"Are you here to purchase?" a soft voice asked, startling Harry.

He felt a cold shiver go down her spine and he did his best to act unfazed. It wasn't often that people managed to sneak up on him. He could count on one hand the number of people who could, and most of them were dead.

"Just…browsing," Harry said. He turned to look at the speaker and realized that this person wasn't human. If he was, then Harry would eat his hat. There was an inhuman aura about him that average people would likely dismiss as just eccentric or unsettling. Magic was more useful and he knew he had to be careful.

"Is this your store?" he asked just to be polite.

He was gifted with a smile so fake it probably invented plastic. "My grandfather owns it, I'm just watching over this for him." A contemplative look settled on the storekeepers face. "What is it that you seek?"

If Harry were a betting man, he'd have said that he imagined the shadows squirming at that. But he knew better.

"What do you sell?" he asked, pretty sure he's just digging himself deeper.

"This is a pet shop. We sell all manner of creatures, from all over the world," was the reply. Harry was sure he didn't imagine the glint of mischief in those mismatched eyes.

He pursed his lips and said, "Magical creatures, you mean."

The storekeeper started. Then he smiled. "I see that you are a fairly magical young man yourself. I think I have the perfect pet for you."

All his warning senses were telling him he really had to get out of the store. Sheer curiosity made him follow the storekeeper to the back of the store.

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"Harry," Hermione said in that really calm tone that said she was holding back shrieks. Ron called it the calm before the storm.

"Yes Hermione?" he asked, not looking at her. It made his self-preservation instincts scream, but he didn't want to face the music. Not while he was sober.

"There's a nine-tailed fox on your sofa," she said in that same calm voice. "And it's eating a bag of rats."

"I'm aware,"

"Why is it on your sofa?" she prodded, voice rising. Harry took that as the warning bell and dropped the book he was using to try and reject reality. It was useless and it didn't work anyway.

"Because it didn't like sleeping on the floor?"

"Harry!"

Harry cringed and turned to face her. Hermione's hair was trying to escape the tight braids and her eyes were flashing.

"I accidentally acquired a nine-tailed fox when I travelled to America. I mean, they always said you can get anything in Chinatown, and whoa, they meant that literally," he babbled.

Hermione sighed. "Only you, Harry." Utterly resigned. It was unfair, Harry didn't even mean to buy the fox. He'd ended up signing a contract for it though, only half-aware of the terms and conditions to keep it. He would think Imperius, except he could throw it off all the time.

The fox, who he'd dubbed Hermes, let out a little foxy smile that he'd realized heralded mischief.

"Oh no you don't," Harry said seriously, pointing at the fox. "Keep your mischief away from Hermione."

Hermione stood up quickly. "Harry, your fox is glowing," she said, perfectly wary.

Harry, already resigned to his fate, didn't groan. It took effort though.

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Posted this in tumblr ages ago, just realized I needed to post this here too.

For more worldbuilding questions and prompts, just find me in tumblr under the same penname.

Feedback is appreciated!

~hallen