Title: Kipper
Disclaimer: J. owns it all except Kipper. He's mine. MINE! O.O
Rating: G or K.
Pairing: Harry/Draco, sort of.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Kipper is Harry's cat. He gets lost and adopted by Draco. He decides to get them together.
A/N: This was a request by Ripley. I had fun with it.
Kipper had a good life. He had a warm bed, a huge house to roam, a house elf to torment, and kippers for breakfast. But best of all, he had his Harry.
His Harry was a messy haired, bespeckled man with brilliant green eyes. He was strong and tanned and kindly, and his black hair was as wild looking as Kipper's black fur had been the night Harry found him. He was a wizard, and Kipper was very proud of himself for landing a wizard as a pet. Most other cats had to content themselves with muggles, but he had someone who could do magic for him, like conjuring an invisible hand to stroke his fur for hours. His pet was so clever with the ways he used magic, Kipper thought.
Harry had found him when he was just a kitten, lost and abandoned in Diagon Alley; wet, bedraggled, and a scratch across his nose and a hole torn through one ear where a dog had got his teeth into him before Kipper managed to squeeze under a stoop where the dog couldn't fit. Harry took him home, washed him (he didn't much care for that part), dried him (which was nicer, if only not to be so cold), and fed him breakfast – kippers, to be exact. That part Kipper had loved. In fact, he loved kippers so much that Harry had decided to name him after his favourite treat.
Harry worked long hours and didn't have much time to spend with him, but he knew he was loved. Because when Harry did have time, sometimes he would play; pulling out little toys for Kipper to bat around and amuse himself with. Or he would sit by the fire and read and pet Kipper, stroking his smooth fur for hours on end while Kipper purred his contentment. And besides; KIPPERS. Every morning he got kippers for breakfast. If that wasn't love, what was?
Kipper didn't go outside all that often, preferring to laze about indoors; his kittenhood having scarred him against any real love of the outdoors. Every once in a while, though, he took it into his head to go for a long walk; enjoying some nice fresh air and just generally exploring the world. He found his way around by sight, having a rather poorly developed sense of direction for a cat. It might have had something to do with his weak sense of smell, from the old injury to his nose. He often got lost and had to wander around until he spotted something familiar to find his way back.
Getting out was simple enough. He would nudge the one window that never quite latched properly and when it opened he'd jump out and set off. No matter how lost he got, he was always back, waiting by the time Harry got home from work, and mewling at the door to be let in.
Harry always acted exasperated with him, but he had a fond look in his eye and he never did fix that window, so Kipper supposed he didn't really mind. Either that or he had no idea how Kipper was getting out, which Kipper supposed could be the case. His Harry was dense like that.
Then came The Dog. Kipper had already been walking for a long time and had nearly left London by the time he decided to head back, when he spotted The Dog. Or more accurately, The Dog spotted him. It was a lot like The Dog from when Kipper was a kitten, the one who gave him the hole in his ear, and it shook Kipper up badly. He was chased for what felt like hours before The Dog gave up and let him alone.
The Dog had chased him out somewhere in the countryside and Kipper was hopelessly lost, not having paid attention to his surroundings at all whilst being chased. He was forced to wander the countryside in the hopes that he would eventually find his way back home. He spent the next two weeks wandering the countryside while searching for something familiar, becoming steadily thinner and more mangy-looking with each passing day. He was harassed by muggles, and desperately searched the air with his nose for any traces of magic that would lead him home.
So when he smelt a faint trace of magic in the air, nothing could stop him from racing helter skelter towards it, desperate to reach it, his only thought, "Harry! Harry, Harry, Harry, KIPPERS, Harry!"
It was with some trepidation that he realised this was not, in fact, home, but a massive fortress. He was a trifle cowed, but he had come this far. He plucked up his courage and made his way to the door, past the powerful wards that hummed and thrummed with his arrival but were apparently not keyed to expel cats, as they let him past.
He seated himself at the massive stone steps and cried for entrance. He was there for hours, no one seeming to register his presence, when the door opened and a strange wizard stepped out, and almost tripped over Kipper.
