Anakin sat up in bed, wearing a spare robe of Severus's, which kit-Severus had insisted on lending to him, going to his own bedroom and looking pointedly at it until they got the idea. In return, Anakin was responsible for keeping the kit entertained while Konstantine looked for something to use as an earth tray. They had agreed that it was best to put the tray in the 'fresher – after all, the kit probably still thought like a human to the extent of wanting some privacy.

At the moment, though, as Anakin levitated spare wipes just above the kit, near enough for him to bat at them, the creature's predatory, animal instincts were to the fore. Severus as a human – or at least as an adult human – was too Jedi to use unnecessary violence much. Anakin had sensed the durasteel core in his mind of a man who could and would fight, maim and even kill when necessary, but for the most part, the wizard had channelled his aggression into making snarky comments.

Now, though, in kit form, he was able to let his Sithly ferocity run free. His tiny claws slashed at the wipes hovering barely within reach as if they were every mentor who had rejected him as irredeemably corrupted, every Sith who had lured him into corruption and then tortured him once he had no-one else to turn to, every classmate who had despised him as an outsider who could never fit in…

Wait, really? No, Anakin reminded himself. You do not know any of this. You are not reading his memories, merely telling yourself what you wish to believe.

Still – there was a reason the Force had brought the three of them together. Anakin had been aware of the resonance between his own soul and Konstantine's since he had woken up. Severus had seemed – more like the Jedi Council, judging him and distrusting him from the start, though admittedly Anakin deserved that a lot more now than he had when he was nine years old.

But now, watching kit-Severus (who had managed to grab hold of the wipes while Anakin's attention was distracted, and was busy shredding them) he wondered what human Severus had been like as a youngling. Probably from a poor family, like him and Konstantine. Maybe not actually a slave, but not much further up the social ladder – and on some planets, about the only difference between slaves and free workers were that if you were free, when your master no longer had a use for you he just sacked you instead of selling you on to someone else. A clever, creative boy who loved inventing things and tinkering with things to make them work better. And – yes, definitely an outsider, someone who didn't have many friends, and clung to anyone he could consider a friend. Had he ever had a girlfriend? Maybe the Order he belonged to didn't have a rule against love, and he could have been quite openly, legitimately a husband and father. But Anakin suspected that he probably hadn't. With Severus in kit form no longer able to shield his thoughts, the emotional scars of rejection-grief-guilt were too clear to miss – even though kit-Severus probably no longer remembered or understood everything that had happened to him as a human. People like the three of them either didn't find love, or if they did, something went hideously wrong.

Abandoning the remnants of the wipes, the kit turned his back on Anakin, sat down and began to wash himself, as if smoothing his fur could unravel his tangled thoughts. It was probably the nearest to shielding that he could manage in his present form.

No, don't shut me out! Anakin thought desperately. He wondered whether to reach out and use the Force to pet the kit. Force hand-holding had worked better than he had expected, last night. It wasn't the sort of ability that either a Jedi or a Sith would think of developing. After all, neither would want to show love.

Instead, he reached out and levitated the kit onto the bed to snuggle beside him. Too late, he realised his mistake as the kit's presence flared with an explosion of anger, panic and hatred that spread out far beyond his fluffed-up fur. Horrible memories – memories from his time as a human that the kit's brain couldn't consciously process, but which left a clear sense that someone who levitates you is an enemy.

'I am sorry!' Anakin pleaded. He released his telekinetic hold on the kit, who bounced once on the bed and leapt up to scratch his cheek before springing down to the floor, fur still standing on end, tail a bottle-brush of indignation. The kit turned once at the door to hiss at Anakin before stalking off.

A few minutes later, Anakin could hear Konstantine's voice, evidently soothing and reassuring the kit. Anakin couldn't hear the words, but could feel Konstantine's concern and sympathy, and the kit's anger and shock giving way to calmness, and then to a very un-cat-like spike of guilt, accompanied by a sorrowful miaow, presumably as the human part of Severus's mind realised what he had done.

The kit led the older man back into Anakin's room. Konstantine's outward expression didn't change, but his consciousness tightened in concern and disapproval as he saw what had happened. 'Any more wounds?' he asked.

'No. And this is not a wound. Any of us might pick up more damage in sparring practice.'

Konstantine's presence rippled in agreement-amusement-nostalgia (Anakin realised he must miss having time for sparring practice himself, now that he was busy looking after Anakin), but he said firmly, 'Still needs cleaning. And you're not cleared for combat practice till the Duronas say so.' He fetched a first-aid box from a shelf, gently wiped the scratches and fastened a bacta patch on Anakin's face, before saying to the two of them, with the air of an adult telling off a pair of younglings, 'Going to tell me what happened?'

'I – frightened him. Another – trauma flashback, I think. I picked him up, against his will.' Severus, sitting on the floor well away from the bed, nodded to confirm this, and turned away to groom his fur, embarrassed at the way he had reacted. Konstantine grunted in agreement, but didn't volunteer any information.

'You should send me away,' Anakin said. 'I – perhaps Luke was wrong to say there was still good in me. I cannot keep from fighting with either of you. Even when I do not mean to hurt or frighten anyone, I still do. I think I no longer know how to be anything but a monster.'

