A Most Impractical Cat - part 2
Apr. 21st, 2008 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drachenminaTitle: A Most Impractical Cat
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drachenmina
Pairings: Severus Snape/Harry Potter, Lucius/Narcissa, Bellatrix Lestrange/various, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione (unrequited – at least as yet!)
Rating: NC17
Part 1
The room Snape was given was set at the end of the west wing, a long way from the other bedrooms. It was probably so he’d be close to the potions laboratory. Or maybe he just wasn’t posh enough to mingle with the Malfoys.
Amazingly, the door wasn’t locked, and Harry was able to open it with his swinging-on-the-handle trick. It worked a lot better on doors that opened inwards.
Harry padded in cautiously. Snape was sat in an armchair, staring darkly into the fire. There was a discarded copy of the Prophet beside him, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Heart in his mouth, Harry mewed at him softly, then daringly placed his front paws on Snape’s lap.
Harry blanched as Snape’s breath hit him like a solid wall of alcohol. Snape was drunk! In fact, Harry decided, as the dark eyes gazed at him with an uncharacteristic lack of focus, he was absolutely paralytic.
Harry was annoyed. What the hell did Snape think he was playing at? He was a spy, for god’s sake; he couldn’t afford to let his guard down like this!
“A cat may look at a king, hmm? Or a Prince, perhaps. I was one of those, Erastes.” Snape sighed. “I think he might have loved me then. Loved the Prince. Never love anyone, now.”
“Row?” Harry asked, confused.
“The boy.” Snape laughed without humour. “The Boy Who Died. Harry Potter, Erastes. Perhaps curiosity killed him, hmm, what do you think?”
Harry was stunned. Snape thought he was dead? Why?
“Row?” he said, more insistently this time.
“They asked me, you know. If we had him. He’d been gone so many weeks.” Weeks? He’d been here weeks? Harry realised with a start that he must have been: if Snape was staying here, it must be school holidays.
“They don’t talk to me much, Erastes. Only when they must. Nobody does. I don’t blame them. Maybe he’d have talked to me. Maybe. He knew, you know. I didn’t think he did, but he knew.”
“Row?”
“What it’s like. To be the outcast. Unwanted.” He took another swig from the bottle, narrowly missing Harry’s head as he swung it to his mouth. “I used to think that Tom knew. That’s why I followed him, at first. But he didn’t know. No, that’s wrong. He knew. But he didn’t care.”
Strong hands lifted Harry onto Snape’s lap. He’d never realised just how long and agile Snape’s fingers were before. The man could strangle him with one hand if he wanted to! Weirdly, the thought made him feel safer rather than more vulnerable. He purred as those hands stroked him with just the right degree of pressure.
Snape belched. Harry flinched as the whiskey fumes hit his face.
“Yes,” Snape said suddenly. “I am indiscreet. But you, Erastes, are a cat.” Snape nodded at that, as if he had made an important point, then rose, tipping a surprised Harry onto the floor. “I’m going to bed.”
Walking around the chair and table with the exaggerated care of the very, very drunk, Severus took the few short steps to the bed. Stripping off his robes and dropping them to the floor, he didn’t even bother with pyjamas or a nightshirt, but climbed straight in.
Harry hesitated, then jumped up beside him. He desperately wanted to reassure Snape, but couldn’t think how to do it. Maybe he’d think of something in the morning. He crept closer, and curled up next to the man. A moment or two later, he was surprised to feel an arm flung over him as Snape snuggled closer.
Harry settled down, preparing to sleep, but suddenly Snape spoke again. “It is polite, Erastes, to undress when one comes to bed.” And to Harry’s delighted disbelief, he reached over and unfastened the loathsome collar.
Harry was so stunned it took him a moment to react. He was free! Hurriedly, he transformed.
Snape’s face was a picture. And not a particularly attractive one. Harry couldn’t blame him: there he was, cuddling a cat, and suddenly he found himself in bed, naked, with a boy he’d always hated. Harry pushed down the memory of what Snape had been saying before. The man had been drunk, and anyway it didn’t seem all that relevant, what with Snape glaring daggers at him. Harry began to seriously worry he was going to get hexed.
“You.” Snape gasped.
“Er, yeah, me.” It felt strange to be speaking in human again. “Yeah, I’m, um, not dead.”
“You were… you listened…”
“Um, yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Damn you to hell, Potter! Must my every humiliation be witnessed – no, be caused by one of your cursed family?” Well, at least he was sounding a little more sober now; although to tell the truth, Harry was a bit hurt that Snape wasn’t looking happier about his unexpected survival.
“Um, Snape?” Harry said cautiously. “Sobriety potion? Then we can talk, yeah?”
Glaring at him all the while, Snape reached into the bedside cabinet for a vial. Halfway through, it seemed to occur to him that he was naked, and he turned an unpleasant shade of puce and pulled the blankets around his chest angrily.
Harry felt guilty; he knew Snape hated being exposed to public eye. Or Potter eye, even. But what else could he have done? And it wasn’t like Snape had anything to be ashamed of, really, his chest was actually quite nice – bit on the skinny side, yeah, but Harry didn’t mind that. It was fat that turned him off, always reminded him of Uncle Vernon and Dudders.
Harry realised with a start that he was ogling Snape, which he was pretty sure was an offence punishable by death, dismemberment and a whole load of other nasties if caught, so he looked away hurriedly.
……………………………
Snape seemed a lot calmer after the potion had taken effect and Harry had told his story.
“The cup must be in Voldemort’s personal possession. Having recalled it from Bellatrix’s vault, he would not want it to be out of his keeping.”
“So how do you think we should go about getting it?”
“Your animagus disguise was not a bad plan, although I would recommend you enter his presence only when his attention is diverted elsewhere. He is not above legilimising an animal; his paranoia has grown greatly in recent times.”
“Bugger.”
Snape looked at him sharply.
“I’ll have to go in when he’s shagging Bellatrix, won’t I? If that’s what they actually do – I mean, the bloke’s got no nose; stands to reason there might be some other bits missing, doesn’t it? I’m going to need one hell of a lot of memory modification after this is all over, you know. Or some serious therapy.”
Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Muggle claptrap!”
“Well, no time like the present, I suppose,” Harry muttered resignedly, and jumped off the bed.
“Wait, you idiot! We have made no plans for after you steal it!”
“Well, I have – get in, get it, get out. We’ll destroy it back at headquarters.”
“Potter, what do you think will be the result of the Dark Lord finding one of his horcruxes has disappeared?”
“He’ll be a bit miffed?”
“He will be a damn sight more than miffed. And as this is Lucius’s house, it is likely that Lucius will be blamed. I cannot allow that.”
Harry was annoyed at that. “What, because you two used to be so close? ”
Snape’s face flushed angrily. “No, you idiot. He will take his revenge upon Draco, to punish his parents all the more severely. I have sworn an oath to protect that boy – and even had I not, I would not willingly see him Crucio’d into madness by that psychopath. We must at least attempt to get him to safety first.”
Harry was surprised to find he was actually quite sympathetic to that idea. He’d got almost attached to Draco; all the time he’d spent hiding out in his room. And he’d given him his lovely catnip mouse, too – that’d been really thoughtful.
“Well, OK. Um, if we’re not doing anything tonight, could I, um, stay here? As a human, I mean? It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve slept in this form… “
“Very well. You may sleep in the chair.”
“But the bed’s huge.” Harry made kitten-eyes. He was gratified to see it still seemed to work in his human form.
Snape humphed, and rolled over. “But spell your clothes clean first.”
Harry looked down at himself. Hmm. His clothes did look rather as though he’d been eating in them, sleeping in them, and washing them in his own spit for the last few weeks. He muttered the charm, and climbed into bed
…………………………
When Harry awoke, it was to something prodding him in the back. To his disappointment, it was merely Snape’s finger. “Get up. You need to change back into a cat before anyone comes in.”
Harry transformed back mid-yawn. He could have sworn he heard Snape mutter, “Show-off.”
As he padded to the door, Snape called him back. “We need to put your collar back on.”
“Row! ”
“Don’t be an idiot. I have modified the charms so that you will be able to unclasp it yourself by visualising the word, Alohomora. I assume that you have some rudimentary ability in non-verbal spells?”
“Row!”
“Well, then.”
…………………………
After a day disappointingly devoid of any cup-hunting opportunities, Harry padded back to Snape’s room that evening.
“Row?”
“Very well.” Snape locked the door behind him, and warded it, at which Harry dropped what he’d been carrying in his mouth, and transformed.
Snape frowned at him. “Won’t Bellatrix miss you?”
“Nah, she’s gone off for a threesome with the Lestranges, I think.”
“In that case, you may explain to me why there is a deceased rodent on my carpet.”
Harry coloured. When he’d been a cat, bringing Snape a present of a dead mouse had seemed perfectly natural, but it was making a lot less sense now. “Um, staying in character?” he hazarded. He changed the subject hurriedly. “So, have you had a chance to talk to Draco? Persuade him he needs to take a nice long trip for his health?”
