Chapter Ten: The Luggage has Kittens
The days passed rapidly now that Severus and Hermione were no longer achingly tempted to tear out each other's throats. Evenings spent recounting Hermione's childhood became evenings filled with more two-sided conversation. No more blow-ups happened. Now that the simmering tension between the pair had been released, the dungeons were a slightly more pleasant place to live. They were still cold, damp and draughty, but they weren't quite as explosive. (At least, when the luggage was napping, that was.)
Surprisingly, the luggage had started to curtail its adventures to the dungeons and Hermione's immediate vicinity, after what came to be known as the McGonagall incident. The two main activities of the suitcase were dogging Hermione's feet and guarding the end of her bed, which, as Snape acridly remarked, would make life interesting for one Mr Ronald Weasley once school resumed and he returned to his amorous pursuits. Hermione hadn't been quite sure how to take that comment. Not that she hadn't ever looked at Ron that way, of course, but she'd never seriously thought of going to bed with him. But even if she'd wanted to, as he'd observed, they'd have to contend with a highly jealous trunk first.
The great alteration of the luggage's behaviour was, of course, due to the presence of Professor Minerva McGonagall. Having been chased by the luggage in her animagi form on her first day back at school, she took an immediate dislike to the trunk as great as Dumbledore's liking, drawing her wand threateningly whenever she had the chance.
The luggage was shocked, hurt and a little puzzled. Furry little yowling things weren't supposed to turn into sour faced witches with a grudge! Hermione had tried to soothe the ruffled egos as best she could, but the luggage's lid and McGonagall's tail remained firmly out of joint. The relationship between her Head of House and her suitcase progressed best when they were at opposite ends of the castle. Try as she might, there wasn't really much that she could do about it.
There was one other major problem that the luggage had caused, however, and this she could remedy, at least to an extent.
So that was how Hermione Granger and Severus Snape
("Did you really think I would allow you to go gallivating around by yourself, Miss Granger?"
"You just don't want to be left out of any fun."
"I refuse to dignify that with a comment!")
came to be standing in the Hogsmeade pet shop, looking over the selection of felines with critical eyes.
"Do you think he'd like that one?" Hermione asked dubiously, picking up a sleepy black and white furball.
Snape shook his head. "No. Too docile."
"How about this one, then?"
"Miss Granger! The thing is chewing on your sleeve!"
"That's what kittens do, Professor. Would you like to hold him?"
"I don't think-"
"See, he likes you!" she announced triumphantly.
Severus glanced down at the long tortoiseshell tail that was wrapped firmly around his arm. The kitten it was attached to was bathing his hand with a dry, rough tongue, and rumbling deeply within its tiny chest.
"I don't think it would be wise to introduce any more felines to the vicinity of that monster of yours than is absolutely necessary," he said weakly. He stroked the little furry head absently with long, well-licked fingers.
Hermione looked across at the luggage, which was sitting in the doorway and preventing anyone from entering or leaving the shop. "You. Suitcase. Come here," she said loudly. The trunk shuddered visibly in response. Lifting itself up onto many gnarled and hairy, dirty feet, it trotted obediently over to her side.
"I really don't think this is wise, Miss Granger," Severus protested, watching the luggage with distrust and suspicion. She sighed. "It'll be fine. C'mon, give him here." Not without visible reluctance, he allowed her to take the kitten and place it on the floor next to the case.
"Now, make friends," she instructed them. "Luggage, you're not allowed to harass him, because he's going to be living with Professor Snape, and we all have to get along."
"Now, wait a minute," the aforementioned Professor Snape protested loudly, "I haven't said I'm buying that thing!"
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Oh, haven't you?"
After a cursory study of the kitten, the trunk seemed to lose interest and waggled its lid in Hermione's direction. "Yes?" she asked it calmly.
It shook itself once, then prodded the kitten with an experimental toe. The kitten promptly jumped on it, batting it with alternate front paws. Long-sufferingly, the luggage tried to exude an air of being put-upon. It jiggled pitiably. One foot pawed the ground with a soft, pathetic scuff.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop complaining," she said. "You're not really suffering. You're just like him, really," and she flashed a quick and mischievous glance at Snape, "you act all tough and nasty, but you're not all bad."
