silence, he turned back and started towards the dining room, where he presumed everyone else still was.

He reached the room and, panting, leaned on the doorframe.

“The master is back in his bedchamber. He wants his dinner at precisely noon and his supper at exactly seven.”

“Thank you, Cogsworth. You’ve done very well.” Mrs. Potts said, wiping off the master’s place at the table with a damp cloth. Henry flushed at the compliment. He wasn’t a child, he didn’t need praise for doing his job.

“Of course, Mrs. Potts. It’s my job, after all.”

“Yes, of course Cogsworth, but you didn’t ask for the master to get cursed. You’ve taken a great initiative on making sure he is okay, much further beyond your job description. The rest of us were simply petrified, and you jumped up and immediately found a solution. It’s very admirable.” Henry’s face grew redder.

“Well, thank you Mrs. Potts.” He took a moment to fan his face discretely until it was its regular temperature. “Now, do you need help with anything?”

“I’m just fine, dear. Could you go check on Chip in the kitchen? He’s finishing up some pastries from last night, and I don’t want him getting sick.” Henry wasn’t good with children, but he figured it was a given to help Mrs. Potts out after all she had done for him.

“Yes, of course. Let me know if anything else is needed.” Henry replied.

“I always do, Cogsworth.” She joked, dunking the rag in a bucket of water.

When Henry pushed open the door to the large kitchen, he was greeted with Chip jumping off the counter and standing stick straight, staring directly at him. His mouth was ringed with fruit jelly, and crumbs were littered across the area like bodies after a war. Henry figured it was a fair comparison, with the pastry massacre that had clearly just occured.

“Hello Cogsworth!” Chip piped. He quickly rubbed the back of his hand across his lips, only succeeding in spreading the mess more.

“I see you succeeded in the task your mother gave you. How are you feeling after such a difficult endeavor?”

“Just fine, Cogsworth!” Chips stomach let out a large gurgle. When Henry gave him a skeptical look, Chip groaned and slumped onto the floor.

“I ate too much! They were just so tasty!”

“Okay, Chip, let's get you back to your room.” Henry groaned as he picked up the limp boy, his knees creaking.

“Oh, I’m getting old.” Henry croaked. As Henry left the kitchen, he shot Mrs. Potts a shy smile as he inched towards the door leading to the rest of the castle. She smiled at him and gave a little giggle, waving.

As he walked towards the servant’s chambers, Henry noticed that Chip was letting out light snores. He looked down at the sleeping boy with something akin to fondness, but once realizing his mistake, placed his usual annoyed demeanor back on.

“Cogsworth!”

“Shh!” Henry hissed, turning around to scold whoever yelled his name. Lumiere stopped in his tracks, a guilty look on his face upon seeing the sleeping Chip.

“My apologies.” Lumiere whispered, stepping up to Chip and running a hand through the boy’s hair.

“He is quite heavy, and I would like to get him back to his room, so if you are going to follow me, stop dawdling.” Henry huffed.

“Oh! Yes! I could carry him for you, if you’d be interested?” Lumiere looked hopeful, for whatever reason.

“I’m not that old yet, Lumiere. If anything, I would be concerned about you carrying him, considering you ‘can’t do a proper backflip’.” Henry mocked, putting a horrendous French accent on the final phrase. Lumiere scoffed, though clearly lighthearted, before running after Henry, who had resumed his trek to the quarters. Chip, somehow, had not stirred during their exchange, which made transporting him much easier. Henry knew how energetic Lumiere and Chip got when they had conversations, and he did not need that while carrying one of them.

When they reached Mrs. Potts’ room, Henry motioned for Lumiere to open the door. Once he did, Henry carefully walked in and set Chip on the large bed, tucking him under the sheets and stepping back, nodding once he was satisfied with his great childcare. He carefully stepped out of the room, making sure to not bump into anything, and closing the door slowly and quietly.

“There.” He said, once the door quietly clicked into place.

“And now? What do we do now that the master is refusing our service?” Lumiere questions.

“I’m not quite sure.”

Chapter Text

Lumiere and Henry had taken to the obvious solution. Sit in the commons and pretend to be productive until one of the women finds them and orders them around. Henry, not wanting to soil his evening routine, had sat down with Shakespeare as opposed to his beloved Greek Epics. Lumiere was sitting at his usual spot on the loveseat, fiddling with his fingers.

But O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? Tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though-

“Ouch!”

“What, Lumiere?” Henry snapped.

“I touched the tip of my finger, and it burned like fire, I swear it!”

“Lumiere, you’re mad. Your brain just fooled you, your finger cannot ‘burn like fire’.”

“It did! Here, the fingertip I touched it with is burned.” Lumiere stood up abruptly and raced over to Henry’s armchair. Once there, he shoved his finger in Henry’s face, bumping into the bridge of his reading spectacles.

“Move it back, Lumiere. I can’t see a thing!” Henry complained. Lumiere obliged.

There, as said, was red, slightly burned skin. It looked tender, and when Henry poked it, Lumiere winced and drew back.

“Do not touch it! Can’t you see I am injured?”

“I assume you are. Are you sure you didn’t put it over a candle flame?”

“Of course not! What fool do you think I am?” Henry gave Lumiere a skeptical look, and when Lumiere scoffed, turned back to his book.

“You can grab some ointment from the cabinet, and it should heal quickly. Stop being such a child about it, Lumiere.”

“My finger is not the problem, it’s how the burn got there that concerns me!”

“I wouldn’t worry. You simply bumped a candle or something of the sort while mucking about on that loveseat of yours.”

Henry heard Lumiere stalking off to the clinic for ointment, and sighed in relief before turning back to his well-loved but perfectly maintained copy of Othello. Just as Othello wounds Iago, Lumiere lumbers back into the chamber.

“Cogsworth, it has happened again! Just as I was wiping ointment on the injured finger, the injured finger burned the one applying the ointment!” He shoved two herb-smelling fingers in Henry’s face yet again, and Henry was shocked to see that, yes, both had red burns on them. The original burn had begun to blister a bit, and the new one was red and still warm. Henry leaned forward to touch one of them, and jumped back when a prick of heat danced on his finger. He looked down and besides the expected ointment rubbing off onto him, his own finger was slightly red and hot. Not as severe as Lumiere’s wounds, but burned nonetheless.

Henry stared in shock. This simply wasn’t possible. Someone’s fingers could not burn another!

He let out a surprised noise, a little click that almost sounded like the ticking of a clock.

“See!” Lumiere shouted, “Now you’re making clock noises!”

Henry scoffed. “That is in no way related! And are you sure it was a ‘clock noise’? It could have simply been me clicking the back of my throat, Lumiere. Stop jumping to conclusions.” To demonstrate, Henry clicked his tongue against the back of his throat. Lumiere was correct that the sound was much more… mechanical, but Henry was a man of intellect, and this simply was the obvious conclusion.

“No, I know what I heard. I am quite famous for my incredible hearing, Cogsworth.” Lumiere folded his arms, wincing when they creaked a bit at being bent further than ninety degrees. Henry noticed the careful way in which he avoided touching the tips of his fingers to his coat. Whether this was to prevent ointment from soiling the delicate fabrics or his irrational fear of burning it, he did not know.

“Of course you are, Lumiere. You are “quite famous” for about everything, it seems.” Henry’s face seemed to twitch slightly, his moustache sharply moving up and down.

“See, Cogsworth! You just twitched!” Lumiere shouted, pointing a burnt and aromatic finger in his face.

“Lumiere, twitching is a normal, human thing to do.” Henry did find that particular movement unusual, however. He was not itchy in the traditional sense of the word when it happened. It was almost as if his brain was itchy, and scratching that itch meant twitching that twitch.

What an odd rhyme.

“Yes, but-”

“Leave it alone, Lumiere!” Henry scolded. He ‘tsk’-d, but it ended up sounding more like a ‘tick’. Henry decided the best course of action to avoid Lumiere’s incessant accusing was to escape to his own bedchamber. He quickly picked up his copy of Othello and scrambled behind his door, slamming it behind him and pressing his back to it. His brain itched, he twitched, and it was scratched.

—

“Cogsworth? Oh, Cogsworth?”
Henry awoke on his floor, his back aching in a most horrible way and the comforting voice of Mrs. Potts muffled by his thick oak door.

“Yes, Mrs. Potts?”

“Won't you please come outside? We have decided it is best to have a discussion as a group.”

“Give me a moment, miss.” Henry sighed and pushed himself off the floor, groaning as his joints popped yet again. He hoped this was just a spell, and that it wouldn’t continue much longer. He didn’t know if he could handle this for the rest of his life. He carefully rushed over to his mirror, and after smoothing his hair down and marveling at the fact that his moustache was still quite stiff and in place, emerged from his room.

Everyone was sitting down in their seats, somber expressions on their faces. Henry noticed immediately that Babette had a redder nose than usual, a feather sticking out of her tightly-in-place bun. Madame looked a bit purple in the face, her grand gown a bit tighter than usual. Mrs. Potts had one hand on her hip, and it seemed firmly planted there. The other rested at her side, her fingers worrying together as she stared at Chip, who was sitting on Mrs. Potts’ usual spot, his legs swinging carelessly. The jelly had been wiped off from around his mouth, and he had a bandage wrapped around his head, but didn’t seem to notice. Lumiere was wearing thick black gloves, the sort you would see on the raptor trainers that often visited the castle with promise of entertainment. Most often they were turned away.

“So, what is so dire that I was needed immediately?” Henry inquired. Everyone in the room exchanged glances, before Madame spoke up. She coughed hoarsely, and tried to speak, before coughing out,

“Cogsworth, would you be a dear and loosen my corset? It is at the usual tightness, but I must have eaten too much at the ball last night. I can hardly breathe in this thing!” Henry gave a curt nod and rushed over to her, grabbing her hand and helping her stand up. He turned her around and carefully untied the delicate bow that held her corset strings in place. Once the bow was undone, Madame gave a deep and loud inhale that made everyone in the room jump.

“Thank you, thank you so much.” She forced out, after taking a few gasping breaths.
“Don’t you want me to re-tie it?” Henry asked.

“No, no, please don’t. A small waist isn’t worth my own death.” Shocked glances were exchanged at the apparent severity of Madame’s situation. They knew she wasn’t one for exaggeration. She sat back down, and Henry hurried over to his own seat.

“This just proves it, doesn’t it? Something is wrong.” Babette speaks up. “Nothing like this has ever happened before! I’ve seen Madame eat an entire tier of cake at a party after drinking too much wine, and she has never had these issues!” Madame’s face grew red, and she hid it beneath her billowing sleeve in embarrassment.

“What do you mean by this… something?” Henry asked.

“Odd things are just… happening! With all of us! I have not encountered a single person here who doesn’t have something new pop up that is just… odd!”