“These things take time, Potter. It has to be set up in a way that will seem acceptable to the Dark Lord.”
“Right, I suppose.” Harry yawned. “Mmm, time for bed, I think.” He started to climb under the covers.
“Potter, what are you doing now?”
“Getting into bed.”
“This is my bed, Potter. Don’t you have a basket to go to?”
“Hey! We slept all right together last night, didn’t we? And this is my only chance to be human for a while. It can’t be healthy to stay in your animagus form too long.”
“Worried you’ll get worms?”
“I’m more concerned Bellatrix’ll have another epi and break the other three legs.” Harry muttered.
“She did what? ” Harry was slightly floored by Snape’s aghast expression.
“Oh, I scratched her by accident, so she chucked me into a wall - broke a leg and gave me concussion. It’s no big, Draco fixed me fine.”
Snape was silent a moment. “You’d better not snore,” he muttered at last, as he Noxed the light. Harry grinned, and crept under the covers. After a moment, a thought occurred.
“Hey Snape? Why don’t you call me Erastes any more?”
Harry could just see how Snape coloured blotchily in the moonlight. “It would not be… appropriate, now that I am aware of your human status.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s not like I know what it means. Or the other name, the one you said would fit better but not sound so good.”
“Eromenos,” Snape muttered under his breath.
“Yeah, that’s the one. So what do they mean, anyway?”
“Nothing, Potter, which I would wish to share with you.”
Harry tried another tack. “Hermione always reckoned I had a crush on the Half-Blood Prince, you know.”
Snape gazed at him levelly. “I’d wager it didn’t long survive your finding out his true identity.”
“Well, no. I mean, I thought you were a murderer, then.”
Snape looked like he had a headache. “Potter, I am a murderer.”
“No you’re not. Not really. Not at all, in fact. I saw Dumbledore’s memories – you didn’t want to kill him.”
“The rest of the world, Potter, will judge my deeds, not my intentions.” Snape seemed resigned.
“So sod them.” Harry rolled over, which incidentally brought him a bit closer to Snape. “I always thought you didn’t care what people thought of you, but you do, don’t you? You care a lot.”
“Shut up, Potter.” Snape sounded terribly, terribly tired, so Harry let him sleep.
……………………………..
After that, Snape didn’t make a fuss about Harry sleeping in his bed. Harry just turned up at Snape’s door every night, and stayed.
Of course, that wasn’t without its own problems. Harry was far from being unaffected by the presence of another warm, male body in bed with him. He was only human, after all. Except when he wasn’t, of course.
The bed was huge. And Snape always slept right on the furthest edge, which Harry was sure couldn’t really be comfortable. Still, he did worry a bit that he might wake up one morning to find himself humping his morning erection against a horrified Snape.
But as Snape invariably awoke, and got up, before Harry, it hadn’t been a problem so far.
If Harry was perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit disappointed by that.
…………………………
Harry crept towards Voldemort’s suite. The Death Eaters were having a meeting (he could hear the screams from here) and even though Draco hadn’t been got to safety yet, there was nothing to stop him reconnoitring, was there? He nosed the door open, and slipped through. Now, where would Voldie keep a cup? Harry padded towards the bedside cabinet, and sniffed it cautiously.
Suddenly he sensed, rather than heard, a horrible sort of slithering, followed by an angry hiss. Bugger, bugger, bugger! The bloody snake was still here! Trust it to pick today to skive off a meeting!
Harry turned, and instinctively hissed back at the enormous reptile glowering at him a few feet away. Nagini looked surprised, although Harry was damned if he knew how he could tell. The snake yawned, so widely Harry could have sworn he could see right down to the tip of her tail.
What was it about yawns that made them so bloody contagious? Harry yawned back, unable to stop himself. Then she inclined her head curiously, seeming to relax.
Mental. Voldie was mental, Bellatrix was mental, it stood to reason the bloody snake’d be mental too. Harry took a few experimental steps. Would she let him carry on searching, now?
It seemed she would. Harry explored the rooms, sniffing at every cupboard, every drawer, trying to ignore the way Nagini kept attempting to intertwine their tails whilst flicking her tongue at him flirtatiously, until – yes! It wasn’t a smell, but he could feel the thick, greasy sensation he’d learned to associate with the horcruxes. It was in a drawer in the bureau under the window.
Harry let out a long, low purr of satisfaction. As soon as Draco was gone, he’d be ready. He turned to leave the room, only to find himself face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself.
Harry blanched. Why the hell hadn’t he been paying more attention? He tried to remember his Occlumency. But Voldemort turned to Nagini instead, and stroked her scaly head gently. “Found a friend, my pet?”
Harry took his chance. Flattening his ears to his skull, he barrelled out of the room like all the fiends of hell were after him.
…………………………
Later that day, as he padded into Bellatrix’s room in case she got too miffed that he was never around, he found a large dead rat in his food bowl.
He sniffed it cautiously. Bellatrix usually provided unidentifiable chunks of meat; apart from that one time she’d gone really doolally and given him cornflakes. He examined the offering more closely. There were fangmarks.
Was that snake bringing him presents now? Harry made a fervent mental note not to do anything she could possibly construe as encouragement.
He ate the dead rat anyway, though: there was no sense in wasting good food.
………………………….
That night, Harry couldn’t wait to get to Snape’s and tell him he’d found the horcrux.
Snape, however, was disappointingly unimpressed. “The bureau is undoubtedly locked. Did you see any sign of a key?”
Bugger. “No.”
“Hm. You will have to go in again and look.”
“Couldn’t I just magic the drawer open?”
Snape sighed, his expression clearly asking what on earth he had done in a past life to deserve being inflicted with this imbecile. “The Dark Lord, Potter, will undoubtedly have warded the drawer against forcible entry by any means magical or otherwise. You will have to locate the key.”
Great. That was all he needed. Nagini’d probably think he’d accepted the rat and had come over to see what else was on offer.
As they climbed into bed, Harry was feeling randy, despite the track his thoughts had just been on (definitely not because of it, he told himself hurriedly). It was just that opportunities to wank had been few and far between lately – if there was a way for cats to wank, he hadn’t found it yet – and he was feeling pretty desperate to get off. He cursed the Malfoys for being too bloody cheap to give Snape an en-suite bathroom like Bellatrix had.
On the other hand there he was in bed with a bloke who, if not the best looker around, at least wasn’t totally minging. A bloke who’d as good as told him, a few nights ago, that he fancied him.
Harry snaked an arm over to Snape’s side of the bed, and around the other man. He began to move his hand over Snape’s chest as he shifted closer, pressing his erection into Snape’s back.
“Potter, what are you doing?”
Harry grinned. “Staying in character. Again. Aren’t cats supposed to have loose morals?”
“I, Potter, am not a cat. And nor, at the moment, are you.”
“What, you’d rather I changed back and went and found a cat to shag? That’d be a bit kinky, wouldn’t it? Hey, I wonder if my animagus form likes boy-cats or girl-cats?”
“Potter? Shut up.”
“Make me?”
“Is that even possible? Short of a silencing charm, obviously, or murder, which is looking ever more tempting.”
“You could, um, occupy my mouth with something else?” Harry cringed a bit at the corny line, and held his breath while he waited to see if it had worked.
Snape sort of sighed. “Just go to sleep, Potter. I assure you, you will be thankful for it in the morning. I am not what you want.”
Harry considered this. What he wanted right now was to get off. And he knew Snape fancied him, so –
Bugger. He didn’t know Snape fancied him. He knew, he realised when he thought back to the drunken confessions of that first night, that Snape loved him. He bit his lip. If he loved someone, he wouldn’t want a one-night stand with them either.
He probably wouldn’t want to listen to them talking about shagging other animals, come to that.
Harry got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Poor bastard – Snape probably hadn’t loved many people in his life, and one of them ditched him for calling her a rude name when he was upset, and the other one just wanted to use him for a leg-over.
Thing was, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted not just to get his leg over, but to get his leg over with Snape.
The man was incredibly brave – and clever. He’d been the Half-Blood Prince, for fuck’s sake. Granted, he wasn’t going to be on the cover of Witch Weekly any time soon, but he actually wasn’t all that bad looking with his kit off. Dim lights helped, too. And his hands were lovely. Harry remembered them holding him, that first night. Remembered them stroking him.
He sighed, wishing they were stroking him right now.
He leant over, and kissed Snape softly and chastely on the shoulder.
“I shall be speaking to Draco about reducing your catnip intake,” came the drowsy, grumbled reply.
………………………………….
The next day, Snape surreptitiously beckoned Harry out into the garden. Once they were well out of earshot of the manor, he bent down and murmured, “Matters are proceeding. I believe we shall have Draco out of here tomorrow.”
“Row?”
“The Malfoys, as you may know, have some Veela blood. I have persuaded the Dark Lord it would be advantageous for Draco and Narcissa to act as emissaries to the Veela and attempt to enlist them to our Lord’s cause.”
“Row!”
“Thank you. Now, it is imperative that you discover the whereabouts of that key. And soon.”
………………………………..
