Disclaimer: Not mine. And if you check my refrigerator, you'd know I'm not making any money of it too.

A/N: Limyaael: Thanks for the review. Yes, there is a magic explanation of how Gingerhead passed through the wards. In a later chapter. I think Snape deducts points from Slytherin during the Yule Ball at GoF. The rose bush incident...

Mimine: Yes, I'm evil. If my clothing is covered with orange fur, then so should Snape's. Thanks for the review.

Dupadi, angels reflection, shadowycat and Averil: I'm glad you like it. Thanks for the reviews.

CHAPTER 2: Easier said than done.

As the cat was devouring his treat with large gulps, Snape slowly approached him. He was eating and purring at the same time, and the Potions Master couldn't help but wonder why wasn't he choking. As he reached the table the cat was seated on, he turned and looked at him with large, yellow eyes, momentarily abandoning his meal. He graced Snape with an annoyed stare and returned to his food.

Snape carefully reached out to examine the cat's collar. To his surprise, the cat did not resist, but kept cleaning the bowl in large gulps. As he slid the collar sideways, he read the name "Gingerhead" on it. On the opposite side of the round medal it said "Proud member of Slytherin".

The cat belonged to one of his students? This was very unusual. Slytherins usually fancied other familiars like snakes or toads.

And the name of the cat's owner was not written on the collar.

~*~

Gingerhead's POV.

That's because we cats don't have owners, you imbecile. We have servants.

Thank you for the treat. You would make a fair house elf. But please keep your clothes on. My poor eyes couldn't hold the excitement.

I'm still hungry. I wonder if I could intimidate him for more. Oh, well, perhaps later.

Look at him wondering why my collar says "Slytherin". Believe it or not, I'm a member of your House. The Sorting Hat was very clear on this. Especially when it saw my claws.

I can't believe it dared to suggest I should be sorted into Gryffindor. The fact that their insignia includes a lion is a pitiful coincidence. My huge male cousins are anything but valiant creatures. They sleep all day, stealing their mates' prey. They are lousy hunters as well. By the time they move one paw, the prey animals have galloped miles away. Not to mention that dreadful mane. Perfect for camouflage, come to think of it. They can be spotted from miles away. On the other hand, when confronted by the equally stupid human males who dare challenge them, guess who gets eaten despite popular myths. Hence the misconception of the lion's bravery.

No, thank you. I'm not that stupid. And I'm a damn good hunter. Too bad that bird next to the Sorting Hat decided to burst to flames instead of becoming my dinner. Now I have to wait until it builds some meat on its drumsticks.

However, I must admit I'm a lousy gambler. I will never let Peeves trick me into another 'dare' contest again. Now I have to live in the company of this bipedal for a week.

I wonder of what species he is.

He looks like a bat, but he's way too big. And bats have little cute -and tasty- noses, while this one is equipped with a beak. Could he be a bird? And then where is his plumage?

No, Gingerhead, face it. You're stuck with a human again.

But he certainly doesn't smell as one.

~*~

Snape tried to figure out how he could rid himself of the cat. As the cat finished his cleaning ritual, licking his face and paws with a huge tongue, he jumped off the table and stretched. And then it walked to the closed door and turned to look at him.

Finally, he thought. That blasted cat is leaving.

He opened the door and waited for the cat to go out. He did not. He sniffed the air, moved one pace while checking the new surroundings and then walked back inside. Snape restrained a kick that came naturally, remembering Fluffy's bite a year ago. And if he got scratched, he'd never dare to ask Filch for his aid now.

The cat was still looking outside, but made no move. Snape felt unbelievably stupid, serving as a doorman to a cat.

"Fine. Have it your way," he growled and shut the door, admitting his defeat.

He changed into his nightshirt under the inquisitive stare of the cat and fell into bed, thinking he needed a new pair of dragonhide gloves to handle his visitor.

When the cat jumped on the bed and starting kneading his buttocks, he realized he needed dragonhide breeches as well.

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Gingerhead wants a review. Displease him at your own risk.