“Not me!” Henry defended.

“What about the ticking? Your clearly stiff joints? There’s clearly more, but you haven’t told us anything, as per usual!” Lumiere snapped.

“The ticking has nothing to do with anything!” Henry fought back. His brain itched. The room stilled. It itched again. And again. Henry dropped to the floor as his face twitched and twitched and twitched until it ached. He felt a hand on his back, one running through his hair. Eventually, the itching, and therefore the twitching, stopped.

“Are you okay, Cogsworth?” Mrs. Potts’ gentle voice reached his ears.

“I don’t know, miss. I don’t know.”

Chapter Text

After sitting back down and calming themselves down, the situation was finally formally addressed.

“It is of utmost importance that we are honest with each other. If we hide things, we could be hurt and miss out on vital information on what is happening. We are going to go around in a circle and say every single unusual thing that has happened to you in the past day.” Mrs. Potts said. “I’ll start. My joints, particularly in my elbows, have creaked unless they are in a certain position. This arm, my left, needs to be right here to be comfortable. I can move it, but it is unpleasant to do so. My other arm has not had any issues so far, but I do not know if that will change. That is about everything that I have noticed, but it has only been a few hours since I woke up.

As for Chip, a peculiar dent showed up in his forehead that I only noticed when I checked up on him after Cogsworth and Lumiere took him back to his room. Did anything happen on your way back?”

“Nothing worth noting, no,” Henry replied.

“Okay, thank you Cogsworth. It is quite shallow, but tender when I touched it. I took care to wrap it up with a cushion to prevent further injury. He has also been stiffer than usual, if that is believable.” Everyone looked over at Chip, who was alertly looking around the room, still swinging his legs in a smooth and effortless fashion. “He is normally much more energetic than this. He also has been a bit less responsive than he was before his nap. Babette, you go next.”

“Okay, Mrs. Potts. This morning when I woke up, I found a black feather in my bed. Then, after working for a few hours, I found another. They have been popping up everywhere, and it is making me sneeze. I do not appreciate it!” She huffed and crossed her arms, sinking back into the loveseat. As if to prove a point, she sneezed, then looked around and found a feather tucked into the strap of her apron. She attempted to throw it across the room, but it only went about half a meter before floating gently back down, landing on her shiny black shoes.

“How about you, Madame?”

“I am sure it is fairly clear what has been going on with me. My corsets and dresses aren’t fitting quite right! They fit perfectly yesterday, and this morning my usual settings are too tight. However, I have also had an issue with my hair. It seems just a bit thinner than usual, and when I brushed my hair this morning, much more hair was left on the brush.” She stuttered a bit while talking about her hair loss, her eyes welling up.

“Lumiere?”

“Oh boy, don’t get me started! First, this morning I was stiff enough to not be able to perform a backflip perfectly! Then, my elbows creaked whenever I tried to straighten and bend them, much like Mrs. Potts. And then, my fingers started burning!”

“What do you mean by ‘burning’, Lumiere?”

“I mean they burn whatever they touch! That is why I am wearing these gloves. I burned myself and Cogsworth with them!”

“Is that right, Cogsworth?” Mrs. Potts asked. Henry flushed under the sudden attention before nodding.

“Yes, it is.”

Lumiere carefully pulled off one of the gloves, the one covering his right hand. Henry could see the burned index finger from all the way across the room. It seems the burn was worse than he had initially thought.

“Babette, grab the feather on your shoe and touch it to one of my fingers. Preferably not the burnt one.” Babette did as told, however slightly confused, and when the shiny black feather made contact with his bare skin, it burst into flames. Babette let out a shriek and dropped it, watching as the fire consumed the small feather rapidly, only leaving a slight scorch on the wooden floorboards. Lumiere quickly replaced the thick leather gloves, slumping into his seat and putting his head into his well-insulated hands. If Henry didn’t know any better, he would have thought Lumiere was crying.

He was obviously exaggerating his emotions for humor.

Right?

Babette, having recovered from her shock, rubbed Lumiere’s back comfortingly.
“...Cogsworth? You are the last one, and I know you have something to say,” Mrs. Potts spoke in a quiet and comforting tone. Henry figured he must look shocked and fragile at the moment, but couldn’t quite care enough to put up his usual walls. His brain itched.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He took a deep breath in. When he let it out, his chest buzzed a bit, almost like the whirring of gears. “I do suppose I can dredge up a few things.” He gave a weak smile. No one else returned it. He cleared his throat, and his brain itched again.

“So, um,” He had never stuttered this much in his life, let alone 30 seconds. “This morning, my joints were quite stiff. They still are. They creak like a machine that needs to be oiled. My moustache, though I am not complaining, is simply too stiff and perfectly tame to be normal. Lumiere has said multiple times that I have made ‘ticking noises’, and I have the whole… twitching issue. That one seems most prevalent. And I figure I should mention that if I pay particularly close attention to my breathing, it almost sounds like the whirring of gears. I believe that is all.” After finishing, Henry looked down at his shoes, a sort of vulnerability he had never felt before settling in his gut like a large serpent.

He was like a small animal, his head down, exposing his neck. Any one of the lions in the room could pounce and snap at his throat, killing him instantly. He couldn’t find the strength in him to raise his head and protect himself. It almost seemed more deadly than the jaws slowly pressing in on his jugular.

“Thank you, Cogsworth.” Mrs. Potts had noticed his change in behavior. Henry thanked her in his head for having an intuitiveness that no one else seemed to possess.

“What do we do now?”

Case and point.

“Lumiere, please, take a moment.”

“This is not normal, Madame! Can’t you see! Cogsworth and I especially are being altered in a way which we do not know! It’s been a single day, what could happen tomorrow? And the day after that? And on, and on, and on! Cogsworth is a completely different person, ever since his twitching took over! Look at him!”

Henry shuffled his feet, the weight of 4 pairs of eyes resting heavily on his shoulders.

“He has never acted anything like this, not in the decades I have known him. So no, we cannot take a moment. If we take a moment, who knows if we will have another beyond it!”

Silence.

And then a voice.

“You and Cogsworth do seem to have the most out of all of us,” Madame muttered. “When were you two alone in the past day?”

“Quite a few times, actually.” Everyone seemed shocked at Henry’s voice. Whether it was because they did not believe him well enough to talk, or because his usually commanding voice was frail and wavering, he did not know.

“Right after we woke up and while carrying a sleeping Chip back here are the two most notable, I’d say.”

“The symptoms had already started then, though?” Lumiere pointed out.

“What about last night then?” Madame amended.

Henry’s head shot up, finding Lumiere’s eyes.

The enchantress.

‘You treat your servants, the people who care for you most in this world, like mere objects.’

Objects.

Oh my god.

His brain itched.

Chapter Text

Just as Henry was about to blurt out his frankly alarming discovery, the large grandfather clock in his room rang loud enough to be heard in the commons.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven… twelve.

The master’s dinner.

Oh dear.

“Mrs. Potts! The master’s dinner was supposed to be done by now!”

Mrs. Potts’ eyes went wide.

“Oh no. Oh no, oh dear!” She scrambled to gather her things, wincing when she tried to use her left arm, eventually giving up and gathering everything in her right.

“He will have to deal with leftovers. I think we have some cold turkey and more of the bread from this morning. A sandwich will have to do.” And then she was gone. Chip was still sat on his chair, swinging his legs and looking around with a dopey smile on his face.

“Okay, Chip, let’s go back to your room, okay? I’m sure I can find some charcoal for you to draw with,” Babette said, herding him out of the room carefully, a feather dropping in her wake. With half the room gone, and Madame clearly ready to leave and go back to her dog - is the dog changing too? - Henry didn’t know if it was best to tell the news now.

Madame stood up and excused herself, her loose corset strings trailing behind her as she stumbled off. Her legs seemed a little stiffer than usual.

And then it was Henry and Lumiere.

“Lumiere?”

“Yes, Cogsworth?”

“I think I know what’s happening to us, and I don’t think there’s a way to fix it.” Lumiere sat up straighter, his full attention on Henry.

“So? Tell me!” He bounced slightly in his seat. Henry took a breath.

“When the enchantress was at the castle, while berating the master, said quote, ‘You treat your servants, the people who care for you most in this world, like mere objects.’ Doesn’t it seem like that? That we are becoming objects? I don’t know about anyone else, but,” Henry hesitated. “I do seem much more like a clock than usual,” he grumbled, frustrated at admitting the fact. Lumiere smirked.

“So you do admit you’ve been acting like a clock!”

“That’s what you’re focusing on? We are all slowly losing our humanity! Becoming… things!” Lumiere’s smirk dropped off his face.

“Of course, of course. I’m sorry, Cogsworth. Do you think it will be a full transformation? Will you become a complete clock, or just have clock-like elements?”

“I don’t know, Lumiere. I do not know. All we can do is hope for the second option.” His brain itched. Henry could see Lumiere staring at him with almost a look of… pity on his face, as much as he hated it. Pity was weak. He was weak. With each twitch he had made, he could see all the other servants pitying him more and more.

Lumiere’s glove smoldered.

“Lumiere! Your glove!” Lumiere, confused, looked down and shrieked when he saw the smoke emanating from the leather.

“Oh! Oh my!” He scrambled to pull the glove off, and saw that his fingers were each glowing a soft orange colour. “What object could possibly be related to fire?” He sighed.

“A fireplace? Are you excited to be stuck in the wall, Lumiere? No more backflips for you!” Henry joked.

“Ha ha, very funny Cogsworth. Then why would my fingers be burning? Wouldn’t it be, say, my stomach?”

Henry looked around the room, his eye catching on a shiny surface.

“There’s always a candelabra?” Henry suggested.

“A candelabra…”

—

Henry took a deep breath as he entered the dining hall, his lungs whirring slightly, like the purr of a cat. He opened his eyes, ready for a bloodbath, but instead saw his master sitting grumpily at the head of the table, holding a sandwich in his claws. The master slammed the half-eaten sandwich down on his plate and took a swig from a chalice, of which Henry assumed was filled with wine, and would be filled with wine for the rest of the afternoon.

“Cogsworth. You decided to show up.”

“Oh yes, of course master. I just had to speak with Lumiere for a moment.”

“About what, Cogsworth?”

“Just an issue with…” Henry’s mind blanked. “The fireplace?”

“Okay, Cogsworth.” The master looked suspicious, but didn’t press the matter further. It was unlike him, but Cogsworth was grateful he didn’t have to spill the news now. They still weren’t certain of exactly what was happening, and didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic.

The master’s heavy lips suddenly downturned in what seemed to be a frown, though Henry could not quite tell because of his large snout.