"I object to being compared with a homicidal suitcase!"
"Well…it's not really homicidal, is it?" She gestured at the luggage, which had given in and was now wagging alternate toes for the kitten to pounce on. "Could you call that homicidal?"
He smirked. "I'd bet Professor McGonagall would."
Trying to keep a straight face didn't work for long. Despite her efforts, Hermione broke out laughing. "That was cruel," she argued.
"But I've never seen her run so fast," Snape observed innocently. "It was positively educational. Who would think that our strict professor could have so much fur sticking up at once?"
"Oh, please," she groaned. "No wonder you two don't get along. You're always bickering and sniping at each other like an old married couple."
Snape scowled in indignation. "When I develop any slight romantic interest in Professor McGonagall, I will hang myself," he announced, sneering coldly. "I can assure you, my interests are firmly in another direction."
Hermione wasn't sure whether to be hopeful, curious or offended. She didn't think he meant he was like Remus, but…if she wasn't careful, and he was, well, she could end up embarrassing herself pretty greatly.
Sneaking another glance at him when he was once again involved in perusing the cats, she wondered how she could have let herself start thinking about him in such a way. Thinking Like That Meant Trouble, said a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like a conscience. Only it was bad luck, since it had woken up far too late. Trouble or not, Hermione had already begun to Think Like That. Though she wasn't sure she liked it, she wasn't sure that she disliked it either. Now that they weren't trading insults in every conversation (well, not nasty ones, anyway), Snape's company was fun. Like sniping around with Harry and Ron, although they weren't ever quite so…intense. Around them, she always felt like the third wheel on a bicycle anyway. Capable of running in synch, but certainly not necessary.
"How about this one?"
"What?"
"This kitten, Miss Granger. For Filch?" The scraggly, toothy specimen he held up had claws extended and a baleful, contemptuous glare.
"Oh, it's perfect!" she laughed. "Where did you find him?"
He nodded towards the shop-owner, a middle-aged weedy carrot-stick man with a moustache, glasses and a nervous twitch. "Mr Parry had him out the back, since he's not exactly the best advertisement for the stock. Besides, he apparently tends to attack or frighten the other animals when he has the chance."
"Definitely perfect," Hermione repeated with feeling.
Glancing down, she noticed that the little tortoiseshell kitten was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, she thought, a trifle sadly, it had been worth a try. Snape needed something to fuss over, but maybe he wasn't that obviously baited. Tempted. Whatever.
Between Snape and Parry the young cat eventually found its way into a carry case. It wasn't fully grown, but this tom would certainly be a monster when he was. A foul, evil minded monster, to look at how he was developing so far. Certainly a fair match for Mrs Norris' foul and withered old heart. Wherever it was now.
Mr Parry cleared his throat loudly. Getting back behind his counter, he picked up a small strip of parchment and gave it a final flick with his quill, tallying figures. "That'll be 2 galleons for the fiend, ah, cat, and 5 for the girl. That little lady of yours has good breeding lines, you know," and he winked roguishly.
Hermione spluttered incoherently.
Choking with laughter, Severus handed over a palmful of galleons and accepted the second cat carrier from behind the counter.
"Okay, laugh all you like," she said huffily as soon as they were out of the shop. "It's funny, I'm sure it is." Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him.
Weakly, Snape put down the carriers and tried vainly to stop smiling. "If you had seen your face…"
"I don't care."
"…priceless…better than Minerva's…"
"I'm starting to sympathise with her, you know."
He recovered himself slightly. "Apparently we misjudged her gender."
"McGonagall's?" asked Hermione, archly, setting him off again.
She'd never seen him laugh so much before.
"No, the kitten! Oh, you know what I mean…" he gestured vaguely, still smirking with amusement.
"Okay, okay. I'll let you off the hook." This time, her expression said. "Have you decided on a name for her yet?"
