Kitten Soup
Harry paced back and forth in front of the cauldron. He wasn't quite sure what Snape had been thinking when he'd assigned him this detention. Instead of the normal menial labour style assignment of organizing the store room, de-horning dung beetles, grading first year homework, and the like, he'd walked into the potions room to find an extremely perplexing note on the otherwise empty teacher's desk. It read:
Potter,
As cleaning up your debacle in class today caused me to miss lunch, and with it my favourite soup, your task today is to prepare it for me. The recipe is in A Guide To The Preparations of Wizardly Dishes on page 592. You may summon supplies from the kitchens, but you are expressly forbidden from soliciting assistance from the house elves.
When you have finished, tap your wand to this parchment, and I will return to sample your efforts.
Harry sighed. Maybe Snape was going barmy in his old age. They'd all noticed it a little – ever since he'd helped them defeat Lord Voldemort the previous spring, he'd been different. Hermione had tossed her head, impatiently informing Harry and Ron that, "Well of course he's going to be different! Honestly, you can't imagine he could have acted the way he wanted to during the war, can you? He had to keep up the pretence of being a complete bastard so that he could spy on the Death Eaters."
Ron had rolled his eyes. "I don't think it was acting, 'Mione. He is a bastard." Harry had agreed at the time, but now he wasn't so sure. The old Snape would never have admitted to having a favourite soup, let alone have Harry make it during detention. At least Harry was good at cooking. All that practice from living with the Dursleys, he thought wryly.
Suddenly, Harry was startled out of his reverie by a sharp plop! and a disgruntled "Squaak" coming from the cauldron. When he hurried back to the cauldron and peered over the edge, he was startled to find a small kitten staring up at him, mewling piteously. Harry quickly reached in and pulled the cat out of the softly simmering onion cream soup. He hurredly toted it over to the taps, running its body under lukewarmwater to rinse off the thick broth. He wasn't sure how to check for burns on a kitten, but he decided the cat was probably okay when it started purring in his hands as he dried it with a quickly-conjured towel, leaving its grey fur soft and fluffy.
"How'd you end up in my soup, huh?" Harry inquired of the kitten, not really expecting a response. Before he could contemplate the issue further, however, the soft chime of the timer spell sounded, and Harry jumped up.
"Right! The soup! Well, I don't suppose Snape will want it now. It's probably got cat hair in it." Still, Harry levitated the cauldron and poured the soup into a serving dish, before clearing the mess and ingredients away. As he cleaned up, the kitten licked at a few stray drops of soup that had fallen on the floor.
When Harry was finished, he sighed, stowing the kitten in the front pocket of his robes and reluctantly tapping his wand Snape's note. He knew the professor would most likely yell at him for messing up what had actually been a fairly easy assignment.
Soon enough, Snape came strolling into the classroom, black robes billowing just as menacingly as usual – but the image was ruined, Harry thought, by the fact that the Potions master was whistling to himself slightly, and seemed almost happy.
Well, this will ruin his good mood, I'm sure, thought Harry. "Professor. I'm, er, finished..."
"Yes, I can see that, Potter. Your powers of stating the obvious continue to astound me." Snape walked towards the desk, pulling a small ladle from his pocket and moving to sample the soup.
"You might not want to do that, Sn- er. Um. Sir." Harry looked at the soup on the desk rather sheepishly.
Snap raised one eyebrow. "If you've poisoned it, surely you're not idiotic enough to warn me?"
"No, it's not that. I wouldn't-" Harry's attempts at explaining were cut short by a soft "Mew" coming from the side of the desk. Both Harry and Snape turned to see the kitten, curiously poking its head over the edge of the desk and trying to stick its nose into a drawer.
"Is that..."
"I thought it was in..."
"Meew!!"
Harry was the first to move, leaning over to pick up the kitten once again. "See, Professor..."
As Harry recounted the story of the kitten's appearance, Snape seemed more and more amused. "Well, Potter," he smirked, "It seems your flair for thoroughly messing up any simple assignment has not gone away. But this time, I find myself leaning towards leniency. I have been wanting a pet."
And with that, Snape quickly plucked the kitten from Harry's grasp and spun on his heel, walking away and whistling the same tune as before.
"Professor?" Harry called, and Snape stopped, halfway through the door to his office (and presumably his quarters).
"Yes?"
"What should I do with the soup?"
"Oh, you're welcome to eat it if you'd like. I won't stop you." And with that, Snape slipped through his door, leaving a perplexed and strangely amused Harry in his wake.