Pretty Kitty

Harry sat at the table in Grimmauld Place's kitchen the next afternoon, picking idly at the sandwiches he'd made under Mrs Weasley's stern eye.

The room was empty, except for Mrs Weasley and himself. The woman was hurrying around the kitchen, cleaning it thoroughly. Fred had made the grill explode that morning after attempting to cook using his magic.

Harry's ears twitched towards the door when it opened, although he didn't look up. It was raining that day and, for some reason, he felt unusually mellow and tired. He didn't even attempt to fight George off when the redhead subjected him to tickling.

The chair next to him was pulled out and someone sat down. Harry looked up to see Fred smiling down at him. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, pulling the boy to him, the position made awkward with Harry nearly falling off the armless chair.

Fred laughed and saved him, pulling him onto his lap. He frowned when Harry merely snuggled into him instead of clambering off. This behaviour was unusual.

“You all right, kitten?” he asked, hand rubbing at his hip before moving to splay across the boy's stomach. Harry purred in response.

Fred smiled and leaned back in his seat, the hand on his stomach rubbing circles and his other hand occasionally moving to stroke the boy's tail. Harry noted that Fred was entirely too fascinated with his tail, and had been from the moment he saw it.

After a few moments of sitting in near silence, caressing Harry and listening to him purr, he leaned forward to grab the tuna sandwiches off the table.

“Since when do you like tuna?” Fred asked with a grin. Harry had hated fish before the cat incident.

“Dunno,” Harry mumbled, rubbing his head against Fred's chin affectionately. His tongue slipped out to lick the boy's skin lightly. Fred's breath hitched, wicked smirk alighting his face. He ripped off a part of the sandwich and held it to Harry's mouth.

“Eat it,” he murmured into the boy's cat ear. Harry lazily opened his mouth and allowed Fred to place the food in it. He licked his finger before letting it go.

When Harry had swallowed, Fred ripped off another bit and let Harry capture it from his fingers, kissing the cat boy's lips gently as Harry chewed. Harry smiled up at him.

Fred continued doing this until the two sandwiches were eaten, only the crusts, which Harry had refused, lying on the plate. Harry turned so he was curled against Fred, head resting in the crook of the other's neck. Fred wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

“Mm, full,” Harry muttered to himself. Fred raised an eyebrow, rubbing at his stomach.

“From sandwiches?” he asked, not completely surprised as he felt the lack of weight on Harry's stomach. Harry shrugged and kissed Fred's clothed shoulder before closing his eyes.

Mrs Weasley smiled as she watched Harry drift to sleep in Fred's arm. Fred grinned at her, trying to wipe the sentimental smile off his face. Sentimental was George's job, honestly.

“Hmm, Fred,” Mrs Weasley started softly, moving over to them. She wasn't sure if Fred would agree to what she was about to say, but it was for Harry's safety, and she didn't want to invade his privacy.

“Yeah?” he asked absentmindedly, gazing down at Harry adoringly. Mrs Weasley clicked her fingers, drawing Fred's attention back to her. She shook her head, wondering how Fred and George expected to keep their relationship with Harry private with the way they both acted.

“Dumbledore asked that we observe Harry for how much he changes. There are a few cat-like aspects that can be harmful to him if the knowledge of them got into the wrong hands,” she said carefully, seeing Fred's expression darken. Ah, he knew what she was talking about, then.

“Observe for what?” he asked, not knowing anything about cats apart from the fact that Crookshanks was a bad tempered bugger.

“Just... see if he's attracted to certain things like cat-nip, maybe try to grab him by the scruff of his neck- not in a harmful way,” Mrs Weasley reassured when Fred's eyes narrowed, “Just to see if he stills all movement. It can happen in certain cats, an instinct of some kind – and for heaven’s sake ask him first - Just, see how much of a cat he's become and what could be dangerous to him.”

“Right. Will do,” Fred told her, thinking about where he could get some catnip. He'd heard of the effect it had on cats.

“Don't do anything that will irritate him,” Mrs Weasley scolded suddenly, seeing his smirk. Fred laughed slightly.

“I won't, mum. Honest.”

XxXxXxX

He was running down a long corridor.

He could hear his breath, harsh and gasping from excitement and exertion. His chest heaved, his stomach was coiled with anticipation. There was a door at the end, coming closer and closer to him with every step his tired legs made.

Something was behind that door. Something incredible, something he needed more than he'd ever needed anything before.

Harry's arm stretched out as he neared, fingers brushing the bumpy surface of the wooden door.