Making himself as small as possible, Harry slunk into Voldemort’s suite. It’d been a stroke of luck that he’d seen old no-nose inviting Bellatrix to “attend” him in his chambers. He’d given them a while to really get into it, and now he was going in to look for that key.
Fortunately the lights were dim. Harry determinedly didn’t look towards the room’s occupants, knowing it was his eyes that were most likely to give him away by gleaming in the candlelight. Belly so low it was practically sweeping the carpet, he crept noiselessly through the bedroom into the sitting-room beyond.
Once inside he Alohomora’d his collar off and transformed. Key, key, where would he be if he were a key? There was no doormat to look under, no upturned flowerpot, and the top of the bureau itself was a key-free zone. If it turned out Voldie kept it on a chain around his neck they were stuffed.
Harry searched frantically. How much longer would snake-face be able to keep it up? He was older than Snape, for fuck’s sake! Suddenly he stopped, restraining himself just in time from clapping a hand to his head with an audible slap. “Accio key.”
The key flew gracefully into his hand, and when he looked in the direction it had come from, Harry noticed a discreet row of hooks on the wall by the door. In case of any possible doubt, there was a little wooden plaque bearing the legend “Keys” fixed just above them. He snorted soundlessly.
He’d be willing to bet a stack of Galleons that high there were no bloody wards on the drawer, either.
Still, now he knew where the key was, he could get out of there. Harry swiftly transformed, and was left with a dilemma. How the buggering hell was he supposed to get the collar back on by himself?
Eventually, he reckoned he’d just have to carry it in his mouth and hope nobody saw him before he got back to Snape’s. That decided, he padded softly to the door and through to the bedroom, where he couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at the action.
Talk about curiosity killing the cat. Harry stared in horror at the scenes on the bed. Voldie still had his robe on, but Bellatrix was naked and writhing in what Harry assumed must be ecstasy – although given who she was with… no, it was definitely ecstasy; agony usually involved more screaming, if Harry’s far-too-extensive experience was anything to go by.
But it wasn’t old snake-face giving her the jollies, oh no. Nagini was on the bed too, and her tail… If Harry had known that’s where that tail had been, he’d never have let it twine around his. Harry was transfixed in horrified fascination at the sight of that tail, thrusting…
As he pulled himself together and left, Harry fixed Nagini with a look of hurt and betrayal, the hussy.
Once he was a safe distance away, Harry sat down to give his tail the wash of its life, trying desperately to remove any trace of Bellatrix’s… unmentionables that might have been transferred there from that trollop of a snake.
He’d almost finished before he realised he was washing with his tongue.
Thoroughly rattled, and not a little queasy, Harry bolted to Snape’s room. Snape had barely shut the door behind him before he transformed. “Snape? Alcohol, now! I need to disinfect my mouth!”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Might I ask where it’s been?”
“No, because if I think about it any more I’ll probably throw up. Whiskey, please?”
Snape harrumphed, but fetched the bottle and half-filled a glass. Harry took a hefty mouthful, swilled it round his mouth and spat it out into a pot plant.
“Potter, you do realise that is a very rare Circassian Shrivelfig, which you have undoubtedly just killed?”
“Couldn’t give a toss. Or, if it’s yours and not Malfoy’s, sorry.”
“It’s Malfoy’s.”
Harry was relieved. “Deserves all it gets, then.” He took another mouthful of the whiskey, and swallowed it this time. It was stronger stuff than he was used to, but he thought he could easily get to like the burn as it slipped down his throat. Snape sat down on the sofa beside him. As he poured himself a glass, Harry held out his own for a refill.
“Are you old enough to drink, Potter?” Snape asked suspiciously.
“Nope,” replied Harry cheerfully. “But I won’t tell if you don’t.” Shrugging, Snape filled his glass.
They sat there for a few minutes in companionable silence, gazing at the fire flickering in the hearth.
“Found the key,” Harry reported, finally.
“Good.” Snape didn’t sound all that pleased, though.
“So I s’pose I’ll be leaving here, just as soon as Draco’s gone.”
“Indeed.”
“Will you miss me?”
“As the common parlance has it, Potter, “like a hole in the head”.” Snape smirked.
Harry frowned. “You’d be pretty stuffed without holes in your head, you know. How’d you breathe? Or drink this stuff? ‘S bloody good, by the way. Refill?”
“Thank you.” Neither of them commented on how Harry seemed to have taken charge of the bottle.
“You’ll have to stay here, won’t you? On your own.”
“Yes.”
“That’s sad.”
“That, Potter, is my life.”
“That’s really sad.”
“I refer you to my previous answer.”
Harry grinned. “’S great, the way you talk. Like a book, or something.”
“I am astonished that you would be able to make the comparison.”
Harry’s grin got wider. “Hey, I’ve heard of books. Hermione’s told me about them.”
“I am glad to hear that insufferable know-it-all does, after all, have some use – “
His voice was cut off as Harry leant over and kissed him. For a long moment, their lips were crushed together, mouths working, tongues searching –
And then Snape abruptly moved away. “You, Potter, are drunk.”
“Yeah, but I’d want to kiss you even if I was sober.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“’Cos I’ve wanted to for ages. Ever since that night you turned me down. You know your trouble, Snape?”
“I have no doubt you are about to inform me of it at great length.”
“Your trouble is, you think everyone hates you.” Harry thought about that one. “OK, you’re probably right on that one. Well, most people, anyway. The ones that know you.” Harry blinked. “What was I talking about?”
“You were informing me of my shortcomings.”
Snape had said “comings”. Harry was very impressed with himself that he managed not to snigger. “Right. Well.” He rallied. “You think you don’t deserve to be happy.” He leant over to look Snape in the eye. “But you do,” he began earnestly. “All you’ve done for bloody Dumbledore, all the times you saved my life even though you hated me… Well. I think you’d deserve a shag even if I didn’t love you – “
Any doubts over whether he’d really meant to say that were cut off abruptly as Snape grabbed him and kissed him, more forcibly than before. Harry moaned as that vicious tongue invaded his mouth, claiming it as new territory for the kingdom of Snape. Harry was joyful in surrender.
Harry’s mouth was in heaven, but the rest of him was feeling sadly left out. He turned his body until he was pressing against Snape, practically on top of him. His cock, which had apparently got hard without informing him, rutted gleefully against the other man. “Fuck… “
“Bed. Now.” If Snape was reduced to one-word sentences, it was probably a good sign, Harry thought fuzzily, as he was frog-marched across the room. He landed on his back on top of the bed, and Snape landed on top of him.
“Clothes?” he managed. Snape actually snarled, a wordless, animalistic sound that went straight to Harry’s groin, and suddenly they were both naked. Mmm, that was much better. He pressed himself against Snape, but Snape wasn’t happy. He moved, and suddenly their cocks were rubbing together.
Harry thought that was bloody amazing, but then Snape reached down and one of those strong, supple hands was wrapped around both their cocks together and Harry had no words to describe how it felt. Snape stroked them both, maddeningly slowly, and Harry thought for a moment he was going to die from it all, but then he was speeding up and gasping into Harry’s face and Harry couldn’t believe it, nothing had ever felt like this before, nothing, and he felt Snape’s cock pulse and that was enough to take him over the edge too and he was coming, coming and he hoped it’d never end.
Harry wasn’t sure if he’d blacked out for a minute, but when he opened his eyes, Snape was looking at him more tenderly than he’d thought anyone could ever look. Harry wished he could say something, let the bloke know how he felt, but he seemed to have forgotten all the words he’d ever learned so he just reached up and pulled Snape in for a kiss, and then they just lay together, entwined, until sleep overtook them both.
The next morning, Harry woke up with a crashing headache and a smile upon his face. It took him a moment to remember why, and then he opened his eyes, hoping for once to see Snape still in bed with him.
He tried not to let the disappointment get to him too much when he saw Snape was, as usual, up and dressed already.
“Potter.” Was Snape avoiding his eyes? “Draco will be leaving today. You will, however, await confirmation from me before attempting to steal the horcrux.”
“Right, then. I s’pose I’ll just go find a ball of yarn to play with till then whilst pretending last night never happened.”
Yep, definitely avoiding his eyes. “Potter. Last night was an aberration. I regret my lack of self-control. It will not recur.”
Well that buggered up Harry’s good mood for the day. “Why the hell not?” he demanded, annoyed.
“I do not wish to discuss this. It is time for you to leave.”
“Fine!” huffed Harry, and transformed. He flicked his tail angrily at Snape as he left.
After he’d had his breakfast (bacon today; Harry wished he had a way of asking Bellatrix for sausages) and a nice soothing wash of his paws in a patch of sunshine near the French windows, Harry calmed down quite a bit. It wasn’t surprising really, Snape reacting that way. Poor sod probably hadn’t had too many morning-afters; it was only natural he’d be a bit uptight about dealing with them.
Harry would just have to use a little persuasion on him, that’s all.
He purred, contentedly, thinking of all the types of persuasion he’d like to try.
…………………………………..
