Birthday Gift Fic!
Hey y'all,
It's profmckitten's birthday (WOOT!), and I've written her a little birthday gift fic to celebrate! She didn't give me any prompts, but I know she loves cats and has some lovely kitties of her own...so cats it is!
Title:Things That Go Meow In The Night
Author: jennavere
Pairing: Harry/Draco (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Summary: Draco's Animagus form is not quite what he expected.
Author's Notes: Um...I kind of wrote this today, so it's un-betaed and probably has lots of mistakes - sorry! It's also not the drabble I promised, but a proper ficlet. But on the bright side - it's got kitties!
Happy birthday, sweetie!
*****
Things That Go Meow In The Night
*****
I can’t believe this! Draco Malfoy thought, as he flounced through the halls of Hogwarts in an absolute fury. Of all the bleeding forms I could have taken as an Animagus, this one has to be the worst.
Try as he might to stomp his frustration for all to hear, his velvety little paws made no noise on the stone floors. His white furry ears lay back against his skull, and his white fluffy tail whipped back and forth in irritation.
Draco sniffed haughtily through his tiny pink nose, whiskers twitching as he stuck said nose in the air.
He’d been so excited that morning as he was getting ready to transform for the first time. The textbook he’d been working from had warned him that he’d remain in his animal state for twenty-four hours before he could change back to human form. Draco had thought it’d be an absolute lark.
That was before he found out what his Animagus form was.
“A housecat. A fucking housecat!” he tried to growl, but his words came out as a low, drawn-out hiss. “A fluffy, white, prissy little cat.”
He’d spent the whole day hiding under his bed, refusing to come out and risk someone learning of his Animagus form. Once all his roommates and the rest of the castle finally fell asleep, he cautiously slunk out from beneath the bed in search of food.
I’ve got to spend the rest of the night in this cursed form still, he thought, as he stalked through the halls. This bloody sucks.
*****
A little while later, unable to find real food or even a mouse, Draco resorted to sulking in an empty classroom.
Bloody silly is what I am, he thought petulantly. Not scary in the least. Oooh, Gryffindor shins beware! Here I come with my tiny, useless claws!
“Wotcher, princess,” said a smooth male voice as it suddenly joined him in the classroom.
Draco turned, and his little jaw fell open in shock. Striding in like he owned the school was the ugliest cat Draco had ever seen. The cat was large and ginger, with a squashed-in face, rumpled fur and bowed legs.
Draco’s ears flattened back against his skull. “Excuse me?” he said haughtily, fixing this newcomer with an icy grey glare.
“No need to get your whiskers in a twist,” the ginger cat said, obviously amused. “I was only saying hello.”
“Bully for you. Now try saying goodbye.”
The cat paid him no mind. “I don’t recall seeing you around the castle before,” he continued, watching Draco curiously. “Do you belong to a first year?”
“I belong to no one,” Draco hissed, the tip of his tail twitching back and forth in irritation.
The ginger cat rolled his eyes. “It’s just a figure of speech. Certainly no cat actually belongs to anyone. But you’re obviously not a stray. You’re much too fancy and well-groomed.” He studied Draco. “Are you a Persian?”
“No, I’m from Wiltshire,” Draco spat.
“Oh, Wiltshire, very nice place,” the cat said conversationally. “Been to Stonehenge, then?”
“Once or twice,” Draco said, feigning disinterest in the conversation by washing his paws. He licked his fur and then carefully smoothed down his whiskers.
“Stonehenge is nice,” the ginger cat commented, licking his own paws. “I’m quite fond of Bath as well.”
Draco paused mid-wash, paw over one ear. “I love Bath,” he said, finally warming a bit to this strange cat. “Have you ever been in early summer for the -”
“CROOKSHANKS? Crookshanks, darling, where have you gone? CROOOKSHAAANKS!”
Draco winced as the most obnoxiously grating voice he’d ever heard pierced through their conversation.
The ginger cat’s ears flattened. “Oh bugger, she’s found me,” he said with dread.
“Who?” Draco asked the cat he now presumed to be Crookshanks.
Crookshanks’s fur stood up along his back. “Mrs. Norris,” he whispered. “Bloody woman won’t take no for an answer.”
“Mrs. Norris…fancies you?” Draco said, torn between amusement and disgust.