Kipper knew he was a wizard because of the magic smell; if the house hadn't been enough of a clue, but he looked very different from his Harry. While Harry had been tanned, this man was pale. Where Harry was dark, this man was blond, almost platinum. He was well-dressed and smelled like flowers, whereas Harry was always rumpled and smelled like food. While Harry's eyes were a bright, vibrant green, this man's eyes, as he leaned down to stare at Kipper, were a pale, shiny mercury.
"Well look what the cat dragged in," he said, dryly. "How on earth did you get past the wards?" The corners of his mouth turned up in a sneer and his tone was belligerent, That was another difference between this man and Harry; where Harry was soft, warm and comforting, this man was all sharp angles and cold, pointed looks. Kipper shrank back in fear.
He stared at Kipper for a few more minutes, then let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said grumpily. "Come here." He reached for Kipper. Kipper hesitated, but knowing no better - and having had his experience with trusting Harry turn out to be the best decision of his kittenhood - chose to trust the strange man. With a soft mewl he allowed himself to be lifted and carried into the house – rather awkwardly because the man didn't want to dirty his suit and so held Kipper a ways away from his body.
He proceeded to hand Kipper off to a house elf, and instructed it to get him cleaned and fed. That sounded just fine to Kipper. He still didn't like baths, and might have scratched the house elf and forced it to call for reinforcements; which surprised Kipper because he'd never seen more than one house elf at a time before; but all in all he was finally washed, dried, eating a nice piece of fish and feeling like a million galleons for the first time in a long time.
The man came into the dining room – a rather huge affair that had Kipper mad to explore this massive place – and Kipper marched over and proceeded to rub against his ankle, purring his thanks for the stranger's hospitality. Now, all he needed was to find Harry and he'd be perfectly happy.
But the blond stranger had other ideas. He lifted Kipper and his eyes roamed over Kipper approvingly, with a little frown at Kipper's torn ear.
"You're almost beautiful," he told Kipper. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you could be his animagus. Your fur is just as black and messy as his hair, and good lord, those eyes are impossibly green…"
His voice trailed off and he stared at Kipper. Then he harrumphed and sat at the table, and called for a house elf. "Where is my mother, Izzie?" he asked. He was stroking Kipper's fur and even though Kipper knew he should be getting back to Harry, it was awfully hard to think while the stranger's hand was doing that, that, thing to his ears. He purred luxuriously.
"Mistress Narcissa is asking to be eating breakfast outside today," Izzie replied, shuffling her feet.
"Oh," he said. "Very well, then. Bring me eggs, bacon, and toast. Oh, and kippers," he added, and Kipper perked up, despite having just eaten.
So his days of living in the lap of luxury commenced.
The Manor was grand, and it was a grand place for a cat. He really was spoiled. He had everything he could possibly wish for – except Harry. He was so well-fed and well-looked after that it was difficult to ever think of leaving, but occasionally twinges of guilt would assail him and he would think longingly of his pet. These might have faded in time had Draco – for that was the stranger's name – not taken to calling him Harry. As it was every time Draco or Narcissa called for him he was reminded of his Harry, and his home.
If he had had any hope of finding his way home by himself, he might have attempted it. But he was no fool, Kipper was not. He knew he had very little chance of surviving, let alone finding Harry again, were he to set out. So he lived at the Manor, and gradually he began to learn to love his new pets, Draco and his mother, Narcissa, and to forget Harry. Mostly.
Draco worked long hours, just like Harry had, so he spent his days with Narcissa and his nights with Draco. It was a lovely, easy routine and he never tired of it. He roamed the Manor, and the gardens at will, tormented the house elves (Plural! There was more than one to torment!), and ate Kippers every morning.
He learned that Draco was not in fact cold and sharp as he'd first appeared to Kipper, but in fact very warm and loving. He wore a mask to the outside world, but around Kipper he let his walls down. He was actually a secret snuggler, and he would spend hours confiding in Kipper every night while he petted him and cuddled with him in his bed.
