A/N: Written for round four of the QLFC.
Assigned prompt: Write from a pet's perspective about their everyday life.
Optional prompts:
2. (word) preposterous
6. (phrase) under the stairs,
12. (word) pillow
Word count: 1962
A day in the life of Crookshanks
Crookshanks was annoyed. This was unacceptable. Preposterous! How dare she question where he went and what he was up to? It was bad enough that she held onto the illusion that she was the owner in this relationship, and he the pet – instead of the other way around, as it truly was. He was a half-Kneazle, for God's sake. They were not owned. They were not questioned. And, most of all, they hated being followed by bushy-haired girls snooping into their business.
He had made himself a nice life at Hogwarts. The vast hallways and open grounds allowed him to stroll around at his heart's content, and if he was hungry, he would visit the kitchens and have the house elves prepare some treats for him. It was heaven.
The only thing he had been missing had been a certain type of company. The silent type. Of course, he'd had his bushy-haired pet, but she was much too intense most of the time, bubbling with energy and happiness. He, on the other hand, needed time to brood and think dark thoughts. It was one of the most important points in his daily schedule and was mostly followed by an intense grooming of his private parts.
He had finally found a dark haven to brood in, in the dungeons. Granted, the quarters he had chosen were already occupied, but he did not mind the current inhabitant. It was a rather gloomy character always clad in black, an ever present frown on his forehead, making his expression just as dark as his clothing. Crookshanks had dubbed him 'the black one'.
The first time Crookshanks had visited the black one's quarters, he'd been thrown right out again. Which, of course, had been unacceptable. He had chosen the dungeons, and no one was going to take them away from him.
It took him three days to establish the routine the Potions Master followed. Crookshanks had been hiding in a dark spot under the stairs leading to the dungeons that gave him a perfect view of the office. Soon enough, he knew when the black one would be out to teach, eat or patrol and when it was safe to lounge in his quarters.
Unfortunately, due to the massive amount of orange hair he had shed all over the furniture, his secret was soon discovered.
In the middle of licking his private parts, the door to the sitting room had been flung open, rebounding from the wall with a smack, and two furious dark eyes had borne down on him. There had been a lot of yelling and pointing from the black one, and pacing, and more glaring and yelling. Crookshanks had sat through it, unperturbed. He knew he had the right to be there. Cats, especially Half-Kneazles, had the right to be anywhere.
Finally, the yelling had died down, and with a frown, the black one had vanished the offending orange hairs before settling down into his armchair, grumbling and pouring himself a glass of that dark amber liquid that burned so prettily in your throat. The black one had taken a sip, studying Crookshanks for a minute before going through a stack of papers, writing red squiggles on them, his frown deepening and his angry mutterings increasing. Then, when he reached an especially offending parchment, he gave a frustrated shout, throwing down his quill and raking his hands through his hair in exasperation. Finally, he held the parchment out to the Half-Kneazle, his hands fluttering angrily through the air as he made unhappy mouth noises regarding the parchment.
Crookshanks understood that the parchment must have been particularly galling or affronting to the black one, so he tried for a commiserating face and made an appropriate sound. He knew what it felt like to be surrounded by dunderheads. He shook his head in a way that said: They're idiots, you can't help that. You've got to work through this.
The black one studied him intently, then suddenly moved and pulled his wand out of his sleeve, conjuring a saucer. He put a bit of the amber liquid on it and slid it over towards Crookshanks.
That had been the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
Mostly they ignored each other when he visited, but there were times when they commiserated about the idiotic humans surrounding them. He even had his own pillow on the couch. The black one vanished his hairs and Crookshanks vanished the mice in his storeroom, so it was a win-win situation for both in the end.
And that was how visiting the black one had become part of his daily routine. And now, the bushy haired pet was snooping into his business. Preposterous! Did he ask her where she went and whom she was seeing? Did he follow her around like an insane stalker? No, Sir, surely not! It was no business of hers! She needed to learn this lesson, rather quickly.
The holidays had started and this time, she had not gone to visit her parents but instead had decided to stay at the castle. And now, she had all this time at her hands and had a much too curious nature. He had been able to shake her off when she had tried to follow him, but it became increasingly difficult. She really wanted to know where he went. And when his pet wanted to know something, there was no stopping her.
So, there was only one solution. He had to let her know where he went, as reluctant as he was to share that part of his life. But he would not make it easy on her, oh no. He would have his revenge.