XxXxXxX

Harry jolted awake suddenly, sitting up straight, scar prickling.

“Well well, decided to return to the land of the living, I see.” Harry turned his head to see Sirius grinning at him, a newspaper in his hands. Harry realised that the tingling deadness in his cheek and left side of his body was from leaning against Sirius' side and shoulder as he slept.

He remembered talking with Sirius, and then falling asleep shortly after.

“Bloody rain,” Harry grumbled, rubbing his eyes with a fist. Sirius laughed, mussing up the boys messy hair with a hand.

“You'll just have to get used to it, I'm afraid. Thanks to Padfoot, I want to chase cute little animals up trees even when I'm human,” Sirius told him, eyes amused as Harry hissed at him warningly.

“Now, now, no need to get cranky,” Sirius said. He chuckled when Harry began to growl, returning to his paper.

“I'm not cranky,” Harry told him, crossing his arms angrily. Sirius just shook his head disbelievingly. “I'm not!”

“Of course not,” Sirius said, placating.

“Shut up!” Harry grumbled. Sirius looked at him innocently, grey eyes wide.

“What did I say?” he wondered, as if he didn't already know. Harry opened his mouth to retort when a hands wound under his arms and lifted him up.

“What the- Fred!” Harry protested as Fred made him stand, then swung him up to carry him bridal style. Fred grinned down at him, kissing his nose, before walking out of the room, Sirius' loud guffaws following them.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, frustrated and curious. Fred bounced him lightly, earning a hiss from Harry as he panicked about being dropped.

“You're going to sleep. You've been a bad kitten, disturbing your poor godfather like that,” Fred told him cheekily. Harry's eyes widened disbelievingly at the complete unfairness Fred was showing.

“He started it!” Harry protested as Fred started up the stairs with him, passing Mrs Black who threw open her curtains just to caterwaul at them.

The amusement in Fred's eyes told Harry he already knew exactly who started it, and was just doing this to annoy Harry. Harry glared up at him, falling into a silence to punish Fred, who looked put out by Harry's sudden lack of reaction.

They got to Fred and George's room, and Fred deposited him on the bed, causing Harry to bounce. Harry yowled as he was suddenly dropped, fearing that Fred had decided to randomly let go.

When he landed on the bed instead of falling to the hard ground, he bared his teeth at Fred, who was laughing at the hair on his tail standing on end due to the brief moment of panic.

“Stop laughing,” Harry mumbled, feeling embarrassed. He couldn't help that the fur on his tail was against him. Fred collapsed on the bed next to him, pulling him closer. He was smiling like an idiot, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sorry, you're right, I shouldn't laugh at my poor little Harry's distress,” Fred said in a patronising voice. Harry swatted at him lazily, already feeling sleepy due to the comfortableness of the bed.

“Yeah, you shouldn't,” he said, snuggling into Fred, sprawled across the red head. Fred chuckled and moved a hand to stroke his swaying tail. Harry tensed, before purring and closing his eyes.

“Sleep, Harry,” Fred told him, taking off his glasses and setting them on a night stand. Harry found himself drifting off to sleep again with the peaceful feeling of Fred’s arms around him.

XXX

“Oh my.”

Harry lifted his gaze from his uneaten breakfast to stare at Mr Weasley's pale face across from him. The man was staring in disbelief at the newspaper in front of him that had arrived that morning.

“What's wrong?” he asked quietly. He and Mr Weasley were the only ones downstairs at this early an hour, Mr Weasley having to go to work early, and Harry trying to find an escape from the nightmares plaguing him all night.

“I can't believe this. We were so careful, there's no reason they should have found out,” Mr Weasley rambled, bringing the paper close to his face in case he'd made some sort of mistake.

However, the large picture of Harry Potter sporting cat ears, spread out on the front page of the Daily Prophet, left little room for doubt.

Harry frowned and stood, moving to Mr Weasley's side when he saw the man wasn't going to tell him what was going wrong. What he saw made him gasp in shock. His picture self turned to look at them, showing the long cat pupils in his eyes, and the twitching ears.

Harry Potter: The Cat-Who-Lived, was the ingenious title in large bold lettering above the picture and article on how it was discovered at his hearing that he was hiding a large secret from the wizarding world. As Harry skimmed the article, he rolled his eyes at the speculations of it being an attempt to seek attention, that he was evil as cats were apparently the sign of the darkness, or that he'd gone mad and spelled on random ears in a fit of insanity.

“Well isn't that great,” Harry dead panned, moving to sit in his own seat. Mr Weasley sighed and shot him a sympathetic look.

