I must confess to a certain amount of incredulous shock to find that a greater number of people have deigned to give approval for this little thing. I am in raptures. I do not know how to properly express the extent of my gratitude, but I shall endeavor to do so. Please bear with me.
Redrum, as you are the first reviewer of the second chapter, I must express the profound happiness that your review has given me. I hope that this chapter meets with your approval.
Kateri1, bluebird161221, snowlight144, Zaira-Draco, Wolf Lupin, AngelDragonStar, The Goddess Artemis, Mystical Witch, npetrenko, RavensHaelo, Sylvester, da bunny, Himestu Hime, WitchWay, Sara Wolfe, Vixxy D, psycho tabby cat, Draconnis, sly4, Aerhiana, Sylvanus Snape, Honor, I am deeply grateful to all of you for taking the time out of your lives to review this story. I hope that this chapter will meet with your kind approval, and, if not, I shall endeavor with utmost dedication to rectify the situation. Thank you for your wonderful patience.
Chyna, I am glad that you found my story to your liking despite the fact that it is not angst.
chibijed, I have not read that manga, but it sounds most delightful! Thank you for your kind words.
evelia, I am once again unsure of what words to use in order to properly express how delighted I am that you continue to favor this story with such kindly regards. My chief joy, aside from writing itself, is to find that people appreciate my efforts. I am deeply indebted to you for all the kindness that you have shown.
Jane, Well, I do not wish to divulge too much, but Harry-cat will not learn English; the reason will be discussed at a later date, I'm afraid. Additionally, he is not a robot, but a genetically and magically engineered life form. Thank you for the exuberance with which you reviewed. I am ever so happy that you like my story.
Maximum Poofy-Pissed Off Queen, I adore MegaTokyo (though I have been a tad unfaithful in the recent months due to a hectic life). Harry-cat isn't a robot, though. I am glad that my story has garnered your approval.
sakurakawaiicherry, Hai, soo desu yo. Doozo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.
ShadowWolf, Yes, thanks to a very kind reviewer, I have found the location of my inspirational picture, and it is, indeed, from that site. Thank you for your kind encouragement.
xikum, You have quite accurately discerned the other half of the inspiration. Loveable nuisances, ne?
Dark Mage Natalus, I am glad that your squee-er got better!
Illucia, Your confusion shall be set straight, hopefully, with the coming of following chapters. Yes, I do suppose the potions master should come under interrogation for his response towards Harry-cat, and I have no excuse sufficient to address your concerns. I suppose it must simply be accepted without searching for deeper meanings. Thank you, nonetheless, for you words. I am glad that you still found something in this story to entertain you.
Limited Edition Harry-Cat
After sending his letters off, Severus stops at the lavatory to relieve himself. Upon opening the door to leave, he finds a distinctly distraught house-elf wringing the hem of its pillowcase kirtle. Though he has a sense of what has upset the creature, there still remains a twisted hope that he is wrong. What he wouldn't give to be wrong this once!
"What is the matter, Minsc?" Now Schrodinger's theoretical box has been opened.
"Something is being in the kitchen, Master Snape, sir," the elf wails as large tears begin to drip from its bulbous eyes. "Minsc and the others can't be doing anything!"
The migraine wakes up with a raucous cheer of celebration. The aggrieved potions master pinches the bridge of his nose and contemplates becoming a religious man. Mayhaps then he will have some peace and quiet. A resounding crash from downstairs reminds him that the present requires his immediate attention.
Brushing past the wailing house-elf, he stalks down to the kitchen. As he reaches the door, it swings open and a panicked elf with its head stuck in a large bag of confectioner's sugar races out. Several more tumble after it as it strews white power everywhere in its attempts to free itself. Inside he can hear more elves crying out for 'something' to stop. The man has a good idea of what that something is, too.
A strained growl trickles past his thin lips as he throws the door open and takes measure of the full magnitude of destruction and chaos within. Copper pots and pans lie scattered on the floor. White flour covers every surface, several inches thick in some places. Sticky puddles of various sauces and syrups decorate the floor and counters—and many of the elves as well. Broken crockery testifies to the passage of a singularly determined creature.
Severus finds said creature on top of the icebox in the process of upending his last box of Darjeeling tea. Harry-cat ignores the frantic shrieks of the house-elves to stop and paws at a jar, which the man knows to contain peanut butter cookies, his favorite cookies.
