The Red Reign Challenge: This Christmastime
The Twelfth Night : A Faerie Tale
by I Got Tired of Waiting

December 30 : By The Softness of My Lover's Hands

The vibrations against his head eventually woke him. Reaching up, he encountered a warm, furry body crushing the top of his pillow and heavy, hot paws resting against his ear and face on one side, more paws and a thick bushy tail brushing the other. Being warm and toasty, he was loathe to get up, but having other ideas, the cat stretched, its claws accidentally catching the skin of his cheek. Startled, he sat up abruptly, the claw's razor edges slicing furrows down one side. Yelling in pain, his hand swiped the welling blood from his face as the cat jumped off the bed with a yowling cry and streaked out of the room. In the bathroom, he doctored what turned out to be mere scratches, thinking he'd overreacted. As he dressed he decided that the next time, if he hadn't scared it away forever, he should just lay still and not react; he would not have been hurt had he done so.

As he entered the sitting room, he spied the cat crouching under the tree. He sank to his haunches, murmuring apologies, when he noticed it lying on something. Carefully, he tugged on what he soon discovered was soft leather and, with a little pull, he found himself holding a pair of fur-lined gloves. Grateful for the gift because his had worn out last season, and he'd not the money to buy new, he pulled them on, stunned as memories, long suppressed, flowed through him of a love he'd once won, then lost.

Hastily pulling them off, he threw the gift to the floor and staggered to the kitchen. He sat heavily in the chair, his head in his hands as he fought to control the pain flooding his mind and heart. A bump against his leg made him look down to see the cat rubbing against his leg, the gloves in its mouth. Mewing piteously, the cat dropped them at his feet and nudged them closer to him until he bent and picked them up.

Without a word, he jumped from the chair, the cat barely scampering away from his panicked path. The gloves crushed in his fist, he threw on his cloak and stormed out of the cottage.

A thick fall of snow blanketed his bare head and shoulders when he returned that evening. Wearily he hung the cloak and scarf by the door. That the kitchen was as empty of companionship as it had ever been should not have bothered him; that tonight no creature, human or otherwise, awaited his return filled him with regret. Concerned, he wandered the cottage, peering into cupboards and even under the bed, but could not find it. Movement by the tree caught his eye and he smiled at the twitching tip of a long, ringed tail peeping through the lowest branches; he should have known it was there. Sinking painfully to his knees, he laid his head on the floor, sighing when he spotted it huddled near the back against the wall.

"Idiot cat," he coaxed quietly. "Have you been there all day?"

The cat shifted its haunches and stared at him with huge, unblinking eyes.

"Come now. Come out," he soothed. "I'm sorry I scared you this morning. Aren't you hungry?"

Belly low to the ground, the cat growled and move forward a cautious step; he wasn't quite certain if it was afraid or stalking him. Regardless, he admired the inherent power of its sleek muscles as, inch by inch, the cat crept from under the tree to sit calmly at his feet, the golden eyes holding his attention captive.

For the first time, he picked it up, holding it fast in his arms. Surprised when the growling turned into purring, he ran a hand over the soft fur while mumbling soothing nonsense; just who it was he was trying to comfort, he didn't know, nor care. He carried it tucked on his arm and poured himself a snifter of brandy he'd managed to sneak out from Hogwarts and had since hoarded, although he noticed its level of false courage was near bottom. Snifter in hand, he settled in the chair with the cat held firmly in his lap. Petting the creature, he haltingly at first and later with more confidence, told him of Harry.

"I loved him, you know." His hands carded through the thick fur, seeking the warmth near the skin. "I still do; I could almost feel his touch when I put on the gloves this morning," he murmured. "Never really understood what he saw in me, but he said... and showed me he loved me back."

A head butted his arm, while the golden eyes asked him a host of questions.

"How? In many little ways, I suppose, but mostly in how he would look at me... with trust... like I had value. He gave up his friends for me; I never appreciated until recently how much courage that must have required." He stared into the fire. "No one had ever... cherished..."

He dug his hand deep into the thick fur of the cat's nape, the rumbling strong against the tips of his fingers. "I don't know why I'd hoped he'd survive. We both knew he wouldn't, and yet... Yet I'd dared dream of a future with him. Silly, really. When he killed Voldemort, and I never doubted he would, he just... vanished. I suppose I'd hoped he'd interpreted the prophecy wrong like so many of his other guesses..." He choked. "How supremely ironic he got this one right; they both died together."

The logs snapped and crackled in the fireplace. "I wasn't there for him at the end, you know. We were separated in the final battle and he faced... Voldemort alone."

He drained the brandy, his hands still seeking a comfort he didn't much deserve. "I should never have hoped, should never have wanted..." he whispered as the stinging in his eyes ran scalding down his face. "What I should have done was follow him when I had my chance, before..." His hands clenched into fists, the fur thick between his fingers. "Gods, how I miss him."

Mewling, the cat slipped from under his hands, the huge back paws sharp points of pain in his thighs as the wicked claws of his front paws anchored firmly in the heavy robes near his shoulders. A soft, furry face rubbed hard against his jaw several times before a sandpaper tongue licked the wet saltiness from his cheeks and nose. Through his grumbling, growling purr, he could almost hear the cat alternately scolding and comforting him for such thoughts.

Standing from the chair and moving into the bedchamber, the cat held close to his chest, he chuckled. "Perhaps it's just as well I'm such a coward; who else would feed you milk?" With a laughing growl, the feline jumped out of his arms onto the bed and circled the pillow before settling directly at the top, mashing it into the headboard. Golden eyes filled with a loving trust followed his every move as he readied for bed. Pulling the duvet under his chin, he shivered, waiting for the bed to warm, and with a gentle rumbling soothing his hurts, he closed his eyes to sleep, the visions of his lost lover peacefully welcomed as they'd not been for years.

TBC