Kipper soon learned that he was named after a co-worker of Draco's, a man he was desperately in love with. "But he'd never look twice at me," he told Kipper mournfully. "He'd never even look once. He's a big shot hero and I'm just a stupid former Death Eater."
Kipper nuzzled him under the chin and let him know that it was okay; Kipper loved him and definitely thought he was worth a second look.
Then one day Draco came home especially late from work. He was nervous, rushing about and ignoring Kipper, fixing his hair constantly despite its eternal state of perfection. He finally stopped and forced himself to breathe.
He completely ignored Kipper's attempts to get his attention, and, abruptly, pulled on his mask of casual indifference and affected a sneer. Kipper sighed inwardly. He liked Draco much better when they weren't having company and he didn't feel so much of a need to act the part of the cold, aristocratic prince.
The floo rushed with the arrival of Draco's company, and Kipper prepared to leave the room, having little interest in staying.
"Potter," Draco sneered. "Shall we get to work?"
"Sounds like a plan, Malfoy," came an answering tone, and Kipper's heart leapt in his throat. He turned tail and oh! Oh, oh, oh! It was Harry. His Harry!
He let out a plaintive wail and hurled himself at Harry. Harry gasped.
"Kipper?" he asked, disbelievingly. He sank to his knees and put out his arms. Kipper leapt into them. Kipper mewled and nuzzled and licked Harry all over his face, all the while crying out his apologies for not finding Harry sooner.
"I might have known that was your cat," Draco sounded resigned. "It looks just like you."
"Are you saying I look like a cat, Malfoy?" Harry sounded amused.
"I – what? Merlin, no, it's just… look at it! It has messy black fur and these big green eyes and when I first saw it I wondered if it was you in an animagus form. Come to torment me, see."
Harry snickered. "And you didn't throw him out? Malfoy, I didn't know you cared."
Draco blushed and stammered that he knew Harry wouldn't have been able to get past the wards, and "Don't be such a prat, Potter," and Kipper suddenly realised that this was the Harry that Draco talked about every night before bed, and no wonder he hadn't made any progress; the silly pet.
He was acting all sharp and pointy and Harry couldn't see the loving, cuddly man he was underneath all the prickles.
Kipper needed to fix that.
He jumped out of Harry's arms and ran over to Draco. He began purring and rubbing against Draco's leg, trying to get Draco to pick him up. Draco stood stiff and formal. "Go back to your master," he said. "Go on, off with you."
"I think he likes you, Malfoy," Harry was amused, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he watched Draco fight the urge to pick Kipper up and cuddle him and try to appear regal and cold instead. "You must have treated him really well." There was a note of regret in his voice.
Draco finally gave in and stooped down and petted Kipper, who nuzzled him and kicked his face. A soft smile played about the corners of his mouth, which he hastily wiped off when he looked up and caught Potter studying him carefully.
"Well, Malfoy, shall we get started?" he asked finally.
"Right, Potter," replied Draco.
The two men poured over paperwork for the next several hours while Kipper pranced and flounced about and generally got in the way but thought he was helping. In the end he had both men laughing at his antics, and they swapped amused grins.
It was dawn when they finally finished their paperwork, and they groaned and moaned about how they would need to take the day off work to sleep. Kipper slept through most of it once the men had loosened up and conversation became easy between them. He woke up to the sound of the briefcase Harry had brought with him clacking shut.
"At least we got it all in order for the trial," said Harry.
"Yes," Draco agreed. "At least we did that."
A pause. "I enjoyed working with you, Malfoy."
"And I with you, Potter."
"Perhaps you'd care to get dinner with me some time?" Harry asked casually, but his eyes were strangely intense. Kipper held his breath.
"I'd like that," Draco replied, sounding a little breathless himself. "Perhaps once you drop that off," he gestured to the case. "You might like to come back for breakfast?"
Harry smiled. "I'd like that. I'd like it very much."
"And that," Kipper thought smugly. "Is how you get him to notice you."