Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery

Chapter 39 ~ Crookshanks Strikes Back

Crookshanks recovered from his stunning amazingly fast. Hermione clucked over the cat, and fed him some fresh fish and cream from the kitchens. The cat was used to being pampered. During his stay at the Grangers, Hermione’s mother transferred all the love she had for her daughter to the ginger cat, and nothing was too good for him. He had his own room, a disgusting amount of kitty toys, and a warm lap to curl in anytime he wanted. Hermione’s father appreciated Crookshanks’ gifts of rodents.

“Damn good cat there,” he’d say gruffly, rubbing Crookshanks behind the ears gently with his big hands. “Good hunter. A man’s cat, he is.”

Hermione cooed over him some more and retired with the cat to the bedroom. She was tired after last night with Severus and her trip to London this morning. She wanted to take a nap. The witch climbed into bed, carrying the feline with her and setting him on the bed. She lay down with a yawn, closed her eyes and tucked her hands under her cheek.

Crookshanks watched her, his ears twisting back and forth until she was asleep, then jumped lightly from the bed to the floor and strolled into the study. He sat on his haunches in front of the floo, staring at the flames.

Suddenly, they turned green and he walked through. Crookshanks was familiar with the workings of Hogwarts from when he lived here with Hermione. What was most interesting in his use of the floo wasn’t his going in…but where he came out.

Severus’ study.

The cat could smell Severus on Hermione, so knew that they were for all intents and purposes, mates. He didn’t approve of it however. The dark wizard felt rather evil, and he was sneaky, very sneaky. His kneazle half could discern that. He also discerned Severus was quite attached to his mistress, but so what? She could do better…with his help.

Crookshanks immediately looked up at the rafters. Birds liked to roost high, so that was the most likely place the raven would stay when in the rooms. But he wasn’t there. Crookshanks sniffed, then wandered into the bedroom. He could make out the faint scents of his mistress, sex and the dark wizard here. The cat walked around the room, sniffing about, then looked at the object that was the main purpose of his visit. Severus’ bed. And, to his delight, he saw two pairs of vulnerable footwear sticking out from under the wardrobe.

First Crookshanks left four soft gifts for Severus in each shoe, then marked his bedroom pungently. His mistress came here often, so he had to let others know she was under his protection. Then the cat hopped up into the bed, which was neatly made. He padded across the sheets until he came to where it was folded over, then slipped his body neatly between them, roving over every inch of the bed, a big bulge moving under the sheets, then crept out. He caught the edge of the sheet in his teeth and pulled out the wrinkles he’d left behind. He cocked his head as he looked at the bed. It was passable.

For a moment, Crookshanks considered leaving a gift on the Professor’s pillow as well, but thought that might be overkill. The cat hopped off the bed, sprayed the bedposts liberally, then ambled back toward the study. He was just about to walk out of the bedroom when the flames in the floo turned green. Crookshanks pulled back and crouched, his eyes narrowed.

Raucous hopped out of the flames, carrying a nice-sized frog in his beak. It was still alive. The raven hopped to the middle of the study and put the frog down. It immediately tried to get away, Raucous chasing and worrying the poor, doomed creature for a while before finally consuming it. Crookshanks watched the raven, the tip of his bottlebrush tail flicking back and forth. The familiar was vulnerable, but…he couldn’t hunt him like a regular bird. He belonged to someone.

Crookshanks had a hard enough time years ago with Ron over just chasing Scabbers, his pet rat who turned out to be Peter Pettigrew in animagus form. Of course Crookshanks knew that, which was why the cat always tried to catch him, but Ron was livid the entire time. The pale wizard would probably be a thousand times worse if he tried to kill his familiar.

So he couldn’t kill Raucous, but he could make the familiar’s life miserable for messing with his mistress. And her mate would pay for allowing it, in spades. Turnabout was fair play after all. Let him sweat a bit thinking the cat was perpetually lying in wait for him.

Crookshanks watched as Raucous flew up into the rafters, feeling a bit heavy after his meal of frog. The bird tucked his head under his wing, and Crookshanks crept very close to the floo, darting through it immediately when the flames turned green.

Raucous pulled his head from under his wing at the ‘foomph’ sound and looked at the floo’s green flame. He thought he saw a movement, but it was nothing. Probably some fluke in the floo system. The raven tucked his head back under his wing and promptly fell asleep.

Crookshanks returned to Hermione’s study, walked back into the bedroom, hopped up in the bed and curled against the witch with a sigh of satisfaction. Hermione shifted in her sleep, one arm dropping lightly over the cat and pulling him into her like a plush toy. Crookshanks allowed this and stretched out, falling asleep against his mistress with a clear conscience.

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When Severus returned to the dungeons with the list of supplies Poppy needed brewed, he walked straight to his labs and set about working, if just to keep himself occupied and his mind off Hermione. The witch took up far too much of his thoughts as it was. He continued brewing late into the evening, taking a quick meal in his lab for supper, and continuing until he was yawning, ready for bed.

