A Persian's Tale: Scarred for Life 8
6/15/2008 -- 2195 words
Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter (Rowling) or Gundam Wing (Bandai, et al.)
AN: A big 'Thank You!' goes to Blackrosebunny for pointing out that I accidentally replaced this chapter with chapter 9 of SLK. It's what I get for playing at 5am.
I don't remember the original AN but suffice to say that Harry goes ape shit this chapter. Hope you like!
Heero would have a very interesting story to tell regarding a certain set of scars that would remain on his left hand until an accident with a terrorist cell and napalm covered them under a spectacular burn. Or he would, except he would never admit to being accidentally outsmarted by a four legged, fluffy house cat. Emphasis on the 'accidentally'.
It had been two weeks since Camo made his home in the Winner estate. In that time he had successfully wooed the entirety of the female portion of the estate and was dubbed the unofficial kitchen staff mascot. The gundam boys would completely overlook that little fact leaving them unprepared for what happened.
Sunlight shone on top of his prone form, the delicious warmth seeping through and reducing him to a trance-like lethargy. Only the tip of his tail flicked back and forth to signify his continued life, otherwise he remained perfectly statuesque, a mini Sphinx. Madam Antonia, a small grey haired Italian grandmother, who ruled the kitchen with a long handled wooden spoon, smiled at the lazing cat. Nimble fingers plucked a shrimp from where it was frying in the skillet, blew on it to cool, and set it before the suddenly alert feline.
He mewed in thanks before tearing into the morsel. Madam Antonia nodded in satisfaction and returned to her cooking. The sizzling shrimp was removed from the skillet and set aside for later. She waved for one of her assistant cooks to remove the pan for cleaning before pulling out a different skillet filling it with oil. Waiting for it to heat Madam Antonia turned to the shallow dish of flour and platter of cut up raw squid. Old but dexterous fingers dredged the squid through the flour and set them aside.
Camo was conspicuously focused on cleaning his paws of any remaining shrimp while slitted eyes were intently focused on the soon-to-be calamari. It had to be a cat thing because he would never have contemplated the potential gastronomic ecstasies of raw squid otherwise. And, as he was coming to find out, when the cat had its' interest piqued no dumb human inhibitions would stand in its' way. Harry mentally groaned before metaphorically bowing out to Camouflage's consciousness. He really didn't want to stick around for the fireworks undoubtedly about to begin.
--
Camouflage could feel when the other retreated.
His was a strange existence. He knew he had existed for a long time, much longer than normal for one of his kind but it was as if he was sleeping for the vast majority of it. Sometimes he would be roused by flashing glints of gold and a pleasant rush of the wind through his fur. Other times he would be roused by the presence of a malignant spirit within his territory – he was vicious in driving it off every time. He clearly remembered climbing, jumping and dodging around a vicious serpent before felling it with one false claw the other had with him then driving off the malignant spirit from his territory. Again.
But over all it was as if he existed in a perpetual state of napping. Occasionally when the other was frightened he would come to his aid before returning to slumber. It would have been no hardship to continue living such a life but then something happened.
His other was lost, too weak to fight, and beaten. Although the other escaped he was badly injured and partially blind with no information of the area to draw on. The predators followed the other's trail, he rose to defend his other, and his other had panicked. His other's glitter awoke in a rush to defend and the world as he understood it shifted.
Then darkness had fallen.
--
Camo suddenly came to life, shaking his entire body like a dog removing water. He jerked to his feet annoyed at his rambling thoughts. A distinct, and extremely vexing, difference between himself and others of his kind was his ability to think in complicated abstracts. It wasn't surprising considering his other but he had been influenced on an imperceptible level by his other's tendency to brood. Cats didn't need to brood, cats didn't need to think of the past and future, and they didn't need to worry about the glitter.
Camo was annoyed and that wasn't a good thing. In a sudden rush to clear his too intelligent mind he went after the only thing immediately tangible – the raw calamari.
Madam Antonia just finished dredging the last of the squid when a flying bundle of fur landed on her hand grabbing a mouthful of the floured squid. He jumped off the counter knocking the flour dish flying and sending up a cloud of white. Camo dodged around the squawking females and out into the hall, white paw prints pointing unerringly where he had been.
--
Harry, the other's name, helpfully pointed out that if Camo didn't leave the floor he'd be caught and undoubtedly locked up to keep him out of trouble. He didn't need to point out that they could forget about any fish that night. Camo himself was much more concerned with cleaning the powder out of his fur without interruption.
Claws came out and hooked into the thick fabric of a curtain covering one of the many floor to ceiling windows. It was only a matter of seconds before the cat was sitting pretty on top of a ceiling beam. He purred in satisfaction before trotting along the "kitty highway". Sometimes Camo questioned the age of his other.
--
It took three hours but Camouflage was finally satisfied that every last annoying speck of flour was gone from his fur. Horrid taste and chalky texture aside, it was all gone. The blond human, "Quatre", and his litter mates had passed under Camo's various bathing spots looking for him many times but they never thought to look up. He just sat and watched them for a few moments faintly amused at their actions before returning to his grooming.
Now Camo was fed, clean, and calm; he willingly gave up majority control to Harry. Remembering a particularly welcoming cluster of sunbeams in Quatre's private study he headed back. Duo's loud nervous chatter drifted up to the strolling feline who, if physically possible, would have smirked. This was proving to be almost as fun as using the menace's braid as a chew toy.
