For round 4 of QLFC
Catapults, Keeper
Beta'd by my lovely friend, Ella! Thanks bby for beta'ing for me!
Word count will be at end.
He can't remember what happened. There were flashes of people, sounds of talking and whispering, chanting in Latin, and then pain.
He didn't feel anything after that.
He woke up, eyes fluttering open lethargically as he stretched. His mouth opened in a yawn as he raised his arms—
But his arms weren't arms.
They were paws.
He stared, horrified, before he tried to turn. There was a tail, white as snow, that was flat near his body. He raised a han–paw to his head and felt ears that twitched ever so slightly at the touch.
He whimpered.
He was a cat.
There were voices this time; he could hear them talking. Two males, in quiet, loud voices.
"We have to get rid of him!"
"And how do you suggest that?"
"Put him in a box and dump him somewhere, obviously."
"Oh, and no one will notice that Draco Malfoy is missing?"
"They will, yes, but they won't find where his is, now won't they?"
"Fine. Where will we dump him at?"
"Somewhere in Diagon Alley. Grab him and put him in the box; I'll take him today since the Alley is busy so no one will notice."
"Okay."
He looked up as the door opened and one of the men walked in, a box in his large, calloused hands. The man set the box down and turned to him, reaching down to grab him. He hissed, baring his teeth, and swiped a paw out, claws nailing the skin.
The man gave a hiss of pain, snatching his hand back. There were three neat lines on his hand, bleeding sluggishly. "You little shit," he spat, grabbing Draco roughly by the neck. He dropped him into the box none too gently and then closed it.
Draco felt the box begin to move and he clawed at the box, meowing and hissing for the man to let him out.
All he got was the box shaking and him being knocked out.
He woke up this time shivering cold. The box was still closed, but he could see several holes that had been punctured into the top.
That's right, he thought. It's winter.
He curled up into himself, trying to keep warm, wondering what his mother and father were doing. Had they noticed that he hadn't returned to the manor yet? His mother most likely would have and would have told his father her worries, but his father would of most likely told her that he was over at Astoria's.
He pondered on whether he should make some kind of noise, see if anyone would hear him.
Deciding on that, he pulled himself up and sat on his hunches, raising his paws up to the lid of the box, and began to scratch and meow at it. His eyes twitched as the cold drifting from the holes hit him, causing him to shiver a little. He meowed a little louder.
Please, someone hear me.
"What do we have here?" he heard, snow crunching like the person was squatting.
There was the sound of the top being opened and he hunched down, teeth bared in case. The lid opened and he was blinded by the snow that was gently falling, a single snowflake landing on his nose. He stared at it cross-eyed before he heard a chuckle and looked up.
Emerald green looked back at him.
Potter was standing before him.
Potter.
"You must be freezing," the raven-haired said when he saw him shiver. He reached inside and gently picked him up, taking his scarf off with one hand and wrapping him up in it. "I wonder who left you here . . ."
The raven-haired man held him up, still wrapped in the scarf, and looked into his eyes.
Potter's eyes were pretty, he decided. They were like an emerald, one that would be seen on a ring or a crown, polished looking. They shone with an emotion he couldn't describe, swirling and twirling like a dress when a woman twirled. They stared into his, drawing him in.
"Come on," he heard him say before he was tucked into a coat. "Let's get you back to my flat so I can look at you, yeah?"
Draco meowed.
Potter smiled, scratched him under the chin gently, and then turned and walked back out of the alley.
He purred when Potter scratched his ears briefly before rubbing the soap into his fur, massaging it into the roots, his hands holding onto him gently. He was whispering words along the lines of, "We're almost done," and "Feels good, doesn't it?" as he rubbed his body down with warm water, rinsing the soap out.
Potter shut off the water, lifting him up and making his way over to a towel that laid spread out on the counter. He set him down and he startled when the towel was enclosed around him, rubbing him dry everywhere; his head, body, tail, and paws. He made another purring noise (Merlin, I'm acting like a real cat) when Potter lifted the towel off of him and scratched behind his ears again.
He flowered at the laugh Potter have him when the raven-haired told him, "You look like a big ball of fluff now! Your fur is all over the place; let me get a brush real quick so I can comb it."
He watched as Potter left the small kitchen, leaving him on the counter. He looked around room, peering over the counter.
The tile were a sort of gray-white color, square-shaped, with a dark gray between each square. The walls were painted a dark green, probably a dark emerald green if he guessed. There was a fridge, an oven, stove, and a microwave. There was the sink that Potter had washed him in, water still glistening off of the white speckled granite countertop. There were some pictures tacked onto the fridge of Potter of his friends, Potter and a young boy, Potter and was that Theo Nott?, and several more. There were notes on the fridge as well, of appointments, dates, and anything of importance coming up.
His ears twitched as he heard Potter's footsteps before he saw him, the emerald-eyes teen walking back in with a brush in hand. The teen smiled at him and then began to gently brush his fur.
Draco melted, once again purring. He was in heaven.
Potter laughed, continuing to brush his fur even after all of the fur was now not as fluffy as it had been. "I'm glad you like the brushing," he teased. "I hate having to brush my hair, it never stays down long enough."
Draco just flopped onto the counter in response, still purring deeply.