Crookshanks shuddered. “A bit, I reckon. Won’t accept that my heart’s already spoken for by the ever-so-lovely Minerva.”
Draco jumped off all four feet in shock. “You’ve got a thing for Professor McGonagall?!”
“Oh yes.” Crookshanks sighed happily. “Now there’s a pretty kitty who could play with my ball of string any day.”
Draco nearly hacked up a hairball in disgust.
Suddenly, Mrs. Norris was poking her head around the open classroom. She smiled predatorily at Crookshanks.
“There you are, darling,” she purred, stalking into the room. Her eyes gleamed unnaturally red. Both Draco and Crookshanks shrank back slightly. “Were you hiding from me again, dear?”
“Now, Mrs. Norris, I’ve told you that I’m not interested,” Crookshanks said firmly.
His voice didn’t waver one bit, which impressed Draco, because Mrs. Norris was one scary cat. He figured Crookshanks must have belonged to a Gryffindor.
Mrs. Norris yawned, showing her tiny sharp teeth. “There you go again, playing hard to get,” she said, a little bit of edge in her voice. She looked at Draco. “Who’s your friend?”
Before Draco could answer, Crookshanks cut in.
“This is my new boyfriend. We’re indulging in the furry love that dare not speak its name.”
Draco turned and stared at Crookshanks, his eyes big and round. “Boyfriend?” he mouthed.
Mrs. Norris had gone rigid. “You have a boyfriend?” she said stiffly.
“Uh-huh,” Crookshanks said, batting at Draco with his paw when Draco tried to cut in.
“Oh really?” Mrs. Norris said, eyeing Draco balefully. “And just what is your precious new boyfriend’s name, then?”
Crookshanks shifted uncomfortably. “…Princess.”
“PRINCESS?!”
Crookshanks batted at Draco again to hush him up. “That’s right,” he said to Mrs. Norris. "This is my boyfriend, Princess. Isn’t he stunning?”
Mrs. Norris’s eyes were glowing redder than ever. “Sure, he’s stunning,” she said in clipped tones. “He’s also dead.”
And before Draco could move, Mrs. Norris leapt at him and gave him the feline equivalent of a bitch-slap.
“Crookshanks, you bastard, get her off!” Draco hissed, kicking at Mrs. Norris with his hind legs. It did him no good; Mrs. Norris was trying to get to his face with her claws.
“Don’t try to fight her; she’s crazy! I’ll go get help!” Crookshanks yelled.
“What? No, don’t go! Don’t leave me with psycho-bitch here!”
“Who are you calling a bitch, you slutty, man-stealing whore?” Mrs. Norris snarled.
Draco gasped. “Oh no you didn’t,” he hissed.
“Oh yes I did,” she hissed back.
The room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of meows and yelps and snarls as Mrs. Norris swiped at him and Draco haplessly tried to defend himself.
“Help!” he meowed desperately, and then cried loudly as Mrs. Norris sank her claws into his right front paw. “OW, fuck! Help me, someone! Somebody, PLEASE -”
“Crookshanks, where did you go? It sounds like - hey, STOP IT!” A voice suddenly boomed. “Mrs. Norris, get off!”
And instantly there was a gigantic presence forcibly pulling Mrs. Norris off Draco. In just seconds the hissing and spitting cat had been frozen by the Impedimenta Jinx and placed firmly at an arm length away.
“What’s got into you?” the giant scolded her. “I know you’re horrid, but I thought it was only to the students. I never thought I’d see you attack another cat!”
“Oh, screw you!” Mrs. Norris hissed, though it wasn’t much of a threat since she couldn’t move an inch. “That slut stole my man!”
The giant shook its head, and then turned back to Draco, who was mewing pitifully on the floor.
“Poor little thing,” the giant said worriedly. The candle light glinted off its glasses, and suddenly Draco could see perfectly clearly just who had rescued him.
“Potter!” Draco hissed, shrinking back. His ears flattened to his skull, and he bared his sharp little teeth. “Get away from me!”
Potter seemed undaunted. “Hey, easy there, kitty. I won’t hurt you,” he said soothingly. “I just want to see if you’re okay.”
Draco wanted to run, or scratch, or bite, but Potter’s kind voice was having a horribly calming effect on his feline psyche.
“It’s alright, you’re safe. I can help you,” Potter said earnestly. “I think Mrs. Norris may have hurt you. She’s a mean old cat.”
