Cat People Make the Best Lovers

A/N: This is the other little scene I was thinking of when I concocted this... travesty or masterpiece? I haven't decided yet. Just so you know, I am a dedicated cat-person, myself. So there.







Snape is sexy!



I shut up now.

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"That's IT, I've HAD IT!" The booming tone of the youngest Weasley could be heard throughout the house.



"Ginny, Ginny, please... just... just, oh, no what are you doing with that spatula?" Ron stuttered in a voice that was normally reserved for very large and hairy spiders.



By now, the entire household was quickly making its way toward the source of the noise- the kitchen. Some to stop the fight, some (Hermione included) to cheer her on, and some (like Fred and George) just for the immense entertainment value.



"Ronald Weasley," her voice was higher-pitched and more daunting (if it were at all possible) than the Howler Ron had received after crashing the charmed muggle car into the Womping Willow in second year, "You are the biggest waste of space, flesh, and breath that I have ever had the misfortune to know and when I am done with you, so help me, you will rue the day you were ever born!"



"Already there," he yelped out as he avoided the wide arc of the cooking implement she had been brandishing threateningly since she had spun from cooking breakfast over the large stove. He had said something... something to piss her off and he wasn't quite sure what it had been. At the moment he was concentrating with all his might at avoiding her attacks.



"They'll need to use this bloody spatula to scrape your lousy arse off the floor!"



"Oh no! The sausages are starting to burn!" This came from Fred.



"I'm on it," This from Molly who was striding into the room, pushing up her sleeves with a practiced air. Her wand swished out and she had the breakfast cooking itself so she could watch the fight unfold between her two youngest. To be honest, Ron had it coming for quite some time.



"Mum! Dad! Please!" Ron managed to whimper out while ducking the hanging pots over the kitchen island, vaulting over the counter top.



"Watch her left, Ron. That's where she'll get you," That was about as helpful as Arthur Weasley was going to get.



True enough, Ginny had paused only long enough to arm the other hand with a turkey baster.



"Oh, dear God, what do you plan on doing with that?" All they could do was go round and round the kitchen while every exit was full of on-lookers. Several smaller fights broke out in the halls as people were shouldered out of the way by late arrivals, or those who were trying to break up the fight were fought by those who wanted it to continue. Snape had transformed into his smaller, sleeker cat form to finally see Ron-the-ever-present-pain get his, from a closer view. The cauldron had finally boiled over, all the tension that had been building up for weeks finally releasing in a violent, hilarious melee and Snape wanted a front-row seat. In all of the confusion, no one saw the cat that had (as cats do) gotten under-foot, or noticed the little black streak of lightning until the unmistakable yowl of a hurt puss resonated through the din. To most, it was a fitting sound to add to the chaos.



But in his pain and panic, feline Snape had run to the only place the beast inside felt safe: The arms of Hermione Granger. "Stop!" She shouted, not really being heard by all the fighters as she cradled the wounded animal.



"I SAY, THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!!!" The air made a 'Pop' as Hermione's presence was projected outward, her aura being enough to stun everyone into stilled silence.



It was a funny sight. Everyone was poised just as they had been when she had popped an aura. Fleur was positioned with one knee on Remus's back, a handful of his hair being yanked by her relentlessly. Harry was yanking at the waistband of her pants to try to get her off of Remus. Molly was in the middle of a manly whoop-position, half crouched down with hands on either side of her mouth. Fred and George had wrestled Neville to the ground and were simultaneously giving him a Noogie and a Wedgie. Tonks had just noticed what Fleur was doing to Remus and was poised to punch the Veela's lights out. Ginny had just caught Ron and had the spatula at his throat, the baster was somewhere unseen and best not dwell on where it could be. Arthur was wincing, but no one could be sure as to what he was wincing at, as his eyes were closed. Two guesses, though. Bill in the middle of a laugh, but realization had just dawned on him what kind of predicament his fiancee' was in, giving him an odd expression of constipation. Charley was under Bill's arm, wincing slightly as the muscles in his brother's arm had tightened unexpectedly. Shacklebolt and Moody were out of sight in the hall, but judging by the sounds earlier, they were in a similar locked position. Most everyone else had yet to commence fighting. Every eye, no matter where the head that belonged to it was facing, was on Hermione.



She just calmly made her way from the midst of it all until a "You may continue," could be heard clear as a bell before the shouts of pain, anger, encouragement, and laughter once again claimed the house back from eerie silence.



Hermione, for her part, was tenderly carrying the sleek black cat (whom she had lovingly termed just "Sleek") up the stairs to the safety of her room, where she had taken comfort from the presence of the animal since her beloved Crookshanks had left the mortal coil two months prior.

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(Flashback- I know, I hate them, too)





Hermione was on her bed, where she had fallen after burying her ginger cat in the backyard hours before. Her door was open, as she had left it when she stumbled blindly through it hours before. She lay face-down in her misery, one shoe under the bed and the other dangling from the end of the foot that hung forgotten off the edge of the mattress. Daylight filtered through the cream colored curtains and splayed across the velvet counterpane she hadn't bothered to crawl under. It seemed that nothing would ever be right again. The riot of curls she had just begun to learn to tame properly were unwashed and frizzed in a way they hadn't since fourth year.



This is the sight that met Snape on his way to his room. He had been warned by Molly to "Keep his snarky comments to himself" should he encounter Hermione, and under no circumstances was he to mention any kind of feline in her presence whatsoever. It didn't take much brainpower to glean that her familiar had died and it was a sore subject. He had distinctly remembered the feeling from when Squawks, his first familiar, had died. He felt something akin to understanding, not pity, and a tinge of empathy as he viewed her in that light. He didn't stop to question the feeling. So he slipped quietly into his room and reemerged in his feline form, for all he truly wanted when Squawks was gone was to pet the sleek feathers, hear the little caws of his beloved Raven once again.



Moments later, he pawed his way noiselessly into her room (As cats do) and leaped onto her mattress, not disturbing her in the least. A slow purr emerged from his throat as he rubbed himself along her length, and he let out a "Mearoph," to get her attention. Her hand came out automatically to caress the silky stretch of fur along his back and her head shot up. She used her voice for the first time that day, letting out a "Hello," tinged in wonder and warmth.



Her voice washed over him in the pleasant sensation of a long and loving caress.It had been so long- so achingly long since any woman was that genuinely pleased to see him that if cats could cry, the sound of her melodious voice would have brought him to tears. Hermione curled onto her side and beckoned him closer, and before he knew it, he was fitting himself into the curve of her body and purring like a lawnmower engine. She pet him for hours as he went in and out of consciousness, feeling safer and more loved than he had felt since his mother died.