So he waited until it was late evening before he confidently strolled out of the door. She had been getting ready for bed, only clad in a nightgown when he took off. He did not give her time to snatch a robe, but it was a warm night, anyways. He heard her hurried footsteps behind him when he left the Gryffindor common room.
He made sure to always stay in her sight but remain elusive at the same time. Slowly but surely, he led her into the dungeons until he reached the secret entrance to the black one's quarters. He released the hidden mechanism and slipped inside, careful to keep the door open until she could catch it. He gave an angry hiss as she lit up the tunnel with her wand, blinding him for a minute.
Soon enough, they reached the door to the quarters and he pushed through, making his way to the sofa in the sitting room, his pet hot on his heels. Crookshanks curled up on his pillow on the couch expectantly, waiting for the show to begin.
He did not have to wait for long.
The black one had good ears, and he heard him make the sounds of greeting usually held in store for him, which told him he'd be right there. Out of the corner of his eye, his saw his pet freeze on the spot at the sound of the voice. Hee hee.
A minute later, the black one swept into the room, about to speak to Crookshanks when he spotted the bushy haired human and stopped short, making a gurgling sound. His brows drew together in a very dark scowl, and then the shouting started.
First, it was only the black one pacing back and forth, jabbing his finger in the air in front of the pet. He was bristling. But then, the pet started to get mad, too. It was not used to this kind of treatment and had a fierce temper when riled. Soon enough, she was shouting back at him.
Crookshanks wondered what they were shouting about. It seemed to concern more than her mere presence in the dungeons, as the dark one's jabbing finger quite often pointed to his pet's attire. Crookshanks did not know what was wrong with it. To him, it seemed rather pretty, all white and soft gossamer, flowing like liquid around her torso. It was almost as if she were not wearing anything, so he did not see why the garment offended the black one so much.
At this point, his pet's face was flushed, her eyes blazing as she gesticulated wildly. Their voices were getting louder and louder, and Crookshanks wished he had some catnip to go with the show.
He had seldom seen his pet this angry, and he gave an excited mewl when she pulled out her wand. This was a lot more fun than expected. With an angry flourish, she shouted a spell and in the next instant, the offending garment had disappeared, leaving her without a stitch of clothing as she put her hands on her hips, thrusting her shoulders back to display her mammary glands.
The following silence was deafening. Crookshanks again wished for catnip as he pawed the pillow on the couch in excitement.
Another garbled sound from the black one. Heavy breathing from the pet. A lot of staring. Mostly from the black one. Up and down and up and down again. More heavy breathing.
Crookshanks was moving his head between the two as if he was watching a tennis match. Who would make the first move?
The black one moved like a flash. Crookshanks nodded. He would have put his money on the black one.
Where there had been two, there suddenly was one. It was like ying and yang, two sides of a whole, one black, one milky-white, mingling together. Almost poetic, Crookshanks mused as he watched the two humans smash their mouths together.
Crookshanks understood a penchant for licking. Hell, he licked his balls every day. But licking each other's lips and tongues seemed just perverse. Dirty humans.
Suddenly the black one picked up the pet and carried her to his bedroom to sit her on his bed. This was outrageous! The bed had been the only place in these quarters that Crookshanks had been banned from.
Of course, he had not cared and still jumped on the bed only to find heavy wards in place that had catapulted him off the surface before he could make contact.
And now – his pet was lounging on this very same bed that had been denied to him. Preposterous! He turned away, insulted, contemplating hiding out in his favorite spot under the stairs.
He only held out for a minute, though, as the sounds they were making were much too interesting for his curious nature not to explore more closely. He trotted inside the bedroom, suspiciously eying the trembling bed-frame.
It seemed they were holding some kind of wrestling match, and he figured they must be playing some kind of game so he tried to find out what the rules were. After a while, his pet must have scored a point; that's what he took from the happy sounds she was making. She was soon followed by the black one, who scored just a minute after her, but if the sounds were any indication, his goal must have been a lot more impressive. Not surprisingly, his pet scored a second time shortly after, making her the winner with 2:1 if he had understood everything correctly.
Crookshanks felt a bit of pride. It was his pet, after all.
After the match, there were low sounds of chuckling and a lot of wet noises. Crookshanks imagined more mouth smashing and shuddered.
As he slid out of the room, there was a nagging suspicion at the back of his mind that maybe he had misunderstood the game and the score had been even, seeing as they were starting a second round to determine the winner.
The End
A/N: Review if you love Crookshanks!