"Prr," Harry-cat says as he manages to pry it open.
"You!" Severus shouts as he strides through the mess and elves, which quickly part to allow him passage. The cat-boy stops, one hand in the jar, and smiles down at the man from his precarious position. He does not appear to find anything amiss. White flour dusts his dark hair and delicate nose and chin.
"Mrr." He fishes out a cookie and takes a cheerful bite. Absently he licks the crumbs from the corners of his mouth.
"Get down this instant, you little cretin!"
Severus realizes his mistake when the cat-child's tail stiffens and his body tenses. With a happy mew the creature launches himself from the top of the icebox. Now, all physical resemblance to a cat aside, the human body is of such a mass and proportion as to make falling from a distance not a recommended idea. With this in mind Severus throws himself forward to arrest the cat-boy's imminent landing upon the floor. He soon finds himself prostrate upon his back with a heavy weight mewling softly against his chest and the wind knocked out of him. Anxiously Harry-cat nips his face and ears, all the while making soft noises of concern.
A moment of insanity descends upon him as he finds himself unable to order his body to depose the creature from atop of him. Now he cannot even use the excuse of being winded from the fall, as his breathing returns to normal. Yet, he still does not move. Manfully he begins to justify this unwillingness to remove the cat-boy. The reasons disintegrate when a warm, sandpapery tongue briefly flicks across the whorls of his sensitive ears.
"Off! Get off!" Severus yells, ignoring the panic spiking his voice. This whole situation breathes of unreality. Breathing harshly he sits up, causing the cat-child to tumble into his lap; Harry-cat doesn't seem adverse to this position, either. Absently the potions master rubs his molested ear. He can still feel the silkily abrasive texture of the creature's pointed pink tongue. Said tongue plays coltishly across the creature's blushing lips. An inexplicably tightening of the man's entire body sets off the panic alarms again.
Feeling put out and damning the capriciousness of his own body, Severus stands up and growls menacingly. House-elves scatter with supersonic alacrity. Harry-cat investigates the spilled tea upon the floor. He sniffs inquisitively and, with a look of comical astonishment, sneezes loudly. The tea rises in a loose cloud and settles on him. The potions master is almost startled into a laugh—'almost' being the key word. Instead he frowns severely.
"Mrr," the cat-child grouses shaking his head.
"What did you think you were doing?" Green eyes turn to regard him earnestly.
"Mrr." A delicate rumbling originating from the creature's stomach answers his question.
"You're hungry?" Harry-cat nods enthusiastically. Deciding to put aside the matter of the creature's inexplicable escape, he summons one of the flighty elves. He grabs the cat-boy's slender arm and drags him to the dinning room. It is time to see if the thing has any table etiquette.
* * *
Cold roast beef and milk seem to be to Harry-cat's satisfaction. He shows no signs, however, of having any clue as to how to use dinning utensils. Yet he is quite a fastidious eater and, having been cleaned with a simple spell, he is immaculate. He makes a point of licking clean each finger after every bite.
Severus finds this most distracting, though he tells himself he is distracted by revulsion, that the tingle in his stomach is disgust. A particularly malicious corner of his mind begins to taunt him with the truth of the sensation.
Glaring at the remains of his roast beef sandwich, he pushes the chair back and stands up. Harry-cat, in the process of nibbling upon a bread roll, looks at him curiously.
"Come here," the man commands tersely. Harry-cat stuffs the rest of the roll in his mouth, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's, and gracefully slips from the chair to pad around the table to the potions master's side. Inquiringly he cocks his head, ears twitching inquisitively and tail slowly lashing the air.
"Don't think about getting comfortable here," Severus snarls. "I'm sending you back as soon as BioSorce sends a reply."
"Meow!" Harry-cat cries in alarm.
"You are a menace and an unwanted nuisance and the sooner you're gone the better." The cat-boy's ears flatten against his skull and he glares sullenly at the towering man. "I have no clue how you managed to escape my spells, but if you dare destroy any more of my property, I will cast something more permanent."
He doesn't comprehend the mechanics of the creature's mind, but he does know that Harry-cat understands him. The reactions to his words, despite the creature's obstinate disregard, proves this to be true. For a moment the fact that such a creation could be sanctioned for retail sale disturbs him. It boarders on slavery, but then, he admits, so does the servitude of house-elves and other such cognitive creatures.