He shook his head. "Something will suggest itself, I am sure. In these matters, something always does."
"I just hope Filch likes his kitten, now we've gone to the trouble of getting it for him," Hermione replied, hefting the carrier with the yellow eyed, black fur tom. Rather smugly she thought, Severus picked up the one containing his new acquisition.
Filch adored him.
Moggy and master exchanged curious looks before the one began to rumble loudly, and the other developed suspiciously bright, beady eyes.
Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione said, "Seeing as it was my fault and all about Mrs Norris, I mean, it was my trunk that, ah…"
"Well, at least yeh're decent about it," Filch muttered.
"Um, yeah."
"Come 'ere, lassie." To Hermione's horror, the caretaker, still cradling the cat in one arm, proceeded to put the other one around her shoulders and squeeze. "Thank yeh," he mumbled into her hair.
Awkwardly, Hermione raised a tentative hand to pat his shoulder. The cat spat at her. She quickly pulled it back and narrowly escaped being scratched.
Filch, releasing her, hugged the tom in both arms and bid her an incoherent good-day, blinking misty-eyed every time his arms were needled by friendly claws.
When he was gone, Hermione turned to glare at Snape, who was managing to both smirk and chuckle evilly at once.
"Not a word," she hissed. "Not a word."
Hermione swept past him as regally as she could achieve.
Her final words floated back to him. "I need a bath. Now."
Severus decided offering to help was out of the question, and under the circumstances, might very well be misconstrued.
Weakly he regarded the furball fast asleep on his hand, and, somewhat surprised, the luggage that was watching him expectantly. It seemed even the most intrepid of travelling accessories knew not to interfere with its Mistress when she was in a bad mood.
If only Argus could have borrowed some of its tact!
Still smirking, but feeling quite laughed-out for one day, Severus waited a further five minutes to ensure he didn't run into Hermione in the hallway, then set off for the dungeons himself, luggage trailing obediently behind.
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer – Same as (nearly) always. Nothing new this time.
The days passed rapidly now that Severus and Hermione were no longer achingly tempted to tear out each other's throats. Evenings spent recounting Hermione's childhood became evenings filled with more two-sided conversation. No more blow-ups happened. Now that the simmering tension between the pair had been released, the dungeons were a slightly more pleasant place to live. They were still cold, damp and draughty, but they weren't quite as explosive. (At least, when the luggage was napping, that was.)
Surprisingly, the luggage had started to curtail its adventures to the dungeons and Hermione's immediate vicinity, after what came to be known as the McGonagall incident. The two main activities of the suitcase were dogging Hermione's feet and guarding the end of her bed, which, as Snape acridly remarked, would make life interesting for one Mr Ronald Weasley once school resumed and he returned to his amorous pursuits. Hermione hadn't been quite sure how to take that comment. Not that she hadn't ever looked at Ron that way, of course, but she'd never seriously thought of going to bed with him. But even if she'd wanted to, as he'd observed, they'd have to contend with a highly jealous trunk first.
The great alteration of the luggage's behaviour was, of course, due to the presence of Professor Minerva McGonagall. Having been chased by the luggage in her animagi form on her first day back at school, she took an immediate dislike to the trunk as great as Dumbledore's liking, drawing her wand threateningly whenever she had the chance.
The luggage was shocked, hurt and a little puzzled. Furry little yowling things weren't supposed to turn into sour faced witches with a grudge! Hermione had tried to soothe the ruffled egos as best she could, but the luggage's lid and McGonagall's tail remained firmly out of joint. The relationship between her Head of House and her suitcase progressed best when they were at opposite ends of the castle. Try as she might, there wasn't really much that she could do about it.
There was one other major problem that the luggage had caused, however, and this she could remedy, at least to an extent.
So that was how Hermione Granger and Severus Snape
("Did you really think I would allow you to go gallivating around by yourself, Miss Granger?"
"You just don't want to be left out of any fun."