Konstantine considered this, evidently trying to work out how to assemble his thoughts into words. Anakin could feel his sympathy, and frustration at not knowing how to make things right. Eventually, Konstantine said, 'That's why you're here to learn.'

The fluffy black kit hissed angrily. Anakin could feel his emotions, too: embarrassment at having attacked an injured, bedridden man, but at the same time, deep hurt and humiliation and hatred. It wasn't simply that Anakin had picked him up as if he was a cute voorpak instead of a sentient who happened to be shapeshifted into cat-form. He sensed Anakin as an enemy, as surely as if Anakin had blasted him with Force lighting.

'I am sorry,' Anakin said again, uselessly. 'I did not mean to offend you, but I clearly did. Can I make amends? Can you ever forgive me?'

The kit kept his back turned, this time not even deigning to hiss or spit. Thankfully, there was a knock on the house door, and when Konstantine went to answer it, the kit went with him. They returned shortly with Rowan Durona, another woman who looked as identical as being ten years older (and with her hair short and loose rather than in a bun) would allow, and a man who looked as identical as being ten years younger and male would allow. So, he had been right to guess that they were clones, then. Had whoever had created them implanted chips in their brains to control them, like the clone troopers back home? If so, when they were freed, had they made sure they removed those chips? If they were doctors, they must have worked it out.

'General Skywalker: Dr Chrysanthemum Durona, Dr Rowan Durona, and Dr Raven Durona,' announced Konstantine, as formally as any butler announcing guests at a ball, and, Anakin could sense, as relieved at the distraction as Anakin himself was. Only the kit, crouching in a far corner of the room, continued to sulk.

The youngest doctor, Raven, glanced over at the fluffy creature, intrigued. 'I haven't seen one like that before!' he exclaimed. 'Did your Professor Snape gengineer a pet to look like himself?'

'No. This is the Professor,' Konstantine explained. 'He changed shape this morning.'

'See? It's best not to make assumptions until you've considered all the possibilities,' said Rowan. A ripple of amusement ran between the siblings at some shared joke. She knelt down to face the kit on something closer to eye-level. 'Good morning, Professor,' she said. 'How are you feeling today?' The kit did not respond

'He is angry,' Anakin translated. 'He scratched me when I picked him up without asking his permission.

'You picked – oh!' Rowan smiled. 'You're well enough to have your telekinesis under control, then?'

'Don't get too used to relying on it,' Chrysanthemum put in. 'You'll need to practise using limbs again, soon enough. Prosthetics initially, but if we start growing the first flesh limb for you now, it should be ready by the time you're recovered enough from this round of surgery to be ready for another implant.

'Can you – really do that?' To have actual limbs again, after being without them for most of his adult life. Could he even get used to that, again?

'Yes, of course,' said Rowan. 'We had a patient not long ago – a dancer – who had been mutilated in a particularly nasty coup, involving one of her own brothers. I could show you vids of her and her sibs dancing after her new limbs had taken, and I'd be willing to bet you couldn't tell me which one had had limb grafts.'

'That was the black-sheep-of-the-family brother,' put in Raven. 'Not that any of that family are exactly white sheep, apart from Rowan's boyfriend.'

'Amiri was not my boyfriend!' retorted Rowan, rolling her eyes. 'We were just friends, and colleagues. And still are.'

'Yeah, yeah, keep on telling your husband that.'

'José knows everything. Especially the parts that I don't tell annoying younger brothers.'

'Grandmother Lilly was hoping it would work out between you and Amiri,' Chrysanthemum chipped in.

'I know, I know. If I wasn't going to follow family tradition by cloning myself, marrying another renegade Jacksonian ex-pat doctor was the next best thing. What can I say? Evidently, letting me go off to college on Escobar gave me a taste for galactics.'

'When you met Miles, there was a 50% chance he was a renegade Jacksonian,' Raven retorted.

'Are we here to work, or bicker?' Chrysanthemum cut across them.

'I do not mind the bickering,' Anakin assured them. It made him feel nostalgic for the days when his soldiers could be this relaxed around him and nobody worried that he might throttle them in a moment of rage. Clones, genetically identical or nearly (had Raven been gene-tweaked to make him male, or was he trans?), but as different in their Force presences as any other sentients.

'Thank you. But we do need to examine you,' said Rowan. 'Sergeant, do you want to stay for the medical, today? It'll be a bit more crowded with all of us here.'

Konstantine's face did not change, but his presence felt conflicted. Evidently, he longed to be off and have the chance to talk to Cheiron – and to get Severus out of the room until he had calmed down. But at the same time, he felt guilty and wary – probably feeling that he should stay to guard Anakin, and wondering whether the cloned doctors were trustworthy.

'I will be quite safe,' Anakin assured him. 'If these people meant me harm, I would know it. And I am more than able to defend myself.'

'If you're sure,' said Konstantine, his presence much more relieved than his grudging words would admit. 'Professor? I'm going to see Cheiron. Are you coming?'

The kit padded after him, keeping his head firmly averted from Anakin all the way.

Author's note: I'm sorry! I wanted this to be a fluffy chapter about how being turned into a kitten helps Severus to be able to express his feelings and build a closer bond with his housemates. And it might have worked, if it hadn't been for Anakin's complete lack of boundaries. This isn't going to be easy for Severus to forgive.