The Cat's Meow
Title: The Cat's Meow
Author: disapparater
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: When Harry and Draco fight they have some help making up.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word count: 1904
Beta: W♥
Author's Note: Written for day two of hd-writers Tricks for Treats using all three prompts.
Part two of the Halloweens series.
[The Cat's Meow]
We were curled up together when it happened.
We'd expected them home hours ago, but neither of us would admit that we missed them; we were fine on our own.
It had got dark outside earlier than usual, so we were secretly glad when they hadn't let us leave the house earlier. Then a little while ago there were flashes of light and loud noises outside trying to get into the house. We made the mutual decision to take cover under one of the sofas in the living room. We chose to take comfort in the body heat of one another, but faced in opposite directions in order to better not acknowledge the fact.
In unison, we began to purr when we heard the front door being opened. When it was slammed shut, we both jumped. It was going to be one of those nights; they happened every now and then. Usually they are talking and bickering all the time (when their mouths aren't otherwise occupied), but when they don't even talk to each other, we know it must be bad.
The silence of the house once the door had been slammed was deafening. It was broken by feet-a single set-stamping their way upstairs. This was then followed by a shuffling, close by. From our safe vantage point we saw the dark-haired messy one enter the living room. He was dripping wet and looked miserable. Without even shaking off he dropped into the sofa opposite, head bowed and sighing heavily.
This was serious, and was the one situation in which we would acknowledge each other's existence without hissing at each other. We turned to face each other and silently made our plans.
-
I slunk out slowly from my spot under the sofa, swaying my body and staying low. I was being sneaky; he'd never see me coming. Not that the miserable bastard was watching, with his chin on his chest and wet hair in his eyes I'm sure he couldn't see anything.
I decided to play coy. I jumped a little and rubbed my side against one of his legs.
“Meow.” I gave my sweetest, solemnest mewl.
“Hi, Abra,” Messy replied, still not looking up; I'm impressed he knew it was me without looking, but I won't tell him that.
I rose up, rested my paws on his leg and butted my head against his knee. He didn't move. I couldn't even be sure he knew I was there, but I knew a way to make sure my presence was noted. I let my claws sink through his clothes and into the skin of his leg.
Hissing like an angry cat, his head snapped up and he bent to pick me up. I was not pleased with how wet he was, but for the purposes of the plan, I allowed myself to be placed in his lap. Now in prime position, I began my full attack.
I gently pawed at his chest, purring a little, but not giving it away like a cheap hussy. His head fell back with a small smile on his face as his hand reached out to stroke my black fur.
“At least somebody loves me.”
“Meow.” My reply could mean whatever he wanted, I just made sure I gave one.
“I love you too.” His hand moved to scratch behind my ear, and suddenly I wasn't pretending any more, I purred for real. “You like that, don't you?”
“Meow!”
Shamelessly, I turned expectantly onto my back. Messy didn't disappoint; he had never been lax on lavishing me with attention.
“You'd never turn on me, would you, Abra? You'll always take the love and affection I give you.” He sighed, I think; I was too busy with the blissful belly strokes. “I wish Draco was the same. I didn't care that we had other things to do; I just wanted to take a few minutes for a kiss and a cuddle, is that so bad?” The strokes stopped and I batted his hand to make him carry on. “I know it may have caused a little mishap, but really, it was five minutes; it should have been fine!”
“Meooow.” I rubbed the back of my head on his leg for leverage and a stretched my belly into his hand.
“I know, I know; it was my fault! But was that really as bad as what Draco did to me? I mean, really.”
All of a sudden my tail, with a life of its own when I'm busy getting wonderfully mauled, landed in a particularly wet patch and I may have overreacted a tiny bit. An aggressive growl found its way out of my throat and I spun, back arched and black fur standing on end, expecting to find myself facing an enemy ready to attack. Instead there was Messy, hands raised and worry on his face. I refused to be embarrassed, instead playing it off as exactly what I had intended to do.
“I guess I am a bit wet, sorry, Abra. Let's go warm up in the kitchen, yeah? I could use a cup of tea.”
And with that he lifted me up. Indignant as I was about his wetness, I made carrying me as awkward as possible by going limp.
-
As Abra snuck off to the messy wet one, I made my way silently upstairs. I knew where he would be, it's where he always is when he's sad or angry or just not happy.
I could smell him from the top of the stairs, and hoped he hadn't been hurt.