“Have you noticed any… strange things happening to any of you?” If Henry hadn’t known better, he would have said the master’s tone was meek, but he knew better. The master would never let that kind of raw vulnerability slip into his voice.
“Of course not, Master, what do you mean?” Henry lied. He knew if the master found out what was really happening, he would be doomed, but did not want to make him jump to conclusions.

“It’s nothing, Cogsworth. Just…” he paused. “Let me know if things seem off, yes?”

“Of course, of course. Anything for you Master. Would you like me to refill your chalice?”

“Yes, Cogsworth. Very much so.”

—

When Henry returned to the commons, Lumiere was sat on his loveseat, moping.

“Lumiere? What are you doing, just sitting about? I was being productive, as per usual, helping the master during his dinner. What have you been doing?”

“Thinking.”

Oh. Henry had never seen Lumiere like this.

“About the situation?” Henry carefully made his way over to Lumiere and sat down next to him, his posture straight and firm. He tried to make it look natural, but nobody had ever sat in a seat that wasn’t theirs, other than Chip. Chip was a child, so it was excusable. Henry was actively breaking their unspoken rules.

“What else, Cogsworth.” In any other circumstance, that phrase would have had a bite to it, a heat not unlike the one now carried in Lumiere’s fingertips. However, this time, it was just a hopeless remark, dropping on Henry like a weight from the sky, with no warning and, almost, an underwhelming plop.

“True.” Henry did not know what else to say. He breathed in, almost relishing in the comfort of the soft whirr. It reminded him of his childhood cat, laying on his chest and purring like a machine. His brain itched, which broke Lumiere out of his stupor.

“How are you not distraught? Closing yourself off like you always do anyways! How am I the only one here who cares? Everyone else seems to just be fine with this! You are the only one who truly knows what is happening to us, and here you are, not a furrowed brow, expecting me to be the same! We are losing our humanity, Cogsworth! Becoming our namesakes!”

There was that heat.

Lumiere slouched, his gloved hands coming up and gripping Henry’s coat in a tight grasp. Lumiere’s head fell onto Henry’s chest, the fabric between them growing damp from Lumiere’s tears.

“How can you still stand and walk when this is what our future holds?”

Henry breathed in again, and felt Lumiere’s breath hitch as he too heard the soft whirring of gears within Henry’s chest.

“Because, Lumiere, who knows how much longer I will be able to do so?”

Lumiere’s breathing halts suddenly.

A silence echoes through the large room, nothing there but the gears in Henry’s chest and the soft gasps coming from Lumiere.

And a flame.

“Lumiere! Your hands!” Henry gasps, floundering at his jacket. Orange flames danced across the cream fabric, turning it brown and black as it spread. Lumiere jumped back, staring wordlessly at his smoldering gloves, each finger flickering into a tight blue flame. Henry ripped the suit coat off and slammed it onto the marble floors, stomping his loafer-covered foot onto the fire to smother it. Lumiere could only sit back in shock, watching as the gloves melted and burned off his hands, leaving them miraculously unharmed.

Once the fire was out, both men stayed still, huffing in disbelief.

“It’s getting worse.” Lumiere muttered, unable to take his eyes off his hands, the still-smoldering leather gloves laying in his lap.

“It is.” Henry felt a ticking in his heart, the whirring growing in volume, ominous.

Their time was running out, and Henry wasn’t the only one with a ticking clock in his heart.

Chapter Text

“Cogsworth? Lumiere?”

Henry jumped, a loud tick escaping his mouth. He looked at where the voice came from and saw Mrs. Potts leaning in the door, her mouth pursed with worry.

“Is everything alright in here?”

“Oh, Mrs. Potts! We, uh,” Henry stammered. It felt like his brain was stuck, gears sticking together. That might just be the worry, however.

“Things are getting worse.” Lumiere snapped, still staring at his lap with a gaze that could burn the already destroyed gloves in his lap again. “I can’t even touch fabric anymore.”

Mrs. Potts mouth made a small ‘o’ and she wandered in, one of her hands on her hip, as it was yesterday.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

“And you, Mrs. Potts? Has it gotten worse?”

“Of course it has, dear. Why would it be different between us?” She gave a smile, but her eyes were sad. It made Henry’s metal heart ache.

“Mrs. Potts, are…” Henry gulped. He wasn’t used to asking personal questions to his coworkers, to getting to know them at all outside of a professional setting. It made things more difficult when they got irritated with him. “Are you doing okay? How are you dealing with this?”

“To be honest with you, Cogsworth, I’m not sure. Not well, I suppose. It hasn’t really settled in yet. Some of the symptoms are making me think, ‘oh, it’s just a muscle spasm from repetitive motion!’ or ‘I can’t bend over quite as well, just like after Chip was born!’, and not truly, ‘I might not be myself tomorrow’, you understand?”

“I don’t quite think I do, Mrs. Potts, but I assure you, we are working hard to figure out what has happened.” Henry was full aware of his impending doom and, unlike Mrs. Potts, did not have the luxury of naivety.

“Have you gotten anywhere?”

Henry looked over to Lumiere, who looked right back at him. Their wordless conversation went on for a bit, before Lumiere broke the silence.

“We are all turning into objects.” He announced. Henry sputtered and gave him a death glare, the ticking in his chest growing with anger, before looking to Mrs. Potts, who was staring in shock.

“I apologize for his behavior. We aren’t 100 percent certain,” He sent a glare Lumiere’s way, “But we do think that is what is happening based on our firsthand experiences.”

“Objects? But, but,” Mrs. Potts sputtered, her face growing red.

“Me a clock, Lumiere, possibly a candelabra.” Henry tried to elaborate, but it wasn’t doing much good for Mrs. Potts. At this rate, Henry was afraid she would faint and he wouldn’t be able to catch her fast enough.

“Oh dear, oh my,” Mrs. Potts began pacing, racing so quickly that Henry was afraid she, not Lumiere, would be the one causing a fire on the floors. “It does make sense as to why I’ve been feeling so… empty for the past few hours, how I cannot move my arm, why the other creaks oh so terribly, why poor Chip-”

“Mrs. Potts!” Lumiere cried. She stopped. “Calm yourself. It is okay.”

“Cogsworth, Lumiere, I do not think you understand.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “This is my child we are talking about. He does not deserve this! Yes, God can punish my sins, but do not reflect that on such a young boy! He is not even ten!”

Henry had never spent much time around children. In truth, Chip was the last child he’d seen in perhaps a decade. He had never thought of having children, not seriously.

“You’re right, Mrs. Potts. I can’t understand. Chip is such a wonderful boy, and for certain he does not deserve this. However, fretting won’t solve anything. Finding a solution will. We just…” Henry paused. “We just don’t happen to have one right now.”

“Shouldn’t we start with telling the others then?” Mrs. Potts snapped. Henry had never seen her this on edge before. It was unlike her, and that scared him. He twitched before answering.

“I don’t think we should.” Lumiere’s head snapped towards Henry.

“Why not? Do you really think, Cogsworth, that leaving the rest of the castle in the dark about this will be good? And that is just mentioning the short term! What about in the future? They will notice eventually, and we will have to be the ones to step up and tell them ‘Yes, we knew the whole time. No, we decided not to tell you. Why? Oh, no reason, just that we decided to not tell you you are slowly but surely turning into an inanimate object. That’s all.’” Lumiere breathed in deep, his hands clenched into fists. Henry wouldn’t be surprised if they burst into flame.

“I’m sorry, what?” A high pitched voice sounded from the door behind them. Henry whipped around and, to his dismay, he saw the short brown and white locks unique to Babette. She stumbled forward, and after regaining her footing, marched up to Lumiere, staring him down with no hesitation.

“Lumiere, you had better explain yourself right now.” Babette’s voice was weak and cracking, her balled fists were trembling terribly, and Henry could see her knees shaking underneath her skirt. Still, as Henry looked at her, she was the strongest person he knew. He knew that after discovering something like this, he could never stand up and face that fear, right to the face that delivered it.

“Babette, it was… a joke! Simply trying out something new, I suppose!” Lumiere tried, but he gave it away himself. His eyes were welling up, staring at Babette with pure sorrow.

“Lumiere.” Babette’s face softened, and she put one of her hands on his arm. Henry watched as a feather fell from her sleeve and softly floated to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Babette!” Lumiere’s facade broke, and tears began falling from his eyes. He tried to wipe them with one of his sleeves, attempting to avoid touching his face with his hands completely. “I wanted to tell you better than this. I don’t know how much I know, and its hard, but I promise I wanted to tell you! I wouldn’t not let you know about this! I promise,” he hiccuped.

“I know, Lumiere, I know. You’re trying your best.” Babette pulls Lumiere into a hug, and he fliches his hands away from her back before they can make contact.

“Babette, I’ve hurt you. I’m going to hurt you.” Lumiere pulls back and bends down to pick up one of the feathers that had fallen from Babette since she arrived. “After all, fire burns feathers. Quickly and smoothly. It’d be better if you just stay away from me.” Henry’s eyes were glued to the feather that had quickly combusted in Lumiere’s palm, and he expected that everyone else’s were too. He clicked his tongue and forced his gaze away from the bright flames. It didn’t seem right to watch this moment between the two.

“Just for now, until we get this fixed, right? Right, Lumiere?” Henry heard Babette desperately say.

“Of course, Babette. Just until we get it fixed. You think I’d want to spend that much time away from you?” Henry looked back at Lumiere’s face. It held a sad smile.

Henry didn’t suppose that Lumiere expected this would end at all.

Chapter Text

After a long time of crying, of which made Henry vastly uncomfortable, the staff had dispersed to continue with their daily tasks. After all, they still had to work, despite their circumstances. Mrs. Potts began making the master’s supper, Babette continued cleaning, and Lumiere…

Lumiere moped around.

Then again, what else was new? Although this was a much more serious situation, Lumiere was always one for finding something to mope about, whether that be a pretty girl he saw while visiting town or staining one of his favorite coats.

Henry, however, decided now was as good a time as ever to check on Master Adam himself.

“Sir? Are you in there?” Henry rapped on the door.
“What do you want, Cogsworth.” a muffled, gruff voice sounded from behind the door.

“Just checking up on you, master. Is there anything you need?” He clicked his tongue and twitched, twisting each one of his individual fingers.

“I don’t want to speak to anyone until supper, Cogsworth. Leave me be.” the voice snapped. Henry heard a thump.

“Master, I really do think we should talk.”

“Cogsworth-”

“Master Adam, open this door right now!” Henry snapped, before slapping his hands across his mouth. He had never spoken that way to the master before. Although Master Adam was 30 years his junior, he still treated him with the respect of someone decades older than him.

There was no sound from behind the door anymore.

But after a moment, Henry heard the soft padding of paws and clicking of claws on hardwood floor. The handle of the door turned, and it opened slightly, exposing just enough for Henry to see a wall of course brown fur and one amber slitted eye.

