Pretty Kitty

Harry didn't go back to the common room that night.

He walked aimlessly around the school, up and down corridors, occasionally pausing to hide when he smelt Mrs Norris coming (it took all he had not to scare her away from his territory), not that it did much good- she could smell him just as well, and scratched at him warningly before taking off for her master.

Harry's hand continued to throb painfully, but he ignored it, unable to find the energy to mop up the blood dripping off his fingers, or wrap the wound that had slowly closed in a bandage.

He had to break it off.

He knew this. Malfoy wouldn't hesitate to leak this information to the Daily Prophet, to show them the many photographs the pervert had collected. The Ministry would find out- Fred and George could- would- get sent to Azkaban. He may not know much about the Wizarding world, but he knew that they'd become imprisoned in the Ministry until they were 18, then...

But he couldn't. The mere thought of them not ever being together again made him stop, slumping against one of the cold stone walls because the strength had left his legs. He was completely and utterly in love. And they loved him, didn't they?

'But if I love them, I have to protect them,' Harry thought as he slid to the floor, back still against the wall. They had to end it- Malfoy would know if they hadn't. He managed to somehow get all those pictures, he had to have a way of finding out.

'How the hell am I going to make it convincing?' he wondered. The twins were perceptive- it was near impossible to get a lie past them. Maybe he should just tell them the truth, that if they stayed together, they would be in some deep trouble.

Then again, the twins were always in deep trouble. They wouldn't take it seriously, they'd think Malfoy was bluffing, or they'd believe that they could hide effectively. But they couldn't.

Harry let out a groan of frustration and smacked the back of his head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. It felt like, in just one day, he'd been allowed this overwhelming happiness, only to have it cruelly snatched away. It was the story of his life.

Five in the morning found Harry sitting at the Quidditch pitch, in the Gryffindor stands, staring at the empty pitch, lit by the rising sun, the yellow light bouncing off the posts of the hoops and shining on the dark grass.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. He still hadn't found out how Ron had done in his try outs, or even set foot in Gryffindor tower. He just knew the moment he saw the twins, he'd break down.

He lent forward, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders shook again with dry sobs. His head still ached from where he'd smacked it repeatedly against the wall, and his right hand stung, but this was nothing.

“Fuck!” Harry suddenly screamed, standing up and kicking at the seats in front of him, splintering the wood. In a fit of rage, he tugged at the collar around his neck. His magic flared up and the collar ripped as he nearly choked himself attempting to remove it. He froze as he felt the leather flutter down his back and hit the floor.

Harry broke out of his trance and knelt, gathering the collar up and hugging it to his chest as the bell jingled forlornly.

It would have been better for the twins if they'd never even known him.

XxXxXxX

Malfoys did not feel guilt. At all. Ever.

It was in the genes, all science of course. Guilt was just not done.

And yet young Draco Malfoy could not comprehend why he was standing outside, at five in the morning, shivering as dew settled on him, and watching Potter angrily fall apart. He saw Potter rip that abhorrent collar off his neck, and then snap out of his fury, bending down to pick it up.

Malfoy shook his head, gritting his teeth. Potter didn't get back up, and he could just make out the small figure huddled on the floor of his row in the stands, the chairs blocking most of him, except the cat ears.

“Fucking Potter,” Malfoy snarled, as if his indignation could wipe away the annoying twinge at his conscious. He didn't have a conscience. Especially not where annoying Gryffindor cat-boys were concerned.

He wanted to turn around, walk back inside and go back to his common room, maybe slip into bed and not wake until noon, to find out whether or not Potter had actually gone through with it, whether or not Malfoy needed to send his incriminating evidence to the Prophet.

Because he would. Of course he would! Ruining Potter's life was what he did best.

He would.

Malfoy stayed at the Quidditch pitch long after Potter left, staring at the Gryffindor stands without really seeing them.

XxXxXxX

“Potter!” Harry grit his teeth. It was nine in the morning. He'd snuck into the common room, had a much-needed shower and changed his robes, before fleeing again. It was Saturday, so none of the boys were up, and only a few Gryffindors hung around the common room, none of which had paid him any attention. There had been signs of a party last night, and he could bet the twins had snuck Firewhiskey in.