I entered the small room and saw him in the familiar position: Sunk low in the chair, elbow on the arm rest, chin in hand, gazing out of the window. He was trying to pretend everything was fine. I soon showed him.
Backing up a little, I gauged the distance before I ran and, at the right moment, jumped up the back of the chair. I landed solidly on his shoulder; it's always my go-to spot, because I love the way my black fur looks against his pale hair. He gave a start as his head whipped around to face me and I head-butted him for my trouble.
“Meow.” I tried to put as much frustration behind it as possible.
“Hello, Dom,” was all the blond bastard had to say.
“Meow,” I said again as I walked my way down his chest, using as many claws as possible-I wouldn't want to slip, would I?
He hissed in pain, but said nothing. Whatever went on must have been bad, but I was sure I could handle it.
I sat down heavily on his stomach and he let out a huff of air. I made sure we were face to face so he could see how unimpressed I was. I tilted my head slightly, expectantly. When he reached out a hand to try to pet me, I moved my head back and brought up a paw to swat it away.
“What?” he burst out. “What do you want if not strokes? Why are you looking at me like that? I'll ever understand cats.”
That much was obvious, but I kept looking at him anyway. When he just ignored me, I let my claws dig in where they were resting on his stomach.
“Stop it, you little brat.” He tried to remove me by force, but I just clung on harder. “Why do you hate me?”
Eventually he collapsed back into the chair, defeated, and I relax my claws. I walked back up his chest to his face and rested a paw on his cheek.
“Meow?” I tried again to get him to talk.
When, “Can't I just be alone?” was all he said, I batted my paw against his face. Not waiting for more protest, I sat back and raised both my paws, batting at his face repeatedly. He didn't like it.
“What have I ever done to you? Why is everyone-okay, why is Harry-getting annoyed at me for no good bloody reason? Did I eat your cat nip? And does it matter if I did? There's more catnip, you know. And that's nothing compared to what happened because of him!”
He talked nonsense like that for a while, then I got bored. I mewled a little and rubbed the top of my head under his chin. This time, when a pale hand came up, I let it.
“You're a fussy bugger, aren't you, Dom?”
“Meow.”
He rubbed the small white spot on the very top of my head-the only blemish on my otherwise perfectly black coat. It was nice, and I forgave him for making me claw him so much.
I began to lick his face, and he took the cue for what it was.
“Thirsty? Let's go get you some milk, then.”
Nestled comfortably in his arms, I was carried downstairs to the kitchen.
-
When they saw each other in the kitchen, we both abandoned our charges and took cover by the fridge-considering the things that come out of there are so cold, the outside of it can get lovely and warm.
Blondie was the first to speak.
“You're still wet.”
Messy shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Regardless of how annoyed you are, you can still cast a drying spell. Or just use a bloody brolly in the first place; it was pissing it down out there.”
“You sound like you care.”
“Of course I care, you twat.”
They were silent for a while, and we worried it hadn't worked this time. That our feline powers had deserted us, but of course they hadn't.
“I'm making a cup of tea, do you want one?” asked Messy.
“Yes, please. And can you pass me the milk? Dom's thirsty.”
The milk got put out, but neither of us moved to drink it. We watched them sit down at the table together and sip their drinks.
“I still can't believe what happened,” said Messy. “Do you think they'll let us back next year?”
“I can believe it; I can still smell it.” As Blondie spoke, Messy winced. “And I don't know, it will involve a lot of sweet talk from Pansy, either way. And we'll need to sweet talk Pansy a lot, too; we ruined her party.”
“I did. I ruined her party.” Messy sighed and set his cup down. “I'm sorry I distracted you from keeping an eye on the fire. That was stupid.”
“I didn't mind that so much,” said Blondie. “It was the fact you didn't notice how close the flames were getting that pissed me off; my clothes are ruined and my hair is singed. My hair, Harry. I could have died; we could have died.”
“The barn did die.”
“I don't give a shit about the barn.”
Messy kept his head down. “I'm sorry.”
“Me, too.”
At that Messy's head snapped up. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“That was me being silly. I overreacted; it was nothing.”
“It was something to you. There were more gumdrop ghosts, but I chose to eat yours. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.”
Messy laughed. “Thank you for indulging my stupidity.”
“You're welcome.” Blondie smiled.
Sensing that things were pretty much back normal, we ventured out from our warm spot. They seemed content to sit at the table, so we jumped up and got comfy on their laps.
We were asleep in minutes, gentle hands running over our soft black fur.
