Story: "Feline Hell", Gryffindors#3
Title: Feline Hell
Claim: Gryffindors
Prompt: Adept, Table#1
Rating: PG
Pairings: Harry/Ginny
Summary: It seems cats are out to make Ginny's life hell... written for hpfanfic10x10
Warnings: Ummmm... telepathic projection of thought? not really canon.
Word count: ~1300
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
RF's note: All comments appreciated!
“Shut up! Shut up, you vile creature!”
Nostrils flared, and pupils dilated in obvious offended response.
Ginny gulped and stepped back in fright. “Erm… time to change tactics, then,” she mumbled, kneeling before the feline demon. “Good Mrs. Norris,” she crooned in what she hoped was a soothing voice. “Stop your mewling now, kay? We wouldn’t want your darling master Filch to catch me out of bed in the middle of the night, now would we?”
The cat, standing directly in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, let out a hair-raising shriek. Ginny whimpered. “Here,” she hurried to whisper, reaching into the bowl of strawberries she clutched in her hands, “would you like a berry, little kitty?”
Unblinking yellow eyes stared at her as the cat continued to hiss and spit.
Ginny clenched her teeth, damning the cat and her own that-time-of-the-month food cravings. Every month, every time she snuck out, it was the exact same scene. It seemed Mrs. Norris had her marked down on her calendar. “Come on, you stupid feline,” she ground out, “what will it take to bribe you and shut you up?” It had always seemed to Ginny that every cat-like creature in the world was quite adept at making her life miserable.
Behind her, she could just barely discern Filch’s shuffling steps, no doubt following the call of his darling pet.
Ginny sighed, somberly contemplating the large claws on the creature before her. Bracing herself for the scratches to come, she dashed past the feline.
~*~*~
“Haaaaarrrrryyyy, Mrs. Norris scraaaaatched me again,” whined Ginny the following morning, standing in front of her boyfriend.
“Oh?” Harry answered distractedly from his seat by the fireplace, where he was rubbing his face intently. Lifting his gaze, he questioned, “Do my eyebrows look thicker than usual?”
Ginny blinked. “Er… they look normal, Harry. Look!” She stretched out her legs in front of her, demonstrating the shallow four-sets of welts running down them, one on each leg.
“Yes, that’s positively awful,” mumbled Harry. “Are you quite sure?”
“That she scratched me?” Ginny narrowed her eyes.
“No no, about my eyebrows…” Harry trailed off.
Ginny growled, setting a hand on her hip. “Look, boyfriend, I’d like some sympathy here…”
“About what?” Harry stared at her with distracted eyes.
“This!” Ginny jabbed a finger in the direction of her legs.
Harry stared down at them. “You’re right,” he drawled with a snide grin, “they are entirely too sexy. I feel for you. I don’t know how you manage!”
Ginny blinked. Looking down, she realized her legs were no longer scratched up, but once again smooth.
“Wha…”
Harry’s grin turned mischievous and he hugged Ginny’s midsection to himself lovingly. “Come on, baby,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t let you suffer like that. Healing comes easy to your man.”
Ginny shuddered, batting his arms away. “Merlin, don’t talk like that,” she laughed.
“What? I’m just experimenting with names and such,” Harry leered. “But are you quite sure about my eyebrows?”
Ginny sighed. “Yes. What is it about your eyebrows all of a sudden?”
Harry jumped up suddenly. “Well, McGonagall’s finally taught me, see!” he exclaimed excitedly. “But I thought when I was changing back, I didn’t quite get my face right… My pupils aren’t vertical, are they? No matter, no matter… You wanna see?”
Without waiting for a response, Harry started pacing the common room. “Okay, Potter, concentrate,” he mumbled, “just like you practiced. Come on.” Then, turning on the spot, he launched himself at Ginny.
Ginny grunted with the force of impact as she landed soundly on her behind, with 140 pounds of Potter on top of her. “Harry James Potter!” she shrieked. “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Harry scrambled up. “Oops,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down embarrassedly. “I thought it would work.”
