Pretty Kitty

Harry stared at Umbridge, face pale. In the flickering candlelight, her inquiring, pleasant smile sent shudders down his spine. He wanted to jump up and run from the room.

“Is there something the matter?” she queried, concerned. Harry heard the challenge behind the falseness. His eyes suddenly narrowed, and he clutched the quill with determination. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of protesting.

“No, nothing,” he murmured. She nodded and went back to her work. Harry stared down at the parchment for a moment, before setting his quill on it again.

XxXxXxX

The moment Umbridge let him go for the night, Harry sped his way out of her classroom to her promise of continuing the detention the next night. When he was a corridor away, he looked around before breaking into a run.

Charlie, thankfully, hadn't accompanied him to the detention, although he'd offered. His duty seemed to end after dinner, when Harry usually went to his common room and didn't reappear until next morning.

Which was exactly what Harry planned to the moment he got back to Gryffindor tower. It was too late for anyone to have waited for him, and he had told Ron and Hermione not to. He doubted Fred and George would, anyway.

Harry clutched his hand and ran faster. When he got to the common room and saw Fred and George lounging around, planning pranks and waiting for him, he'd dashed to his dormitory amidst the puzzled callings of 'kitten?'.

XxXxXxX

The next morning, Harry awoke to a deep throbbing emanating from his hand and his head. He groaned and lifted his hand, only to see a white bandage wrapped around it, stained with blood. Memories of last night hit him hard, and he sat up, wincing.

He staggered out of bed and into the bathroom. They usually stored pain-killing potions in the cabinet there, and Harry gratefully grabbed one of the vials, downing it quickly and grimacing at the awful taste it left behind.

He then jumped eagerly into the shower, purring as the water rained down over him.

XxXxXxX

“Harry,” a voice whispered in his cat ear as Harry stepped out of the boys dormitory. He turned to see a grinning Fred standing behind him. Harry smiled in amusement at the mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, “Wha-” His sentence was cut short as Fred covered his lips in a kiss, wrapping an arm around his waist. When he pulled away, Harry looked up at him, wondering what had brought on the act of affection.

“I- um... I have something to tell you,” Fred said quietly, looking around and seeing a sixth year edging around them warily. Fred grinned at the boy evilly, causing him to gulp and quicken his pace until he was a safe distance away.

“You do?” Harry asked cautiously. Fred nodded and turned, bringing Harry with him, and lead him up the stairs to the dormitory he shared with George and Lee. Harry walked along beside him, staring at the redhead curiously. Fred just smirked back at him when he caught his eye, causing Harry's gaze to become suspicious.

Fred poked his head around the entrance to his dormitory and peered inside, before dragging Harry in and shutting the door. Harry was quickly pressed against said door, held by Fred's body. Fred lowered his head to capture Harry's mouth in a fiery kiss.

Harry's arms instinctively wrapped around Fred's back, his tail twining around the teen's leg. Fred pushed Harry further into the door, deepening the kiss, his tongue easily gaining access to Harry's mouth. Harry entwined his tongue around Fred's.

Harry suddenly pulled away, causing Fred to frown at him questioningly. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“What did you want to tell me?” he asked, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence as Fred bent his head to trace his tongue up Harry's neck to the back of his ear. Harry groaned as Fred's lips closed around his earlobe and sucked on it.

“I love you,” Fred mumbled, mouth moving away from Harry's ear to the skin of his neck again, tracing kisses to his jawline. Harry arched against him, moaning under his breath, before what Fred had admitted hit him. His gaze jerked to meet Fred's serious blue eyes.

“Y-you do?” Harry questioned disbelievingly. Fred's gaze softened, and he wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him away from the door to embrace him, lips pressed against the tip of Harry's cat ear.

“Yes, I really do,” he said. Harry stared at his shoulder for a moment, before shifting to bury his face in Fred's neck, rubbing against his chin.

“I... well, I-” Harry took a deep breath, hoping that this wasn't all just some strange prank of Fred's, where he would get Harry to confess, and then the whole of Gryffindor would jump out and laugh at him. He shook his head, realising he had to begin to trust Fred and George more. They'd given him a hundred reasons not to, but there were even more reasons than that for Harry to give his trust.

“I love you too,” Harry said quietly. Fred didn't say anything for a moment, and Harry tensed, about to pull back and hide before everyone from Gryffindor had the opportunity to spring out. However, Fred's grip tightened around him.