Harry was actually rather touched that Draco made the effort to search him out and say goodbye to him. For a moment he wondered if Snape had let slip his true identity – but then common sense reasserted itself. Firstly, Snape was far too intelligent to trust a Malfoy further than he could throw him, and secondly, if Draco did know it was really Harry who’d watched him wanking over Hermione, he’d have hexed him six ways from Sunday as soon as look at him.
“Goodbye, Macavity. Take care of yourself. You can go and hide in my room anytime you want to, you know? Any time Auntie Bella has one of her little turns, you head straight for it, you hear?”
As Harry purred gratefully, Draco gave him a final rub behind the ear, and was gone.
Time to go play hunt the horcrux.
………………………………
First things first. Harry went to see Snape.
“I’m sure I need not tell you,” Snape began - but I’m going to because I’ve met cockroaches whose intelligence I valued more highly than yours, thought Harry ruefully – “how vital it is that you retrieve the cup whilst I am in the Dark Lord’s presence. He must not suspect me of having any involvement.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Wait until you’ve got a watertight alibi.”
“And then you must make your escape with it immediately.”
“What, can’t I even come and kiss you goodbye?”
Snape glared. “There will be no more kisses. We were not in our right minds last night. It will never happen again.”
“Are you trying to tell me you thought I was crap in bed? Because, you know, from where I was it didn’t look like it.”
Snape got his you-are-giving-me-a-migraine look, but fortunately Harry was a firm believer in being cruel to be kind. “Look, I know you’re not sure last night was a good idea, but I am. I want more nights like that. Days too, if you’re up to it, I know you’re not as young as you used to be – “ Snape glared. Encouraged, Harry continued. “Look, months from now, when the war’s over, we are going to get together. And see what happens. Got that?”
“Potter.” Snape’s voice was weary. “Months from now, when the war is over, I fully expect to be dead.”
Harry felt a sharp pang at that, but masked it with a grin. “Nah, no way am I letting you off that easily!”
………………………………….
Three o’clock that afternoon. All the Death Eaters were in a meeting with Voldie which Snape had managed to engineer somehow or other, and little Miss Slutty-scales was also in attendance, no doubt flicking her tongue out at all and sundry, the harlot, so Harry had old snake-face’s chambers to himself.
He padded through the bedroom; trying really hard not to look at the bed and remember the scenes he had been subjected to the previous evening. Why was it pleasant memories often seemed to blur, whilst horrible ones seemed permanently etched across the back of your brain?
Harry tried to replace the memory with one of naked Snape, wanking them both off. Mmm, much better. He wondered what it’d be like to have Snape fuck him. Or maybe, if Harry was really persuasive, Snape would let Harry top? Harry paused in his prowling, distracted by the vision of Snape on his hands and knees, his arse being rammed by Harry’s cock.
Which rapidly morphed into Nagini’s bloody tail. Aargh! Sodding snake!
Still, it was about time he got on with the job, really. Harry shook his head furiously to rid it of the images, and moved on to the next room.
It was almost too easy. Harry kept expecting Voldemort to spring out from behind the wardrobe, shouting, “Surprise! Avada Kedavra!”
Feeling a bit jumpy, Harry whipped off his collar and transformed. The key was in its place on the hook, and the bureau drawer opened easily. The cup was still inside, its bad-magic vibes stronger than ever now it was exposed to Harry’s gaze. He shuddered. Sooner they destroyed that thing, the better.
Harry carefully placed the cup in the pouch Snape had given him and spelled the whole thing lighter so he could carry it easily in his mouth. Then he transformed. He had to leave the collar behind, but since he wasn’t planning on wearing it any more that was OK.
Anyway, didn’t all the best fictional cat-burglars (Harry snickered) leave a calling card? Something so the police would know who’d dunnit and how clever they’d been? A diamond-studded collar was a calling card with style.
Of course, any burglar who left jewel-encrusted items at every crime scene was probably going to go out of business fairly quickly, Harry mused. Maybe he wouldn’t make a career out of crime, after all.
He padded cautiously to the door. The coast was clear, and he crept through the corridors of the manor until he reached the one leading to the back garden. He’d thought he’d have to change back to human to get out, but it seemed the house-elves had finally got around to putting in the cat-flap.
Harry raced down the garden away from the house, a streak of black and white furry lightning. All he had to do now was get away with it.
At length he reached the boundary of the estate, where a ha-ha was all that separated him from freedom this side of the manor. Harry scrambled down, then transformed, ready to apparate.
There was a sudden “Moooo!” from behind him. Harry turned just in time to see the large brown cow that had been anxiously chewing the cud change into Hermione.
“Harry! You’re safe! Oh thank goodness. Are you all right?”
Harry looked around a bit, half expecting to see Ron in a fish-tank somewhere. “Yeah, I’m fine – and listen: I got the cup!” He brandished the pouch proudly.
Hermione ran up to him and, flinging her arms around him, apparated them both to safety.
……………………..
Epilogue: Months from then, when the war was over…
Harry made his way up to the infirmary alone. Ron and Hermione were off with the Weasleys, celebrating Fred’s lucky escape from a killing curse. It had been deflected in the nick of time by Draco Malfoy of all people.
Everyone had been astonished when he and his mum had returned to Hogwarts to fight for the side of the Light. They’d been slightly less astonished when they’d heard what Voldemort had done to Lucius in the aftermath of Harry’s theft of the cup. Even Harry, who had actually thought it rather poetic justice, had winced when he’d heard about the Castration Curse.
Harry wondered with a shudder if there was a spell or potion to grow your bits back. After all, they could do it with bones, couldn’t they? Still, thinking back to Mad-Eye Moody, maybe there were some body parts you just had to learn to live without. Harry sniggered guiltily. Maybe Narcissa had a strap-on Lucius could borrow. And in fact, thinking back to what Harry had unwillingly been witness to back at the Manor, maybe it wouldn’t make that much difference to their sex life anyway.
Narcissa had acquitted herself well in the battle too – she’d snuck up on her sister just as Bellatrix had been about to AK Ginny, and had hit her with a stunning spell, which had freed Ginny and Mrs Weasley up to go and save Remus.
Tonks hadn’t made it, which Harry was sad about, but Remus was taking the loss bravely. He’d even insisted on being the one to look after Narcissa during her husband’s, ahem, indisposition, which Harry thought was awfully decent of him.
Arriving at the infirmary, Harry made his way to the private room at the back and stood nervously by the bed, waiting for what seemed like an age for any signs of life. Looking at the mess of bandages around the patient’s throat, he thought furiously that that two-timing slut of a snake had been bloody lucky Neville had got to her first, after what she’d done to his Snape. Finally, his patience was rewarded as the dark eyes opened.
“You.” It was almost a whisper.
“Yeah, me.” Harry hesitated. “Um, I’ve got a present for you.”
“Deceased rodent?”
“Nah, deceased Dark Lord, actually. ‘Cept he was a bit too big to drag upstairs, and anyway I think Madame Pomfrey might have had something to say about it if I’d started bringing corpses into the hospital wing. Makes the place look untidy, or something.”
Snape closed his eyes again, with what Harry hoped was relief. He took a deep breath, seeming to savour his first taste of freedom in more years than Harry had been alive for. “So what will you do, now you’re deservedly hailed the hero of the wizarding world?”
“Well actually I’m kind of knackered. Takes it out of you, this hero stuff. I could really do with a kip.” Harry grinned hopefully, and looked pointedly at the bed. He hadn’t been a cat much for a while now; he wondered if he’d be able to pull off the kitten-eyes.
Apparently not. When Snape closed his eyes this time, he looked more pained than relieved. “Potter. You do not want what I can give you. Not really. And what I want, you cannot give.”
Harry blinked. “That has to be the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard! You think just because everyone’s calling me a hero, I’ll be running after everything in robes? I do have some standards, you know.”
“What happened to experimenting with loose morals?”
“Yeah, well, been there, done that. ‘Cept I haven’t, but you know what I mean. Like you said, I’m not really a cat. I don’t just want to shag everything in sight.”
Harry drew a deep breath. “I’d like to be with someone who knows what it’s like. Like you do.”
There was a long silence. Snape was visibly warring with himself. Harry wondered desperately if he should try kitten-eyes again, maybe it’d work this time…
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” muttered Snape irritably, but with (Harry thought) the barest suspicion of a smile upon his lips, as he pulled back the covers with a shaky hand. “Get in.”
Fin.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Voldemort, the Death Eaters’ despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
With apologies to TS Eliot.
For the full text of the poems quoted and/or abused, see the following: Song of the Jellicles
Macavity the Mystery Cat
Should there be anyone reading this who requires an explanation of the terms erastes and eromenos, it may be found here.
Author:
drachenminaPairings: Severus Snape/Harry Potter, Lucius/Narcissa, Bellatrix Lestrange/various, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione (unrequited – at least as yet!)
Rating: NC17
Part 1
The room Snape was given was set at the end of the west wing, a long way from the other bedrooms. It was probably so he’d be close to the potions laboratory. Or maybe he just wasn’t posh enough to mingle with the Malfoys.
