Hermione sighed as she gazed at her reflection in the floor-length mirror installed in her bedroom. Her red dress clung to her curves, accentuating that which she believed wasn't really there. Two thick ribbons attached to the bodice wound around the back of her neck and were tied in a pretty little bow, the ends tickling her bare shoulder-blades.

Upon Fleur's gentle encouragement, Hermione had bought the feminine sheath dress for herself after graduating from Hogwarts. It had been the first dress she had worn on a proper date, and even though the date had gone from bad to worse in a matter of hours, Hermione's love for the dress never wavered.

It had become a little tradition of sorts for the brunette witch now: every time she went out with someone new, she wore the form-hugging red dress to empower herself, to feel pretty, to feel confident. The dress worked wonders for her self-esteem.

Still, as she now inspected her dress in the mirror's reflection, she wondered if maybe it was time to discard the dress.

"Meow." Crookshanks broke her out of her reverie as he rubbed his head against her ankles, and Hermione smiled before bending down to pick her beloved cat up in her arms.

She didn't care that he was shedding over her dress. Crookshanks was the most important person in her life. She held him up in front of her and chuckled at his grumpy scowl. "Crooks, you know I'll be back in a few hours. Don't give me that look."

Crookshanks scowled at her, his eyes narrowing in on her red dress. Hermione hugged him to her chest and ran her fingers through his orange fur. "You'll be fine. You can go chase rats or pigeons or sneak into the neighbour's flat to steal their food."

"Meow…"

"Yes, I know what you do all day, Crookshanks," Hermione said, amusement dripping from her tone. She kissed Crookshanks's head and smiled. "I love you even though you hide these things from me."

"Meow." He rubbed his nose against hers, melting her heart in the process.

"I appreciate your apology—even though it's a bit late for it, don't you think?" she teased, setting him down on the bed. "Now, be a good boy while I go try to enjoy this date. I'm sure this date will be just as bad as all the others I've been on."

"Meow!"

"Stebbins seems like a nice enough man, Crooks, but you know when you get a certain feeling about someone? Yeah, I'm not sure there will be a second date." She applied a fresh coat of mascara before turning to Crookshanks, who was glaring at her with his front legs crossed over the other.

"Meow."

"He wasn't my choice," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Harry set me up with him, so blame him if you want to."

Crookshanks turned his back on her. Hermione laughed before blowing him a quick kiss and then making her way towards the door. "I'll be back soon, Crooks! Love you!"

"Meow!"

Hermione groaned and stumbled into her flat, kicking off her heels and throwing her clutch onto the floor. She sank into the beanbag with a sigh. Crookshanks immediately bounded towards her and jumped into her lap, placing his paws on her chest and glaring down at her.

Hermione smiled sadly at him and rubbed the spot behind his left ear, which made him purr. He tried to glare at her, but the pleasure he felt at her touch was evident in the way his ears twitched.

"I'm swearing off men forever, Crooks," Hermione murmured, and Crookshanks purred louder. "First, he took me to this restaurant where they were holding a costume party, and then, right after a meal cheaper than the food in the Ministry's canteen, he called the reporters from the Daily Prophet over to tell them that we were in love. I mean… What is wrong with him?"

"Meow," Crookshanks grumbled, nudging her chin with his head.

"My dates are getting more ridiculous by the day." Crookshanks purred and licked her cheek to make her smile. She kissed his ear and whispered, "I wish I could Transfigure you into a dashing boyfriend. My troubles would all be over. Maybe you'd at least compliment my dress—unlike Stuart, Roger, Taylor, Smith, Jones, Evans, Reilly and Flanagan."

Crookshanks stared at her as if he was judging her for remembering all those names. He got off her lap and sat down on the carpet. He closed his eyes, making Hermione think he was going to sleep.

But then, to her utter disbelief, Crookshanks began to glow a pale pink. The light slowly shone brighter and brighter, enveloping him. Hermione raised her arm to shield her eyes, and when she was sure she wouldn't be blinded by it, she lowered her arm.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood in Crookshanks's place, his red hair dishevelled and standing on its ends, and a wild look in his deep brown eyes. His brow was set in a permanent scowl, and the white scars on his face stood in direct contrast to his tanned skin.

"Whaaaaa—" Hermione choked on her words as the man took one step towards her and promptly fell flat on his face. Hermione cried out and hurried to help him up. "Oh, Merlin! Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

The man rolled onto his back and stared up at her. And then, in the deepest and huskiest voice Hermione had ever heard, he said, "You truly are a vision in that dress, Mistress. Allow me the honour to mate with you."

Mate with you? Hermione forgot how to speak. She stuttered and stammered, but the man got onto his knees and moved closer. He wound his fingers in her hair and purred.

There was no doubt in her mind that this was her cat.

"How is this possible?"

"Magic, Mistress. Magic. I'm now yours—just as you wished for."

"I didn't wish—"

"You did, Mistress," he purred with a dark glint in his eyes. He reached forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, yanking her to his chest with such strength that Hermione let out a soft squeak.

She placed her hands on his chest and was surprised to feel his muscles bulging under her fingers. She was so confused by what was going on that she didn't even realise Crookshanks was pulling the hem of her dress up.

When the cool air caressed the tops of her thighs, she gasped and looked down at his large hands. She squawked and tried to smooth down her dress. "What are you doing? You're a cat—you're my cat! Oh, this is so wrong on so many levels!"

"Love knows no limits, Mistress," he murmured, wrapping his calloused fingers around her thighs and parting them.

Hermione gasped as in one smooth movement, the man—cat? Man? Cat-man?—flipped her over and laid her flat on her back. He pressed her down into the ground, his muscular thighs bracketing hers.

He rubbed his whiskery cheek against hers, which was surprisingly quite like when he would do it in his cat form. He murmured in her ear, "Will you accept me as yours, Mistress?"

For once in her life, Hermione's mind blanked. She had no answer.

I have to be dreaming this up. This can't possibly be real.

Crookshanks pushed him up onto his forearms and stared down at her, his brown eyes dilating. "Mistress… I'm waiting."

"Can I… think about this first?" Hermione squeaked out, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep him at a distance, but when her fingers touched his skin, she was stunned to feel how good it felt touching him.

Bad Hermione! He's a cat! He's Crookshanks!

"Of course, Mistress," Crookshanks murmured, tilting his head down to rub his nose against hers. "Take all the time you need. I'll be right here."

What had Hermione got herself into?