“I'm so glad,” Fred murmured against his hair. Harry smiled, tilting his head to meet Fred's eyes. Fred brushed some strands of hair back from his face, moving to kiss Harry's nose. Harry wiggled his nose slightly, and Fred laughed.

“Now that we've got that out of the way-” Fred suddenly said, voice low and smirk seductive. His hands on Harry's back wandered south, and Harry's breath hitched.

The door suddenly flew open. Fred froze, and Harry jumped, spinning around and tearing out of Fred's hold. There, in the doorway, stood Angelina Johnson, looking rather furious.

“Harry Potter!” she bellowed, causing Harry to wince, hands flattening his cat ears downwards. Angelina took no notice. “DETENTION?! On the day of the QUIDDITCH TRYOUTS?!”

XxXxXxX

Ron winced as Harry sat next to him, looking miserable.

“I heard Angelina was looking for you,” Ron told him. Harry grimaced.

“She found me,” he said. George pulled out a chair and sat on his other side, ruffling Harry's hair. Harry scowled at him and tried to bat his hand away. George merely laughed and avoided his unleashed claws, continuing to attack Harry's hair.

“George, stop that,” Hermione scolded as Harry's angry hisses and exclamations of 'stop it you prat!' drifted over to her. George shot her an innocent look.

“Stop what? I was only trying to comb out this messy hair of his,” George said. Fred, sitting on the other side of Harry, snorted disbelievingly, but didn't seem inclined to stop George's torture of Harry. Harry glared and tried to claw at George's hand again.

“I like my hair messy,” he snapped. George smirked and grabbed both of Harry's wrists, leaning down and pressing a kiss on Harry's nose, delighted when it scrunched up. Harry rolled his eyes.

“I like it messy too. Anyone would think you'd just woken up from an amazing night in bed, courtesy of moi,” George murmured, and yet Hermione's super sensitive hearing still picked up the words. She tutted.

“I do believe, dear brother, it would be courtesy of me,” Fred interrupted, studying his nails casually. George pressed a quick kiss to the inside of Harry's left wrist, before dropping his hands and turning to Fred, a challenge in his blue eyes. Lee Jordan, sitting beside Fred, immediately picked up a spoon and began commentating into it.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was studying his hand curiously, and Harry tried to move his robe over the bandage.

“What did you do to your hand?” Hermione asked him sharply. Harry grinned at her easily.

“Tripped and scraped it. Looks really nasty, want to see?” he asked. Hermione glared at him, unimpressed, and went back to her book. Harry and Ron laughed at the typical Hermione response.

Harry frowned down at his hand as Fred and George bickered with each other around Harry. He'd been formulating that lie all morning, and was pleased he'd managed to pull it off. He was a typically awful liar, and Hermione was rather intuitive.

Ron suddenly looked up as owls began soaring into the Great Hall, quite a few dropping down to the Gryffindor table. Harry grinned as the Weasley owl, Errol, dropped in front of him, holding out his leg. He quickly untied the letters attached there, and handed one to Ron. The other was addressed to him, from Sirius.

Harry opened the letter, frowning as he read over the words. It seemed that Sirius had written it in a rush, and it was warning Harry not to overreact.

“Harry...” Hermione's apprehensive voice suddenly called. Harry looked up at her, to see the girl studying the Daily Prophet she ordered. She looked up at him, apologetic, and then turned the paper around so the front page faced him. Harry's eyes widened at the large picture displayed on the front, of him and George. Kissing.

George groaned and grabbed the paper from Hermione, scanning the front page. Harry leaned over, reading it with him.

Harry Potter Tosses the Salad

Harry scowled when George snorted with laughter over the headline, and began to read the rest of the article. It was worse than he thought.

'Mr Potter is clearly misunderstood-'

'Going to great lengths to seek attention-'

'Obviously traumatised- he's mistaking friendship for something it ought not to be.'

“They've even got classmates talking about it,” George murmured in disbelief, reading some of the quotes from people the Daily Prophet somehow managed to interview. “Like Malfoy!”

'”I can't say I'm surprised- I've seen the way he eyes up some of the boys at Hogwarts. The amount of times I've caught him staring at me, it's ridiculously uncomfortable. I just feel sorry for that Weasley girl he was dating.”'