Picking herself off the floor, Ginny growled. “WHAT is IT?”
In response, Harry closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. A moment later, he was hurtling towards Ginny again.
The little redhead shrieked, clenching her eyes shut as she felt another impact. Five seconds later, however, she realized she was still upright. Opening her eyes carefully, Ginny realized she was holding a tiny leopard cub with brilliant emerald eyes in her arms.
“H-Harry?” she ventured carefully. The tiny kitten nodded and purred, scratched the scar in the middle of his forehead, and curled up in the witch’s arms. A second later, Ginny felt something warm trickle down her torso. ‘Oops,’ sounded Harry’s voice in her head. ‘I guess I’m not potty-trained yet.’
~*~*~
Lost in thought, Ginny walked towards her Transfiguration class, Harry-the-cub at her side. Musing as she was on the nature of all felines, running straight into something formidably solid came as a complete surprise.
Ginny stumbled back. “Er… Professor Snape!” she exclaimed. “I…”
“Miss Weasley.” Snape’s sneer was as cold as ever as he cut her off and stared her down. “I’d appreciate it if you would endeavor to employ what little brains you have in watching where you’re going,” he spat.
Ginny nodded.
“And…” Snape’s mien suddenly faltered. “What on earth is causing that strong urine smell? I certainly hope you haven’t been visiting your idiotic brothers’ joke shop, Miss Weasley…”
Gasping, Ginny looked down and clasped her hand over her mouth, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Beside her, the little Harry-cub was sitting in the exact middle of a slowly spreading puddle of yellowish liquid.
“Harry!” Ginny couldn’t help but exclaim through her hand.
The kitten gave a pitiful high-pitched mewl, pulling at Ginny’s heartstrings. ‘He looked scary…’ trickled Harry's thought into Ginny’s mind.
Unfortunately, the muffling provided by Ginny’s hand wasn’t enough to block Snape’s sharp hearing. He followed Ginny’s gaze and blinked. “This,” said the man incredulously, “is the Savior of the Wizarding world? A kitten the size of a shoe, and with bladder problems to boot?”
Harry fidgeted. Getting up, he rubbed his feline body along Ginny’s leg, seeking some comfort. Mmmmm, that feels heavenly, he purred to himself.
Ginny sighed as Harry weaved between her legs, tail held high, purring like her father’s flying car did on its worst days.
“Harry…Harry, stop it,” she ground out.
Harry was having a hard time holding on to human thoughts, and instead felt himself reverting to animalistic nature. Ginny’s legs were certainly very nice… and good… mmmmm…
Ginny gasped. “Harry!” she exclaimed. “Harry, you are not-You are not humping my leg! Don’t even dare!... …Harry? Harry, stop it right this minute!”
A bark of laughter escaped Snape’s throat unexpectedly. “Do attempt to control your pet, Miss Weasley,” he drawled. “You are utterly late for class.”
~*~*~
Feeling immoderately content, Ginny slumped in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. It was the middle of the night, and… Yogurt. That was what it had taken to get Mrs. Norris to shut up and grant her safe passage into the dormitories. Finally, she had won the battle against the loony feline.
Purring in greeting, Crookshanks scrambled into Ginny’s lap, followed shortly by Harry-the-cub. ‘Hey, lover,’ sounded Harry’s sleepy voice in her head. ‘You won’t mind if we sleep here, will you? All the play time has exhausted me… Crookshanks is a monster at hide-and-seek...’ Harry trailed off, and with that said, slumped on top of the already-snoring Crookshanks, and was asleep.
“Er-Harry?” Ginny prodded him with a finger. She fidgeted. “Harry, I’ve got to pee.” The sleeping creature smacked his lips sleepily and only snuggled closer.
With a deep sigh, Ginny realized that she would not deny the little cub the pleasure of sleeping in her lap. Shaking her head sorrowfully, she clenched her thigh muscles and settled down to battle the urge to pee for as long as possible.
Yes, she thought with a wry smile as she pulled out a book. Little cute cats are quite adept at making my life hell.