“Cogsworth. Come in, quickly.” the master gruffed, moving to the side so there was just enough room for Henry to shimmy through.

Once Henry entered the room, he had to stop himself from grimacing at the state of his surroundings. He could do nothing about the twitching, however, but Master Adam didn’t seem to notice in between his frantic locking of the large double doors.

“Why are you here, Cogsworth? I have told you many times to leave me alone.” The master walked up to Henry, getting close enough that Henry had to crane his neck to look the massive beast in the eyes. He gulped and clicked his tongue again before replying.

“Of course sir, of course, but…”

“But what, Cogsworth?”

“I don’t believe this isolation is good for you, master. Humans are social creatures! You must come outside every once and a while, even to just have a chat with any of us! Without the rest of the staff here, we are feeling quite lonely.” Henry knew this was a desperate measure, but it was the best he had. He anxiously twisted his fingers again.

Master chuckled, deep and husky from lack of speech.

“Master? What is it?”

“Well, Cogsworth, I’m not exactly human anymore, am I? What use would all of you have spending time around me, of all things?”

Henry gasped, choking slightly on his saliva.

“Well, um, well sir,” he stuttered, “You are a bright young man who has so much potential, and great authoritative skills, and remember the stories you used to tell? They would keep the castle in stitches for hours!”

“Was, Cogsworth, was. I am no longer a man. I have no more potential. I’m just a horrendous beast who has no role in civilization. No right to be around real humans. I deserve to rot.” Master spat, thick spittle flying onto Henry’s face.

Uncharacteristic rage filled Henry’s gut. He used his forearm to wipe the spit off his brow and clenched his fists.

“Well, Adam, you won’t be spending time around ‘real humans’! Because of you, we are all becoming objects! At least you can still walk and talk and think! A month from now, we might not be able to! At least talk to us while we still can!”

Master’s eyes widened, the whites that were nearly invisible normally surrounding the bright iris and contrasting with the dark skin around his eyes.

When he spoke, it didn’t have any of the venom that Henry was expecting.

“Cogsworth.” he breathed out in horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The hurt evident in the master’s voice was worse than the reprimand Henry was expecting.

“You’ve locked yourself up in your room. When would I have had time?”

The master paused, looking for an answer.

“You should have come sooner.” He decides on.
“I’ve been a bit… busy, sir.”

“I bet you have.”

The silence was palpable.

“How about you come outside and have a chat with everyone else, sir? I think you would benefit from it.”

The master readjusted his large shirt, very clearly flinching when he brushed against the fur underneath.

“Yes, Cogsworth. I think I will.”

Chapter Text

Henry was baffled.

He was sure he had never seen anyone as jumpy, as nervous, as Adam was while they made the walk to the dining hall. At one point, Adam had dropped the pocket watch he had been fidgeting with in his massive paws onto the slick tile floor and jumped half a metre into the air.

“Sir, are you sure you’re up to this? If you want, we can have a chat alone in your room and build your way up to the others?” Henry inquired.

“No, Cogsworth, I’m fine, I just-” He took a deep breath in, stretching the fabric of his shirt. “If I don’t do this now, I don’t think I will have the courage to do it again.”

Henry supposed he was right. He had seen Adam’s different moods, and he was either complacent like this, or, more often, irritable and cruel. Seeing Adam in this mood was an opportunity that shouldn’t be wasted. Henry wrinkled his nose and twitched, almost not noticing it this time.

“Of course, Adam, let’s continue, then.” He continued taking steps, relishing in the satisfying click his loafers made on the freshly polished floor, likely the handiwork of Babette.

“Adam?” Henry stopped. Oh dear. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“I meant Master! I apologize sir, I understand if you would like me to get Lumiere to escort you from now on, he would never make such a frivolous mistake. In fact, I’ll go get him now, just wait here sir, it won’t be a minute,” Henry chattered quickly, tapping his foot on the floor and twisting his moustache obsessively.

“No, Cogsworth, wait,” Adam’s booming voice snapped Henry out of his racing thoughts. “I’m no master anymore. I don’t deserve the title. Afterall, I’m the one who has done this to you.”

“Sir-”

“Cogsworth. Please. Call me Adam.”

“Of course, Adam.” Henry swallowed the bile building in his throat at calling his master- Adam- something so casual out loud.

“Now, let’s go. I don’t want to stand here longer than I have to.” Adam huffed, stomping ahead of Henry.

There his master was.

Henry almost forgot who he was talking to.

___________

“Oh, Cogsworth, glad you could join us! We just pulled out some of the older Romanee-Conti out from the back of the wine cellar! Mrs. Potts said it was a bit too soon to start drinking, but I disagree.” Lumiere greeted Henry in the doorway with a firm pat on the shoulder that made Henry flinch and caused the wine in the glass in his left hand to swirl dangerously close to the rim. Henry threw the hand off his shoulder before his coat could get smoldered.

“Well, Lumiere, now might not be the best time, you see-”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said, now is always the best time!”

“Lumiere, what’s going on in here?” Lumiere’s blushed face paled, the drunk look in his eyes replaced with a sober clarity.

“Oh, Master!” Lumiere threw his glass behind his back and, by the wince on his face, clearly spilled some of the wine on himself. And, at a second glance, the floor. “Great of you to join us! We were just about to have tea before finishing preparations for supper! It has been so long since you joined us. Mrs. Potts made scones and raspberry jam!” The wince on his face made an attempt to twist into a smile, but it just made Lumiere look like he had smelled something foul.

Henry looked to Adam, who was clearly trying to resist the urge to decline.

“...Of course, Lumiere, I’d be glad to.” Adam’s snout crinkled, sharp white teeth appearing from behind thick fur. He looked horrifying as well.

Why was everyone in this castle utterly terrible at acting?

Henry, at least, had some history performing Shakespeare. Oh, how far he’s fallen. He twitched.

“Well, Adam, let’s go to the sitting area then, shall we? I expect Babette is already helping set up. After all, it’s nearly 4!”

Lumiere shot Henry one look for the ‘Adam’ and another for the time, along with a harsh whisper.

“How did you know the time?” Henry shrugged. He didn’t know himself. It just felt… right. Lumiere didn’t seem to like this answer, but Henry ignored him and began leading Adam into the next room.

“Fine, I’ll just grab the teacups!” Lumiere huffed, and by the clacking of footsteps retreating, stalked off.

Henry firmly rapped on the wooden door, and was greeted by a muffled ‘Come in!’. Before opening the door, Henry looked at Adam.

The beast was clearly trying not to look nervous. He had rolled his heavy shoulders back and clenched his clawed paws into tight fists, low-set brows furrowed. However, Henry could see the slight tremble of his arms and the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, now barely visible underneath the course fur.

“Are you ready, Adam?” The man in question startled, whether from the sudden noise, his name, or possibly even the consideration of his emotions, Henry did not know.

“Oh, of course Cogsworth. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Then come along. I think it’s best I enter first, don’t you think?” Adam gave a firm nod. He did not seem sure of himself.

Henry pushed the door open and leaned his head in, giving a weak smile to Chip, Madame, and Babette.

“Hello everyone, we have a guest. Lumiere will be here soon, he’s just grabbing the china. I’m assuming Mrs. Potts is on her way as well?”

“Oh, yes she is! She’s dishing up the scones and finishing stooping the tea and then she’ll be right in. Who is it? I didn’t think we would have any guests today. The Christmas break isn’t over yet!” Babette gave a comforting smile, straightening out her skirt, a few feathers fluttering to the ground. Henry stepped fully into the room and gestured for Adam to follow.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “Adam has decided to join us for tea today.” Adam followed behind Henry, his thick lips curled up in the semblance of a smile and giving the room a weak wave. It was not returned. Chip tried to discreetly cower beneath the quilt he was underneath, and Madame gave him a firm glare. Babette was the only one who tried to be civil.

“Master, I’ve seen you’ve chosen to leave your chambers!” Babette’s voice was strained and her smile wavered. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, why are you here? You have never expressed interest in joining us for tea before.” Her hands fidgeted with one of the pitch black feathers, twisting it between her fingers. A green sheen flickered across its surface when it caught the light.

“Cogsworth was the one to suggest it-” Adam started, but Henry interrupted him.

“Why don’t we wait for Lumiere and Mrs. Potts! They have the tea, after all, and what’s tea without tea?” Henry weakly chuckled and twitched. He saw Adam’s amber eyes flick to his face. He didn’t suppose Adam had properly seen his twitches before.

Henry awkwardly shuffled over to an empty armchair and gestured to the one next to him. Adam seemed to have gotten the message and gratefully sunk into the chair. By the looks of it, he was relieved to not be the center of attention.

Whatever conversation Madame and Babette had been having before their arrival was clearly permanently quelled. The only movement was Babette carefully passing a stray feather to Chip when she caught him staring at the one she was holding.

All there was left to do was wait for Lumiere and Mrs. Potts.

It surely wouldn’t take that long, would it?

Chapter Text

“Hello everybody! Sorry I made you wait, the Earl Grey was being awfully fussy, and it took me ten minutes to find that new brew imported from India! I know Madame mentioned wanting to try it.” Mrs. Potts smiled, looking back to close the door behind her. She clearly had not noticed the deafening silence she had broken or, somehow, the massive brown-furred mass sitting on the couch in the center of the room, an almost palatable radius of quarantine surrounding him. Except, of course, for Henry, who was still keeping his distance, but still sat on the armchair next to where Adam was sat.

When Mrs. Potts turned around, her eyes widened and her hands, which were holding a tray carefully balancing various teapots, fumbled, causing it to begin to slip from her fingers. Babette frantically shot up, feathers billowing out from the sudden movement, and rushed to secure it in Mrs. Potts’ hands before they would lose all the tea.

“Hello, Master Adam.” Mrs. Potts muttered, shocked. Adam looked uncomfortable with the title, but didn’t correct her.

“Hello, Mrs. Potts.”

“Is Lumiere here yet? We can’t get anyone tea until he fetches the china.” Mrs. Potts regained her composure, assumedly, and addressed the rest of the room.

“Oh, no, he just ran off for it. I assume he’ll be back soon, though, with the speed he was going, I would be surprised if all of it remained intact.” Babette went back to her seat, smoothing out her dress as she sat, only causing more feathers to fall to the floor. She furrowed her brow, looking down at all of them slowly drifting to the ground. Chip, unaware, lunged for them, causing his mother to place the tea on the coffee table and gather him up in her arms.

“No, Chip, no roughhousing during tea. You better rest. You said you weren’t feeling well, right?”

“Uh huh, Momma. I feel all… empty. And my head hurts! A lot!” Chip pouted, rubbing his stomach. Henry grew more aware of the bandage still wrapped around the boy’s forehead.
“You’re most likely just hungry, dear. Why don’t you have a scone? I’m sure Lumiere won’t mind. Do you want butter and jam?” Mrs. Potts put Chip back down and started preparing a scone for him.