George looked up from the paper to glare across the hall at Malfoy, who was smugly reading the paper, surveying his own handiwork. Fred turned to snarl at him as well.

“And there's one from Ginny,” Harry said quietly, drawing everyone's attention from Malfoy. George drew the paper closer.

“'I don't blame Harry, you know. He was tricked into this darkness, and he obviously can't find a way back out again. I'm confident that.... that all he needs is a helping hand'!” George read out loud incredulously. “’And he'll realise that he could have so much more’!”

George flung the paper down onto the table, shot a venomous look at Ginny, and, standing abruptly, stormed away. Fred and Harry exchanged glances before standing and hurrying after George, students staring after them as Harry Potter ran after his lover.

XxXxXxX

“I just can't believe she went that far!” George was ranting in the seventh year boy's dormitory, pacing back and forth as Harry watched him. Fred was sitting on his bed, eyes watching his twin, occasionally shaking his head. “When mum gets her hands on Gin...” George trailed off, fisting his hands in his hair.

Harry wished they'd had longer before the Daily Prophet got a hold of his relationship with George. He got the feeling it would be exactly like last year with Hermione.

“Don't open any unfamiliar mail,” Harry suddenly said, getting the twins attention. “Last year, the world thought me and Hermione were going out. She got some really nasty things sent to her, hexes and stuff in letters.”

George groaned and collapsed on his bed, beside Harry. Harry winced. “I'm really sorry. Maybe we should just-” George sat up and placed a finger on Harry's lips, halting whatever he was going to say.

“We should just wait it out. Eventually, things will calm down, people will get used to the idea of their saviour being a raging homo, and we'll be allowed to live happily ever after-” George's gaze darted to Fred. “-Well, sort of.” Fred grunted bitterly.

Harry smiled forcedly at George. “Yeah, you're right. Things'll die down.”

XxXxXxX

The next detention was no better. Umbridge had refused his request to take Friday off, the day of the Quidditch try-outs. Angelina was going to be furious.

He stumbled into the common room and dumped his bag on the floor, slumping on a sofa in front of the fire. He had a mountain of work assigned by teachers to do, which he needed to complete that night. Sometimes it seemed that teachers were completely against the students.

So, exhausted as he was, Harry reluctantly tugged the homework out of his bag and started on Snape's moonstone essay.

XxXxXxX

“Fuck!” George suddenly cried out, jumping away from the table at breakfast. Harry blearily looked up at him, grunting when he was suddenly yanked away from his seat by George. Just in time, too, as he watched his seat suddenly begin to hiss and bubble. He blinked at it sleepily.

“The public are vicious,” George muttered, shaking his hand, which was frothing. Harry frowned at him and took his hand, gesturing to the others to come with them.

“Come on, we need to get you to Madame Pomfrey.”

XxXxXx

After his third detention, Harry found out why Ron had been acting rather suspicious lately.

As he gripped his hand tighter, trying to stop anything from brushing against the exposed wounds, a shadow moved next to him. He jumped, letting out a yowl and grabbing his wand, paranoia setting in.

It was just Ron.

“Sorry!” Ron exclaimed, holding up his hands as an enraged cat boy brandished his wand threateningly. Harry relaxed when he saw who it was, eyeing Ron incredulously and putting away his wand. Just what was Ron doing, lurking in the corridors?

With his new Cleansweep?

“W-what are you doing?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side. Ron flushed and tried to hide his broom behind his back, which proved to be less than successful considering that Harry had already seen it.

“Nothing! What are you doing?” Harry rolled his eyes at the response and the way Ron's gaze darted up and down the corridor, looking everywhere but at him. Ron was up to something embarrassing.

“Just tell me Ron, come on, I'm your mate!” Harry persuaded, looking at Ron with large, imploring eyes. In all honesty, he just wanted to solve the mystery, placate his curiosity, and get back to his bed. He was exhausted and his hand throbbed with pain.

“Well... I'm hiding from your bloody boyfriends, if you must know! They've been going around, slipping their products into people's food and drinks. Maybe you should, you know, talk to them or something,” Ron suggested, voice suspiciously high. A sure sign he was lying.

“You're hiding... with your broom?” Harry asked sceptically. Ron scowled at his broom, then sighed, obviously deciding to give up the game.