Amazingly, the door wasn’t locked, and Harry was able to open it with his swinging-on-the-handle trick. It worked a lot better on doors that opened inwards.
Harry padded in cautiously. Snape was sat in an armchair, staring darkly into the fire. There was a discarded copy of the Prophet beside him, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Heart in his mouth, Harry mewed at him softly, then daringly placed his front paws on Snape’s lap.
Harry blanched as Snape’s breath hit him like a solid wall of alcohol. Snape was drunk! In fact, Harry decided, as the dark eyes gazed at him with an uncharacteristic lack of focus, he was absolutely paralytic.
Harry was annoyed. What the hell did Snape think he was playing at? He was a spy, for god’s sake; he couldn’t afford to let his guard down like this!
“A cat may look at a king, hmm? Or a Prince, perhaps. I was one of those, Erastes.” Snape sighed. “I think he might have loved me then. Loved the Prince. Never love anyone, now.”
“Row?” Harry asked, confused.
“The boy.” Snape laughed without humour. “The Boy Who Died. Harry Potter, Erastes. Perhaps curiosity killed him, hmm, what do you think?”
Harry was stunned. Snape thought he was dead? Why?
“Row?” he said, more insistently this time.
“They asked me, you know. If we had him. He’d been gone so many weeks.” Weeks? He’d been here weeks? Harry realised with a start that he must have been: if Snape was staying here, it must be school holidays.
“They don’t talk to me much, Erastes. Only when they must. Nobody does. I don’t blame them. Maybe he’d have talked to me. Maybe. He knew, you know. I didn’t think he did, but he knew.”
“Row?”
“What it’s like. To be the outcast. Unwanted.” He took another swig from the bottle, narrowly missing Harry’s head as he swung it to his mouth. “I used to think that Tom knew. That’s why I followed him, at first. But he didn’t know. No, that’s wrong. He knew. But he didn’t care.”
Strong hands lifted Harry onto Snape’s lap. He’d never realised just how long and agile Snape’s fingers were before. The man could strangle him with one hand if he wanted to! Weirdly, the thought made him feel safer rather than more vulnerable. He purred as those hands stroked him with just the right degree of pressure.
Snape belched. Harry flinched as the whiskey fumes hit his face.
“Yes,” Snape said suddenly. “I am indiscreet. But you, Erastes, are a cat.” Snape nodded at that, as if he had made an important point, then rose, tipping a surprised Harry onto the floor. “I’m going to bed.”
Walking around the chair and table with the exaggerated care of the very, very drunk, Severus took the few short steps to the bed. Stripping off his robes and dropping them to the floor, he didn’t even bother with pyjamas or a nightshirt, but climbed straight in.
Harry hesitated, then jumped up beside him. He desperately wanted to reassure Snape, but couldn’t think how to do it. Maybe he’d think of something in the morning. He crept closer, and curled up next to the man. A moment or two later, he was surprised to feel an arm flung over him as Snape snuggled closer.
Harry settled down, preparing to sleep, but suddenly Snape spoke again. “It is polite, Erastes, to undress when one comes to bed.” And to Harry’s delighted disbelief, he reached over and unfastened the loathsome collar.
Harry was so stunned it took him a moment to react. He was free! Hurriedly, he transformed.
Snape’s face was a picture. And not a particularly attractive one. Harry couldn’t blame him: there he was, cuddling a cat, and suddenly he found himself in bed, naked, with a boy he’d always hated. Harry pushed down the memory of what Snape had been saying before. The man had been drunk, and anyway it didn’t seem all that relevant, what with Snape glaring daggers at him. Harry began to seriously worry he was going to get hexed.
“You.” Snape gasped.
“Er, yeah, me.” It felt strange to be speaking in human again. “Yeah, I’m, um, not dead.”
“You were… you listened…”
“Um, yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Damn you to hell, Potter! Must my every humiliation be witnessed – no, be caused by one of your cursed family?” Well, at least he was sounding a little more sober now; although to tell the truth, Harry was a bit hurt that Snape wasn’t looking happier about his unexpected survival.
“Um, Snape?” Harry said cautiously. “Sobriety potion? Then we can talk, yeah?”
Glaring at him all the while, Snape reached into the bedside cabinet for a vial. Halfway through, it seemed to occur to him that he was naked, and he turned an unpleasant shade of puce and pulled the blankets around his chest angrily.
Harry felt guilty; he knew Snape hated being exposed to public eye. Or Potter eye, even. But what else could he have done? And it wasn’t like Snape had anything to be ashamed of, really, his chest was actually quite nice – bit on the skinny side, yeah, but Harry didn’t mind that. It was fat that turned him off, always reminded him of Uncle Vernon and Dudders.
Harry realised with a start that he was ogling Snape, which he was pretty sure was an offence punishable by death, dismemberment and a whole load of other nasties if caught, so he looked away hurriedly.
……………………………
Snape seemed a lot calmer after the potion had taken effect and Harry had told his story.
“The cup must be in Voldemort’s personal possession. Having recalled it from Bellatrix’s vault, he would not want it to be out of his keeping.”
“So how do you think we should go about getting it?”
“Your animagus disguise was not a bad plan, although I would recommend you enter his presence only when his attention is diverted elsewhere. He is not above legilimising an animal; his paranoia has grown greatly in recent times.”
“Bugger.”
Snape looked at him sharply.
“I’ll have to go in when he’s shagging Bellatrix, won’t I? If that’s what they actually do – I mean, the bloke’s got no nose; stands to reason there might be some other bits missing, doesn’t it? I’m going to need one hell of a lot of memory modification after this is all over, you know. Or some serious therapy.”
Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Muggle claptrap!”
“Well, no time like the present, I suppose,” Harry muttered resignedly, and jumped off the bed.
“Wait, you idiot! We have made no plans for after you steal it!”
“Well, I have – get in, get it, get out. We’ll destroy it back at headquarters.”
“Potter, what do you think will be the result of the Dark Lord finding one of his horcruxes has disappeared?”
“He’ll be a bit miffed?”
“He will be a damn sight more than miffed. And as this is Lucius’s house, it is likely that Lucius will be blamed. I cannot allow that.”
Harry was annoyed at that. “What, because you two used to be so close? ”
Snape’s face flushed angrily. “No, you idiot. He will take his revenge upon Draco, to punish his parents all the more severely. I have sworn an oath to protect that boy – and even had I not, I would not willingly see him Crucio’d into madness by that psychopath. We must at least attempt to get him to safety first.”
Harry was surprised to find he was actually quite sympathetic to that idea. He’d got almost attached to Draco; all the time he’d spent hiding out in his room. And he’d given him his lovely catnip mouse, too – that’d been really thoughtful.
“Well, OK. Um, if we’re not doing anything tonight, could I, um, stay here? As a human, I mean? It’s just that it’s been so long since I’ve slept in this form… “
“Very well. You may sleep in the chair.”
“But the bed’s huge.” Harry made kitten-eyes. He was gratified to see it still seemed to work in his human form.
Snape humphed, and rolled over. “But spell your clothes clean first.”
Harry looked down at himself. Hmm. His clothes did look rather as though he’d been eating in them, sleeping in them, and washing them in his own spit for the last few weeks. He muttered the charm, and climbed into bed
…………………………
When Harry awoke, it was to something prodding him in the back. To his disappointment, it was merely Snape’s finger. “Get up. You need to change back into a cat before anyone comes in.”
Harry transformed back mid-yawn. He could have sworn he heard Snape mutter, “Show-off.”
As he padded to the door, Snape called him back. “We need to put your collar back on.”
“Row! ”
“Don’t be an idiot. I have modified the charms so that you will be able to unclasp it yourself by visualising the word, Alohomora. I assume that you have some rudimentary ability in non-verbal spells?”
“Row!”
“Well, then.”
…………………………
After a day disappointingly devoid of any cup-hunting opportunities, Harry padded back to Snape’s room that evening.
“Row?”
“Very well.” Snape locked the door behind him, and warded it, at which Harry dropped what he’d been carrying in his mouth, and transformed.
Snape frowned at him. “Won’t Bellatrix miss you?”
“Nah, she’s gone off for a threesome with the Lestranges, I think.”
“In that case, you may explain to me why there is a deceased rodent on my carpet.”
Harry coloured. When he’d been a cat, bringing Snape a present of a dead mouse had seemed perfectly natural, but it was making a lot less sense now. “Um, staying in character?” he hazarded. He changed the subject hurriedly. “So, have you had a chance to talk to Draco? Persuade him he needs to take a nice long trip for his health?”
“These things take time, Potter. It has to be set up in a way that will seem acceptable to the Dark Lord.”
“Right, I suppose.” Harry yawned. “Mmm, time for bed, I think.” He started to climb under the covers.
“Potter, what are you doing now?”
“Getting into bed.”
“This is my bed, Potter. Don’t you have a basket to go to?”
“Hey! We slept all right together last night, didn’t we? And this is my only chance to be human for a while. It can’t be healthy to stay in your animagus form too long.”
“Worried you’ll get worms?”
“I’m more concerned Bellatrix’ll have another epi and break the other three legs.” Harry muttered.