“Both, Momma!” Chip bounced slightly. Henry was happy to see the boy wasn’t too distraught quite yet. However, Chip couldn’t have a clue what was going on.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Eat it slowly, yes? There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thank you! This’ll make my tummy feel better for sure!” Chip bounced off to where he had been sitting, dropping crumbs as he went.

Henry didn’t suspect it was hunger that was making little Chip feel empty.

____

Lumiere didn’t arrive until almost 15 minutes later. Mrs. Potts was fussing over the tea, repeatedly stating that she was “going to go back to the kitchen and warm it up, oh, it’s not going to be good unless it's piping hot, where in the world is Lumiere?”, but never quite following through, just pacing throughout the room while Adam sat frozen in his seat, staring at the group with wide eyes, his back straight and massive palms placed firmly and unmoving on his knees. Every once and a while, however, Henry would see him rub the thick pads on his fingertips together, seemingly in disbelief.

Henry would suppose it would be more difficult to handle such a big change so quickly. God knows the rest of the castle wasn’t handling it well, and, other than Lumiere, nothing quite so drastic had occurred. Yet.

Henry had to take back his earlier statement. Lumiere didn’t arrive, per say, it was more of a, “Oh, Cogsworth, Lumiere has been gone for too long, go fetch him!”, and Henry had no choice but to comply. Mrs. Potts was a force to be reckoned with when she was angered, not unlike the violent winter storms that gusted through the castle grounds as of late, never seeming to let up.

As Henry left, he gazed back regretfully at Adam. When Mrs. Potts sent Henry off, he could see how the beast had tensed up. Ideally, Henry wouldn’t have to leave him alone at all, but he certainly hoped the pent up anxiety over not having the one person Adam seemed comfortable around, himself, in the room would not cause one of the younger’s outbursts. None of the progress Henry desired would come from that, certainly not.

Once he was through the door, Henry visibly slumped, the lack of tension in the air causing his muscles to relax. However, since he did not have the thick doors to block all outside noise, Henry was deeply aware of the shuddering breaths coming from the hall next to the kitchen. As he toed around the corner, Henry’s eyes widened at the sight of Lumiere slumped on the floor, shards of vastly expensive china around him. Lumiere’s shoulders shuddered, and he could hear heavy, croaking breaths escaping from his mouth, making his pale curls fly away from his hidden face.

“Lumiere? Are you alright? Where have you been?”

Lumiere’s head shot up, his hands digging into the shards on the floor. Henry winced, then looked up at Lumiere’s face.

Henry figured he would see drunken red, puffy eyes, dried echos of tears on the man’s cheeks, and snot building around his perfectly pointed nose, but he didn’t. Lumiere had a cold and surprisingly collected sober gaze, face devoid of any distinguishable emotions. His voice, however, croaked when he spoke.

“Oh, hello Cogsworth. I seem to have encountered a bit of an issue.” He gave a nervous smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The man tried to pick up the various bits of broken china around him with shaking and bloody fingers, only being able to hold them in his hands for a few moments before he flinched, dropping them back onto the mess of tile he had created.

“What’s the issue, Lumiere? Just pick up the china and we can get you cleaned up.” Henry twitched out of annoyance, the edge in his voice making Lumiere break eye contact and attempt, once again, to pick up the china. Again, after only a few seconds, he dropped the china back down, causing it to splinter into smaller pieces. Henry could see a few dug into the soft flesh of Lumiere’s palm, and once the man noticed, he frantically began brushing the specks out, only causing his skin to tear more.

Henry flinched. This was very well nearing pathetic. Henry thought better of Lumiere. Thought him competent. He had been successful in simply bringing china to the next room plenty of times before, so why now was he being so idiotic?

“Uh, Cogsworth, I-” Lumiere gulped. Henry’s patience was reaching its limit. Adam could be screaming at the other members of the staff, ruining all chances they had at fixing things between them, and Henry was stuck here with a bumbling idiot of a man. “I can’t pick up the china.”

“Why not, Lumiere? I knew you were a fool, but it is not that difficult! Just pick it up!” To emphasize his point, Henry walked over and picked up one of the larger shards of ceramic. He waved it in Lumiere’s face. “See? You really can’t even do this? Adam might as well get rid of you now, if this is what you’ve become.” Henry spat in Lumiere’s face. It sizzled. Henry froze, his grip on the piece of what used to be a plate slackening, sending it tumbling back down to the floor.

“I can’t pick up the china, Cogsworth. Whenever I try, it burns me. It gets so hot that I can’t even carry it further than a few metres.” Lumiere looks away from Henry’s frantically blinking eyes. “I’m trying, Henry. I promise I am, but I just can’t.” Blood dribbled between Lumiere’s clenched fists. Henry had to restrain himself from grabbing them and forcing them apart, just to keep Lumiere from hurting himself. He did not figure it would help much now.

“Oh. Of course Lumiere. Of course.” Henry stepped back and put his hand out for Lumiere to take. Lumiere looked at him incredulously, gesturing to his bloody and burned palms and then to the floor around him.

Henry just shoved his hand out further. He didn’t care about the blood.

Lumiere kept staring at him.

“Cogsworth. I will burn you if you touch me.” Henry was still for a few moments longer, but hearing Lumiere’s deadpan statement was the beginning of the end. He raised the hand that wasn’t being held out to Lumiere to cover his mouth, trying to hide his quickly intensifying snickers. Eventually, Henry couldn’t help it and buckled over, dropping both of his hands to his knees, letting out a cackle that made Lumiere flinch, before he started laughing as well.

They sat there for a few minutes, in the middle of their frankly ridiculous situation, laughing more than Henry figured he ever had. And when Henry looked up at Lumiere’s flushed face, his glittering brown eyes, he figured there was something there that wasn’t there before.

Chapter Text

Henry’s thoughts jolted to a stop. Oh God, what was that? He hoped Lumiere didn’t spot the widening of his eyes or the sudden stiffening of his body, the halting of Henry’s frankly embarrassingly ugly laughter. Lumiere must have thought that Henry had just stopped laughing naturally, because his stereotypically French laughter tapered out.

“Cogsworth, I don’t figure I’ve ever heard you laugh. Especially like that.” Lumiere grinned, his smile showing what some people would consider too much gums. Henry disagreed. “It was refreshing.”

“How?” Henry didn’t know why him laughing of all things would make Lumiere so happy.

“I’m convinced you don’t know how to express any emotions besides stress and frustration. It’s just nice to know you’re human, yes?”

“Not human, Lumiere. I’m not human.”

“Oh. Right.” Lumiere’s smile melted off of his face like wax dripping from a candle. “The sentiment still stands, does it not?”

“I suppose it does.” Henry stood up from his hunched over position and stared at Lumiere, unsure of how to proceed.

“Besides, what dictates being human, after all? Is it simply our physical state, or our minds? I don’t think my mind has degraded at all, other than emotionally, for obvious reasons.” Lumiere continued, oblivious to Henry’s dilemma. Henry looked around at the miniscule shards of ceramic and the blood staining the cream tiles and sighed.

“Yes, I suppose so. However, I do not think now is the best time to discuss the implications of human existence. Do you have any ideas on how to get you up and out of here?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose that could be important, yes. Of course.” Lumiere’s eyes widened, surveying the bloody battleground surrounding him. After an uncomfortably long silence, Lumiere met Henry’s eyes again.

“No. I have absolutely no clue.” Henry almost snickered. Almost.

“What wouldn’t get hot or catch fire? Do you know of anything? That might be the best course of action for now, having me hold onto it and you grab it to get yourself up and out. Can your shoes walk on the ceramic? Or will it cut your feet?” Henry half muttered to himself, hoping that Lumiere got the gesture that it was directed at him.

“Would leather gloves work? I was using cloth before, and those burned right off me.” Lumiere carefully adjusted himself to a more comfortable seated position, as opposed to on his knees. He rested his elbows on his knees, suspending his hands a safe distance away from his trousers.

“Leather might. The quality we have access to does not grow hot easily, unlike the china. I don’t know if we have any already made, however.”

“Run and ask Madame. She can make some if we do not. I can wait.” Henry had to tear his eyes away from Lumiere’s.

“Yes, I will do that. Don’t move, we don’t want you injuring yourself further.” Lumiere looked at Henry with an incredulous gaze, quickly flashing his scalded and diced hands towards the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Henry.” The corners of Henry’s mouth twitched up for a moment, just a bit, but he could tell Lumiere had seen it from the light that grew in his eyes. As Henry turned to go, he paused, looking back at Lumiere.

“Wait, how do you know my first name? Isn’t it forbidden?” Henry thought that when Lumiere first said it he was simply hearing things, getting caught up in the heat of the moment, but the second time solidified it.

Lumiere’s cheeks flushed.

“Oh, yes. That’s right. I, um, was looking through some of the letters that had been lying around and happened to find one addressed to ‘Henry Cogsworth’. It was my bad, I apologize.”

“No, don’t.” Henry quickly amended. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Lumiere muttered bashfully.

“Yes, I am sure. Now stop talking before I change my mind.” Henry looked at Lumiere one more time, twitched, and turned on his heel, determinedly clopping down the hallway.

“Mine is Jean! Just so we are even!” Henry heard a faint voice call from behind him.

Lumiere, Jean, couldn’t see his face now. Henry let himself smile.

—

“Cogsworth? The china? And where in the world is Lumiere? You all have been gone for nearly an hour! The tea has gone cold, and Chip is on his way through all the scones.” Mrs. Potts scolded as Henry gently opened the doors.

“He ran into a bit of a problem. You see, his hands have grown so hot he couldn’t hold the china, so he dropped it, and then couldn’t pick it back up. He's bleeding quite a bit, and quite burned as well.”

“Oh dear.”

Henry’s eyes flashed to Adam, whose dark eyes had widened so much that Henry could see a sliver of white all around the edges.

“His hands? What is wrong with Lumiere’s hands?” Adam sat up straighter, hands anxiously clenching his knees.

“That is part of Lumiere’s… situation. We all have unique side effects. His happen to include his hands growing so hot he burns everything he touches.” Adams brow furrowed.

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“Well, Adam, it didn’t seem to come up. I didn’t want to distress you more after our conversation and-”

“Cogsworth.” Henry looked into Adam’s animalistic gaze. “We do not speak of that conversation. Not here, not anywhere, not around anyone.” He stood up, his shadow ominously looming over Henry. As he walked over to where Henry was standing, the man gulped. “I thought better of you. I expect a brief first thing tomorrow morning. Good night.” Henry stumbled as Adam brushed past him, nearly falling down completely.

“Yes, of course Adam.”

“That’s Master Adam to you.” The door slammed shut. Everyone was silent.