"I refuse to dignify that with a comment!")
came to be standing in the Hogsmeade pet shop, looking over the selection of felines with critical eyes.
"Do you think he'd like that one?" Hermione asked dubiously, picking up a sleepy black and white furball.
Snape shook his head. "No. Too docile."
"How about this one, then?"
"Miss Granger! The thing is chewing on your sleeve!"
"That's what kittens do, Professor. Would you like to hold him?"
"I don't think-"
"See, he likes you!" she announced triumphantly.
Severus glanced down at the long tortoiseshell tail that was wrapped firmly around his arm. The kitten it was attached to was bathing his hand with a dry, rough tongue, and rumbling deeply within its tiny chest.
"I don't think it would be wise to introduce any more felines to the vicinity of that monster of yours than is absolutely necessary," he said weakly. He stroked the little furry head absently with long, well-licked fingers.
Hermione looked across at the luggage, which was sitting in the doorway and preventing anyone from entering or leaving the shop. "You. Suitcase. Come here," she said loudly. The trunk shuddered visibly in response. Lifting itself up onto many gnarled and hairy, dirty feet, it trotted obediently over to her side.
"I really don't think this is wise, Miss Granger," Severus protested, watching the luggage with distrust and suspicion. She sighed. "It'll be fine. C'mon, give him here." Not without visible reluctance, he allowed her to take the kitten and place it on the floor next to the case.
"Now, make friends," she instructed them. "Luggage, you're not allowed to harass him, because he's going to be living with Professor Snape, and we all have to get along."
"Now, wait a minute," the aforementioned Professor Snape protested loudly, "I haven't said I'm buying that thing!"
Hermione smiled sweetly. "Oh, haven't you?"
After a cursory study of the kitten, the trunk seemed to lose interest and waggled its lid in Hermione's direction. "Yes?" she asked it calmly.
It shook itself once, then prodded the kitten with an experimental toe. The kitten promptly jumped on it, batting it with alternate front paws. Long-sufferingly, the luggage tried to exude an air of being put-upon. It jiggled pitiably. One foot pawed the ground with a soft, pathetic scuff.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop complaining," she said. "You're not really suffering. You're just like him, really," and she flashed a quick and mischievous glance at Snape, "you act all tough and nasty, but you're not all bad."
"I object to being compared with a homicidal suitcase!"
"Well…it's not really homicidal, is it?" She gestured at the luggage, which had given in and was now wagging alternate toes for the kitten to pounce on. "Could you call that homicidal?"
He smirked. "I'd bet Professor McGonagall would."
Trying to keep a straight face didn't work for long. Despite her efforts, Hermione broke out laughing. "That was cruel," she argued.
"But I've never seen her run so fast," Snape observed innocently. "It was positively educational. Who would think that our strict professor could have so much fur sticking up at once?"
"Oh, please," she groaned. "No wonder you two don't get along. You're always bickering and sniping at each other like an old married couple."
Snape scowled in indignation. "When I develop any slight romantic interest in Professor McGonagall, I will hang myself," he announced, sneering coldly. "I can assure you, my interests are firmly in another direction."
Hermione wasn't sure whether to be hopeful, curious or offended. She didn't think he meant he was like Remus, but…if she wasn't careful, and he was, well, she could end up embarrassing herself pretty greatly.
Sneaking another glance at him when he was once again involved in perusing the cats, she wondered how she could have let herself start thinking about him in such a way. Thinking Like That Meant Trouble, said a little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like a conscience. Only it was bad luck, since it had woken up far too late. Trouble or not, Hermione had already begun to Think Like That. Though she wasn't sure she liked it, she wasn't sure that she disliked it either. Now that they weren't trading insults in every conversation (well, not nasty ones, anyway), Snape's company was fun. Like sniping around with Harry and Ron, although they weren't ever quite so…intense. Around them, she always felt like the third wheel on a bicycle anyway. Capable of running in synch, but certainly not necessary.
"How about this one?"
"What?"
"This kitten, Miss Granger. For Filch?" The scraggly, toothy specimen he held up had claws extended and a baleful, contemptuous glare.
