Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to JK Rowling. Definitely AU because that is how I role – lol! This is dedicated with much affection to my friend, Lynn, on the loss of her beloved Frodo.
Felines and Potions Masters
Hermione Granger was not one to often allow her emotions to get the better of her. She had fought alongside Harry Potter for years and had always kept a cool head about her. She was a strong witch, the newest Professor of Transfiguration and Assistant Head of Gryffindor House. Not the kind of woman that you would want to pick a fight with.
But, when her beloved Crookshanks was diagnosed with a terminal illness and shuffled off his feline coil, she became a lost little girl mourning the loss of a beloved pet.
Harry and Ron were at a bit of a loss on how to deal with a Hermione Granger who was crying and sad and very, very emotional. They both loved her dearly…each was one of her very best friends…but they felt that their words were inadequate. Even Draco (perhaps the most unexpected friend to come out of the Battle of Hogwarts) knew that he would not be up to the task.
They each stayed close and they each reiterated that they loved her…and were scared to death that she would hex them out of existence.
And so, she sat in her classroom one night. Having stayed up far too late grading assignments, she felt tired and stiff but not ready for bed. There was no familiar warmth around her ankles…the telltale sign of a cat pressing against her. There was no half-eaten mouse presented as a proud tribute of the might hunter.
She even missed the cat hairs on her robes.
The tears came and she put her head down in her arms and just let them flow, sobbing and not caring who might be walking by.
"Professor Granger?"
She looked up and, through her tears, could see the blurry outline of Professor Severus Snape.
"Hermione. My name is Hermione."
"Yes, of course. Old habits die hard. I would ask if you are all right but I know that you are not and so, instead, I thought that I could perhaps offer a mug of hot cocoa?"
"It's two in the morning, Severus," she pointed out.
"And I'm not aware of any time which is not appropriate for hot cocoa…even the ungodly hour of two in the morning when Professors should be sleeping and not grading papers."
She sighed, rubbing her hands over her eyes and causing a few latent tears to fall.
Severus came up to her desk and, with a quick spell, conjured two cups of hot cocoa, handing her one.
She sniffed cautiously. It smelled delicious so she took a sip…closing her eyes as she swallowed and felt it warm her body like a loving embrace.
"I am very sorry about Crookshanks, Hermione. He was a prince of cats. He often graced my office door with either the front half or back half of a most unfortunate rodent."
She smiled ruefully. "He liked you."
"I am exceptionally likeable."
Her smile broadened and she took another sip of the hot chocolate. For a moment, she wondered if he had added anything to it but immediately dismissed the thought. She trusted him. He had earned that trust. It was why Crookshanks tolerated him and brought him gifts. He knew what the Potions Master had done for her….selflessly, willingly and without hesitation.
He sipped at his cup thoughtfully but his eyes never left hers. There was concern present but he was never an easy person to read. Sometimes, she felt there were other emotions at play…and, more often than not, she hoped there were…
"I miss him," she said helplessly.
"Of course you do. He was your companion for many years. He shared in all your adventures and, through all the hardship, he was the one thing you could always count on."
She nodded, finishing her warm drink and putting the cup down on the table. Severus made both cups disappear.
"You know that the ones we love never truly leave us?"
"That sounds suspiciously like something Dumbledore would say."
"And he would have included Crookshanks in that statement. Pets often become more than pets," Severus continued. "Sometimes, they become the only true friend we have. They never judge. They never betray. They are there and provide a kind of quiet comfort that sustains us through dark times."
She nodded and looked up at him with a sad smile. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed awkwardly at her eyes…trying…but not succeeding entirely in eliminating the tear tracks on her face.
"It would appear that I am sadly lacking in the appropriate skills to use a handkerchief," he said quietly, pressing the handkerchief to her hand.
She smiled and used the cotton square to dry the tears and put herself to rights.
"You can keep it," he said to her unasked question. "Will you be all right?"
She nodded, standing up.
"While I greatly admire your Gryffindor bravery, will you do me the honour of walking you back to your chamber?" he asked, looking somewhat nervous.
"I could never say no to such a noble offer," she smiled and the nervous look disappeared.
He offered her his arm, which she took.
"You understand that I merely wish to ensure that you do not have to suffer any of Peeves' pranks…his sense of timing is not a redeeming quality."
"Of course, Severus…and I thank you," she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He looked surprised but pleased.
*******Two days later*******
The house elf appeared in her classroom so quietly that Hermione couldn't determine how long he had been patiently watching her.
"Yes?" She said…wondering at the odd behaviour. House elves did not normally just stand in front of a person and not say anything at all.
"There is a special delivery for you in your chamber," the little elf said before disappearing with a snap.
Confused, Hermione got up and walked over to her chamber…finding on the small table by the door a rather large parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. She could have sworn that she heard it meow.
She noticed an envelope and, taking it, opened it quickly and read its contents…a joyous smile illuminating her face.
"If memory serves me correctly, cats are supposed to have nine lives…I thought Crookshanks deserved at least one more. With affection, Severus"
She tore through the paper and marvelled at the artistry of the portrait. Her Crookshanks…her beautiful wild-haired, bottle brush of a cat…was lazing on a very comfortable ottoman and stretching before looking at her with a distinct glance of recognition. He meowed happily and, jumping to the floor of the painting, came close to her and began purring.
Tears of joy spilled from her eyes and she hugged the portrait to her chest.