TITLE: Tomcat
RATING: R
WARNING: Weird and potentially squicky.
In his sixth year, Harry Potter became an Animagus. Unlike his father, he had the help and consent of Dumbledore when he did it. Like his father, he used his shape at night, when he shouldn't, for reasons he shouldn't.
He had wondered if maybe he would become a stag. No. Nothing like it. He was glad of it. His shape was a large cat, coal black, with wide green eyes. Perfect. Better than an Invisibility Cloak, in some ways. The Cloak just made him unseen. This made him unnoticed.
He knew, really, he shouldn't use it to slink round the school, keeping an eye on the Slytherins, exploring the corners he'd never had access to before. But it was too exciting, this new world of darkness he could see through and smells he could taste and feel, far too exciting to give up. Besides, there was Her.
It had only been a couple of weeks after his first transformation when he met Her for the first time, stalking through the corridors as if she owned them. She'd fixed him with imperious amber eyes, wide and black-ringed. There was a challenge there, and he didn't know whether to fight or retreat. Then he smelt the musk rising off her.
Their matings were brief, frantic, wild. He would yowl to the echoing corridors and bury himself inside her, and claw at her tawny back, and she would give him back bite for scratch, or knock him on his back and run away. But never too fast.
The more desperate the battles on the outside became, the more he needed this world. The darkness, and the scent, and the tight heat of her around him, the branding claw marks, the chance, just once, to take the pain and deal it out and not worry about control.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look McGonnagal in the eye in class. But it was worth it.
RATING: R
WARNING: Weird and potentially squicky.
In his sixth year, Harry Potter became an Animagus. Unlike his father, he had the help and consent of Dumbledore when he did it. Like his father, he used his shape at night, when he shouldn't, for reasons he shouldn't.
He had wondered if maybe he would become a stag. No. Nothing like it. He was glad of it. His shape was a large cat, coal black, with wide green eyes. Perfect. Better than an Invisibility Cloak, in some ways. The Cloak just made him unseen. This made him unnoticed.
He knew, really, he shouldn't use it to slink round the school, keeping an eye on the Slytherins, exploring the corners he'd never had access to before. But it was too exciting, this new world of darkness he could see through and smells he could taste and feel, far too exciting to give up. Besides, there was Her.
It had only been a couple of weeks after his first transformation when he met Her for the first time, stalking through the corridors as if she owned them. She'd fixed him with imperious amber eyes, wide and black-ringed. There was a challenge there, and he didn't know whether to fight or retreat. Then he smelt the musk rising off her.
Their matings were brief, frantic, wild. He would yowl to the echoing corridors and bury himself inside her, and claw at her tawny back, and she would give him back bite for scratch, or knock him on his back and run away. But never too fast.
The more desperate the battles on the outside became, the more he needed this world. The darkness, and the scent, and the tight heat of her around him, the branding claw marks, the chance, just once, to take the pain and deal it out and not worry about control.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to look McGonnagal in the eye in class. But it was worth it.