-------------
Please click on the tag for more Gryffindor-centric stories!
Claim: Gryffindors
Prompt: Adept, Table#1
Rating: PG
Pairings: Harry/Ginny
Summary: It seems cats are out to make Ginny's life hell... written for hpfanfic10x10
Warnings: Ummmm... telepathic projection of thought? not really canon.
Word count: ~1300
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
RF's note: All comments appreciated!
“Shut up! Shut up, you vile creature!”
Nostrils flared, and pupils dilated in obvious offended response.
Ginny gulped and stepped back in fright. “Erm… time to change tactics, then,” she mumbled, kneeling before the feline demon. “Good Mrs. Norris,” she crooned in what she hoped was a soothing voice. “Stop your mewling now, kay? We wouldn’t want your darling master Filch to catch me out of bed in the middle of the night, now would we?”
The cat, standing directly in front of the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, let out a hair-raising shriek. Ginny whimpered. “Here,” she hurried to whisper, reaching into the bowl of strawberries she clutched in her hands, “would you like a berry, little kitty?”
Unblinking yellow eyes stared at her as the cat continued to hiss and spit.
Ginny clenched her teeth, damning the cat and her own that-time-of-the-month food cravings. Every month, every time she snuck out, it was the exact same scene. It seemed Mrs. Norris had her marked down on her calendar. “Come on, you stupid feline,” she ground out, “what will it take to bribe you and shut you up?” It had always seemed to Ginny that every cat-like creature in the world was quite adept at making her life miserable.
Behind her, she could just barely discern Filch’s shuffling steps, no doubt following the call of his darling pet.
Ginny sighed, somberly contemplating the large claws on the creature before her. Bracing herself for the scratches to come, she dashed past the feline.
~*~*~
“Haaaaarrrrryyyy, Mrs. Norris scraaaaatched me again,” whined Ginny the following morning, standing in front of her boyfriend.
“Oh?” Harry answered distractedly from his seat by the fireplace, where he was rubbing his face intently. Lifting his gaze, he questioned, “Do my eyebrows look thicker than usual?”
Ginny blinked. “Er… they look normal, Harry. Look!” She stretched out her legs in front of her, demonstrating the shallow four-sets of welts running down them, one on each leg.
“Yes, that’s positively awful,” mumbled Harry. “Are you quite sure?”
“That she scratched me?” Ginny narrowed her eyes.
“No no, about my eyebrows…” Harry trailed off.
Ginny growled, setting a hand on her hip. “Look, boyfriend, I’d like some sympathy here…”
“About what?” Harry stared at her with distracted eyes.
“This!” Ginny jabbed a finger in the direction of her legs.
Harry stared down at them. “You’re right,” he drawled with a snide grin, “they are entirely too sexy. I feel for you. I don’t know how you manage!”
Ginny blinked. Looking down, she realized her legs were no longer scratched up, but once again smooth.
“Wha…”
Harry’s grin turned mischievous and he hugged Ginny’s midsection to himself lovingly. “Come on, baby,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t let you suffer like that. Healing comes easy to your man.”
Ginny shuddered, batting his arms away. “Merlin, don’t talk like that,” she laughed.
“What? I’m just experimenting with names and such,” Harry leered. “But are you quite sure about my eyebrows?”
Ginny sighed. “Yes. What is it about your eyebrows all of a sudden?”
Harry jumped up suddenly. “Well, McGonagall’s finally taught me, see!” he exclaimed excitedly. “But I thought when I was changing back, I didn’t quite get my face right… My pupils aren’t vertical, are they? No matter, no matter… You wanna see?”
Without waiting for a response, Harry started pacing the common room. “Okay, Potter, concentrate,” he mumbled, “just like you practiced. Come on.” Then, turning on the spot, he launched himself at Ginny.
Ginny grunted with the force of impact as she landed soundly on her behind, with 140 pounds of Potter on top of her. “Harry James Potter!” she shrieked. “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Harry scrambled up. “Oops,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down embarrassedly. “I thought it would work.”
Picking herself off the floor, Ginny growled. “WHAT is IT?”
