Peter wasn't really a very smart man, and he wasn't at all successful, but he liked when things went his way, and after spending months at the mercy of that bloodthirsty beast who would have liked nothing more than to catch him, dangle him by the tail for a few hours, eat him, and spit out his bones, he decided a bit of compensation--no, revenge--was in order. Early one morning, when the common room was empty except for that vicious sleeping furball, Peter took it by surprise, squeezing its head in his pudgy hands, swinging it by the tail like a pendulum and listening to the frenzied apoplectic snarling, before throwing it down harshly (for good measure) and turning back into his four-legged self.
Draco had told himself that he wasn't going to think about the incredibly sexy, blue-eyed, cigarette-dangling hunk that his cousin must have been (he had lacked the basic suavity necessary to avoid being killed by a curtain, after all), but then Kreacher left a pair of trousers from Sirius' house behind by accident, and, well.
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My pairing:
Crookshanks/Scabbers (either human or rat form, you pick.)
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Draco/Sirius
Heh.
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