He Onward Came
By: Bucket/Replacement for the Stars/filthyfreedom

Chapter Four:
Tails

He onward came, far off his coming shone,
And twenty thousand (I their number heard)
Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen:
Hee on the wings of Cherub rode sublime
Paradise Lost (John Milton), Book VI, Lines 768-771

(O.o)

Harry looked up when someone sat down at the table next to him. He met Malfoy's hard grey eyes and blinked innocently. "Did you believe there were not wards placed upon you to inform me that you have left your quarters?"

"Oh, I don't even know what those are," Harry assured him, feeding Argyll another piece of bacon. "Wards? Never heard of them."

Malfoy looked about six steps away from slamming his head against the table. Harry figured that would be quite undignified and sincerely hoped Malfoy would not do such a thing, as he had insofar succeeded at not dragging attention to himself by sitting in a shadowy corner and keeping his fringe over his scar. "Merlin, Potter, Severus was right," Malfoy snapped and imperiously waved Tom over. "You are the most ridiculous Gryffindor child to ever set foot upon this cursed earth."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Oh, I quite agree, Mr. Malfoy. Not only am I ridiculous, I am also quite foolish. It's in my blood, you see." The idea to agree completely with everything Snape said also worked quite well on all Slytherins. Harry would have to test this theory out once he returned to Hogwarts, especially after giving Malfoy Senior his reward for siring such a great git.

(O.o)

Harry and Malfoy Senior sat in the dark corner of the Leaky Caldron, Argyll in Harry's lap and Harry spinning his wand through his fingers, Tom occasionally glancing at them over the bar; they had been sitting together for the past three hours after finishing their breakfast, neither of them saying anything. Argyll poked his head over the top of the table and meowed obnoxiously loud, making Malfoy raise an eyebrow and slowly turn his head to stare unyieldingly at the kit.

The man hadn't hurt Harry or Argyll so far—not that Harry trusted the git; he was a right, pompous bastard and Harry bet he knew it—but he lifted Argyll up out of his lap and held the black kit out towards the Lord Malfoy. Argyll made a soft, moan-like sound in the back of his throat and Harry dropped him in Malfoy's lap as he stood up. Harry grinned widely as Malfoy jumped to his feet, making a sound like a disgusted, mild bark beneath his breath, and brushed Argyll off and to the floor. "Potter!" Malfoy snapped, flicking out his wand and cleaning his clothes and robes of the tiny black hairs, and Harry froze as all of the eyes in the place turned to them. "You fool! Dropping a cat on me; that animal is certainly diseased or infested with some vile critter! Merlin, Potter!"

Harry snatched Argyll up from the floor, where he was trying to bite the bottom hem of Malfoy's most certainly expensive black robes, and darted upstairs the moment before his name rose up like a man on a boat in the middle of the roaring sea; Harry moved over to his room and loudly closed the door behind him, clutching Argyll desperately to his chest. He had to go before Malfoy came up and probably smacked him or something, just like Uncle Vernon always did whenever he got mad at Harry. Harry grinned uneasily down at Argyll and when Malfoy opened the door to his room, Harry figured it was a bad idea to add onto Malfoy's rage at him by making him an award for siring a great git.


-Replacement