Title: Felis Domesticatus vs Canis Lupus
Alternate title: Of Cats and Dogs
Rating: T (for swearing and lewd comments, cattishness)
Authoress: Rena Kaerutsukai
Summary: The cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts position has been refilled again, this time by a young woman. She does something that no other holder of this position has done, though: goes to the only available previous DADA professor for advice. That ex-professor is Remus John Lupin, who thinks that the new professor is a bit off her rocker. But they may just have more in common than he thinks. (implied SBRL)
Chapter one: That Floo Do That You Do
Felicia Mayfair was curled up in front of her fireplace, her white locks down and framing her face as the light from her special laptop sent a pale glow to her face. Her brow was knit in determination, her pink tongue sticking out of her mouth slightly, as her green gaze was focused solely on the glowing screen in front of her.
What was she doing, you may wonder?
"Oh, damn! Lost another hand!" She swore, pounding her fist against her sweats-clad leg. The screen laughed.
"It isn't our fault that you suck at kemps." a voice jeered from the speakers. That's right, folks, Felicia was playing Wizarding Kemps with her computer.
"Cram it up your cramhole. You charmed my hand to sing when I had kemps!" Felicia yelled.
"Ah yes, and what a song it was, too." A female voice tittered.
"'There's a hole in my undies, dear Johnny, dear Johnny! There's a hole in my undies, dear Johnny, a hole!'" A third voice sang. The other two burst out into gales of laughter.
"I hate you all," Felicia said, blushing brightly and adjusting her rounded glasses. "Remind me why I even play with you guys again."
"Because your social life's a mess." The first voice said.
"And you have no friends." The second voice added.
"Oh yeah, now I remember." Felicia said icily, before pressing the power button on her laptop. "I hate those guys." She muttered sulkily, slamming the top of her laptop shut and setting it off the sofa. Not moments after doing this, a green flash disrupted the fire in her fireplace, and an older woman's face appeared in the flame. Felicia hissed involuntarily, taken by surprise.
"Hello, Miss Mayfair." The floo-caller said. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I have a business proposition for you." The woman's stern tone reminded Felicia of her grandmother, only this woman seemed nicer. And more British.
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. McGonagall." Felicia said. "I'm interested to hear about your offer. Do continue."
"I am the assistant headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it appears that we have an opening on our staff for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Now, the purpose of this visit is to inform you that while reviewing candidates for the position, your name came up." Felicia looked intrigued.
"Really? You mean, I'm hired?" She asked.
"Well, not quite. You see, Miss Mayfair-"
"Oh, call me Felicia."
"Very well, Felicia, there are many new regulations on Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. As you live in America, and have been involved in no suspicious activity, I can only assume that you aren't in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Oh no, of course not. That moron rubs me the wrong way." Felicia said, expression steely.
"Very good," McGonagall nodded. "Then, if you could floo to the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, precisely two weeks from this date with your luggage, I will arrange for someone to meet you." Felicia nodded, taking a moment to thank the higher powers that she was a werecat instead of a werewolf, as werecats were less likely to harm themselves during the full moon. She had so far been able to hide her condition for years.
"Oh, and one last thing, things are quite dangerous here in England. Be inconspicuous and carry your wand on your person at all times." McGonagall warned. Felicia nodded. A smile appeared on the older woman's face.
"Good, very good, I'm sure you'll do marvelous. Good day, Miss Mayfair." The green in the fire vanished, as did McGonagall's stern features. The fire resumed its crackling. Felicia looked around at her shelves upon shelves of books, and her extensive CD collection (mostly Queen, Styx, the Beatles, and modern soft alternative), and sighed.
"How am I going to get this all into my suitcases?" She asked somewhat hopelessly. She went into her loft bedroom, dragging her suitcases out from under her bed. They were large red flashy things, and she knew that she'd have to do some serious charmwork to get all of her clothes and books and CDs and her laptop (though that had its own separate bag, which admittedly could also carry a few books and CDs and a change of clothes) into those two suitcases.
She sighed again, and then decided to procrastinate by going back downstairs and curling up with a copy of Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. Burying her nose in the Apocalyptic adventures of Aziraphale the bookish angel and Crowley the Queen-loving demon with a '26 Bentley, Felicia curled comfortably in front of the fire once again, this time imbedded in a book instead of a game of Kemps.
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Wow, the site is cooperating again. It's trying to make me look like an idiot. Anyway, I know everyone hates OC chapters, but this was necessary. There won't be anymore for a while.