Potter chuckled, setting the brush down. He picked him up gently, carrying him in his arms, and made his way out. They made their way down a hall, where Draco saw multiple pictures covering the walls; there was one of Potter and his friends, all of them laughing and smiling; another one of Potter and his mother's disowned sister with a young boy.
Potter stopped before a door, nudging it open softly so he could slip inside. He made his way over to a small cot that he had set by a bed.
He squatted down and set Draco down softly, watching as Draco got settled onto the small cot. "You'll have to sleep on here for the meantime," Potter told him. "Just until I get a better looking bed for you. I'll have to go shopping tomorrow for some cat food and other things." He thought for a moment. "I wonder if you're a magical cat . . ." He shrugged, then stood up again.
"Anyway," he continued, "I'm going to go take a shower and then get into bed." He gave him one more scratch between ears, listening to the small purr that came forth. "Go to sleep, yeah?"
Draco watched as Potter stood and made his way into the bathroom, the door closing behind him.
He closed his eyes to the sound of the shower starting.
Over the next several days, Potter had taken care of him. The day after he was found, Potter had left and came back an hour and a half later, carrying several bags. In them had been cat things: a bed that was a gray color but had tan coloring on the inside, a cat bowl that had a bowl for water attached to it, some cat toys, cat litter that had came with a cat box and pooper scooper, some cat food, and some catnip that he had immediately held out of reach from him.
"We don't need you getting drunk on catnip," the other had told him.
(Potter hid the catnip somewhere he couldn't find it shortly after he said that.)
Potter had set the bed next to his bed stand, placing one of the toys, a stuffed mouse that tinkled when nudged around, in it. He set Draco in it and sat down before him, watching him.
Draco nudged the stuffed mouse, pleased when he heard the tinkle it made. He nudged it again, even happier when it tinkled again. He knelt down and nudged the toy between both of his paws, listening to the tinkling it made, eyes only on the toy.
He heard Potter laugh but didn't look up.
••••
There were days when Potter was gone, most likely to work he guessed, so he would wonder the flat and look around. He noticed on his second day there that Potter had a lot of books on the wizarding world, most on the old traditions and the ways the society worked. There were a couple on the history of the wizarding world, telling the lives and accomplishments they or witches and wizards long gone had done. There was two books on pureblood etiquette, which he thought strange, for Potter wasn't a pureblood.
He also found a journal of Potter's, old-looking with pages falling out, that he had tugged over to himself. He had contemplated on opening it and reading it, but he thought that would be wrong to do. He pushed it back over to where he had found it (under a bookcase, most likely forgotten there) and meandered off to look somewhere else.
He once had wandered into the kitchen and had sat in front of the fridge, looking up at all the notes and pictures that were on the surface. There were notes about doctor appointments, about meetings, some events, and there was one that caught his eye; it was a note that had a little schedule on it, with potions and times written on it in scrawling handwriting.
He wondered what it was for.
It was probably two weeks later, two weeks after he had been changed into a cat, two weeks after he had been living as a cat with Potter, and he felt weird.
He didn't know why. He knew he went to sleep peacefully, curled up on himself, so why did he feel weird?
He blinked open his eyes, reaching a paw up to rub at his eye. He startled when he didn't feel fur, but skin. He pulled his hand (hand, his mind whispered happily) and stared at the five finger staring back at him. He wiggled them and he watched as they wiggled.
Uncurling his legs from underneath him, he stood up wobbly, blinking when he saw Potter form in the bed. Trying to be quiet, he shakily made his way across the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door softly so he could turn on the light.
He stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself.
He looked the same as the day he had been changed. His stark blond hair was still styled the way it had been, combed to the left and slicked with gel slightly. His clothes had still stayed with him, so that was a good thing that he hadn't woken naked (and what if Potter had seen him naked?). He held up his hands to the mirror and turned them over and over again, studying them. They looked normal.
He looked back up into the mirror, his eyes looking back at himself.
He wondered what Potter would think if he saw him in his flat.
He smiled.
••••
It was several hours later, nearing about eight, when Potter stumbled into the living room. He made his way to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he mumbled, "Morning, Malfoy."
Draco watched as Potter continued to walk before stopping and turning around.
"Malfoy? What're you doing here? How'd you get in?"
"Why, Potter," he drawled, "did you forget about the cat?" He smirked. "The white cat you found in a box two weeks ago?"
"How do you know about that?" Potter demanded. "I've only told Hermione and Ron!"
"What if I was that cat?"
"Yeah right, Malfoy."
He stayed silent, taking a sip of the tea that he had in his hand.
"Wait, you're serious?"
"Of course I am, Potter!"
"Did you do it on purpose? To spy on me? I know you hate me, Malfoy, but that's low, even for you."
"No, it wasn't on purpose, Potty. Someone, or some people, had grabbed and changed me into a cat. You think I wanted to be a cat?" He snorted. "At least it was you who had found me. If it had been anyone else, I probably would've been treated badly."
Potter was silent.
Then, "Alright. How long will you be staying?"
"Until after I'm done with my tea, if that's fine by you."
"Go ahead. I'm going to make some coffee. I'll probably put some firewhiskey in it."
He watched, amused, as Potter vanished into the kitchen.
It was a week later, after he had ran into Potter while in Diagon Alley, he came across a realization.
His relationship with Potter had changed.
For better or worse, he had no clue.
[word count: 2,319]