“I hate you, Potter,” Mrs. Norris sulked from somewhere over to the right. “As soon as this curse wears off, I’m finding Filch.”
Potter ignored her hisses. “Come on, come here,” he said, holding out a hand to Draco. “Come here, sweetie.”
Draco weighed his options. He could bite Potter’s hand - which was terribly tempting. But the fact remained that his paw throbbed, and he had several hours left before he could transform back into himself. That meant several hours without any healing spells…
…unless he could get Potter to do one for him.
With that thought in mind, he dragged himself to his feet and limped his way towards Potter, meowing softly.
“Oh, poor baby,” Potter said with clear sympathy. “You’re limping. Is your little paw hurt?”
Draco mewed a little more pitifully. The Gryffindor idiot clearly had a soft spot for animals, just like that pampered owl he kept as a pet.
“Here, let me see,” Potter began, when a voice cut into the room.
“Mrs. Norris? My lovely, where have you gone?”
“Muahahaha!” Mrs. Norris screeched in triumph. “You’re dead, bitch!”
“Bugger!” Potter swore. He grabbed up his cloak. “Okay, I’m going to pick you up now, so please don’t bite me,” he said to Draco.
That was all the warning Draco had before he was scooped off his feet into Potter’s arms. He let out a startled meow that echoed off the tiles.
“Mrs. Norris? Is that you?” Filch’s voice was louder.
“Shit. Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Potter said, holding the squirming Draco securely to his chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Don’t be scared.”
“I wasn’t scared, you git,” Draco hissed, lying only a little. But he fell still and silent as Potter tugged his cloak over both of them.
Oooh, an invisibility cloak, Draco thought enviously, as it fell around them and hid them. I’ve always wanted one of these!
Once the cloak was on, Potter supported Draco with both hands. Draco was surprised how pleasant it felt to be clutched securely against such a warm chest. Potter carefully arranged Draco so that his hurt paw wasn’t crushed, and then quietly stole to the door.
“Where did you go, Potter?” Mrs. Norris yelped wildly. “You little brat! How do you always manage to escape?”
“Mrs. Norris?” Filch asked, as he opened the door to the classroom. “Are you in here? Is there a student out of bed?”
And as he walked into the room, Potter stole out through the open door, quick and silent as a cat himself.
*****
Potter carried Draco up what felt like every flight of stairs in the castle, before finally stopping before a portrait of a very fat lady. “Golden Snidget,” he said clearly, and the portrait swung open.
The next moment Draco found himself in a large room, garishly decorated completely in red and gold. He winced at the realization that he was stuck in the Gryffindor Common Room, and wished fervently he’d become a dog instead. At least dogs were colour-blind.
Potter pulled the cloak off them, and then lifted Draco to look him in the face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then, shall we?” he said kindly. He set Draco down very gently on the nearest table, and then took a seat.
Draco meowed as he accidentally put weight on his hurt paw. Potter looked troubled.
“I probably should take you to Hagrid,” he said with concern. “He’s the animal expert. But as long as you don’t have anything too serious, I should be able to heal you right up. Let’s see that little paw of yours.”
Draco lay on his side, tail twitching nervously as Potter reached for the hurt paw. He tensed, prepared for pain, but it never came. To his surprise, Potter handled his injured limb so gently that it didn’t hurt Draco in the slightest.
“Hmmm, doesn’t look too bad,” Potter said, retrieving his wand. “One really deep scratch and maybe a bruise.” He fired off a couple healing spells, and to Draco’s relief the pain quickly faded.
He rolled onto all fours, testing his weight on his paw. To his delight, it felt perfectly healed. A quiet rumbling sound rose in his chest.
“All better then?” Potter asked amusedly, running a hand over Draco’s back in a petting motion. Before Draco could tell himself to bite, his feline instincts had taken over, and he was arching his back into Potter’s hand like some kind of wanton petting slut.
“Like that, do you?” Potter said, petting him some more.
NO…no…mmm, maybe, Draco thought, as Potter’s hand stroked him from his head to his tail and rational thought began to leave his mind.
“What a nice cat you are,” Potter said thoughtfully, as he smoothed Draco’s fur. “I suppose you’re someone’s pet, then? With a pretty cat like you, I’d bet on one of the younger Ravenclaw girls.”
Draco wasn’t even listening. He was too busy butting his face against Potter’s hand to get some of that divine petting action on his head.