“She did what? ” Harry was slightly floored by Snape’s aghast expression.
“Oh, I scratched her by accident, so she chucked me into a wall - broke a leg and gave me concussion. It’s no big, Draco fixed me fine.”
Snape was silent a moment. “You’d better not snore,” he muttered at last, as he Noxed the light. Harry grinned, and crept under the covers. After a moment, a thought occurred.
“Hey Snape? Why don’t you call me Erastes any more?”
Harry could just see how Snape coloured blotchily in the moonlight. “It would not be… appropriate, now that I am aware of your human status.”
“Why not? I mean, it’s not like I know what it means. Or the other name, the one you said would fit better but not sound so good.”
“Eromenos,” Snape muttered under his breath.
“Yeah, that’s the one. So what do they mean, anyway?”
“Nothing, Potter, which I would wish to share with you.”
Harry tried another tack. “Hermione always reckoned I had a crush on the Half-Blood Prince, you know.”
Snape gazed at him levelly. “I’d wager it didn’t long survive your finding out his true identity.”
“Well, no. I mean, I thought you were a murderer, then.”
Snape looked like he had a headache. “Potter, I am a murderer.”
“No you’re not. Not really. Not at all, in fact. I saw Dumbledore’s memories – you didn’t want to kill him.”
“The rest of the world, Potter, will judge my deeds, not my intentions.” Snape seemed resigned.
“So sod them.” Harry rolled over, which incidentally brought him a bit closer to Snape. “I always thought you didn’t care what people thought of you, but you do, don’t you? You care a lot.”
“Shut up, Potter.” Snape sounded terribly, terribly tired, so Harry let him sleep.
……………………………..
After that, Snape didn’t make a fuss about Harry sleeping in his bed. Harry just turned up at Snape’s door every night, and stayed.
Of course, that wasn’t without its own problems. Harry was far from being unaffected by the presence of another warm, male body in bed with him. He was only human, after all. Except when he wasn’t, of course.
The bed was huge. And Snape always slept right on the furthest edge, which Harry was sure couldn’t really be comfortable. Still, he did worry a bit that he might wake up one morning to find himself humping his morning erection against a horrified Snape.
But as Snape invariably awoke, and got up, before Harry, it hadn’t been a problem so far.
If Harry was perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit disappointed by that.
…………………………
Harry crept towards Voldemort’s suite. The Death Eaters were having a meeting (he could hear the screams from here) and even though Draco hadn’t been got to safety yet, there was nothing to stop him reconnoitring, was there? He nosed the door open, and slipped through. Now, where would Voldie keep a cup? Harry padded towards the bedside cabinet, and sniffed it cautiously.
Suddenly he sensed, rather than heard, a horrible sort of slithering, followed by an angry hiss. Bugger, bugger, bugger! The bloody snake was still here! Trust it to pick today to skive off a meeting!
Harry turned, and instinctively hissed back at the enormous reptile glowering at him a few feet away. Nagini looked surprised, although Harry was damned if he knew how he could tell. The snake yawned, so widely Harry could have sworn he could see right down to the tip of her tail.
What was it about yawns that made them so bloody contagious? Harry yawned back, unable to stop himself. Then she inclined her head curiously, seeming to relax.
Mental. Voldie was mental, Bellatrix was mental, it stood to reason the bloody snake’d be mental too. Harry took a few experimental steps. Would she let him carry on searching, now?
It seemed she would. Harry explored the rooms, sniffing at every cupboard, every drawer, trying to ignore the way Nagini kept attempting to intertwine their tails whilst flicking her tongue at him flirtatiously, until – yes! It wasn’t a smell, but he could feel the thick, greasy sensation he’d learned to associate with the horcruxes. It was in a drawer in the bureau under the window.
Harry let out a long, low purr of satisfaction. As soon as Draco was gone, he’d be ready. He turned to leave the room, only to find himself face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself.
Harry blanched. Why the hell hadn’t he been paying more attention? He tried to remember his Occlumency. But Voldemort turned to Nagini instead, and stroked her scaly head gently. “Found a friend, my pet?”
Harry took his chance. Flattening his ears to his skull, he barrelled out of the room like all the fiends of hell were after him.
…………………………
Later that day, as he padded into Bellatrix’s room in case she got too miffed that he was never around, he found a large dead rat in his food bowl.
He sniffed it cautiously. Bellatrix usually provided unidentifiable chunks of meat; apart from that one time she’d gone really doolally and given him cornflakes. He examined the offering more closely. There were fangmarks.
Was that snake bringing him presents now? Harry made a fervent mental note not to do anything she could possibly construe as encouragement.
He ate the dead rat anyway, though: there was no sense in wasting good food.
………………………….
That night, Harry couldn’t wait to get to Snape’s and tell him he’d found the horcrux.
Snape, however, was disappointingly unimpressed. “The bureau is undoubtedly locked. Did you see any sign of a key?”
Bugger. “No.”
“Hm. You will have to go in again and look.”
“Couldn’t I just magic the drawer open?”
Snape sighed, his expression clearly asking what on earth he had done in a past life to deserve being inflicted with this imbecile. “The Dark Lord, Potter, will undoubtedly have warded the drawer against forcible entry by any means magical or otherwise. You will have to locate the key.”
Great. That was all he needed. Nagini’d probably think he’d accepted the rat and had come over to see what else was on offer.
As they climbed into bed, Harry was feeling randy, despite the track his thoughts had just been on (definitely not because of it, he told himself hurriedly). It was just that opportunities to wank had been few and far between lately – if there was a way for cats to wank, he hadn’t found it yet – and he was feeling pretty desperate to get off. He cursed the Malfoys for being too bloody cheap to give Snape an en-suite bathroom like Bellatrix had.
On the other hand there he was in bed with a bloke who, if not the best looker around, at least wasn’t totally minging. A bloke who’d as good as told him, a few nights ago, that he fancied him.
Harry snaked an arm over to Snape’s side of the bed, and around the other man. He began to move his hand over Snape’s chest as he shifted closer, pressing his erection into Snape’s back.
“Potter, what are you doing?”
Harry grinned. “Staying in character. Again. Aren’t cats supposed to have loose morals?”
“I, Potter, am not a cat. And nor, at the moment, are you.”
“What, you’d rather I changed back and went and found a cat to shag? That’d be a bit kinky, wouldn’t it? Hey, I wonder if my animagus form likes boy-cats or girl-cats?”
“Potter? Shut up.”
“Make me?”
“Is that even possible? Short of a silencing charm, obviously, or murder, which is looking ever more tempting.”
“You could, um, occupy my mouth with something else?” Harry cringed a bit at the corny line, and held his breath while he waited to see if it had worked.
Snape sort of sighed. “Just go to sleep, Potter. I assure you, you will be thankful for it in the morning. I am not what you want.”
Harry considered this. What he wanted right now was to get off. And he knew Snape fancied him, so –
Bugger. He didn’t know Snape fancied him. He knew, he realised when he thought back to the drunken confessions of that first night, that Snape loved him. He bit his lip. If he loved someone, he wouldn’t want a one-night stand with them either.
He probably wouldn’t want to listen to them talking about shagging other animals, come to that.
Harry got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Poor bastard – Snape probably hadn’t loved many people in his life, and one of them ditched him for calling her a rude name when he was upset, and the other one just wanted to use him for a leg-over.
Thing was, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted not just to get his leg over, but to get his leg over with Snape.
The man was incredibly brave – and clever. He’d been the Half-Blood Prince, for fuck’s sake. Granted, he wasn’t going to be on the cover of Witch Weekly any time soon, but he actually wasn’t all that bad looking with his kit off. Dim lights helped, too. And his hands were lovely. Harry remembered them holding him, that first night. Remembered them stroking him.
He sighed, wishing they were stroking him right now.
He leant over, and kissed Snape softly and chastely on the shoulder.
“I shall be speaking to Draco about reducing your catnip intake,” came the drowsy, grumbled reply.
………………………………….
The next day, Snape surreptitiously beckoned Harry out into the garden. Once they were well out of earshot of the manor, he bent down and murmured, “Matters are proceeding. I believe we shall have Draco out of here tomorrow.”
“Row?”
“The Malfoys, as you may know, have some Veela blood. I have persuaded the Dark Lord it would be advantageous for Draco and Narcissa to act as emissaries to the Veela and attempt to enlist them to our Lord’s cause.”
“Row!”
“Thank you. Now, it is imperative that you discover the whereabouts of that key. And soon.”
………………………………..
Making himself as small as possible, Harry slunk into Voldemort’s suite. It’d been a stroke of luck that he’d seen old no-nose inviting Bellatrix to “attend” him in his chambers. He’d given them a while to really get into it, and now he was going in to look for that key.
Fortunately the lights were dim. Harry determinedly didn’t look towards the room’s occupants, knowing it was his eyes that were most likely to give him away by gleaming in the candlelight. Belly so low it was practically sweeping the carpet, he crept noiselessly through the bedroom into the sitting-room beyond.