In response, Harry closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. A moment later, he was hurtling towards Ginny again.
The little redhead shrieked, clenching her eyes shut as she felt another impact. Five seconds later, however, she realized she was still upright. Opening her eyes carefully, Ginny realized she was holding a tiny leopard cub with brilliant emerald eyes in her arms.
“H-Harry?” she ventured carefully. The tiny kitten nodded and purred, scratched the scar in the middle of his forehead, and curled up in the witch’s arms. A second later, Ginny felt something warm trickle down her torso. ‘Oops,’ sounded Harry’s voice in her head. ‘I guess I’m not potty-trained yet.’
~*~*~
Lost in thought, Ginny walked towards her Transfiguration class, Harry-the-cub at her side. Musing as she was on the nature of all felines, running straight into something formidably solid came as a complete surprise.
Ginny stumbled back. “Er… Professor Snape!” she exclaimed. “I…”
“Miss Weasley.” Snape’s sneer was as cold as ever as he cut her off and stared her down. “I’d appreciate it if you would endeavor to employ what little brains you have in watching where you’re going,” he spat.
Ginny nodded.
“And…” Snape’s mien suddenly faltered. “What on earth is causing that strong urine smell? I certainly hope you haven’t been visiting your idiotic brothers’ joke shop, Miss Weasley…”
Gasping, Ginny looked down and clasped her hand over her mouth, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Beside her, the little Harry-cub was sitting in the exact middle of a slowly spreading puddle of yellowish liquid.
“Harry!” Ginny couldn’t help but exclaim through her hand.
The kitten gave a pitiful high-pitched mewl, pulling at Ginny’s heartstrings. ‘He looked scary…’ trickled Harry's thought into Ginny’s mind.
Unfortunately, the muffling provided by Ginny’s hand wasn’t enough to block Snape’s sharp hearing. He followed Ginny’s gaze and blinked. “This,” said the man incredulously, “is the Savior of the Wizarding world? A kitten the size of a shoe, and with bladder problems to boot?”
Harry fidgeted. Getting up, he rubbed his feline body along Ginny’s leg, seeking some comfort. Mmmmm, that feels heavenly, he purred to himself.
Ginny sighed as Harry weaved between her legs, tail held high, purring like her father’s flying car did on its worst days.
“Harry…Harry, stop it,” she ground out.
Harry was having a hard time holding on to human thoughts, and instead felt himself reverting to animalistic nature. Ginny’s legs were certainly very nice… and good… mmmmm…
Ginny gasped. “Harry!” she exclaimed. “Harry, you are not-You are not humping my leg! Don’t even dare!... …Harry? Harry, stop it right this minute!”
A bark of laughter escaped Snape’s throat unexpectedly. “Do attempt to control your pet, Miss Weasley,” he drawled. “You are utterly late for class.”
~*~*~
Feeling immoderately content, Ginny slumped in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room. It was the middle of the night, and… Yogurt. That was what it had taken to get Mrs. Norris to shut up and grant her safe passage into the dormitories. Finally, she had won the battle against the loony feline.
Purring in greeting, Crookshanks scrambled into Ginny’s lap, followed shortly by Harry-the-cub. ‘Hey, lover,’ sounded Harry’s sleepy voice in her head. ‘You won’t mind if we sleep here, will you? All the play time has exhausted me… Crookshanks is a monster at hide-and-seek...’ Harry trailed off, and with that said, slumped on top of the already-snoring Crookshanks, and was asleep.
“Er-Harry?” Ginny prodded him with a finger. She fidgeted. “Harry, I’ve got to pee.” The sleeping creature smacked his lips sleepily and only snuggled closer.
With a deep sigh, Ginny realized that she would not deny the little cub the pleasure of sleeping in her lap. Shaking her head sorrowfully, she clenched her thigh muscles and settled down to battle the urge to pee for as long as possible.
Yes, she thought with a wry smile as she pulled out a book. Little cute cats are quite adept at making my life hell.
-------------
Please click on the tag for more Gryffindor-centric stories!