Potter chuckled and obliged him, petting his head and face and behind his ears. It all felt almost orgasmically good, and level of Draco’s purring reached new decibels as he forgot who was petting him and lost himself in the pleasure.
“I suppose I should I let you out,” Potter said reluctantly, as he smoothed and stroked Draco’s fur. “Except Mrs. Norris is still loose, and she might try to attack you again.”
Yes, mmm, yes, give it to Daddy, that’s the spot, ooooh yeaaaah…
“It’s probably safest to keep you here for the rest of the night,” Potter continued. “I’m sure your owner will find you tomorrow.”
Yes, oh yes, oh right there, oh yes, yes, YES -
Wait…WHAT?
But Potter had already scooped him up and was carrying him up the stairs to the dormitory. “You can sleep in our room,” he said quietly, as he pulled open a door. He carried Draco into the dorm room, and then shut the door behind him. Heading to the bed closest to the window, he let Draco jump down onto the covers.
“This one’s mine,” Potter said, yawning slightly. “Make yourself at home.”
As Potter disappeared, presumably to find pajamas, Draco stayed frozen at the foot of his bed. I’m going to sleep here? In Potter’s BED?
Before he could think of a way out of the situation, Potter was back. Now he was yawning hugely. “Mmm, you wore me out,” he said affectionately. “You and bloody Mrs. Norris.”
Draco tensed at the mention of Mrs. Norris. Potter simply laughed, and ran a soothing hand down Draco’s back again.
“She not here, sweetie,” he said reassuringly. “You’re safe with me.”
Draco had no idea how to respond to that. He remained stiffly at the foot of Potter’s bed, watching with glowing eyes in the darkness as Potter crawled under the covers. He stretched out on his side, nearly on his stomach, and relaxed.
The minutes quickly snuck by, and soon Draco could hear Potter’s slow, steady breaths as he slept. Even more obviously, however, was the warmth that was radiating from Potter’s body and calling to Draco’s cold, feline mind.
When he finally could resist no longer, Draco delicately padded right over Potter’s body to the crook of his arm, where it lay folded at a right angle on the pillow. It was such a tempting spot for a warmth-seeking cat, and Draco tentatively curled up in a tiny ball against Potter’s warm skin, his fluffy tail resting just under Potter’s nose.
The only reaction from Potter was a small “mmm” sound, and mere moments later Draco was as fast asleep as Potter was.
*****
Light - and way too much of it - was flooding Draco’s eyes. Morning sun wasn’t usually a problem in Slytherin. He cracked an eye open, wondering just when the dungeons had decided to get skylights.
Bloody sun, he thought, reluctant to leave his abnormally warm bed. He snuggled back beneath the covers, burrowing into the heat -
And abruptly stifling a gasp as he came into contact with a solid, warm body.
Memories of the previous night flooded his mind, and with a start of horror Draco realized that he was a) human again; b) still in Gryffindor tower; and c) snuggled up with none other than the Boy Who Lived to Be Sweet to Cats, who actually had an arm thrown over Draco in his sleep.
Draco swallowed. He had to get out of here. He had to run. If Potter ever found out that it had been him last night…
Slowly, with careful precision, Draco peeled Potter’s arm off his waist. He wriggled out from beneath the bigger boy with a feline grace that made a lot more sense after discovering his Animagus form.
Once free of Potter’s grip, Draco opened the hangings and stood from the bed. He turned to close the curtains -
And then hesitated.
As Draco caught sight of the man who had rescued him last night, an unfamiliar feeling welled up inside. Potter had been…well, kind to him last night.
Kindness wasn’t something the child of Death Eaters was very familiar with. His parents weren’t kind, his family wasn’t kind, and the only Professor at Hogwarts who liked him, Professor Snape, certainly wasn’t kind. Draco knew how it felt to be spoilt; he didn’t recognize how it felt to be taken care of.
As Draco stared down at the Gryffindor, he felt a little troubled. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to be quite so cruel anymore to the man who had healed his paw.
Draco turned to leave, and then snuck one more glance at Potter. Potter looked a little too sweet, and a little too good. Draco’s heart felt a little too big and his chest a little too tight.
Finally, he reached out and bravely ran his hand through Potter’s hair, gently mimicking the motions of petting.
“Thanks, Harry,” he whispered, and then he fled.
