I can open a jar by myself, I'm a Hufflepuff

Word Count: 758

Prompt: Orange

Beta: Aya Diefair

For the Houses Competition

He hated him. Big, loud, annoying, and always where he shouldn't be. His flat face was always twisted up into a grumpy expression even when there was nothing to be grumpy about. He was such an awful orange color, too. He couldn't understand what Hermione saw in that orange beast. He took up way too much of her attention these days.

Crookshanks glared at Ron Weasley, the current object of his beloved owner's affections. There was once a time when his brilliant witch would cuddle and kiss him. And now she was doing just that to the big, orange brute.

He remembered the day Hermione adopted him very well. It was when he had just given up hope of ever being adopted. Watching day-in and day-out the other cuter cats being chosen over him.

And then that beast waltzes into the door with an animagus in his hand. Crookshanks tried to tell him. He always knew when someone was being dishonest and that rat… Disgusting. The orange beast was too stupid to understand what he was trying to tell him and just shoved him aside, leaving quickly.

And then the brown girl stayed. She had giant hair and a wide smile and Crookshanks knew he wanted to be adopted by her.

So, he put on an act that he hadn't put on in ages. Meowing sweetly, he rubbed against her legs.

He needn't have bothered, she immediately picked him up and set him on the counter.

"How much?" she had asked eagerly.

"We have better cats, dear," said the old shop lady who looked like an owl with her big, round glasses, and brown cloak.

"Are you sure you want that one?"

Was she trying to change her mind?! While Crookshanks glared, the brown-skinned girl pressed her cheek on his head.

"Yep, he's good. I can tell."

"Very well. Five galleons for the cat and…"

As his new owner purchased things for him, Crookshanks was flabbergasted. A person wanted him. He was finally getting out of this miserable shop. No more having to share a litter-box or food.

And Hermione, as he learned her name, adored him. Oh, sure, she didn't like him attacking the orange beast and the rat, but how could she know that the rat wasn't really a rat? When he and Padfoot went on their walks, he told him all about how brilliant Hermione was.

"Stop it," Hermione giggled. "That tickles!"

Crookshanks turned his attention to the orange beast who was rubbing his face fur along Hermione's neck. Disgusting.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hermione loved when he did dumb and humiliating things.

He jumped onto her reading chair and fell onto his back so he was sitting like a person. He looked and saw she had already turned away to kiss the beast.

So that didn't work…

Flicking his tail in irritation, he jumped down and pondered on what to do next.

A direct approach might work.

Crookshanks walked straight for Hermione. As soon as he placed his paws on the couch, the orange beast's pasty hand shoved him away. He wouldn't dare scratch the beast again. Last time he did that, Hermione chastised him and gave the beast her attention for a very long time.

So, a direct approach was out.

Crookshanks tried everything. Rolling toys across the floor, meowing and rolling on his stomach, the complete works. He ended up sitting on the fireplace mantle and glared at the pair as they cuddled and kissed. Acting out his frustration, he knocked a wooden figurine of a cat off the ledge; as it clattered to the ground, he got a brilliant idea.

Raising his head haughtily, he sauntered over to the couch and jumped onto the back. He narrowed his eyes at the orange beast's stupid head and smacked it with his paw.

"Oi! Geroff!" The beast grumbled, waving him off.

Crookshanks threw himself over the back of the couch, sliding down against the wall. He yowled loudly and felt a surge of glee when Hermione shrieked, "Crookie!" at the same time the beast shouted, "OW!"

Hermione moved the couch and pulled him into the safety of her arms.

"Oh, poor Crookshanks," she cooed then snapped. "Ron, how could you!"

"I didn't even touch him."

"Oh, so I suppose he threw himself back there?" she countered.

Crookshanks sent the beast a triumphant look.

Stupid human.

Ron scowled. He hated him. Big, loud, annoying, and always where he shouldn't be. His flat face always twisted up into a grumpy expression. Stupid cat.