A/N - Written for Round 1 of Season 2 of the QLFC. This round was about family relationships and I had to write about a pet, so Crookshanks it is.

Final Departure

Crookshanks watched his mistress as she paced around the room, muttering under her breath. It wasn't a new phenomenon; she did it quite often when trying to work out a problem. However, it usually happened when they were back in the castle and she was reading books for her classes, not here at home.

He flicked his tail where he lay in the patch of sun on the desk and gave his front paw a few licks. Truthfully, he was getting quite bored. This always happened during the summer. The small house was much less intriguing than the castle after all. There were only so many places to explore and much fewer mice to catch and eat. He was allowed to wander outside as much as he liked of course, which he often did. But there was only row after row of similar houses and a small park which didn't hold much interest. He hoped the current appearance of their room meant they were leaving soon.

His mistress had piles of books on her bed and the floor, as well as a few clothes and other things strewn about. It was the most chaos he had ever seen her room in. She was usually quite neat. Now though, the room was a veritable paradise of small bits of things, parchment and broken quills, half bottles of ink and missing socks. He'd even found her balls of yarn earlier, which she normally kept hidden from him and he'd had quite an enjoyable half hour of unraveling and playing with the string.

The odd thing was she didn't seem to be paying him much attention, which wasn't like her. While she was very indulgent and he rarely got reprimanded for anything, at least not more than half-heartedly, she still did lose her temper from time to time when he'd made a rather impressive mess. He considered the huge pile of tangled yarn in the corner to qualify as such a mess, yet she had glanced at it once as she'd walked past and not said a thing.

Tired of being ignored, Crookshanks lightly leaped down from his perch on the desk and slowly began to wind himself between her legs. She stopped after almost tripping and looked down, a small smile breaking over her face at the sight of him. Deciding to give her a bit more encouragement, he meowed softly.

"Oh Crooks," she said as she sunk to the floor and gathered him into her lap. He pretended to protest for a moment before he settled down and let her pet him. "I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing with Mum and Dad. I need to make sure they'll be safe and I don't know if I can convince them to leave on their own." She sighed and stroked his back a few times.

"But I can't let them know exactly what's going on," she continued. "Even if they still agreed to leave the country, they can't know everything. Mum would worry herself sick and more than likely, they'd refuse to go, wanting to be here if I needed anything." Crookshanks made a noise somewhere between a purr and a meow which his mistress took as agreement. "And I can't let that happen. They'd be killed for sure, especially once Harry and Ron and I are gone." Crookshanks looked up at her solemnly.

"I know," she sighed again. "I need to do the memory charm. I'm just," she paused and hitched in a breath. "What if I do it wrong? Or it can't be reversed later on?" Crookshanks sat up and looked up at her.

"What if they never remember who I am again?" she whispered. Her eyes were shining and Crookshanks knew that this meant she was soon going to squeeze him very tightly. Normally, he didn't allow this, except when the drops of water ran down her face. Then something always made him sit quietly and rub his face against her until her body stopped shaking.

Today was no different. She buried her face in his fur and held him tightly to her. His back was dampening, but he endured it while she made choking sounds and her shoulders shook. After a few minutes, she seemed to quiet, but she continued to hold onto him. Finally she slackened her grip and held his face between her hands.

"I wish I could send you with them," she said quietly, her eyes much redder than they had been before the water started. "Then you could watch over them for me." She kissed the top of his head and let go of his face. Crookshanks shook his head and she chuckled a bit. Sniffing the air as if affronted, he kneaded his paws into her lap and settled down again. She immediately began to pet him until he purred.

After a few minutes of delicious enjoyment, she sighed again and stood, picking him up and depositing him on the one clear space on the bed that wasn't covered with books or clothes. He gave her a disgruntled look before turning around and settling himself onto the soft spot near the top of the bed. She laughed again and he lay his head down on his paws and closed his eyes. Sometimes, being a familiar was quite exhausting.

When he woke, the sun had moved from the top of the desk to the far corner of the room. Crookshanks knew this meant it would soon be gone all together and he leapt lightly from the bed, intending to go outside and roam for a bit.

"On no you don't," his mistress said as she closed the door before he could make his escape. "We're leaving in the morning and I don't want to have to track you down." Crookshanks glared at her as well as a cat with a squashed face can glare anyway.

"Don't give me that look," she said with a smile. "I know you've been out gallivanting with the Jackson's cat from down the street." Crookshanks was affronted. As if he'd associate with that simpleton. Most of the cats at the castle weren't part Kneazle like him, but they were at least more intelligent than the ordinary housecat. He turned away from her and flicked his tail in disgust, stalking over to the small remaining patch of sunlight and sitting down to groom himself. Not that he needed it, but it helped him ignore her.

She shook her head and went back to putting things into a tiny bag instead of the large container she usually used. Crookshanks was curious but did a very good job of not showing it. The bag was much smaller than the things that were going into it, but this didn't faze him all that much. He'd seen much stranger things at the castle.

The room was much neater than it had been before his nap as well. The yarn was gone, he noticed with a bit of disappointment, as were all the small bits of things he had been intending to investigate later.

"Hermione, dinner!" the older mistress called.

"Coming Mum," his mistress called back. She pulled in a deep breath and then gave him a shaky smile. "Last dinner Crooks." He wasn't sure exactly what she meant by this, but the sound of dinner got his attention. He trotted to the door and sat obediently beside it. His mistress laughed again.

"All right, but stay in the house, understand?" Flicking his tail, he pawed at the closed door. She stared at him with that look in her eye she got when she was pleased with something he'd done. Without warning, she bent down and scooped him up into her arms.

"I'm going to miss you so much Crooks," she whispered. He stared at her for a few minutes, unsure just what she meant. He was going with her, that much was apparent given his hated basket was sitting next to the small bag on her desk and she'd told him they were leaving the next day. But, he was finding it hard to concentrate when she was rubbing between his ears so deliciously. He nudged his head under her chin and began to purr. He'd think about it later.