*****
It's profmckitten's birthday (WOOT!), and I've written her a little birthday gift fic to celebrate! She didn't give me any prompts, but I know she loves cats and has some lovely kitties of her own...so cats it is!
Title:Things That Go Meow In The Night
Author: jennavere
Pairing: Harry/Draco (pre-slash)
Rating: PG-13 for some language
Summary: Draco's Animagus form is not quite what he expected.
Author's Notes: Um...I kind of wrote this today, so it's un-betaed and probably has lots of mistakes - sorry! It's also not the drabble I promised, but a proper ficlet. But on the bright side - it's got kitties!
Happy birthday, sweetie!
*****
Things That Go Meow In The Night
*****
I can’t believe this! Draco Malfoy thought, as he flounced through the halls of Hogwarts in an absolute fury. Of all the bleeding forms I could have taken as an Animagus, this one has to be the worst.
Try as he might to stomp his frustration for all to hear, his velvety little paws made no noise on the stone floors. His white furry ears lay back against his skull, and his white fluffy tail whipped back and forth in irritation.
Draco sniffed haughtily through his tiny pink nose, whiskers twitching as he stuck said nose in the air.
He’d been so excited that morning as he was getting ready to transform for the first time. The textbook he’d been working from had warned him that he’d remain in his animal state for twenty-four hours before he could change back to human form. Draco had thought it’d be an absolute lark.
That was before he found out what his Animagus form was.
“A housecat. A fucking housecat!” he tried to growl, but his words came out as a low, drawn-out hiss. “A fluffy, white, prissy little cat.”
He’d spent the whole day hiding under his bed, refusing to come out and risk someone learning of his Animagus form. Once all his roommates and the rest of the castle finally fell asleep, he cautiously slunk out from beneath the bed in search of food.
I’ve got to spend the rest of the night in this cursed form still, he thought, as he stalked through the halls. This bloody sucks.
*****
A little while later, unable to find real food or even a mouse, Draco resorted to sulking in an empty classroom.
Bloody silly is what I am, he thought petulantly. Not scary in the least. Oooh, Gryffindor shins beware! Here I come with my tiny, useless claws!
“Wotcher, princess,” said a smooth male voice as it suddenly joined him in the classroom.
Draco turned, and his little jaw fell open in shock. Striding in like he owned the school was the ugliest cat Draco had ever seen. The cat was large and ginger, with a squashed-in face, rumpled fur and bowed legs.
Draco’s ears flattened back against his skull. “Excuse me?” he said haughtily, fixing this newcomer with an icy grey glare.
“No need to get your whiskers in a twist,” the ginger cat said, obviously amused. “I was only saying hello.”
“Bully for you. Now try saying goodbye.”
The cat paid him no mind. “I don’t recall seeing you around the castle before,” he continued, watching Draco curiously. “Do you belong to a first year?”
“I belong to no one,” Draco hissed, the tip of his tail twitching back and forth in irritation.
The ginger cat rolled his eyes. “It’s just a figure of speech. Certainly no cat actually belongs to anyone. But you’re obviously not a stray. You’re much too fancy and well-groomed.” He studied Draco. “Are you a Persian?”
“No, I’m from Wiltshire,” Draco spat.
“Oh, Wiltshire, very nice place,” the cat said conversationally. “Been to Stonehenge, then?”
“Once or twice,” Draco said, feigning disinterest in the conversation by washing his paws. He licked his fur and then carefully smoothed down his whiskers.
“Stonehenge is nice,” the ginger cat commented, licking his own paws. “I’m quite fond of Bath as well.”
Draco paused mid-wash, paw over one ear. “I love Bath,” he said, finally warming a bit to this strange cat. “Have you ever been in early summer for the -”
“CROOKSHANKS? Crookshanks, darling, where have you gone? CROOOKSHAAANKS!”
Draco winced as the most obnoxiously grating voice he’d ever heard pierced through their conversation.
The ginger cat’s ears flattened. “Oh bugger, she’s found me,” he said with dread.
“Who?” Draco asked the cat he now presumed to be Crookshanks.
Crookshanks’s fur stood up along his back. “Mrs. Norris,” he whispered. “Bloody woman won’t take no for an answer.”
“Mrs. Norris…fancies you?” Draco said, torn between amusement and disgust.