“What, Malfoy?” he snapped as he turned to face Malfoy, who stared at him for a moment with a strange look on his face, before a smirk twitched at his lips.

“Have you done it yet?” Malfoy asked impatiently. Harry narrowed his eyes at the reminder of what he had to do, and Malfoy's expression grew smugger.

“No,” Harry said sullenly, folding his arms. Malfoy chuckled to himself sinisterly, before reaching into his robes and producing the photo of Harry wedged between the kissing twins.

“The clock's ticking, Potter. If you haven't done it by tomorrow morning, then this gets sent off to the Daily Prophet and the Dark Lord respectively,” Malfoy told him. An icy hand squeezed Harry's insides at the mention of Voldemort.

Well, that just made things ten times more terrifying.

Malfoy saw his reaction and his grin broadened. “Better hurry up.”

Harry turned and stalked away before Malfoy could say anything else. Malfoy's amused call followed him, “run, run, run, as fast as you can, Potty!”

XxXxXxX

“Mm, morning,” George slurred sleepily as he collapsed on the sofa beside Harry, who was staring at the fire, unmoving. Harry's cat ears twitched in response. Fred sat on Harry's other side, gathering the stiff boy into his arms and kissing the cat ears. George pouted and tugged Harry to himself, away from Fred. A tug-a-war started.

“He loves me more!”

“Does not! He loves me more!”

“Ha, who would love you?” Harry was still throughout the childish game, staring into the distance, eyes glassy. Finally, upon receiving no reaction from Harry, the twins stopped and stared at him curiously, taking in the dishevelled appearance, tired expression, and miserable eyes.

“What's wrong?” George asked softly, wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder. Fred wrapped an arm around his waist, stroking his free hand through Harry's hair as George rubbed his tail. Harry finally came-to and stiffened, beginning to struggle his way out of the twins grip. The twins tightened their hold, but let go when Harry dug his claws into their arms and pulled.

“Harry, what's wrong?” Fred repeated George's questions, reaching out for him, ignoring his stinging arms, only to have Harry back away, nearly falling over a coffee table. Harry ruffled the hair on the back of his head nervously.

“It's... I, um... I can't.... I can't do this,” Harry stuttered out, looking anywhere but at them. The twins frowned at each other, before looking at Harry.

“Do what?” they asked in unison, falling back into the familiar routine of being twins, not separate people, due to agitation. Harry's nervousness seemed to be contagious.

“This relationship. It's weird. Wrong,” Harry told them, desperately hoping his voice wouldn't crack. Fred's mouth fell open, and George's expression turned blank. “F-freakish,” Harry whispered. Why was he doing this again? This was all a shit idea!

“They could get sent to Azkaban- no, they will get sent to Azkaban,” Malfoy's words rang through his mind and Harry's breath caught. Not to mention Voldemort.

“Harry, is this you talking, or those relatives of yours?” George asked suddenly. Harry shook his head, cat ears flapping with the violence of his movement.

“It's not, it's me- I don't want this relationship, all right?” Harry snapped, angry at himself. At Malfoy. He couldn't believe he was doing this- this wasn't the Harry Potter way! He didn't give in to threats, to blackmail.

“It's me, isn't it? It's yesterday, with the dominance act- I'm so sorry, if it made you uncomfortable. I won't do it again,” George said, while Fred continued to gape. Harry shook his head, feeling tears starting to well up in his eyes. He was so pathetic, crying even though it was all his fault. He was the one doing this!

“It's not- it's just, I just can't handle the relationship, you know? It's-”

“What the hell does that mean?” Fred piped up, causing both Harry and George's gazes to shoot to him. Fred had stopped looking so gob smacked, and was now staring darkly at the floor, hands fisted in his hair. “What the fuck? You're just- you're bloody dumping us for no good reason!”