Part three.
Author: disapparater
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Summary: When Harry and Draco fight they have some help making up.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Word count: 1904
Beta: W♥
Author's Note: Written for day two of hd-writers Tricks for Treats using all three prompts.
Part two of the Halloweens series.
[The Cat's Meow]
We were curled up together when it happened.
We'd expected them home hours ago, but neither of us would admit that we missed them; we were fine on our own.
It had got dark outside earlier than usual, so we were secretly glad when they hadn't let us leave the house earlier. Then a little while ago there were flashes of light and loud noises outside trying to get into the house. We made the mutual decision to take cover under one of the sofas in the living room. We chose to take comfort in the body heat of one another, but faced in opposite directions in order to better not acknowledge the fact.
In unison, we began to purr when we heard the front door being opened. When it was slammed shut, we both jumped. It was going to be one of those nights; they happened every now and then. Usually they are talking and bickering all the time (when their mouths aren't otherwise occupied), but when they don't even talk to each other, we know it must be bad.
The silence of the house once the door had been slammed was deafening. It was broken by feet-a single set-stamping their way upstairs. This was then followed by a shuffling, close by. From our safe vantage point we saw the dark-haired messy one enter the living room. He was dripping wet and looked miserable. Without even shaking off he dropped into the sofa opposite, head bowed and sighing heavily.
This was serious, and was the one situation in which we would acknowledge each other's existence without hissing at each other. We turned to face each other and silently made our plans.
-
I slunk out slowly from my spot under the sofa, swaying my body and staying low. I was being sneaky; he'd never see me coming. Not that the miserable bastard was watching, with his chin on his chest and wet hair in his eyes I'm sure he couldn't see anything.
I decided to play coy. I jumped a little and rubbed my side against one of his legs.
“Meow.” I gave my sweetest, solemnest mewl.
“Hi, Abra,” Messy replied, still not looking up; I'm impressed he knew it was me without looking, but I won't tell him that.
I rose up, rested my paws on his leg and butted my head against his knee. He didn't move. I couldn't even be sure he knew I was there, but I knew a way to make sure my presence was noted. I let my claws sink through his clothes and into the skin of his leg.
Hissing like an angry cat, his head snapped up and he bent to pick me up. I was not pleased with how wet he was, but for the purposes of the plan, I allowed myself to be placed in his lap. Now in prime position, I began my full attack.
I gently pawed at his chest, purring a little, but not giving it away like a cheap hussy. His head fell back with a small smile on his face as his hand reached out to stroke my black fur.
“At least somebody loves me.”
“Meow.” My reply could mean whatever he wanted, I just made sure I gave one.
“I love you too.” His hand moved to scratch behind my ear, and suddenly I wasn't pretending any more, I purred for real. “You like that, don't you?”
“Meow!”
Shamelessly, I turned expectantly onto my back. Messy didn't disappoint; he had never been lax on lavishing me with attention.
“You'd never turn on me, would you, Abra? You'll always take the love and affection I give you.” He sighed, I think; I was too busy with the blissful belly strokes. “I wish Draco was the same. I didn't care that we had other things to do; I just wanted to take a few minutes for a kiss and a cuddle, is that so bad?” The strokes stopped and I batted his hand to make him carry on. “I know it may have caused a little mishap, but really, it was five minutes; it should have been fine!”
“Meooow.” I rubbed the back of my head on his leg for leverage and a stretched my belly into his hand.
“I know, I know; it was my fault! But was that really as bad as what Draco did to me? I mean, really.”
All of a sudden my tail, with a life of its own when I'm busy getting wonderfully mauled, landed in a particularly wet patch and I may have overreacted a tiny bit. An aggressive growl found its way out of my throat and I spun, back arched and black fur standing on end, expecting to find myself facing an enemy ready to attack. Instead there was Messy, hands raised and worry on his face. I refused to be embarrassed, instead playing it off as exactly what I had intended to do.
“I guess I am a bit wet, sorry, Abra. Let's go warm up in the kitchen, yeah? I could use a cup of tea.”
And with that he lifted me up. Indignant as I was about his wetness, I made carrying me as awkward as possible by going limp.
-
As Abra snuck off to the messy wet one, I made my way silently upstairs. I knew where he would be, it's where he always is when he's sad or angry or just not happy.
I could smell him from the top of the stairs, and hoped he hadn't been hurt.