Crookshanks shuddered. “A bit, I reckon. Won’t accept that my heart’s already spoken for by the ever-so-lovely Minerva.”
Draco jumped off all four feet in shock. “You’ve got a thing for Professor McGonagall?!”
“Oh yes.” Crookshanks sighed happily. “Now there’s a pretty kitty who could play with my ball of string any day.”
Draco nearly hacked up a hairball in disgust.
Suddenly, Mrs. Norris was poking her head around the open classroom. She smiled predatorily at Crookshanks.
“There you are, darling,” she purred, stalking into the room. Her eyes gleamed unnaturally red. Both Draco and Crookshanks shrank back slightly. “Were you hiding from me again, dear?”
“Now, Mrs. Norris, I’ve told you that I’m not interested,” Crookshanks said firmly.
His voice didn’t waver one bit, which impressed Draco, because Mrs. Norris was one scary cat. He figured Crookshanks must have belonged to a Gryffindor.
Mrs. Norris yawned, showing her tiny sharp teeth. “There you go again, playing hard to get,” she said, a little bit of edge in her voice. She looked at Draco. “Who’s your friend?”
Before Draco could answer, Crookshanks cut in.
“This is my new boyfriend. We’re indulging in the furry love that dare not speak its name.”
Draco turned and stared at Crookshanks, his eyes big and round. “Boyfriend?” he mouthed.
Mrs. Norris had gone rigid. “You have a boyfriend?” she said stiffly.
“Uh-huh,” Crookshanks said, batting at Draco with his paw when Draco tried to cut in.
“Oh really?” Mrs. Norris said, eyeing Draco balefully. “And just what is your precious new boyfriend’s name, then?”
Crookshanks shifted uncomfortably. “…Princess.”
“PRINCESS?!”
Crookshanks batted at Draco again to hush him up. “That’s right,” he said to Mrs. Norris. "This is my boyfriend, Princess. Isn’t he stunning?”
Mrs. Norris’s eyes were glowing redder than ever. “Sure, he’s stunning,” she said in clipped tones. “He’s also dead.”
And before Draco could move, Mrs. Norris leapt at him and gave him the feline equivalent of a bitch-slap.
“Crookshanks, you bastard, get her off!” Draco hissed, kicking at Mrs. Norris with his hind legs. It did him no good; Mrs. Norris was trying to get to his face with her claws.
“Don’t try to fight her; she’s crazy! I’ll go get help!” Crookshanks yelled.
“What? No, don’t go! Don’t leave me with psycho-bitch here!”
“Who are you calling a bitch, you slutty, man-stealing whore?” Mrs. Norris snarled.
Draco gasped. “Oh no you didn’t,” he hissed.
“Oh yes I did,” she hissed back.
The room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of meows and yelps and snarls as Mrs. Norris swiped at him and Draco haplessly tried to defend himself.
“Help!” he meowed desperately, and then cried loudly as Mrs. Norris sank her claws into his right front paw. “OW, fuck! Help me, someone! Somebody, PLEASE -”
“Crookshanks, where did you go? It sounds like - hey, STOP IT!” A voice suddenly boomed. “Mrs. Norris, get off!”
And instantly there was a gigantic presence forcibly pulling Mrs. Norris off Draco. In just seconds the hissing and spitting cat had been frozen by the Impedimenta Jinx and placed firmly at an arm length away.
“What’s got into you?” the giant scolded her. “I know you’re horrid, but I thought it was only to the students. I never thought I’d see you attack another cat!”
“Oh, screw you!” Mrs. Norris hissed, though it wasn’t much of a threat since she couldn’t move an inch. “That slut stole my man!”
The giant shook its head, and then turned back to Draco, who was mewing pitifully on the floor.
“Poor little thing,” the giant said worriedly. The candle light glinted off its glasses, and suddenly Draco could see perfectly clearly just who had rescued him.
“Potter!” Draco hissed, shrinking back. His ears flattened to his skull, and he bared his sharp little teeth. “Get away from me!”
Potter seemed undaunted. “Hey, easy there, kitty. I won’t hurt you,” he said soothingly. “I just want to see if you’re okay.”
Draco wanted to run, or scratch, or bite, but Potter’s kind voice was having a horribly calming effect on his feline psyche.
“It’s alright, you’re safe. I can help you,” Potter said earnestly. “I think Mrs. Norris may have hurt you. She’s a mean old cat.”