Once inside he Alohomora’d his collar off and transformed. Key, key, where would he be if he were a key? There was no doormat to look under, no upturned flowerpot, and the top of the bureau itself was a key-free zone. If it turned out Voldie kept it on a chain around his neck they were stuffed.
Harry searched frantically. How much longer would snake-face be able to keep it up? He was older than Snape, for fuck’s sake! Suddenly he stopped, restraining himself just in time from clapping a hand to his head with an audible slap. “Accio key.”
The key flew gracefully into his hand, and when he looked in the direction it had come from, Harry noticed a discreet row of hooks on the wall by the door. In case of any possible doubt, there was a little wooden plaque bearing the legend “Keys” fixed just above them. He snorted soundlessly.
He’d be willing to bet a stack of Galleons that high there were no bloody wards on the drawer, either.
Still, now he knew where the key was, he could get out of there. Harry swiftly transformed, and was left with a dilemma. How the buggering hell was he supposed to get the collar back on by himself?
Eventually, he reckoned he’d just have to carry it in his mouth and hope nobody saw him before he got back to Snape’s. That decided, he padded softly to the door and through to the bedroom, where he couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at the action.
Talk about curiosity killing the cat. Harry stared in horror at the scenes on the bed. Voldie still had his robe on, but Bellatrix was naked and writhing in what Harry assumed must be ecstasy – although given who she was with… no, it was definitely ecstasy; agony usually involved more screaming, if Harry’s far-too-extensive experience was anything to go by.
But it wasn’t old snake-face giving her the jollies, oh no. Nagini was on the bed too, and her tail… If Harry had known that’s where that tail had been, he’d never have let it twine around his. Harry was transfixed in horrified fascination at the sight of that tail, thrusting…
As he pulled himself together and left, Harry fixed Nagini with a look of hurt and betrayal, the hussy.
Once he was a safe distance away, Harry sat down to give his tail the wash of its life, trying desperately to remove any trace of Bellatrix’s… unmentionables that might have been transferred there from that trollop of a snake.
He’d almost finished before he realised he was washing with his tongue.
Thoroughly rattled, and not a little queasy, Harry bolted to Snape’s room. Snape had barely shut the door behind him before he transformed. “Snape? Alcohol, now! I need to disinfect my mouth!”
Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Might I ask where it’s been?”
“No, because if I think about it any more I’ll probably throw up. Whiskey, please?”
Snape harrumphed, but fetched the bottle and half-filled a glass. Harry took a hefty mouthful, swilled it round his mouth and spat it out into a pot plant.
“Potter, you do realise that is a very rare Circassian Shrivelfig, which you have undoubtedly just killed?”
“Couldn’t give a toss. Or, if it’s yours and not Malfoy’s, sorry.”
“It’s Malfoy’s.”
Harry was relieved. “Deserves all it gets, then.” He took another mouthful of the whiskey, and swallowed it this time. It was stronger stuff than he was used to, but he thought he could easily get to like the burn as it slipped down his throat. Snape sat down on the sofa beside him. As he poured himself a glass, Harry held out his own for a refill.
“Are you old enough to drink, Potter?” Snape asked suspiciously.
“Nope,” replied Harry cheerfully. “But I won’t tell if you don’t.” Shrugging, Snape filled his glass.
They sat there for a few minutes in companionable silence, gazing at the fire flickering in the hearth.
“Found the key,” Harry reported, finally.
“Good.” Snape didn’t sound all that pleased, though.
“So I s’pose I’ll be leaving here, just as soon as Draco’s gone.”
“Indeed.”
“Will you miss me?”
“As the common parlance has it, Potter, “like a hole in the head”.” Snape smirked.
Harry frowned. “You’d be pretty stuffed without holes in your head, you know. How’d you breathe? Or drink this stuff? ‘S bloody good, by the way. Refill?”
“Thank you.” Neither of them commented on how Harry seemed to have taken charge of the bottle.
“You’ll have to stay here, won’t you? On your own.”
“Yes.”
“That’s sad.”
“That, Potter, is my life.”
“That’s really sad.”
“I refer you to my previous answer.”
Harry grinned. “’S great, the way you talk. Like a book, or something.”
“I am astonished that you would be able to make the comparison.”
Harry’s grin got wider. “Hey, I’ve heard of books. Hermione’s told me about them.”
“I am glad to hear that insufferable know-it-all does, after all, have some use – “
His voice was cut off as Harry leant over and kissed him. For a long moment, their lips were crushed together, mouths working, tongues searching –
And then Snape abruptly moved away. “You, Potter, are drunk.”
“Yeah, but I’d want to kiss you even if I was sober.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“’Cos I’ve wanted to for ages. Ever since that night you turned me down. You know your trouble, Snape?”
“I have no doubt you are about to inform me of it at great length.”
“Your trouble is, you think everyone hates you.” Harry thought about that one. “OK, you’re probably right on that one. Well, most people, anyway. The ones that know you.” Harry blinked. “What was I talking about?”
“You were informing me of my shortcomings.”
Snape had said “comings”. Harry was very impressed with himself that he managed not to snigger. “Right. Well.” He rallied. “You think you don’t deserve to be happy.” He leant over to look Snape in the eye. “But you do,” he began earnestly. “All you’ve done for bloody Dumbledore, all the times you saved my life even though you hated me… Well. I think you’d deserve a shag even if I didn’t love you – “
Any doubts over whether he’d really meant to say that were cut off abruptly as Snape grabbed him and kissed him, more forcibly than before. Harry moaned as that vicious tongue invaded his mouth, claiming it as new territory for the kingdom of Snape. Harry was joyful in surrender.
Harry’s mouth was in heaven, but the rest of him was feeling sadly left out. He turned his body until he was pressing against Snape, practically on top of him. His cock, which had apparently got hard without informing him, rutted gleefully against the other man. “Fuck… “
“Bed. Now.” If Snape was reduced to one-word sentences, it was probably a good sign, Harry thought fuzzily, as he was frog-marched across the room. He landed on his back on top of the bed, and Snape landed on top of him.
“Clothes?” he managed. Snape actually snarled, a wordless, animalistic sound that went straight to Harry’s groin, and suddenly they were both naked. Mmm, that was much better. He pressed himself against Snape, but Snape wasn’t happy. He moved, and suddenly their cocks were rubbing together.
Harry thought that was bloody amazing, but then Snape reached down and one of those strong, supple hands was wrapped around both their cocks together and Harry had no words to describe how it felt. Snape stroked them both, maddeningly slowly, and Harry thought for a moment he was going to die from it all, but then he was speeding up and gasping into Harry’s face and Harry couldn’t believe it, nothing had ever felt like this before, nothing, and he felt Snape’s cock pulse and that was enough to take him over the edge too and he was coming, coming and he hoped it’d never end.
Harry wasn’t sure if he’d blacked out for a minute, but when he opened his eyes, Snape was looking at him more tenderly than he’d thought anyone could ever look. Harry wished he could say something, let the bloke know how he felt, but he seemed to have forgotten all the words he’d ever learned so he just reached up and pulled Snape in for a kiss, and then they just lay together, entwined, until sleep overtook them both.
The next morning, Harry woke up with a crashing headache and a smile upon his face. It took him a moment to remember why, and then he opened his eyes, hoping for once to see Snape still in bed with him.
He tried not to let the disappointment get to him too much when he saw Snape was, as usual, up and dressed already.
“Potter.” Was Snape avoiding his eyes? “Draco will be leaving today. You will, however, await confirmation from me before attempting to steal the horcrux.”
“Right, then. I s’pose I’ll just go find a ball of yarn to play with till then whilst pretending last night never happened.”
Yep, definitely avoiding his eyes. “Potter. Last night was an aberration. I regret my lack of self-control. It will not recur.”
Well that buggered up Harry’s good mood for the day. “Why the hell not?” he demanded, annoyed.
“I do not wish to discuss this. It is time for you to leave.”
“Fine!” huffed Harry, and transformed. He flicked his tail angrily at Snape as he left.
After he’d had his breakfast (bacon today; Harry wished he had a way of asking Bellatrix for sausages) and a nice soothing wash of his paws in a patch of sunshine near the French windows, Harry calmed down quite a bit. It wasn’t surprising really, Snape reacting that way. Poor sod probably hadn’t had too many morning-afters; it was only natural he’d be a bit uptight about dealing with them.
Harry would just have to use a little persuasion on him, that’s all.
He purred, contentedly, thinking of all the types of persuasion he’d like to try.
…………………………………..
Harry was actually rather touched that Draco made the effort to search him out and say goodbye to him. For a moment he wondered if Snape had let slip his true identity – but then common sense reasserted itself. Firstly, Snape was far too intelligent to trust a Malfoy further than he could throw him, and secondly, if Draco did know it was really Harry who’d watched him wanking over Hermione, he’d have hexed him six ways from Sunday as soon as look at him.
“Goodbye, Macavity. Take care of yourself. You can go and hide in my room anytime you want to, you know? Any time Auntie Bella has one of her little turns, you head straight for it, you hear?”
As Harry purred gratefully, Draco gave him a final rub behind the ear, and was gone.