I entered the small room and saw him in the familiar position: Sunk low in the chair, elbow on the arm rest, chin in hand, gazing out of the window. He was trying to pretend everything was fine. I soon showed him.
Backing up a little, I gauged the distance before I ran and, at the right moment, jumped up the back of the chair. I landed solidly on his shoulder; it's always my go-to spot, because I love the way my black fur looks against his pale hair. He gave a start as his head whipped around to face me and I head-butted him for my trouble.
“Meow.” I tried to put as much frustration behind it as possible.
“Hello, Dom,” was all the blond bastard had to say.
“Meow,” I said again as I walked my way down his chest, using as many claws as possible-I wouldn't want to slip, would I?
He hissed in pain, but said nothing. Whatever went on must have been bad, but I was sure I could handle it.
I sat down heavily on his stomach and he let out a huff of air. I made sure we were face to face so he could see how unimpressed I was. I tilted my head slightly, expectantly. When he reached out a hand to try to pet me, I moved my head back and brought up a paw to swat it away.
“What?” he burst out. “What do you want if not strokes? Why are you looking at me like that? I'll ever understand cats.”
That much was obvious, but I kept looking at him anyway. When he just ignored me, I let my claws dig in where they were resting on his stomach.
“Stop it, you little brat.” He tried to remove me by force, but I just clung on harder. “Why do you hate me?”
Eventually he collapsed back into the chair, defeated, and I relax my claws. I walked back up his chest to his face and rested a paw on his cheek.
“Meow?” I tried again to get him to talk.
When, “Can't I just be alone?” was all he said, I batted my paw against his face. Not waiting for more protest, I sat back and raised both my paws, batting at his face repeatedly. He didn't like it.
“What have I ever done to you? Why is everyone-okay, why is Harry-getting annoyed at me for no good bloody reason? Did I eat your cat nip? And does it matter if I did? There's more catnip, you know. And that's nothing compared to what happened because of him!”
He talked nonsense like that for a while, then I got bored. I mewled a little and rubbed the top of my head under his chin. This time, when a pale hand came up, I let it.
“You're a fussy bugger, aren't you, Dom?”
“Meow.”
He rubbed the small white spot on the very top of my head-the only blemish on my otherwise perfectly black coat. It was nice, and I forgave him for making me claw him so much.
I began to lick his face, and he took the cue for what it was.
“Thirsty? Let's go get you some milk, then.”
Nestled comfortably in his arms, I was carried downstairs to the kitchen.
-
When they saw each other in the kitchen, we both abandoned our charges and took cover by the fridge-considering the things that come out of there are so cold, the outside of it can get lovely and warm.
Blondie was the first to speak.
“You're still wet.”
Messy shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Regardless of how annoyed you are, you can still cast a drying spell. Or just use a bloody brolly in the first place; it was pissing it down out there.”
“You sound like you care.”
“Of course I care, you twat.”
They were silent for a while, and we worried it hadn't worked this time. That our feline powers had deserted us, but of course they hadn't.
“I'm making a cup of tea, do you want one?” asked Messy.
“Yes, please. And can you pass me the milk? Dom's thirsty.”
The milk got put out, but neither of us moved to drink it. We watched them sit down at the table together and sip their drinks.
“I still can't believe what happened,” said Messy. “Do you think they'll let us back next year?”
“I can believe it; I can still smell it.” As Blondie spoke, Messy winced. “And I don't know, it will involve a lot of sweet talk from Pansy, either way. And we'll need to sweet talk Pansy a lot, too; we ruined her party.”
“I did. I ruined her party.” Messy sighed and set his cup down. “I'm sorry I distracted you from keeping an eye on the fire. That was stupid.”
“I didn't mind that so much,” said Blondie. “It was the fact you didn't notice how close the flames were getting that pissed me off; my clothes are ruined and my hair is singed. My hair, Harry. I could have died; we could have died.”
“The barn did die.”
“I don't give a shit about the barn.”
Messy kept his head down. “I'm sorry.”
“Me, too.”
At that Messy's head snapped up. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“That was me being silly. I overreacted; it was nothing.”
“It was something to you. There were more gumdrop ghosts, but I chose to eat yours. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry.”
Messy laughed. “Thank you for indulging my stupidity.”
“You're welcome.” Blondie smiled.
Sensing that things were pretty much back normal, we ventured out from our warm spot. They seemed content to sit at the table, so we jumped up and got comfy on their laps.
We were asleep in minutes, gentle hands running over our soft black fur.
Part three.