Disclaimer: These toys are not mine, I'm just borrowing them. I promise to put them back in the box when I'm done.
Snape had assumed, as do all humans who have been allowed to become set in their ways, that because he considered his encounter with the cat finished, the cat would see it the same way and would vacate his office. Probably, if the cat had been a normal cat it would have been a correct assumption, however the cat in this case was Crookshanks, and if he'd only paid a bit more attention to the chatter of Minerva he would have known that Crookshanks was no ordinary feline.
Shanks watched Snape's retreating form with narrowed eyes. He was so struck dumb with disbelief that he couldn't even utter a meow. The great bat of a human was walking away after he had expended so much energy to locate him! It appeared that this Professor lacked the usual social graces that most in the education industry possessed. This would definitely need to be worked on, and of course there was no time like the present to begin the instruction. An ostentatious bookshelf cluttered with possessions caught his eye causing a mischievous glint to appear.
Snape became aware of his miscalculation of the situation when a seemingly impossibly loud crash bounced down the passageway to his private reading room. Trying to appear nonchalant he strode over to his office to see the cause of the commotion. He was met with a ticker tape parade of potions parchments, floating with glorying laziness to a floor hidden by a mess of randomly opened books, curios and unidentifiable objects that had all once been lodged together in perfect harmony and order on his grand bookshelf. Said bookshelf, was now looking decidedly dejected and shabby due to a yawning split in its spine where the shock and shudders from the impact of the ground had met and burst forth creating the energy to scatter the papers through the air.
As he took in the disaster before him he heard a gentle whirring noise. His eyes scanned the room for the source. In the corner of the room, next to his desk, which mercifully was still intact, sat his Globe of the Heavens spinning mindlessly. At first he assumed that the disturbance had caused it to move, then realised that the motion was not slowing. He stepped closer, looking around the desk, and groaned inwardly at the sight that met his eyes.
A patterned orange paw was fussing the sphere. Snape's wand hand twitched with the urge to hex the malicious moggy to the next universe. He knew Crookshanks was the familiar of Hermione Granger and added its existence as another reason to loathe the know-it-all. The damn cat appeared to be smirking. Snape shook his head, he really needed to get some more rest if he was beginning to attribute human facial expressions to an animal. Shanks looked at Snape and gave him a wide grin causing the Potions Master to frown.
'Did you do all this Kitty?' Severus mused mostly to himself, but nevertheless out loud.
Shanks narrowed his eyes in anger for the second time in five minutes.
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Now, I feel obliged to point out a couple of things before I proceed, otherwise you'll end up with the impression that Shanks is, to put it mildly, off his trolley. So, imagine that you are a human male, of a middle-age, let's say thirty or so. You have a normal physique, perhaps you're a bit portly, but nothing that detracts from your overall appearance of being a man of advancing years. Then imagine that you meet a stranger, or more relevant to our case, an acquaintance, someone you know only in passing, a friend of a friend of a friend, for example. This person is senior to you by ten years but otherwise not that dissimilar to you. This acquaintance is of sound mind, appears normal in every respect, someone you would expect to be able to converse with for five minutes if you were thrown together at a gathering. Suppose then, in the course of your conversation, this person then refers to you as 'boy' or worse still as a 'baby'. Don't you think you'd feel a bit put out, or at the very least, think the person patronising? Of course you would, and quite rightly too.
It's exactly the same for cats. No cat, especially a vain tomcat, appreciates being referred to as 'kitty'. To them it is perfectly simple and clear, they are fully grown which anyone, cat, human or even *shudder* a dog, can see, so there can be absolutely no reason for this mistaken name. And Shanks, being not your average cat, and furthermore, having a mind half full of a leprechaun's temperament, hated being called 'kitty'. Hated it with a passion. It really upset him, set him on edge, rather like someone painfully eeking their nails down a blackboard. So really, it wasn't all that surprising what happened next.
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Crookshanks leapt onto the writing desk. Levelling his gaze at the Potions brewer he slowly and deliberately extended his claws. Maintaining eye contact he drew the sharp nails across the surface leaving four ugly scars. He saw Snape wince. The angry red haze that had settled over his mind lifted allowing him to plan his next move. Snape's eyes darted momentarily to the plush leather chair between him and the cat.
'A-ha!' thought Shanks, 'so that's your concern is it?'
Making sure that his weapons were clearly visible he stepped confidently onto the arm of the chair.
He was surprised by the lack of obvious reaction by the man, though not daunted by it. In his freer days as a leprechaun, Colm Shanks had been known as a mean card player. Not many would consider card playing as a source of valuable skills, but Colm's mother had figured that there was much to be said for the powers of observation and bluff that good poker sharks enjoyed, so as a dutiful mother she had employed a raft of unsavoury characters to teach her lad the tricks. Colm considered himself a pretty good reader of creatures – he had been right on the mark about Scabbers – so he knew that Snape was concerned about the chair. He let the threat hang between them emphasizing the point by lightly scoring the soft leather.
Severus assessed his options; he could try and scare or chase the cat away although he realised that it would in all likelihood result in more destruction of his quarters, he could hex the vile thing though the Granger girl wouldn't approve and Albus and Minerva would castigate him severely, or finally he could just give in and accede to the animal's wishes.
It took him less than two seconds to reach his decision.
"Alright," it was spoken softly. Had Crookshanks not had marvellous hearing he would have missed the surrender. "what is it you want of me, oh brute of Beelzebub?" the last was said with a quirk of the lips and a hint of a raised eyebrow.
His eyebrow receded further into his hairline as he saw a gleam of satisfaction settle in the cat's eyes.
a/n's:
hmmm, this took quite a while to get out and I would really appreciate feedback. See, when I started this I hadn't really considered how I was going to tell the story – I knew I wanted to do it from Crookshank's perspective and I'd got the plot, but I hadn't really thought about having to switch between different perspectives. So, basically, I'm asking you guys if this chapter works, does it all make sense? And if it doesn't, can you come up with any suggestions as to how to make it work better, or be clearer?
In terms of plot, keep reading 'cos there shall be more players and twists added in the next couple of chapters. Hope you like!