“I hate you, Potter,” Mrs. Norris sulked from somewhere over to the right. “As soon as this curse wears off, I’m finding Filch.”
Potter ignored her hisses. “Come on, come here,” he said, holding out a hand to Draco. “Come here, sweetie.”
Draco weighed his options. He could bite Potter’s hand - which was terribly tempting. But the fact remained that his paw throbbed, and he had several hours left before he could transform back into himself. That meant several hours without any healing spells…
…unless he could get Potter to do one for him.
With that thought in mind, he dragged himself to his feet and limped his way towards Potter, meowing softly.
“Oh, poor baby,” Potter said with clear sympathy. “You’re limping. Is your little paw hurt?”
Draco mewed a little more pitifully. The Gryffindor idiot clearly had a soft spot for animals, just like that pampered owl he kept as a pet.
“Here, let me see,” Potter began, when a voice cut into the room.
“Mrs. Norris? My lovely, where have you gone?”
“Muahahaha!” Mrs. Norris screeched in triumph. “You’re dead, bitch!”
“Bugger!” Potter swore. He grabbed up his cloak. “Okay, I’m going to pick you up now, so please don’t bite me,” he said to Draco.
That was all the warning Draco had before he was scooped off his feet into Potter’s arms. He let out a startled meow that echoed off the tiles.
“Mrs. Norris? Is that you?” Filch’s voice was louder.
“Shit. Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Potter said, holding the squirming Draco securely to his chest. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Don’t be scared.”
“I wasn’t scared, you git,” Draco hissed, lying only a little. But he fell still and silent as Potter tugged his cloak over both of them.
Oooh, an invisibility cloak, Draco thought enviously, as it fell around them and hid them. I’ve always wanted one of these!
Once the cloak was on, Potter supported Draco with both hands. Draco was surprised how pleasant it felt to be clutched securely against such a warm chest. Potter carefully arranged Draco so that his hurt paw wasn’t crushed, and then quietly stole to the door.
“Where did you go, Potter?” Mrs. Norris yelped wildly. “You little brat! How do you always manage to escape?”
“Mrs. Norris?” Filch asked, as he opened the door to the classroom. “Are you in here? Is there a student out of bed?”
And as he walked into the room, Potter stole out through the open door, quick and silent as a cat himself.
*****
Potter carried Draco up what felt like every flight of stairs in the castle, before finally stopping before a portrait of a very fat lady. “Golden Snidget,” he said clearly, and the portrait swung open.
The next moment Draco found himself in a large room, garishly decorated completely in red and gold. He winced at the realization that he was stuck in the Gryffindor Common Room, and wished fervently he’d become a dog instead. At least dogs were colour-blind.
Potter pulled the cloak off them, and then lifted Draco to look him in the face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then, shall we?” he said kindly. He set Draco down very gently on the nearest table, and then took a seat.
Draco meowed as he accidentally put weight on his hurt paw. Potter looked troubled.
“I probably should take you to Hagrid,” he said with concern. “He’s the animal expert. But as long as you don’t have anything too serious, I should be able to heal you right up. Let’s see that little paw of yours.”
Draco lay on his side, tail twitching nervously as Potter reached for the hurt paw. He tensed, prepared for pain, but it never came. To his surprise, Potter handled his injured limb so gently that it didn’t hurt Draco in the slightest.
“Hmmm, doesn’t look too bad,” Potter said, retrieving his wand. “One really deep scratch and maybe a bruise.” He fired off a couple healing spells, and to Draco’s relief the pain quickly faded.
He rolled onto all fours, testing his weight on his paw. To his delight, it felt perfectly healed. A quiet rumbling sound rose in his chest.
“All better then?” Potter asked amusedly, running a hand over Draco’s back in a petting motion. Before Draco could tell himself to bite, his feline instincts had taken over, and he was arching his back into Potter’s hand like some kind of wanton petting slut.
“Like that, do you?” Potter said, petting him some more.
NO…no…mmm, maybe, Draco thought, as Potter’s hand stroked him from his head to his tail and rational thought began to leave his mind.
“What a nice cat you are,” Potter said thoughtfully, as he smoothed Draco’s fur. “I suppose you’re someone’s pet, then? With a pretty cat like you, I’d bet on one of the younger Ravenclaw girls.”
Draco wasn’t even listening. He was too busy butting his face against Potter’s hand to get some of that divine petting action on his head.
