Chapter 3

When she came to, Esmeralda found herself curled up on a pillow, feeling incredibly content. She sat up, and lazily looked around. She turned herself to come face to face with the Dark Lord, red crimson eyes watching her. She hissed in surprise, and jumped back. Unfortunately, she was on the end of the bed, almost falling off when she jumped. With a muttered curse, Tom reached forward and grabbed her, pulling her close.

"You silly cat," he muttered, as he checked her over. She hissed and wriggled in his grip, feeling uncomfortable. He chuckled and let her. She bolted to the other side of the bed, before turning to regard him from atop the pillow placed there.

Esmeralda narrowed her eyes at Tom, checking if there was perhaps some ulterior motive for his actions.

"You know, it seems like you don't like me," tom said to her, as he lay lazily on his side, "It's strange, seeing as most other cats do,"

Esmeralda took the opportunity to observe him. He didn't look at all like the thing that had come out of the cauldron in the graveyard. In fact he looked like the memory from the diary, perhaps ten years older. The only thing that had remained the same was his eyes, still a gleaming crimson. Other than that, they could be two different people, the old Voldemort, and this new one.

Warily, she took a step towards him, taking in his scent as she did so. As soon as she did, she realised why it was other cats had taken him. He smelt of spices and coffee, with a musky undertone that added a level of warmth to his persona. All in all, he smelt good, and Esmeralda found herself being drawn towards him, unable to pull away.

Tom chuckled as she slowly walked forward, and when she was close enough, he reached out a hand. She flinched slightly, but allowed him to pet her. He smiled slightly, and pulled her close, so that he could scratch under her chin and behind her ears.

To her horror, Esmeralda found herself purring under his ministrations, and when she saw him smile, she decided that maybe he wasn't so bad. He looked nicer when he smiled, and it brought out the features of his face.

After a while he got out of bed, leaving her sitting against the pillow. Unhappily, she snuggled against his pillow, trying to find the remaining heat, as she watched him move around the room. Finally, he walked into what she supposed was the bathroom, and she got up, intending to explore the room.

She wandered over to the edge of the bed, and peered over, before abruptly pulling back. The bed was high, and she supposed it only looked like the edge of a cliff because she was tiny. Screwing up her courage, she peered over the edge again, and prepared herself to jump, hoping that the saying that a cat always landed on its feet was true.

Fortunately, before she could actually summon up the courage to jump, Tom walked back into the room, and spotted her on the edge of the bed.

"Hold up there Kitten," he said, scooping her up, and setting her back in the middle of the bed, "It's high, and you might get hurt. Don't try to jump off," his tone was warning, and Esmeralda meowed up at him, deciding to put her eyes to use.

Tom found himself subject to a pair of wide, glimmering green eyes that seemed to be filled with a pleading that made him feel as if he'd been completely unfair. Shaking his head as he attempted to clear his thoughts, he looked back to the cat, who looked so hopeful.

"Alright," he said, before setting her on the floor. He magicked the doors and windows shut, in case she got a little too adventurous, and left her at it.

Esmeralda could have crowed with delight, but her vocal chords weren't exactly capable of such a noise. She immediately started to explore the room, trying to see if there was anything of interest to be found. To her annoyance, the doors and windows were shut, leaving her trapped in the room. She used the various footstools and stacks of books lying around to make her way onto his desk, and she had fun shifting his reports so she could see them all. Finally, just to see what he would do, she climbed to the windowsill, and jumped onto the stack of papers, sending her, the papers, and a couple of inkwells tumbling to the floor.

She heard the tap turn off in the next room, and found herself the subject of a very annoyed red gaze from a pile of ink soaked reports. Tilting her head, she meowed innocently, wondering if he was going to hex her. Tom stared at her, standing in the doorway, half dressed, and still wet from his shower.

"Mordred! What did you do?!" he said, staring at the mess that was his desk and reports. Esmeralda didn't really see the difference except most of the papers were on the floor covered in ink.

"You bloody menace," growled Tom, picking her up and depositing her in an empty waste paper basket, before getting around to cleaning.

Quite unhappy with the arrangement, Esmeralda started to mewl, getting ready to build up to a full blown yowl, before she heard a knock on the door.

"Enter!" barked Tom, still busy cleaning.

"My lord?"