"Oh, it's perfect!" she laughed. "Where did you find him?"
He nodded towards the shop-owner, a middle-aged weedy carrot-stick man with a moustache, glasses and a nervous twitch. "Mr Parry had him out the back, since he's not exactly the best advertisement for the stock. Besides, he apparently tends to attack or frighten the other animals when he has the chance."
"Definitely perfect," Hermione repeated with feeling.
Glancing down, she noticed that the little tortoiseshell kitten was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, she thought, a trifle sadly, it had been worth a try. Snape needed something to fuss over, but maybe he wasn't that obviously baited. Tempted. Whatever.
Between Snape and Parry the young cat eventually found its way into a carry case. It wasn't fully grown, but this tom would certainly be a monster when he was. A foul, evil minded monster, to look at how he was developing so far. Certainly a fair match for Mrs Norris' foul and withered old heart. Wherever it was now.
Mr Parry cleared his throat loudly. Getting back behind his counter, he picked up a small strip of parchment and gave it a final flick with his quill, tallying figures. "That'll be 2 galleons for the fiend, ah, cat, and 5 for the girl. That little lady of yours has good breeding lines, you know," and he winked roguishly.
Hermione spluttered incoherently.
Choking with laughter, Severus handed over a palmful of galleons and accepted the second cat carrier from behind the counter.
"Okay, laugh all you like," she said huffily as soon as they were out of the shop. "It's funny, I'm sure it is." Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him.
Weakly, Snape put down the carriers and tried vainly to stop smiling. "If you had seen your face…"
"I don't care."
"…priceless…better than Minerva's…"
"I'm starting to sympathise with her, you know."
He recovered himself slightly. "Apparently we misjudged her gender."
"McGonagall's?" asked Hermione, archly, setting him off again.
She'd never seen him laugh so much before.
"No, the kitten! Oh, you know what I mean…" he gestured vaguely, still smirking with amusement.
"Okay, okay. I'll let you off the hook." This time, her expression said. "Have you decided on a name for her yet?"
He shook his head. "Something will suggest itself, I am sure. In these matters, something always does."
"I just hope Filch likes his kitten, now we've gone to the trouble of getting it for him," Hermione replied, hefting the carrier with the yellow eyed, black fur tom. Rather smugly she thought, Severus picked up the one containing his new acquisition.
Filch adored him.
Moggy and master exchanged curious looks before the one began to rumble loudly, and the other developed suspiciously bright, beady eyes.
Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione said, "Seeing as it was my fault and all about Mrs Norris, I mean, it was my trunk that, ah…"
"Well, at least yeh're decent about it," Filch muttered.
"Um, yeah."
"Come 'ere, lassie." To Hermione's horror, the caretaker, still cradling the cat in one arm, proceeded to put the other one around her shoulders and squeeze. "Thank yeh," he mumbled into her hair.
Awkwardly, Hermione raised a tentative hand to pat his shoulder. The cat spat at her. She quickly pulled it back and narrowly escaped being scratched.
Filch, releasing her, hugged the tom in both arms and bid her an incoherent good-day, blinking misty-eyed every time his arms were needled by friendly claws.
When he was gone, Hermione turned to glare at Snape, who was managing to both smirk and chuckle evilly at once.
"Not a word," she hissed. "Not a word."
Hermione swept past him as regally as she could achieve.
Her final words floated back to him. "I need a bath. Now."
Severus decided offering to help was out of the question, and under the circumstances, might very well be misconstrued.
Weakly he regarded the furball fast asleep on his hand, and, somewhat surprised, the luggage that was watching him expectantly. It seemed even the most intrepid of travelling accessories knew not to interfere with its Mistress when she was in a bad mood.
If only Argus could have borrowed some of its tact!
Still smirking, but feeling quite laughed-out for one day, Severus waited a further five minutes to ensure he didn't run into Hermione in the hallway, then set off for the dungeons himself, luggage trailing obediently behind.
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer – Same as (nearly) always. Nothing new this time.