“And he’s back.” Babette blankly stated.

“Who?” Henry replied, confused.

“The master. I saw some of Adam for a bit there, some of that little boy I used to know.” She put her head in her hands. “It was only due time that he left again, retreated back behind that mean facade. I don’t know why I expected it would be different this time around. Once a beast, always a beast.” Henry winced, twitching.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.” Madame spoke up. Silence came over them all again. Henry looked around the room, glad to see Chip asleep on his chair. He didn’t need to see any of what had just happened.

“Madame, would you mind sewing Lumiere some gloves out of the best leather you can find? He is stuck at the moment because nothing can get him out of the field of ceramic shards he created,” Henry eventually said.

“Yes. Yes I can Cogsworth.” Madame sounded cold. She stood up wordlessly, groaning, and walked off, presumably to begin. Henry didn’t know what else to say to everyone left in the room.

“I-” He started, not quite sure where he was going.

“Save your words, Cogsworth. We’re done here today. Bring supper to the master at 6. Other than that, do what you like.” Mrs. Potts carefully picked up Chip and left, leaving all of the dishes still on the table.

“Babette?” Henry tried.

“No. I would like to be alone right now.”

“Yes, of course. I apologize.”

“It’s about time you do, Cogsworth.”

Henry left her there, hunched over on the couch. He didn’t know what else to do.

Chapter Text

Henry decided to do the responsible, civil thing and hide in his bedroom. He wanted to go check on Lumiere, Jean, but he couldn’t bear to see him right now.

Is what he felt towards him what men had always spoken about when referring to women?

Their soft eyes. Jean’s glittering gold in the sun.

Their smooth lips. Jean’s curled into a smile.

Their tender looks. Jean looking at Henry, looking at him like he matters.

Henry took a deep breath, pressing his palms down on his knees.

He was an adult, for heavens sake! An adult with over four decades of not needing anyone else in his life, of relying on himself because for God’s sake no one else had helped.

Even if Henry had the audacity to tell Jean what he thought, what he felt about him, he couldn’t bear to see Jean’s face fall, to hear his voice sternly reject him and leave every conversation with each other following stilted and meaningless.

He couldn’t bear to lose Jean.

Jean was the one person who hadn’t yelled at him or implied the notion that Henry was lesser or irritating or rude. Even when Henry found his endless clinginess annoying or suffocating, it was nice to know that someone wanted to be around him.

Nice to know the walls he built up out of necessity didn’t keep out people the way he meant them to. (And, as much as he hates to admit, didn’t want to keep out.)

Henry brought a trembling hand up to his face, turning it in the light, looking for any signs of his rapidly decreasing humanity. His moustache twitched, his face scrunching up in pain, the muscles already sore after only a few days of the nonstop twitches. He breathed in, feeling that whirr that was growing far too familiar for Henry’s liking. If he focused, it almost felt like his heartbeat had synced up to the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in his chambers.

Henry tried not to focus.

He failed.

—--

Henry jolted awake to a firm bang on his door.

Is the castle under attack? Where in the world is my spare switchblade? Surely something catastrophic is happening!

“Henry?”

Oh. Henry’s shoulders slumped.
He carefully got out of where he was laying on top of his bedsheets and stumbled to the door, his legs still not quite cooperating. He gripped the brass handle of his door and opened it.

Standing in the doorway was Jean, black gloves pulled over his hands, which were nervously but tenderly grasped in front of him. He seemed to be favouring his right foot.

“Good morning! I haven’t seen you since yesterday evening. You must have retired early, yes? Once Madame got the gloves for me you were already gone.” Jean grinned cheekily, not a speck of blood on his fresh coat and next to no sign of the previous day obviously showing on his person.

Henry froze.

“I’m sorry Jean, did you say it was morning?” Henry gulped. Jean looked to the side, his complexion growing slightly red.

“Oh, yes, it is. I assumed you knew?”

“Who took the master his supper then?”

“Mrs. Potts did. She told me to tell you not to worry about it. She knew you were exhausted, after all!”

Henry looked down at Jean’s loafers. The foot he was resting his weight on seemed regular, but the other had a scuff on the toe, something he had never seen from the man before. He loved his shoes, that one.

“Is your foot alright?” Jean looked at Henry quizzically before following the shorter man’s gaze to his foot.

“Oh, yes, that! You see, I can’t exactly knock with my hands being…” He paused. “Out of commission at the moment, so I simply kicked your door as hard as I could. It worked, yes?”

Henry supposed knocking on a thick wooden door wouldn’t be of much help when your hands were shredded to bits.

“You got them bandaged up alright then? They better be under those gloves, or God knows I’ll-”

“Yes, yes, Henry, they are. No need to go collect a mob.”

“Of course, of course. Why would I do that?” Henry hid his flushed face by pushing past Jean’s shoulder and walking out into the common area. When he didn’t hear Jean follow behind him, he turned around.

“Jean!” Henry scuttled back to his room, grabbing the man by his shoulders and pulling him away from where he had settled himself by his bed, staring at the mess on top of his bedside table.

“I’ve never been in your bedchambers before! It is a lot messier than I thought it would be, considering who you are.” Jean didn’t jolt at Henry’s sudden contact, just leaned into it a bit and continued surveying the pile of books and parchment next to a nearly melted down candle.

“Considering who I am? What is that supposed to mean?” Jean turned his neck to look back at Henry out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, you know. You.”

“That is absolutely no help at all, Jean,” Henry deadpanned.

“You’re just so organized! ‘Lumiere, you scuffed the floor! Lumiere you spilled wine! Lumiere, that fork isn’t parallel to that spoon!’” Henry didn’t know what to say to that.

“That’s you, by the way,” Jean added.

“Oh, I couldn’t tell. Thank you so much for that clarification.”

“Of course, don’t mention it, it was nothing.” Henry dramatically sighed, causing Jean to chuckle lightly, his shoulders bouncing up and down and Henry’s hands therefore following.

“What’s this book? It looks like you’ve read it a lot.” Henry peered over Jean’s shoulder to see him pointing at a leather bound book with yellowing pages, held together with faith and the very thin leather still composing the spine.

“It’s my copy of Othello. I received it from my parents when I was young.”

“Ah, Othello.”

“You’ve never heard of it, have you?”

“No, of course I have! It is the one with the man, and then he… He goes to a place…”
“You don’t have to keep guessing, Jean, I won’t kick you out for not knowing one of the greatest works of the greatest playwright who has ever lived.”

“That sounded very ominous, Henry.” Jean tilted his head back to where Henry hadn’t moved, meeting his eyes.

“I won’t, I swear. And for the record, Othello is about a general who marries the daughter of a senator and a jealous man’s plot to destroy their marriage. It is one of Shakespeare’s finest tragedies.”

“I can see, from how much you’ve read it.”

“I enjoy it!”

“That wasn’t an accusation, Henry.” Jean chuckled and turned around to face Henry, Henry’s hands falling off the man’s shoulders. “It is nice to hear you passionate about something.”

“And you? What do you enjoy? Other than backflips, of course.” Jeans face split into a blinding smile.

“You made a joke!”

“What of it? Answer my question, Jean.”

“Yes, um.” Jean looked down at his gloved hands, tenderly clenching and unclenching them. “I enjoy painting, although there is not much I can do now.” Henry watched as Jean’s eyes grew dull.

When Jean unclenched his hands again, Henry quickly and smoothly set his hands on the taller man’s palms. Jean flinched, trying to pull his hands away.

“Henry, what are you doing?”

Henry firmly but carefully held Jean’s hands in his.

“I’m sure your paintings are wonderful. You’ll have to show me one day.”

“But my hands-”

“You will show me, won’t you?” Henry stared into Jean’s eyes, and Jean stared right back into his.

“I will, Henry. As soon as I can.”

Chapter Text

Henry reluctantly broke eye contact.

“Well, Jean, as lovely as your little visit has been, I must be going. Master Adam is already riled up from last night, and I’m sure being late on my briefing will not assist in that. I will see you later.”

Henry looked back at Jean’s face just in time to see his brows knit together and the corners of his mouth to twitch down.

“Yes, of course. We wouldn’t want anything else unfortunate to happen. I wish you luck, Henry.” Jean turned and walked towards the still-open door, pausing briefly to look back before exiting into the common area and turning to the right, leaving Henry’s sight. Henry sighed and smoothed the unreasonably few stray hairs on his moustache. He buzzed his lips, matching the cadence with the ticking in his chest.

The vibration was satisfying.

He continued to do it while he changed from the clothes he had worn yesterday into a fresh ensemble, cringing internally at the rumpled state of the previous because of his lack of incentive to change the night before.

When he deemed himself presentable, at least as presentable as he could be at present, he slipped on the pair of loafers by his door frame and departed.

The hallways were desolate.

Of course they would be, as there were far less people occupying the castle because of the holidays, but it was quiet for even this time of year. If Henry had to guess, everyone else was holed up in their chambers, either sleeping or trying to forget what was happening. Even if Henry did encounter anyone other than Jean, he suspected they wouldn’t stay to talk to him.

He did deserve it, he supposed.

It was bound to happen eventually. Better now than later.

Henry twitched and breathed deep, then exhaled in a lip buzz. It soothed his brain. Out of curiosity, he attempted to twitch on command. It worked, and he almost audibly sighed when it satiated a part of his brain he did not even know was riled up.

Henry took this moment, this walk to the master’s room on the other side of the castle, to truly appreciate the decorative objects lining the hallways. Paintings done by prodigies, sculptures and tapestries and chandeliers that the Henry of his youth would faint upon seeing. He had never really noticed them before. Just too much bustling to take in his surroundings.

Henry tried to picture where he would be placed upon the completion of his transformation.

Would a clock look nice on that mantle? If he was a grandfather clock, that corner looks awfully bare. He could almost see a candelabra on the shelf next to it, the clawed hand of his master carefully using a feather duster to clean the dust off the bronze arms before collecting a porcelain tea set out of an ornate wardrobe and settling in his chair, resting his lonely muscles by the fire.

Henry should stop thinking about this.

It surely wouldn’t be healthy in the long run.

He snapped his gaze away from the empty corner and continued on.

When he reached the looming polished oak doors of his master’s room, he finally felt his first real emotion that day.

Anxiety, fear, worry.

All common up until as of late. As negative as they were, the return of that familiarity was relieving.

“Master? Are you up? I am here for that brief you discussed yesterday, if you are ready.” Henry spoke as loud as he could, but was still worried it didn’t permeate the thick wood. He knocked a couple of times before starting again.

“Master? Are you awake? I-”

“I heard you the first time, Cogsworth. Calm down.” Henry jumped at the sudden loud voice. He waited for the padding of paws on hardwood floor to approach, the door flying open at a frankly shocking speed.