“I was sure no-one saw when your hat fell,” he said. Harry shrugged. He'd been certain as well, but it had been a big room full of quite a few people. And, it was the trial of Harry Potter, there were bound to be a few photographers there.

“Ugh, we should have done some sort of spell,” Harry mumbled, berating himself for not asking if there was a spell to mask his ears. Mr Weasley smiled and reached over to ruffle his hair.

“There wasn't a spell that could have masked your ears for more than an hour without someone having to refresh it, which would have looked quite suspicious,” he reassured Harry, before standing up, folding the paper and tucking it under his arm. Harry had never hated his cat ears more, and felt desperation rising up within him.

“Maybe if I get rid of them soon, when I next go out, they'll just think it was a prank, you know,” Harry said suddenly, causing Mr Weasley to pause in making his way towards the fireplace. He sighed.

“I'm sorry, but you know we haven't found a way to remove them,” Mr Weasley told him. Harry slumped in his seat.

“Can't we surgically remove them? You know, like with muggles. They use surgery, plastic surgery. It can do loads of things!” Harry said. Mr Weasley shook his head, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was, comforting a hysterical cat-boy.

“If we remove them, using the muggle way or a magical way, they'll just grow back. Snape told us that the potion was tricky like that. If it had gone right, it could only be removed by will, or else it would just reform, never quite leaving the system. It's the same sort of thing now.”

Harry slumped further in his seat, cat ears flattened against his head as he realised there was no way of getting rid of the damn things. They weren't ruining his life yet, but the news article reminded him that they were on their way to doing so.

“I'm going to talk to Dumbledore, see if he's heard, then go to work and see what I can do about this story,” Mr Weasley told him, pulling on his cloak and moving towards the fire. Harry barely had time to bid the man good-bye before he was disappearing into the flames.

Harry reached up to tug one of his ears. “Bloody Ginny.”

XXXX

Harry moped around the house later that morning, bored out of his mind. Fred and George were locked up in their room and had warned Harry not to come in, for his own safety. Judging by the amount of explosions he could hear emanating from upstairs, he could safely say he was glad not to be in there.

“It's just... weird.”

Harry paused outside the door leading to the living room. It was open just a crack, allowing Ron's voice to float out.

“It's not really,” Hermione said, sounding like she'd had this conversation too many times. After a short silence, she sighed. “Well, it is, but it's Harry. Nothing's really normal with him, and we're his friends. We've learned to accept that, and it shouldn't be such a chore to accept this.” Harry frowned, unsure about whether to feel hurt or touched.

“It's not ... it's not a bloody chore, all right?” Ron groaned. “But come on! My twin brothers, in a relationship together... with my best mate. It's... it's incest! It's not even legal,” Ron said. Hermione sighed.

“Yes, well, we've had our fair share of what's not legal. You didn't mind making a Polyjuice Potion to spy on Malfoy, or breaking the rules in school to fight with people,” Hermione reminded. There was another awkward silence. “... I know it's hard to accept. It goes against everything you've ever known, it goes against everything I've ever know. But Harry's our friend, and Fred and George are your brothers. So there will be absolutely no kicking up a fuss about this.”

Harry got the feeling Hermione had stood halfway through and was looming over Ron, as she was wont to do, as Ron merely let out a squeak of agreement.

Harry smiled to himself, feeling warmth in his heart at the words of Hermione, and how Ron hadn't disagreed, or yelled, or called Harry, Fred or George unnatural, just weird. One never knew how Ron Weasley would take things.

Sometimes, his reaction could be surprising.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, pushing the door open. Hermione squealed and turned around to face him, while Ron coloured in embarrassment at the thought of Harry hearing him almost bad mouth of him.

“Relax,” Harry told them, grinning. “I'm not expecting you to just up and accept something like this, Merlin knows it's taking me a while to get my head around it. But thanks, for not, you know, ignoring me or breaking our friendship,” Harry said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was sure his face was red.

“Oh, Harry, we would never do that. No matter what you do, you're our best friend,” Hermione told him, smiling, tears in her eyes. Ron rolled his eyes at the girly reaction to Harry's words, and Harry grinned at him.

“Yeah, mate, you can always count on us,” Ron told him gruffly, standing and walking over to pat his shoulder. Harry laughed.

“That's good to know.”

XXX



Okay, I admit to getting my inspiration for the effect of rain on Harry from a manga/anime called Fruits Basket. I thought it was a rather neat way to portray a cat's hate of water without causing him to become very unhygienic.