“I-I know, I'm sorry!” Harry cried, wrapping his arms around the middle. George rested his hand on Fred's back, hoping to calm him in the hopes that they could, together, calm Harry- it was obvious he had no reason, he was probably just insecure, as he always was.

“Do you even have a reason?” Fred snapped, shrugging off George's hand. Harry looked down and Fred grit his teeth. George saw the situation beginning to spiral rapidly out of control. “Oh, I get it! This is all because of that catnip thing, isn't it?” George stood and thumped Fred's shoulder. It would do no good to bring up that incident.

“If it is, then Harry, we are sorry for that. Please, don't hold it against us,” George said, “Just- we can work at this. There's no reason for us to end this, everything's going fine!” Harry let out a bitter snort. “Everything's not going fine?” George asked, puzzled.

“Everything... this isn't about everything,” Harry said, voice low. “I don't want to be in a relationship with you two, I'm sorry to have lead you on.” The words sounded monotonous, and Harry inwardly winced. Merlin, he was such a bastard!

'It's illegal. They'll get thrown into Azkaban. I have to protect them!'

Bloody hell, why did Malfoy have to suddenly spring up from nowhere and destroy his life?

“The fuck?!” Fred snarled, jumping to his feet. George quickly clamped a hand on his shoulder and tightened it warningly. Fred had inherited their mother's fiery temper and, once it started, Fred was in danger of going into a rage similar to Ron’s.

“Fred, stop it,” George told him sternly, before staring at Harry intensely. Harry quickly tore his own eyes away and looked at the ground. George quelled the feeling of despair.

“Why?” he asked, simply. Harry let out a frustrated growl.

“I already told you why!” he yelled. George wondered if he'd have time to cast a silencing bubble around them, whether that would look too cold and uncaring. Fred seemed to be calming beside him, breaths short and too frequent.

“You're lying,” Fred accused. Harry flushed guiltily, shaking his head again. He wasn’t the best liar. Too full of guilt and honesty to be able to pull it off. He couldn't act to save his life, either.

“I am not,” Harry told them, although it didn't have any conviction, and he knew it. Harry winced, scratching his head and wondering if he could somehow distract the twins and escape, leave them with the knowledge that he had ended the relationship, in the hopes that they wouldn't chase him, demand him to explain.

“What's the real reason?” Fred pressed, and George squeezed his shoulder again. Harry made a distressed noise, eyes darting all around the common room.

“I just don't want this, please, I just don't...” Harry trailed off. This wasn't going as planned at all, but then again, he hadn't planned it out well in the first place. Had he even thought of it, he wouldn't have been able to go through with it.

And if he didn't go through with it, Malfoy would go to the Daily Prophet.

Azkaban. The word rang threateningly around Harry's mind. Or maybe not even Azkaban. Maybe they wouldn't get the chance, when Voldemort heard and hunted them down, killed them, just to get at Harry.

Harry's whole body broke out in a chilled sweat.

Suddenly, George was in front of him, grabbing his hands and bringing them to his lips. Fred was at his side, rubbing Harry's cat ears lovingly. Harry had no idea what brought on the sudden change, from anger and confusion, to bloody petting him. Maybe he hadn't been able to keep his dread from showing.

“No, stop it,” Harry pleaded. George shook his head minutely, kissing each of Harry's knuckles reverently. Fred pressed a kiss to his right ear, and then to his human ear.

Harry couldn't go through with it.

“I… I… shit,” Harry gasped out, falling into George's arms, head burying against his neck as his tail entangled with Fred's leg. George's arms wrapped around his waist, and Fred's right arm wrapped around his back, hand splayed on his chest, right above his frantically beating heart.

Harry ignored the feeling of leading Fred and George right to the slaughter, all because of his weakness. For now, Malfoy could go fuck himself.

For now, all that mattered was his love for Fred and George. His twins.

XxXxXxX

I originally had a completely different ending to this, but then I thought it was far too dramatic; admittedly, this is just as dramatic, but at least it's a mildly happy ending.

Thanks for all the lovely response, I think I may be in love with you reviewers ;;gives out chocolate hearts and roses;;.

Edited 01/11