A/N: This takes place sometime between Marv arriving and Christmas. Written mostly because I needed a break from the next chapter of Last Resort and A Thin Line :)

Chapter 9

The door was closed. And no matter how long he stared at it, the bloody thing wouldn't open. Giving it one more glare, Voldemort turned and approached the bed where the twice damned boy was sleeping like the dead. Jumping up he settled at the foot of the bed. The boy was sprawled on his stomach in a sea star position. One of his bare feet was sticking out from under the cover and his head rested on his right arm. He was snoring softly, but not loud enough to disturb Voldemort's sleep.

Sighing, as well as a cat could sight, Voldemort let his tail curl around his body. He glared down at it. He seemingly had no control over the tail. It was something he hadn't notice the infrequent times he had used the form in the past. But now, trapped in the body of the cat he did however notice a whole lot of things about this form he couldn't control. The tail was one thing. Another was the cat's instinct that he really hadn't paid attention before. He knew, of course, that one had to be aware of the animal's instinct when becoming an animagus. There had been records of previous wizards and witches that had stayed in their animagus form too long, and had been caught in the instincts of the animal and slowly forgetting all about their human self, which was probably what the old fool hoped would happen…

The anger in him rose to new heights at the thought of the events that had bought him to this very moment, and he tried his best to quelled them. There was nothing he could do about his current situation. Dumbledore had made sure to do his research and the bloody collar around his neck was unbreakable in his current form. Glaring once more at the boy-who-bloody-well-wouldn't-die, he bared his teeth and wondered for the unnumbered time if it was possible to kill the boy in any way. That would at least teach the old fool a lesson.

A more pressing problem at the moment was that he was hungry, and he couldn't get down to the kitchen because the idiotic child on the bed had closed the door. Meowing loudly he tried to wake the boy, who in turn, simply muttered something and turned his head.

Annoyed Voldemort lashed out with his paw and struck the boy across the sole of the foot with his claws. THAT got a reaction. The boy jumped and more or less turned in the air.

"MARV! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!" The sound was intensified by the sensitive ears of the cat and Voldemort almost winced. Perhaps that hadn't been the most thought out idea. Still, he held his ground and glared. He was hungry damned it, and it was the boy's responsibility to feed him. Luckily, the boy seemed to get the point, because he glared before getting out of bed and throwing on a bathrobe before opening the door.

"Yezzz, Marv. Couldn't you have found some other way to wake me, or waited," he grumbled. Voldemort ignored him in favour of bounding down the stairs. He had to give this form that, it was amazingly fun to move about in. All class and elegance and smoot movements. And the damned tail that lived its own life. Turning the corner to the kitchen he was delighted to see the poor house elf just inside with a stake of plates in his hands. Narrowing his eyes Voldemort slowed down and snuck up on the poor thing. Coming in close he bared his teeth and hissed. The poor thing shrieked and promptly dropped the whole stack just at the boy came around the corner.

Very pleased, Voldemort sauntered over to the fridge and sat down. Meowing loudly, he turned his head. Potter was standing by the door, his head in both hands while the snivelling creature was apologising, bowing, scraping and trembling in fear of a punishment Voldemort knew would never come. He meowed louder and scratched at the door to the fridge. Couldn't the boy hurry up and feed him? The sound seemed to wake Potter from his thoughts as he came over and Voldemort looked up at the door, expecting it to be opened.

What he didn't expect however was the hand that grabbed him by the nap of his neck and lifted him. Furious he lashed out and kicked, but the boy had the good sense to hold him well away from his body. Deciding that it was pointless Voldemort allowed himself to be carried in lack of better options. Sometimes his animagus form was completely useless. The humiliation was grating, but not enough to quell his anger at the two people who had put him in this situation.

He knew the boy had not been told of his true identity. Most likely some scheme or another from Dumbledore. How he hated that man! As such, Potter simply treated him as he would any other cat. And apparently a cat who managed to be the culprit of destroying a stake of plates was cast out without breakfast.

Voldemort hissed as his feet landed on the terrace, which was wet from the rain. Before he could turn the door slammed shut behind him. Great. Sulking, not that he would admit he was sulking, he settled close to the door, eyes pinned, and his fur fluffed against the cold. If he was lucky then he looked pitiful enough for the boy to let him back in. After waiting patiently for a little while, the door opened and he ran in, sliding across the floorboards and into the kitchen. The poor elf turned all too fast and the pitcher of whatever he was carrying fell to the floor and broke, liquid spilling all over the tiles.

######

The warmth of the fire felt nice against the fur. He slowly stretched out the long body feeling the muscles strain against the movement in a good way. Yawning, he slowly opened his eyes and watch the room from his upside-down position lying on his back. At the far end of the room the boy was sitting at his desk, working on something or another. He looked up as Voldemort moved and Voldemort could see a smile cross his face. Standing up the boy moved over and crouched down where Voldemort was stretched out.

Keeping a wary eye on the boy Voldemort wondered what he wanted. The question was answered as the boy reached out and gently scratched him behind one ear. Mm, he wanted to claw at the boy, but the sensation of his ear being scratched was all that unpleasant. He hummed but stopped abruptly as the boy smiled even more. The realisation that he had been purring hit him like a sledgehammer. Mortification and humiliation battled for the dominant position and he rolled over, hissing and growling.

"Whoa," Harry said, pulling the hand that had been scratching at Voldemort away quickly. "Merlin, Marv. You have more mood swings than a pregnant hippogriff."

