The idea for this story came when I was geeking out over Harry Potter with my friend Damnit and suddenly became sidetracked by a giant book of various cat breeds (see the title makes a little more sense now right?), but I didn't really know how to write it down. Then all of a sudden my friend comes across this other FanFiction called 'Pretty Kitty'. In this fanfic Ginny turns Harry into a cat-boy by accident while trying to slip him a love potion. Its effects are irreversible. The pairing of the story is FredxGeorgexHarry, not necessarily in that order, but in any case it gave me the perfect excuse to write this little doohickey, because let's be honest: Voldemort looking at a cute little kitty book. Priceless.

Disclaimer: Nothing in this work, aside from the actual writing, is mine. All ideas go to their rightful owners. Enjoy.

Cat Breeds and Voldemort

Severus Snape had seen weirder things these past few months, and quite honestly he was convinced that his life would never be the same again.

And it was all Ginny Weasley's fault.

He understood the girl to a certain extent; over the course of his career as potions master at Hogwarts he'd had to remedy a good many love potions gone wrong. Granted none of them had been of the magnitude and consequence as Ms. Weasley's love potion, but he was accustomed to it.

However, it might have just ruined his understanding of the known universe.

Not only did he have to deal with cat-boy Potter whenever he reported to the Order, but he also had to deal with moments like these. Moments, he felt the need to point out, that made him question his sanity, and the sanity of everyone around him; for Severus Snape's reality was fragile, and he felt as if someone had just gone and took a sledgehammer to it.

All had been right with the world a few hours ago, well almost alright, Potter was still a cat-boy and he seemed to be in an honest relationship with those God-awful Weasley twins, but this had become disturbingly normal. He was a bit cranky, his typical state of being the past couple of decades because there was always something. Today, that something had been the fact that he hadn't been able to sit down in his study, with his cup of tea and read the latest Daily Prophet. As strange as Snape had been in childhood and was now in adulthood like any proper Englishman he had always loved a good cup of tea.

So it had put him in quite the sour mood when he had woken up, paid the owl for the paper, and had just set the kettle to the stove (it was far too early for him to preform coherent magic and just heat the water to perfect temperature, and why waste energy when the Muggle invention worked so well) when the Dark Mark on his arm had flared up in a summons causing him to singe his hand on the side of the burner. He had quickly stuck a bandage on the small burn mark cursing the "Dark Lord's" horribly bad timing. The stupid thing was that it had always been that way too.

So he had completely abandoned his paper and his kettle and hurried to get changed. If Voldemort was calling an emergency Meeting of the Dark Forces (as the crazed wizard had taken to calling Death Eater gatherings) he didn't want to be late. Off his rocker or not, Voldemort was dangerous, Dumbledore just as much so, and he didn't want to get on either of their bad sides for missing a meeting. Severus Snape had a sense of self-preservation no matter what anyone else called it.

To top things off it was raining. It rained a lot in England.

His robes were a dripping, soggy mass on his frame when he walked into the Death Eater headquarters; his shoes were also covered in mud, because he had to apparate into the muddiest part of the garden. Annoyed Snape whipped out his wand and waved it around himself murmuring a drying spell under his breath. He didn't bother cleaning his shoes, if Voldemort was going to make him miss his only relaxation time, then the Dark Lord could stand some dark spots in his carpet.

He could see some of the other Death Eaters had gathered already. They were crowded around the long dining room table whispering amongst one another. Nagini, the giant snake that creeped out pretty much everyone except for Voldemort himself, was slithering around at their feet, occasionally biting out at people's ankles to see if she could obtain some sort of reaction. Ten times out of ten she did.

Was it a she? How do you tell the gender of a snake?

Whatever its gender, the snake turned its eyes on him as if sensing his presence. He shuddered slightly as the thing blinked at him. He was pretty sure that snakes should not be able to do that.

"Severus," the hissing voice almost seemed to be coming from the snake but Snape knew better. The voice was actually coming from the only part of the table that was not visible to him, and belonged to none other than Lord Voldemort himself. "Don't darken doorways," the Dark Lord requested, "please come in."

"Yes my lord." Severus tried his best to make sure none of the irritation he was actually feeling leaked into his tone. His voice ended up coming out practically monotone, but this was nothing new really.

Snape scuffed his boots on the carpet, trying to get off any excess mud manually before cleaning them magically, for one did not stand before Voldemort with muddy shoes. Still, he managed to leave a good-sized stain on the rug, and that was all that really mattered at this point.

He supposed he should have realized that something was out of the ordinary. In his defense there had been a lot of this the past month; it was no wonder he was becoming acquainted with looks of nervous disbelief. Still, colour in the presence of the Dark Lord was even more unusual than out of the ordinary, and there was a lot of colour in the room.

He supposed he finally noticed when he realized Bellatrix looked insanely nervous and worried, and as this was the most unusual out of all the unusual things that had happened today it was no wonder. So, Bellatrix looked worried and that's what prompted him to actually look at Voldemort.

Mr. I'm-Too-Sexy-for-My-Nose (or hair, in reality he really needed [no like seriously taking needed {you have seen this guy right?} to the next level] both)* was, as usual (shockingly) at the head of the table. Around him were piles upon piles of books stacked as high as the ceiling, all of them bearing either colourful covers or colourful pictures on the spine. The biggest one was with Voldemort himself.

The book was propped up on its spine, the cover tilted towards the rest of the gathered Death Eaters showing them it sported the title: Cat Breeds. It was tilted at such an angle that, as he was still standing, Severus could see the pictures of full grown cats and tiny kittens dancing across its pages.

Snape tried his best not to even blink at the sight as he sat down next to the Cat Book Lord. He sat quietly by his side and waited for someone to speak, to ask the question that they all wanted an answer to. He ended up having to voice it. Of course.

"My lord," he began. "Might I ask what the point of all the, erm…cat books are for?"

The giant cat breed book dropped to the table almost immediately showing Voldemort's noseless, hairless face. He looked irritated. "I was sure you would know Severus, you were after all the one who told us about Potters new cat-boy status. I am simply doing some research. Maybe Potter has taken on some of these catlike qualities and they'll become his weaknesses. Honestly, Severus, keep up. I'll need you to report on Potter's cat-ability. Also," and here he flipped the book around showing a picture of two kittens playing in the grass, "aren't they just adorable!"

Yes, moments like these.

*It is actually grammatically correct to abuse use parentheses like this. I know, my mind was blown too.