“Oh all right! You know how those Keeper try-outs are on Friday?” he asked. Harry nodded, wondering what this had to with Ron. “Well... don't laugh, all right? Well, I thought, now that- that I've got a decent broom and all... maybe I should try-out... for Gryffindor Keeper? And, go ahead, you can laugh now,” Ron finished, sounding downtrodden. Harry shook his head.

“I'm not going to laugh! It's a great idea! Are you good? It'd be wicked if you got on the team!” Harry exclaimed. Ron merely blinked at him.

“I- I'm not bad,” Ron told him, rather proud, and also rather relieved. Harry grinned at him.

“So, you've been practising, then?” Harry confirmed. Ron nodded, beginning to walk back to the Gryffindor common room. Harry trailed along beside him, rubbing his hand. The cuts still hadn't closed yet.

“You know, ever since the try-outs were announced. It's not been easy, been on my own and all. Bloody hell, I'm dreading this. Fred and George are going to laugh their arses off when they see me, it'll be so humiliating! They still haven't stopped getting at me for being a prefect.”

Harry smiled at Ron and patted his shoulder, already knowing his words would be a lie even as he said them. “Maybe they'll go easy on you- surely they know how nerve racking try-outs are.” Ron shook his head, not believing a word, like Harry. Harry wished he could be there to see Ron try out, and maybe stop Fred and George from calling anything out.

Harry grinned slightly when he thought of Fred and George, his mind beginning to wander off, to when Fred had told him that he loved him. Ron looked at him and shook his head at the lovestruck expression.

“Maybe you could try and- what's that? On the back of your hand?” Ron suddenly asked, as Harry scratched at his nose with his right hand. Harry paled and looked at his hand, then over at Ron with an uneasy expression.

“Oh, you know, I just cut it on something,” he said airily, although his voice decided to break in the middle of his lie. Ron shook his head and grabbed his arm before Harry could move away, and studied the back of his hand. He paled, looking disturbed.

“That's- I thought you said she was just making you write lines!” Ron exclaimed, eyes fixed on the words engraved into Harry's hand. Harry shrugged, trying to pull his hand away, but Ron kept a hold of it.

“She... she is,” Harry said, cat ears flat against his head as he eyed Ron, who looked like he was about to faint.

“That's sick! You have to go to McGonagall,” Ron told him. Harry shook his head. There was a reason he'd kept quiet about Umbridge. It was his problem, and he knew the moment he told someone, they'd immediately start panicking, like Ron was now.

“Look, no, I'm not going to tell McGonagall, that would just give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing she's got to me,” Harry told him. Ron hissed out the password, staring at Harry incredulously, and Harry shrugged. “Besides, I don't think there's much she could do.”

Ron strode into the common room, Harry following him miserably. Hermione was berating Fred and George, who were surrounded by very ill-looking first years. Harry smiled fondly and shook his head as Fred and George wrapped arms around Hermione's shoulders, trying their best to charm her into not going to McGonagall. Ron glared at the arms around Hermione.

“Go to Dumbledore, then,” Ron told him. Fred perked up from where he was listing the reasons Hermione shouldn't tell anyone about their rule-breaking. Harry got the feeling he was going to be used in that list, somewhere.

“Tell Dumbledore about what?” Fred asked. Harry shot Ron a pleading look, and Ron looked torn between telling the whole world about Umbridge's treatment, or being a loyal friend.

“Harry's scar. 'S been prickling,” Ron told them finally. Fred raised an eyebrow at the high tone Ron's voice took, but let the lie go, after giving Harry a pointed look. Harry hid his hand in-between his robes.

“Look, I'm not going to Dumbledore, he's got enough to deal with; doesn't need some whiny teenager crying over being 'mistreated',” Harry said quietly. Ron opened his mouth to protest. Harry turned his back and stormed up the stairs to the boys dormitory before Ron could protest.

Harry really didn't want to go to Dumbledore. Why would he confide in a man who had virtually ignored him since June?

XxXxXxX

Before any of my blood gets spilled, I just want to say, the twins will find out about Umbridge, in a few chapters. And you're going to love it when they do ;)

A lot of book text in there. I apologise. And we'll see more of George next chapter, he's been suspiciously absent, I'm blaming you, FinishRose (FF) :P

Guess what? Smut ahoy! Yes, that's right. And this time, it's not being interrupted ;)

Thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers! I'm seriously in love with you all, and thanks for the comfort, I was feeling slightly miserable before ;)

Edited 12/10