And, of course, that stupid name. Although it was better than Tom which the stupid child had tried to name him. Voldemort would have preferred his own name, but he could see how the boy might frighten most of his friends when calling for him. Marv had been acceptable he guessed. A play on his middle name he was sure. Still it was better than Fluffy…

"Harry?" The voice came from the floor below where the fireplace was located. Voldemort recognised the voice immediately. The bloody old fool again. He had been showing up regularly the month while Voldemort had been staying with the little golden boy. Steps could be heard up the stairs.

Dumbledore took in the sigh before him before moving over to Harry. "You all right my boy?"

Voldemort wanted to roll his eyes. Considering what the moron had put the boy through over the last ten years he was surprised they were on speaking terms at all. A glance down told him that the uncontrollable tail was twisting rapidly in anger. Well, at least he and the tail agreed on something.

"Yes, Marv just being his usual charming self." Harry got to his feet and lead Dumbledore out of the room and Voldemort could hear them descending the stairs. Slightly curious Voldemort followed. He could hear them settle in the living room. He sat down just outside the room and peered in around the corner. Harry was moving towards the kitchen, probably to get tea for the unwelcome guest. Too bad there was no way to murder Dumbledore while in this form. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to kill him even when in his human form. The whole thing was grating. Couldn't he just drop dead, soon preferably?

Lost in his own thoughts he didn't see Dumbledore turn in his seat. But as he stood and moved over towards the door Voldemort drew back his lips, showing of scarp teeth.

"Hello, Tom." Voldemort growled. The tail whipped back and forth. He knew the bloody man was using his birthname to rile him up, regrettably it worked every time.

"Yes, I would assume you are still quite cross with me." Cross wouldn't exactly cover the feelings Voldemort had towards the man in front of him. Blistering rage would perhaps be more fitting.

Before Dumbledore could find something else to say, Harry returned with a tray which he put on the low coffee table. "You two getting along?" The boy looked dubious as he asked. Voldemort couldn't blame him.

It wasn't exactly a secret that he didn't like the man, or that Marv didn't like the man to be more correct. He assumed to boy either wouldn't have been to friendly if Voldemort had trapped him in his animagus form and forced him to live with his enemy. In respons, Voldemort growled and pointily walked past Dumbledore, jumping onto the chair the man had sat in and laid down. If the two morons were to talk, then he wanted to listen just in case it might be something he could use at a later date.

######

His latest attempt to kill the boy had unfortunately … failed. Not that he had thought it would work out as planned, but he had figured it was worth a try. He had tried to make the boy trip on his way down the stair multiple times, but no luck. The annoying child had somehow managed to stay on his feet every time… The whole thing was vexing to say the least.

The newest idea had been to try and sleep on top of the boy's chest and face in hopes of suffocating the boy while he slept. That could probably have worked if his fur had not made the boy sneeze and wake. The good thing was that the boy had not suspected what Voldemort was up to and had simply smiled at him, petting him, and turned over to fall asleep again on his side. Voldemort wanted to claw out the boy's eyes. Perhaps that was a thought for another day…

He took his irritation out on the toy mouse the busy-haired mudblood had brought him. He really didn't like the mouse, but there was something about the smell of it that drew him in like a moth to the flame. The smell did something funny to his mind, made it go all cotton-feeling-like and he just wanted to drink in the smell. Twisting he pulled the mouse to his chest and rubbed his face against it. Mhm, there was something about that smell that was just addictive.

Finally tiring himself out he collapsed in front of the fireplace and more or less passed out. Sleeping deeply until a familiar smell penetrated his senses, making him open his eyes. Meat! Scrambling to his feet he more or less ran into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in front of the counter.

"Marv, awake I see," the boy said in a dry tone, with a note of amusement.

Voldemort meowed, eyeing the beautiful steak that was laying on a plate on the counter.

Potter sighed, lifting Voldemort, and putting him down in front of his bowl of kibbles.

"Here is your food, leave my steak alone." Voldemort looked down at the kibbles and wanted to sneer. Kibbles. It tasted like cardboard. Only reason he ate them was in lack of better things. He had tried a mouse he had caught, but if he was to be honest, it hadn't exactly tasted good.

"What?" The boy asked, sounded exhausted. "It's the best kibbles money can buy."

Voldemort glared, trying to communicate just how not impressed he was. The boy sighed. "I give up," he muttered and turned towards the fridge. Eying an opportunity Voldemort ran, jumped and landing on the counter. Grabbing the steak, he turned to jump down only to be met with a very angry Potter who was in fact pointing his wand at him. Twisting his ears, Voldemort considered his chances. There was no way the boy was going to hurt him, that he knew.

"Marv, let go of that," the boy threatened. Or what? Voldemort thought. Deciding it was worth the risk he jumped down and ran for the door from the kitchen to the hallway.

"Get back here!"

Voldemort could hear the boy move to follow behind him, but he didn't slow down. Taking the corner as fast as he could and running straight into the annoying house elf. He bawled into the creature, taking it with him.

As a result, the elf dropped the stake of teacups and plates from the meeting for the Order that had taken place earlier that it had been levitating beside itself. They came crashing down, breaking and smashing into the floor around them. Shaking his head slightly, Voldemort got to his feet and he bounded up the stairs to the top floor.

Behind him he could hear the elf stuttering excuses and Potter yelling "MARV. GET THE BLOODY HELL BACK HERE!"