Unwilling to think upon the moral and social ramifications of such practices, he returns to the most important—in his mind—matter at hand: how to get rid of the annoyingly saccharine Harry-cat.
With a sniff of disdain and affront, Harry-cat pads away without a backwards glance. Before Severus can think to intercept the precocious creature a house-elf pops in holding a letter. He grabs the letter with such swiftness that the elf shrieks and faints dead away in fright.
Disappointment—and relief?—immediately assails him. The letter is not, indeed, from Albus, but instead from BioSorce. The company's glittering gold emblem of a crossed graduated cylinder and wand sends out small bubbles and sparks into the air. The potions master growls disapprovingly at this tawdry display and rips the thing open.
'Dear valued customer,' the letter begins. The cheerfulness seems to ooze off the parchment. Severus has the sudden urge to wash his hands in lye. Resolutely he continues to read. 'We here at BioSorce deeply regret that you have found the Limited Edition Harry-cat to be dissatisfying. Due to genetic manipulation the Harry-cat cannot be resold without unfortunate consequences, both for Harry-cat and the prospective buyers. The addition of avian DNA ensures that the Harry-cat will imprint upon the first observed face. If you would like to remove your GEE Toy™ from the household, please activate the attached port key. Harry-cat will be immediately transported to our main facility for termination procedures. Thank you, and we hope that you will find future products more satisfactory.'
A pair of words stand out to Severus: 'termination procedures.' Termination? If that means what he thinks it does…
How could a company so wantonly extinguish a life? And a cognitive one at that! A deep, resentful rage boils up from his stomach. For all his cynicism and pessimism, Severus Snape possesses a rather strong belief in the sanctity of life, at least the life of innocents. Perhaps that is the reason why he hasn't hexed one of his more insufferably ignorant pupils—or the threat of prison, whichever.
Sighing dejectedly, he tosses the envelope and its repulsive contents onto the table and goes off in search of the errant Harry-cat. He will have to await Albus' letter, or, failing that, fire-message him later this evening.
* * *
Severus finds Harry-cat curled up, fluffy white tail tickling his nose, on the couch in his den. He quickly takes stock and finds, much to his surprise, nothing disturbed. He returns his gaze to the creature. The cat-child looks a tad too endearing, what with those ridiculous ears and tail. Yet, the simplicity and ingenuousness that he displays is somehow…enchanting. He frowns. He is not becoming attached to the thing. Not a chance in the nine hells. Still he can't bring himself to return Harry-cat to BioSorce for…termination.
The cay-boy's ears twitch as he crosses the wood floor. Slowly large green eyes blink open. The man is treated to a delicate yawn revealing pointed canines. Lazily Harry-cat stares at him. None of his earlier ire is in evidence. Though one would think that, with all the sleep spells Severus placed on him before, he would be less sleepy.
An absurd desire to apologize for his earlier harsh words assails the man as he stares down at the creature. Did Harry-cat realize what would happen to him if Severus had, indeed, sent him back? He must have, otherwise why did he evidence such alarm?
He rubs the bridge of his nose and sits down next to Harry-cat. Despite knowing that the creature possesses the capability to understand his words, he can't help but feel a bit ridiculous for talking with him.
"I am sorry…Harry…cat," he begins grudgingly, all the while questioning his sanity for apologizing to a genetically and magically created entity. "I will not be sending you back—"
"Prr!" Harry-cat uncurls and manages to squirm partially onto Severus' unwilling lap. Large green eyes stare up at him adoringly.
"But that doesn't mean you're staying." The cat-boy gives him a supremely confident look that plainly tells the man not to count his eggs before they hatch. "In fact, as soon as I contact one of my acquaintances, you will be finding yourself in a new home." Harry-cat gives an unconcerned sniff and decides to fall asleep on the discomfited potions master's lap. The barest flexing of sharp nails convinces a wandless Severus that attempting to dislodge the napping creature is not the wisest action to take.
Finding himself once again at the mercies of the cat-child, Severus resigns himself to sitting on the couch. If only his hands would stop itching to stroke the mess of black hair on Harry-cat's head.
Damn it all!
* * *