The Professor had a pattern to retiring when Hermione wasn’t with him, one he had followed for years. He would shower, dress for bed, walk to his study, have a shot of firewhiskey and stare into the fire for a while clearing his thoughts, then return to his bedroom, turn down the torches and slip into bed.

He walked into his room and his nose immediately wrinkled at the stench. It smelled like a herd of hippogriffs had sprayed his room full of urine.

“Merlin,” he hissed, pulling out his kerchief and holding it on his nose. Scowling, he scourgified the entire room, but the scent remained, though less pungent. Finally he went over each item in his room, scourgifying each separately until the scent was gone. He applied a freshening spell to complete his cleansing. He had no idea why his room smelled like this, but he would figure it out later.

Severus quickly showered, dried off and dressed for bed. He walked over to his wardrobe, opened the drawer and selected a pair of comfortable silk boxer and pulled them on. Then he stepped into his slippers one at a time.

He slid one pale foot into the first slipper, grimaced and immediately he pulled it out, feeling something cold and slippery inside the shoe. He lifted his foot, examining it.

“What the fuck?” he bellowed as he looked at the bottom of his shit smeared foot.

The pungent scent wafted up to his nose. He made a face, and hopping on one foot, he jumped to the nightstand, picked up his wand then scourgified his foot. He then walked over to his slippers, and scourgified the one he had stepped in. Then he lifted the other slipper and looked inside. Yes, a small, moist turd sat waiting for discovery. Severus cursed and scourgified that shoe too. Then his eyes fell on his every day shoes that sat beside his bedroom slippers. A quick examination showed that they too had each received a small deposit of shit.

Mad as hell, the Potions Master cleaned those shoes as well, then checked the bottom of his wardrobe where his other shoes were. They were all fine. He closed the wardrobe, slipped into his cleansed slippers and headed for his study, scowling furiously.

What the hell was going on here? First his bedroom smelled like a urinal for hippogriffs, then there was shit in his shoes. He was going to kick somebody’s ass about this, as soon as he found out who the culprit was.

He walked over to his liquor cabinet and poured a shot of firewhiskey, tossing it back quickly before pouring another one and carrying it to the armchair in front of the fireplace. He sat down, brooding over the idea that someone had come to his private quarters and defiled his room. He shifted in his chair, leaning forward then twisting around to see if Raucous was up there. He was, and he was sleeping.

“Raucous!” he called up to the raven.

Raucous removed his head from beneath his wing and looked down at the wizard sleepily. He gave a weak caw of greeting.

“Come down here,” the Potions Master commanded. The raven obediently flew down, perching on the back of the armchair next to his master and looking at him attentively.

“Raucous, did you see anyone entering or leaving my rooms today?” he asked the raven. Raucous shook his head.

“Well, someone pissed all over my rooms and shit in my shoes,” Severus said with a growl, “and I want to know who and how he got in here.”

Raucous remembered the floo turning green, and sent Severus the image. The Potions Master viewed the image but didn’t see anything untoward.

“Looks like a fluke in the system,” he commented, scowling. Severus tossed down his firewhiskey and put the glass down on the table. He stood up.

“I’m going to look into this more tomorrow…ask Albus if he noticed any activity in the dungeons area between the time I left and now,” he said, stalking off to the bedroom without saying good night to his familiar.

Raucous flew back up to the rafters. Who would do such a thing to his master? He immediately thought about Hermione, but the bird doubted she would ruin his bedroom, being that she spent so much time in it herself. It was a mystery.

Severus lowered the torches and slid into bed. He lay there a while, then began to toss and turn uncomfortably. He let out a small sneeze. After another moment or two, he let out another one. Then he began to sneeze uncontrollably.

“Whaaaa… cho!” he gasped, picking up his wand as he sneezed and turning up the torches. He threw back the covers on his bed. His black eyes went wide then narrowed. He sneezed again, his eyes watering and starting to itch.

His entire bed was covered in enough cat hair to make three cats. It was ginger colored too. Using his wand, he scourgified the bed.

He called back to mind the image of the floo Raucous had sent him, and ran through it slow motion. There. He thought he saw a movement. He wound the image back and moved slower, freezing it at the frame where the movement occurred. He mentally zoomed in.

There, sticking out of the green flames was a ginger-colored, bottlebrush tail.

“Crookshanks!” he growled.

There was no other proof needed. The cat had used his floo to invade his space and purposely leave cat hair in his bed, as well as pissing and shitting up his room.

Still sneezing, Severus got out of bed and scourgified himself a second time.

Fuming, he pulled on his house robe, tied the sash, strode through his study and to the exit. He opened the wall and walked through, his jaw clenched angrily, heading for the dungeon corridor.

He was going to have a talk with Hermione about that damn cat.

Tonight.

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A/N: lololol Raucous has NOTHING on Crookshanks. Severus has found out that the cat is indeed intelligent, and vindictive…as much so as a certain black feathered familiar is. Ewww, imagine…stepping into a slipper full of cat shit. Yuck. I’m realizing that shit is a running theme through this story. Lol. Too gross, but still fun in a disgusting kind of way. :::g::: Anyhow, please review.

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The Burning Pen

Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 40

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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