He hopped over to another ceiling beam heading towards the Quatre's suite in the west side of the house. Five minutes saw him slipping through the ajar door and into the room. However, he was upset to note that the sunlight was laying square on the surface of the cluttered desk. Although…
Smack dab in the middle of the beam was an open folder with his, Camouflage's, name on it. He hopped onto the near edge of the desk and just sat there, staring unblinkingly at the upside down folder. Harry cocked his head and extended a paw then paused. "Curiosity killed the cat. And I have the unfortunate predicament of being one at the moment."
"Yes, but, 'Curiosity brought it back'. Besides, that is the tawny's handwriting."
"Trowa," Harry corrected automatically before caving to the cat's coaxing. Anything written by the veterinarian was noteworthy, more so when it concerned them. His paw came down and batted the folder shut then nosed up the front cover. The first page showed basic information; height, weight, owner, etc. An asterisk sat next to the description of his appearance. His ears perked forward in interest and he pushed aside the page. Underneath was his shots records which immediately ripped an angered hiss from him; he promptly swiped it aside with his claws.
The calico Persian struck gold on the fifth page. A detailed blood analysis with the results circled in red pen. Camo gently pushed the page aside and the reason for the circling was exposed. Harry didn't remember much from the non-magical sciences but he knew that XXY was a bad combination. There were only supposed to be two characters, not three. "XY you're a guy," and XX meant female but according to the report he was supposedly XXY. However, the blood analyst and Trowa were amazed to find no other defects, just the extra girl character. Harry wasn't overly surprised -- his magic had long since learned that remaining healthy was top priority.
As a child the Dursleys would frequently send him to be watched by the neighborhood cat lady while they went out. He'd sit in her house listening to her tell stories of her different cats as she flipped through a scrapbook with their pictures – she obviously loved her pets. After he was returned to the Dursleys and was locked into his cupboard he would dream of how much nicer life would be if he'd been born a cat. Some of his best dreams even after all this time featured him living the life of a cat.
When it finally sunk in that even if he had been born one of Miss Figg's cats he'd still have been a freak Harry saw red. Between teeth, claws, and tail he reduced the last two pages to confetti then slunk off the desk. Suddenly exhausted the cat curled into a shadowed corner to gain temporary peace in the oblivion of sleep.
--
Quatre dropped like a brick.
One moment he was talking worrying about Camouflage and the next he hit the floor.
Unadulterated rage the likes of which hadn't been felt since the last ZERO incident slammed into the blond's unprepared mental shields. Rage, sorrow, regret, hatred and self-loathing thick enough to bathe in washed over Quatre.
'Camo…?'
--
After Trowa took Quatre off to bed Heero continued searching for the cat. The Perfect Soldier was certain that Quatre called for the furry menace before blacking out. On the second floor of the west wing he finally hit pay dirt. A single door was ajar with paper scraps scattered before it. Heero's eyes widened minutely when he realized the door lead to the CEO's private study.
Heero entered the room…
And groaned.
Scraps of white paper littered the room, savaged to an unintelligible mess. Setting sunlight sparked off the glass fronts of Quatre's book cases washing the room in deep red lights; Heero repressed the flashbacks of the more hellish battlefields from the One Year War. Silently the Japanese young man prayed that the files weren't vital to WEI.
Not immediately spotting the cat Heero paced the circumference of the room searching. He found the cat five minutes later and desperately wished he hadn't.
--
Pain exploded through him.
Harry was already angry because of the file earlier, was upset at being woken up, and was now three different kinds of livid because some dumb bastard stepped. On. His. Tail! There were no two minds about it, Persian and human both became hell bent on maiming the S.O.B.
In a movement only possible by felines the cat flipped over wrapping around the ankles of the attacker. Claws dug in raking bloody lines in the meat of the calves, his teeth sunk to the gums. Someone, his attacker, roared in pain before a bruising grip locked around his middle yanking him back. The no good bloody sonuvabitch had it coming now. Jaws full of needle sharp teeth sunk into the meaty part of the palm, upper body twisting to bring claws within reach of the gripping hand while the back claws made occasional glancing blows. A second hand trapped the swinging hind legs while the one around Camo's middle shook trying to dislodge the enraged Persian.
Trowa, continuing his search for Camouflage, heard the fight and instinctively headed towards it gun in hand. Kicking open the door to his little blond's office he stopped dead to see Heero Yuy being mauled by the normally serene feline. When it actually registered that Heero was trying and failing to remove Camouflage from his hand without doing serious injury to either himself or the cat Trowa reached into his belt pouch removing a syringe. Two minutes later the veterinarian had a clear opening and took it, injecting the sedative.
Camouflage slowed then all together stopped thrashing within minutes; however, he refused to remove his mouth from Heero's hand. He even fell asleep with the appendage still in his mouth.
--
Later that evening, back in their London penthouse apartment Duo asked why exactly his partner's hand was thickly bandaged in white gauze from fingers to two inches past his wrist.
Heero glared balefully at his partner before muttering under his breath.
"Pardon Hee-chan? I missed that." He hadn't actually but the answer was so unbelievable he needed to hear it again.
"I said I stepped on his tail." Heero gritted out.
Duo was banished to the couch for two weeks for his uproarious response.
Leave a review, I really listen. Just ask Steven Kodaly! -snaps fingers- Oh yeah! I remember what this bottom AN dealt with:
I apologize if I mixed you up with the whole XXY thing, so this was my attempt to clear it up.
Does Harry have the XXY genes? Yes.
Is he affected by them? No.
Why? I believe in the concept of semi-sentient magic that goes out of its way to ensure that its' wielder survives as long as possible. So, Harry has the mixed up genes but his magic suppresses any of the effects because of how large and powerful it is.
Could Harry pass on the genes to a kid? Yes.
Would the kid show it? Depends on how strong their magic is. It may cover it completely or only be strong enough to suppress it partially.