Potter chuckled and obliged him, petting his head and face and behind his ears. It all felt almost orgasmically good, and level of Draco’s purring reached new decibels as he forgot who was petting him and lost himself in the pleasure.
“I suppose I should I let you out,” Potter said reluctantly, as he smoothed and stroked Draco’s fur. “Except Mrs. Norris is still loose, and she might try to attack you again.”
Yes, mmm, yes, give it to Daddy, that’s the spot, ooooh yeaaaah…
“It’s probably safest to keep you here for the rest of the night,” Potter continued. “I’m sure your owner will find you tomorrow.”
Yes, oh yes, oh right there, oh yes, yes, YES -
Wait…WHAT?
But Potter had already scooped him up and was carrying him up the stairs to the dormitory. “You can sleep in our room,” he said quietly, as he pulled open a door. He carried Draco into the dorm room, and then shut the door behind him. Heading to the bed closest to the window, he let Draco jump down onto the covers.
“This one’s mine,” Potter said, yawning slightly. “Make yourself at home.”
As Potter disappeared, presumably to find pajamas, Draco stayed frozen at the foot of his bed. I’m going to sleep here? In Potter’s BED?
Before he could think of a way out of the situation, Potter was back. Now he was yawning hugely. “Mmm, you wore me out,” he said affectionately. “You and bloody Mrs. Norris.”
Draco tensed at the mention of Mrs. Norris. Potter simply laughed, and ran a soothing hand down Draco’s back again.
“She not here, sweetie,” he said reassuringly. “You’re safe with me.”
Draco had no idea how to respond to that. He remained stiffly at the foot of Potter’s bed, watching with glowing eyes in the darkness as Potter crawled under the covers. He stretched out on his side, nearly on his stomach, and relaxed.
The minutes quickly snuck by, and soon Draco could hear Potter’s slow, steady breaths as he slept. Even more obviously, however, was the warmth that was radiating from Potter’s body and calling to Draco’s cold, feline mind.
When he finally could resist no longer, Draco delicately padded right over Potter’s body to the crook of his arm, where it lay folded at a right angle on the pillow. It was such a tempting spot for a warmth-seeking cat, and Draco tentatively curled up in a tiny ball against Potter’s warm skin, his fluffy tail resting just under Potter’s nose.
The only reaction from Potter was a small “mmm” sound, and mere moments later Draco was as fast asleep as Potter was.
*****
Light - and way too much of it - was flooding Draco’s eyes. Morning sun wasn’t usually a problem in Slytherin. He cracked an eye open, wondering just when the dungeons had decided to get skylights.
Bloody sun, he thought, reluctant to leave his abnormally warm bed. He snuggled back beneath the covers, burrowing into the heat -
And abruptly stifling a gasp as he came into contact with a solid, warm body.
Memories of the previous night flooded his mind, and with a start of horror Draco realized that he was a) human again; b) still in Gryffindor tower; and c) snuggled up with none other than the Boy Who Lived to Be Sweet to Cats, who actually had an arm thrown over Draco in his sleep.
Draco swallowed. He had to get out of here. He had to run. If Potter ever found out that it had been him last night…
Slowly, with careful precision, Draco peeled Potter’s arm off his waist. He wriggled out from beneath the bigger boy with a feline grace that made a lot more sense after discovering his Animagus form.
Once free of Potter’s grip, Draco opened the hangings and stood from the bed. He turned to close the curtains -
And then hesitated.
As Draco caught sight of the man who had rescued him last night, an unfamiliar feeling welled up inside. Potter had been…well, kind to him last night.
Kindness wasn’t something the child of Death Eaters was very familiar with. His parents weren’t kind, his family wasn’t kind, and the only Professor at Hogwarts who liked him, Professor Snape, certainly wasn’t kind. Draco knew how it felt to be spoilt; he didn’t recognize how it felt to be taken care of.
As Draco stared down at the Gryffindor, he felt a little troubled. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to be quite so cruel anymore to the man who had healed his paw.
Draco turned to leave, and then snuck one more glance at Potter. Potter looked a little too sweet, and a little too good. Draco’s heart felt a little too big and his chest a little too tight.
Finally, he reached out and bravely ran his hand through Potter’s hair, gently mimicking the motions of petting.
“Thanks, Harry,” he whispered, and then he fled.
*****