“Come inside. Now.” Master did not meet Henry’s eyes. Henry slunked into the room, straightening his waistcoat and smoothing his moustache, remembering he hadn’t put product in this morning with all the fuss with Jean. It didn’t feel too disheveled.

“What did you want to discuss sir?” Once he heard the door closed, Henry turned back to look at his master.

“No more idiotic secrets. I want details, Cogsworth, because it is utterly clear you’ve been withholding them from me despite our recent cooperation.” Master’s bass tone resonated throughout the room, sending goosebumps racing up Henry’s arms.

“Yes, of course, where do I start?”

“The beginning, Cogsworth.”

“Of course! Of course! I am sorry sir, this morning has been a bit…” Henry thought back to Jean’s glittering eyes. “...distracting.”

Henry took a deep breath, counting eight ticks in his chest, and started from the beginning.

--------

“That is all of what I know, sir.”

The master’s head was resting in his massive paws, claws precariously close to breaking skin.

“That damn enchantress…” Henry barely caught the master’s sharp but quiet growl.

“Oh sir, it isn’t your fault! You didn’t know!” Henry reached out to place his hand on Master’s furry shoulder.

“Yes it is!” The sudden bark of Master’s words made Henry jolt, but not nearly as much as the sudden grasp of his wrist, looking awfully small in the master’s massive hold.
“Ohhh, Cogsworth, you haven’t the faintest idea. It is so tremendously my fault that if you knew the full extent you would leave immediately. Rightfully so, albeit. After how I’ve treated you for my whole life, after how I’ve determined for you such a sorry fate.” Master’s grip tightened, his claws pressing onto Henry’s skin.

“Sir! Sir, please-”

“Cogsworth! Silence!” Henry froze. “That’s enough. I’ve heard what I need to hear from you. Now leave.” When the master let go of his wrist, Henry rubbed it tenderly as he shuffled out of the room. He carefully shut the door behind him and stopped. He had no idea where to go from here.

All he knew was that now, no one in the castle really care for him.

Maybe Jean was an exception.

But Henry didn’t trust it would last long. Nothing ever did.

Chapter Text

It had been 3 months. Three months where the only person willing to talk to Henry was Jean.

The other citizens of the castle had returned once the winter storm cleared, and they couldn’t be warned before they stepped foot into the castle of the consequences. They couldn’t leave now.

As Henry’s joints began to stiffen further and the ticking in his chest louder, his motivation and emotion began to dwindle. He only did the tasks he was commanded to, talking to no one on the way, all with a blank face and closed mouth.

Jean tried to talk him out of it. Tried to entertain him with new tricks he had come up with to make the best of his flammable fingers. None of them made Henry crack a smile, even if the cold metal in his chest grew weak and warm at the sight of Jean.

Henry did feel slightly bad for Jean. He had kept up on his promise to keep away from Babette, who’s feathers you could now see in the corner of every room in the castle, stuck in between books on shelves and under couch cushions.

Henry didn’t even think he had seen Chip in the past few months. He hoped the boy was doing alright, even if he knew that it was a futile thought. Henry pushed himself out of his thoughts and fumbled with the metal tray he was carrying, empty dishes clattering together on top. He was just returning from gathering the Master’s dishes from outside of his room. Once they stabilized, Henry closed his eyes and lowered his head, breathing slowly and counting the ticks in his chest. He twitched. It was all too much. Henry had been absolutely useless, a pure liability ever since the night of the ball, and it ached.

His purpose was to be useful. That was his job. That was the only reason why he was here. He opened his eyes, raised his head, and continued. He could at least get this task done. Every task completed, another reason to not push him down the front steps of the palace and leave him to turn to bronze in complete isolation, wandering the woods, as opposed to the near loneliness he felt now.

As he went to push the doors to the kitchen open, Henry heard muffled but very obvious crying. He carefully set the tray down next to the doorway and stepped in, quietly closing the door behind him. He saw Mrs. Potts crumpled on the tile floor, sobbing into one of her hands while the other was planted firmly and awkwardly on her hip.

How ridiculou-

Henry stopped himself. There was no more room for dignity in this castle.

Unsure of how to proceed, Henry began picking up bits of strawberries that littered the ground, placing them carefully in an empty bowl. He then knelt down next to Mrs. Potts and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m not sure if it’s my place to say, ma’am, but are you alright?”

The ticking in the man’s chest stopped for a moment when Mrs. Potts’ form crashed into his. Her free arm wrapped as tight as it could across his shoulders, and her face found itself pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Cogsworth, I’m so sorry for how we treated you. You didn’t deserve it. There’s no place for contention here, not with what is happening to all of us.”

“I-” Henry couldn’t think of what to say. “Surely that is not the reason you are on the floor while clearly in the middle of baking something?”

“Oh, no, I see how that is what you would think.” Mrs. Potts chuckled a bit. Henry could feel her eyelashes fluttering on his exposed skin. “It’s just, Chip couldn’t get up right this morning. His legs, they-” She hiccupped.

“No, I get it. You don’t need to continue if you wouldn’t like to.” Mrs. Potts heaved a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Cogsworth. I’ve missed you. Chip has too. You’re like an uncle to him.” She pulled away, revealing puffy eyes and clumped together lashes. She straightened the conservative neckline of her dress and pushed herself up with her one arm. She stumbled onto her small high-heels, but straightened before Henry could offer an arm.

“Oh dear, all the strawberries are ruined. Would you mind helping me cut up some more, Cogsworth?” Henry jolted.

“Oh, yes, of course.” He grabbed a spare knife and an uncut fruit, meticulously cutting it into even slices. “What are we making, if I may ask?”

“Oh! Yes! How silly of me, we’re making strawberry scones. Babette has been a bit under the weather, and these are her favorite. We are going to have them with tea today, if you’d like to join?” Mrs. Potts turned expectedly to Henry.

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t. I think me showing up would ruin any amount of cheering up these scones would bring.” Henry didn’t look up at her when answering, continuing to cut strawberries and transfer them into a new bowl. When his reply was answered by silence, Henry finally raised his gaze to where Mrs. Potts was standing. Fresh tears bubbled up in her eyes.

“Oh, Cogsworth.” She breathed. Her sympathetic gaze made a frog slip up into Henry’s throat. “I’m sorry that we ever made you feel like that. Like your place in this castle was unwanted. We’ve missed you, Cogsworth. So much. We just didn’t think you missed us.”

And for the first time in months, Henry cried. It started off slow, like a drizzle before a storm. Before he knew it, he was billowed up in the puffy fabric of Mrs. Potts’ dress, her fingers in his hair and her soft voice whispering reassurances into his ears. He could almost imagine the arm that was stuck at her side rubbing circles on his back. After an amount of time that even Henry hadn’t bothered to count, his tears slowed and he slowly pulled away from Mrs. Potts’ form.

“Thank you, ma’am. That was…” he paused. “Nice.”

“Of course, Cogsworth. Of course. Now, what do you say about those scones?”

Chapter Text

Henry pulled the last pan out of the oven, wincing when it strained his creaky joints.

“Thank you, Cogsworth. It is awfully difficult to pull a heavy pan out with only one arm!” Mrs. Potts smiled, not falling back from where she had been hovering the entire time, clearly itching to do the task herself.

“It’s no issue. I ought to, after all. I’ve been a bit troublesome for everyone lately. Might as well try to be helpful.” Henry sighed, then lowered his voice. “Maybe it’ll make everyone talk to me again.”

He felt Mrs. Potts’ hand rest with a comforting weight on his shoulder. “Cogsworth, I know it is scary to be this vulnerable with people, but we are all going through this. Even if it is not in quite the same ways, we understand. At least for me, I’d rather have people by my side during this than have it happen alone, yes?” Henry turned and looked into her eyes. Their usual bright blue seemed to have dulled over the months since they had really seen each other.

“I suppose so, yes.” He reluctantly admitted. Upon seeing Mrs Potts’ small smile at his response, the ticking in Henry’s chest picked up speed like a puppy’s frantically wagging tail. He twitched a few times in an attempt to satiate the annoying thrill in his chest, tapping his fingers against the sides of his trousers with one hand and clenching and unclenching his other in a fist. However, this just resulted in the frantic ticking continuing in his chest, escaping through his mouth, his twitching face unable to be stopped once it started, and his hands moving of their own accord. Henry pressed the balls of his feet into the floor, trying to ground himself. Eventually, it worked, and the movement slowed, now only the slow tick in his heart and an occasional twitch of his nose.

He waited for Mrs. Potts’ smile to contort into one of disgust and annoyance, bracing himself for 3 more months of solitude and pent up resentment at his own stupidity, but it never did. Her eyebrows scrunched a bit in sympathy, but the love in her eyes was still apparent. She did not address his bout of frankly embarrassing movement, just brushed him with the thumb of the hand that had still not left his shoulder.

“Cogsworth. Join us for tea. I insist.” Henry contemplated for a moment, before his resolve melted away as if butter in a pan.

“Yes, alright.” Upon opening her mouth to reply, Henry interrupted her. “If you let me prepare the rest of it.” Mrs. Potts’ let out a bark of surprised laughter, covering her mouth with her hand upon realizing how loud it had been.

“If you insist, Cogsworth, I guess you can help out.”

Henry let himself smile, teeth exposed in a mischievous grin.

“Oh no, not help, Miss. I have to do the entire thing.”

Mrs. Potts raised her free hand to her chest and let out a mock gasp. “Oh, how dastardly! What ever will I do?” Henry’s smile died down to a simple upturn of his lips, walking over and picking up one of the plush chairs in the corner with a groan as his back creaked.

“What you will do, Miss,” Henry set the chair down next to her, “is sit down, relax, and agonize as I prepare the tea without your assistance.” Mrs. Potts gave him a faux groan and carefully lowered herself into the chair, unable to hide the relief on her face at being off her feet. After making sure that she was comfortable, Henry began gathering the tea set from the cupboard and retrieved the kettle from a cabinet near his feet. He spared a glance at Mrs. Potts and saw her fingers fidgeting, itching to be at work. He gave her a comforting smile and continued, moving over to the small fountain in the corner and filling the kettle with water.

He carefully balanced the now-full kettle on the already lit fire and waited for the tell-tale sign of a near-boil.

Just as the kettle began to steam, Mrs. Potts spoke from behind him.

“Thank you again, Cogsworth. This means so much to me.”

“It’s no issue, I’ve missed preparing a cup of proper British tea.”

“Not just that, thank you for coming to tea.” Henry paused.

“Yes, yes. I suppose it’s long overdue.”

The silence recommenced, but did not choke Henry. It felt the same as spending time alone, sipping a warm beverage next to the fire. As doing something you love, with people you love, no talking necessary.

Once the tea had been properly steeped in the pot, Henry delicatedly placed it, along with the freshly baked scones and the usual sugar and cream, onto a rolling cart before stepping up to help Mrs. Potts up from her chair.