Time to go play hunt the horcrux.
………………………………
First things first. Harry went to see Snape.
“I’m sure I need not tell you,” Snape began - but I’m going to because I’ve met cockroaches whose intelligence I valued more highly than yours, thought Harry ruefully – “how vital it is that you retrieve the cup whilst I am in the Dark Lord’s presence. He must not suspect me of having any involvement.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Wait until you’ve got a watertight alibi.”
“And then you must make your escape with it immediately.”
“What, can’t I even come and kiss you goodbye?”
Snape glared. “There will be no more kisses. We were not in our right minds last night. It will never happen again.”
“Are you trying to tell me you thought I was crap in bed? Because, you know, from where I was it didn’t look like it.”
Snape got his you-are-giving-me-a-migraine look, but fortunately Harry was a firm believer in being cruel to be kind. “Look, I know you’re not sure last night was a good idea, but I am. I want more nights like that. Days too, if you’re up to it, I know you’re not as young as you used to be – “ Snape glared. Encouraged, Harry continued. “Look, months from now, when the war’s over, we are going to get together. And see what happens. Got that?”
“Potter.” Snape’s voice was weary. “Months from now, when the war is over, I fully expect to be dead.”
Harry felt a sharp pang at that, but masked it with a grin. “Nah, no way am I letting you off that easily!”
………………………………….
Three o’clock that afternoon. All the Death Eaters were in a meeting with Voldie which Snape had managed to engineer somehow or other, and little Miss Slutty-scales was also in attendance, no doubt flicking her tongue out at all and sundry, the harlot, so Harry had old snake-face’s chambers to himself.
He padded through the bedroom; trying really hard not to look at the bed and remember the scenes he had been subjected to the previous evening. Why was it pleasant memories often seemed to blur, whilst horrible ones seemed permanently etched across the back of your brain?
Harry tried to replace the memory with one of naked Snape, wanking them both off. Mmm, much better. He wondered what it’d be like to have Snape fuck him. Or maybe, if Harry was really persuasive, Snape would let Harry top? Harry paused in his prowling, distracted by the vision of Snape on his hands and knees, his arse being rammed by Harry’s cock.
Which rapidly morphed into Nagini’s bloody tail. Aargh! Sodding snake!
Still, it was about time he got on with the job, really. Harry shook his head furiously to rid it of the images, and moved on to the next room.
It was almost too easy. Harry kept expecting Voldemort to spring out from behind the wardrobe, shouting, “Surprise! Avada Kedavra!”
Feeling a bit jumpy, Harry whipped off his collar and transformed. The key was in its place on the hook, and the bureau drawer opened easily. The cup was still inside, its bad-magic vibes stronger than ever now it was exposed to Harry’s gaze. He shuddered. Sooner they destroyed that thing, the better.
Harry carefully placed the cup in the pouch Snape had given him and spelled the whole thing lighter so he could carry it easily in his mouth. Then he transformed. He had to leave the collar behind, but since he wasn’t planning on wearing it any more that was OK.
Anyway, didn’t all the best fictional cat-burglars (Harry snickered) leave a calling card? Something so the police would know who’d dunnit and how clever they’d been? A diamond-studded collar was a calling card with style.
Of course, any burglar who left jewel-encrusted items at every crime scene was probably going to go out of business fairly quickly, Harry mused. Maybe he wouldn’t make a career out of crime, after all.
He padded cautiously to the door. The coast was clear, and he crept through the corridors of the manor until he reached the one leading to the back garden. He’d thought he’d have to change back to human to get out, but it seemed the house-elves had finally got around to putting in the cat-flap.
Harry raced down the garden away from the house, a streak of black and white furry lightning. All he had to do now was get away with it.
At length he reached the boundary of the estate, where a ha-ha was all that separated him from freedom this side of the manor. Harry scrambled down, then transformed, ready to apparate.
There was a sudden “Moooo!” from behind him. Harry turned just in time to see the large brown cow that had been anxiously chewing the cud change into Hermione.
“Harry! You’re safe! Oh thank goodness. Are you all right?”
Harry looked around a bit, half expecting to see Ron in a fish-tank somewhere. “Yeah, I’m fine – and listen: I got the cup!” He brandished the pouch proudly.
Hermione ran up to him and, flinging her arms around him, apparated them both to safety.
……………………..
Epilogue: Months from then, when the war was over…
Harry made his way up to the infirmary alone. Ron and Hermione were off with the Weasleys, celebrating Fred’s lucky escape from a killing curse. It had been deflected in the nick of time by Draco Malfoy of all people.
Everyone had been astonished when he and his mum had returned to Hogwarts to fight for the side of the Light. They’d been slightly less astonished when they’d heard what Voldemort had done to Lucius in the aftermath of Harry’s theft of the cup. Even Harry, who had actually thought it rather poetic justice, had winced when he’d heard about the Castration Curse.
Harry wondered with a shudder if there was a spell or potion to grow your bits back. After all, they could do it with bones, couldn’t they? Still, thinking back to Mad-Eye Moody, maybe there were some body parts you just had to learn to live without. Harry sniggered guiltily. Maybe Narcissa had a strap-on Lucius could borrow. And in fact, thinking back to what Harry had unwillingly been witness to back at the Manor, maybe it wouldn’t make that much difference to their sex life anyway.
Narcissa had acquitted herself well in the battle too – she’d snuck up on her sister just as Bellatrix had been about to AK Ginny, and had hit her with a stunning spell, which had freed Ginny and Mrs Weasley up to go and save Remus.
Tonks hadn’t made it, which Harry was sad about, but Remus was taking the loss bravely. He’d even insisted on being the one to look after Narcissa during her husband’s, ahem, indisposition, which Harry thought was awfully decent of him.
Arriving at the infirmary, Harry made his way to the private room at the back and stood nervously by the bed, waiting for what seemed like an age for any signs of life. Looking at the mess of bandages around the patient’s throat, he thought furiously that that two-timing slut of a snake had been bloody lucky Neville had got to her first, after what she’d done to his Snape. Finally, his patience was rewarded as the dark eyes opened.
“You.” It was almost a whisper.
“Yeah, me.” Harry hesitated. “Um, I’ve got a present for you.”
“Deceased rodent?”
“Nah, deceased Dark Lord, actually. ‘Cept he was a bit too big to drag upstairs, and anyway I think Madame Pomfrey might have had something to say about it if I’d started bringing corpses into the hospital wing. Makes the place look untidy, or something.”
Snape closed his eyes again, with what Harry hoped was relief. He took a deep breath, seeming to savour his first taste of freedom in more years than Harry had been alive for. “So what will you do, now you’re deservedly hailed the hero of the wizarding world?”
“Well actually I’m kind of knackered. Takes it out of you, this hero stuff. I could really do with a kip.” Harry grinned hopefully, and looked pointedly at the bed. He hadn’t been a cat much for a while now; he wondered if he’d be able to pull off the kitten-eyes.
Apparently not. When Snape closed his eyes this time, he looked more pained than relieved. “Potter. You do not want what I can give you. Not really. And what I want, you cannot give.”
Harry blinked. “That has to be the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard! You think just because everyone’s calling me a hero, I’ll be running after everything in robes? I do have some standards, you know.”
“What happened to experimenting with loose morals?”
“Yeah, well, been there, done that. ‘Cept I haven’t, but you know what I mean. Like you said, I’m not really a cat. I don’t just want to shag everything in sight.”
Harry drew a deep breath. “I’d like to be with someone who knows what it’s like. Like you do.”
There was a long silence. Snape was visibly warring with himself. Harry wondered desperately if he should try kitten-eyes again, maybe it’d work this time…
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” muttered Snape irritably, but with (Harry thought) the barest suspicion of a smile upon his lips, as he pulled back the covers with a shaky hand. “Get in.”
Fin.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw--
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Voldemort, the Death Eaters’ despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime--Macavity's not there!
With apologies to TS Eliot.
For the full text of the poems quoted and/or abused, see the following: Song of the Jellicles
Macavity the Mystery Cat
Should there be anyone reading this who requires an explanation of the terms erastes and eromenos, it may be found here.
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Date: 2008-04-21 07:53 pm (UTC)I can't tell you how many times I've read the following line and cracked a rib laughing. I'm so juvenile.
Snape belched. Harry flinched as the whiskey fumes hit his face.
Muhahaha xxx
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Date: 2008-05-25 12:34 pm (UTC)You are way too kind! :D
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Date: 2008-05-09 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-25 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-25 02:56 am (UTC)I loved poor traumatized!kitty!Harry - it was great fun, top to bottom!
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Date: 2008-05-25 12:23 pm (UTC)So glad you enjoyed the fic! :D
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Date: 2008-08-15 01:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-28 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 03:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-06 07:36 pm (UTC)Thank you for your lovely comments. *beams*
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Date: 2010-07-10 05:17 pm (UTC)♥
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Date: 2011-02-03 12:00 am (UTC)keep penning,
Marns
~pN
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Date: 2012-04-17 07:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-08 10:54 pm (UTC)