“Tea should be starting in a few moments. Shall we go?” He offered his arm to her and bowed playfully. Mrs. Potts returned it with a giggle, a smile, and her warm hand in his.

“Of course, my good sir. Off to tea it is.”

As they began their walk to the commons, Mrs. Potts turned to look at Henry. The man, who had been too focused on holding her stable whilest pushing a cart covered in liquids, didn’t notice until a small mutter of his name was sounded.

“Yes?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, where is your watch? I want to see if I should wake Chip up from his nap before tea.”

Henry stopped to pull the pocketwatch from his coat pocket, but upon slipping his hand in the smooth pocket was met with nothing but pocket lint. A sudden feeling of wrong slipped over him. He had been carrying that pocketwatch, the one that had been handed down to him from his grandfather and his grandfather’s grandfather for generations, every single day since he had received it over a decade ago.

And he had just now noticed that the familiar weight of the smooth and tarnished metal in his pocket was absent.

“I-” He stuttered. “I apologize, Miss, but I don’t seem to have it on me at the moment.” Mrs. Potts looked confused.

“Then how did you know it was almost time for tea?” Henry’s head ached. He took his hand off the cart and pressed his fingertips against his forehead, face twitching and heartbeat not raising from its usual steady beat despite his panic. His lungs stuttered. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe-

And he was fine. For a whole minute longer than he should have been, before his lungs came whirring back to life with a stutter and his chest collapsed in and out frantically.

What just happened to me?

Chapter Text

Henry’s vision began to clear, darkness slowly receding from the edges of his view. A grounded, heavy hand rested upon his shoulder, weight pressing into his bones and through his form, wrapping its resilience upon his heart. One that, day by day, was feeling less like a necessary organ and more like a copper appliance.

“Cogsworth?” Mrs. Potts’ soft whisper pierced his ears, loud and all-encompassing, echoing off the empty walls and floors of the hall. “Are you alright, dear? What happened?”

Henry gasped, grabbing for air like a man desperately clawing for land while being swept away by river rapids.

“I am now, I believe.” His voice sounded hoarse. His throat hurt. His lungs did not.

“Are you sure you are up to meeting with everyone? I’m sure they will understand if I explain everything.”

“I’m not sure they will. It’s happening to us all. If I don’t show, I’m the weakest of all of us.” Henry sighed, hands clammy and tight. “Not that that is incorrect, of course. But-” Henry squeezed his eyes shut. Jean’s smile twinkled behind his closed eyelids. He snapped them open. “I wouldn’t want them to know that.”

Mrs. Potts’ face was crinkled with worry, wrinkles accentuated and undeniably pitiful. Henry’s mechanical heart crumpled like a tin can.

“Don’t look at me like that. I am fine.” Henry shrugged her hand off his shoulder, pressing forward towards the sitting area, losing himself in the sharp footfalls carefully timed to the thump, tick, thump, tick of his unusually consistent heartbeat.

“Of course, of course. I apologize, Cogsworth.” Mrs. Potts’ eyebrows remained creased, the raised skin catching the light just a bit more than seemed natural. The click of her short kitten heels echoed softly behind him, inconsistent with Henry’s methodical timetable. It made his lip curl up in a wince, his brain screaming to line it up, line it up, get in time-. He tightened his grip on the still-cold metal of the cart handle - shouldn’t it have warmed up by now? - and pressed on, opening his jaw slightly to clog his ears in an effort to keep out the noise, drown it in his own crisp loafers and beat in his chest.

The door to the sitting room loomed tall and dark, shadows settling into the intricate carvings like a deep void. Henry swallowed the frog in his throat, the dark wood warping and stretching into a formidable behemoth, Henry’s already short frame feeling more squat, square, insignificant. The soft, stilted small talk that drifted below the crack in the door, muffled and muddy pricked his eardrums like tiny needles.

Mrs. Potts carefully maneuvered around Henry and reached for the ornate doorknob, struggling to pull the heavy door open with one arm while avoiding hitting Henry or the cart who were firmly parked directly in the middle of the double doors and far too close to allow for the required opening radius.

Henry only registered the open door with the influx of soft flowing air on his face, ruffling his unkempt hair and mustache. He did not hear the way the soft conversation choked, replaced with sickening silence and widening eyes. He did not see the way people he had known for years clutched the seat of their clothing and the way their feet danced in a nervous exhibition that, if he had the heart to notice, to care, would have him locked away in his quarters for a week, handwritten letters of apology for his unknown act closed with a ornate wax seal delivered within the hour.

He only registered the exposed state he was now in when Mrs Potts very pointedly cleared her throat, a high pitched ping resonating throughout the room like someone had just clinked a spoon against a teacup. Henry’s ears cleared, eyes widened, and sweat-suctioned hands detaching from their tight hold on the cart.

Somehow, despite the marble walls and clean cream couches, the whites of his associates’ eyes stood stark against the familiar backdrop, suffocating and overwhelming. Henry took a deep breath, counted to three, twitch and tick, one, twitch and tick, two, twitch and tick, three, and forced the corners of his chapped lips up into a painful smile.

“I apologize for the tardiness. Shall we begin tea?”

Chapter Text

Henry pointedly avoided eye contact with Jean, despite the younger man’s gaze hot on his face. He instead focused on pushing the cart forward, carefully beginning to transfer various items fastidiously from the trays to the ornate coffee table, coasters and embroidered hot pads placed with a satisfying clink and a soft rustle of fabric, protecting the overly-shined wood.

Mrs. Potts, gratefully, had more of a social awareness than Henry, and clopped over to where Chip was curled into himself on a sofa with a gentle smile, sweat covering his brow and clothes looking loose on his skinny frame. She sat down gently next to him, running her free hand through his damp, stringy hair by stretching it across her body, shoulder clearly straining. Henry tried not to catch the light in her eyes die when she pulled her hand away and tight black hairs came with it, wrapped between her plump fingers and underneath her neglected nails. She steeled herself, stuck her hand in the pocket of her apron, and began making small talk with Babette and Madame, whomst Henry hadn’t quite looked at yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to.

Jean, despite being maybe the most outgoing person of the lot, hadn’t said a word. Henry could still feel his eyes on the back of his head as he awkwardly straightened teacups, just to have something to do with his hands. Something to look at besides him.

“Isn’t that right, Henry?” Mrs. Potts’ warm voice broke him out of his stupor, and Henry’s head snapped up, nose twitching and unkempt hair falling over his eyes.

“Hngh?” Henry’s throat seized up, eyes fluttering between Mrs. Potts and the two women sitting across from her.

Babette had fixed a cloth tightly around her head, but Henry could see where her temple that had previously been covered with luxurious dark locks was replaced by clammy white skin. She looked deathly thin, her dress hung loose over her frame, but her skirt ballooned out, feathers poking from the bottom of the fabric like a ruffled hoop skirt.

Madame was in a similar state, sickly and hair thinned, but her shoulders had grown much wider, now looking like she was a strongman in a circus. She was clearly uncomfortable with the space she was taking up, pressed into the armrest like Babette would need anymore space than she currently had.

Henry snapped his eyes away from them, returning his gaze to Mrs. Potts.

“We were just discussing how wonderful Madame Bovary is. I remember discussing it with you once, and Babette, Madame and I decided to start a book group discussing it because we do not have much else to do as of late.”

Henry wracked his brain, mathematically flipping through the library of books in his mind until he found Madame Bovary. It had been years since he read it, too perturbed at how it had spoken to him as a perfectly fine man. He did not enjoy the way he related to how Emma felt, the difficulties of her life, when he was a man with a steady income and well put together life. He did not feel trapped then, of course. And, as he had told himself frequently over the past weeks, he did not feel trapped now.

“Oh yes, it is a wonderful book. I imagine that as women you appreciated the perspective from it, despite none of you being married of course.” Babette’s face scrunched up in a slight grimace at his words, the wrinkles resulting from it causing a wood-grain-like pattern across her skin. Henry thought it better that she didn’t move her face much. The wrinkling did not fit her soft and feminine quality. Madame, on the other hand, had steeled her expression, emotions unreadable across her flushed skin.

“Thank you for your input, Cogsworth.” Mrs. Potts said between gritted teeth, her eyebrows pressed together in the middle and free hand clutching her skirt tightly. A cloak of silence settled over the group, staring awkwardly at the untouched tea in the center of them all, each too hesitant to be the first to truly settle in. Henry had not seen Jean turn to him since he entered the room and did not have much faith that he would.

He didn’t blame him.

Henry observed what he could of Jean from periodic glances out of the corner of his eye. His skin was a more golden color, like he had spent days out in the sun despite the raging cold weather outside. It shone like he was covered in a sheen of sweat, smooth and unblemished. A creamy white shone at the roots of his hair, and his hands were held away from all objects with a habitual proficiency. Henry blushed at the expanse of golden toned muscle of his arms, rarely exposed in the past but now glaringly obvious as Jean’s rolled up sleeves tucked carefully beneath a slightly bent elbow.

Henry caught himself staring and whipped his head away, heat rising in his cheeks and a pit settling in his stomach. He flinched as a bitter sigh, low and raspy, left presumably Jean’s lips, filled with malice and fatigue.

“Bloody Hell, Cogsworth. I understand that we all look abnormal and ugly, but you needn’t stare. You don’t have the right to over any of us.”

“No, Jean, of course not, I-”

“Lumiere, Cogsworth. My name is Lumiere.” Henry’s hands grew clammy, and he discreetly pressed his palms onto the fabric of the seat beneath him to absorb the sweat.

“I apologize, Lumiere. I didn’t mean to stare, it has just been so long since I have seen all of you and was not expecting this sort of progression-”

“And who’s fault is that?” The tone was so bitter, so anguished, that Henry couldn’t help but turn and look at Lumiere. Their eyes met for the first time in weeks, the younger man’s iris dark and cold and lifeless. Dark stains hung beneath his eyes, starkly contrasting his pale face. “You cannot make excuses for what is your own fault. You were not here when the women’s hair started falling out. For when my leather gloves burst into flame. For each tight seam, stumble, and tear. You were not here for us of your own volition, Cogsworth.”

Henry’s mouth grew dry. His fingers itched to grab a cup of now cold tea to lubricate his throat, hoping that maybe with that his vocal chords could somehow conjure up the correct thing to say.

He could not.

Three pairs of eyes bore into him, piercing beneath his skin and scrambling through his already heavy gut. The seconds counted on, one, two, one, two, Henry’s fists clenching and unclenching to the beat of his heart. Tick, tock, tick, tock, one, two, one, two, twitch, twitch, twitch, twitch-

Henry stood up, wobbling on unsteady feet.

And he walked out of the room, leaving the heavy door to slam behind him.