Cat Talk

By Kalina

He stirred the potion slowly, anti-clockwise, with one practiced hand, and with the other he reached for the tiny vial of dragon's blood. Three drops at three-second intervals, stirring all the while.

One drop.

Two drops.

And then, just at the crucial moment when he was poised to add the third drop, he was seized by a fit of sneezing. Possessed of a nose that could do nothing by halves, he sneezed so violently that the entire vial of dragon's blood fell into the cauldron. Later he would realize that this alone was not sufficient to cause the explosion; as he thought through the course of events, he would determine that it must have been the addition of a sizable gob of phlegm that had done the real damage.

He woke up in the hospital wing two days later.

§§§§

"Professor? Madam Pomfrey - I think he's waking up. Professor?"

He struggled to open his eyes, but each eyelid seemed to weigh two stone. He groaned as the pain in his head clamped down, and he wanted to cast a silencing charm - or perhaps a killing curse - on whoever it was that was chirping into his ear.

"Professor Snape? Professor Snape? Can you hear me?"

His mouth was dry. He licked his lips and made a supreme effort to form words: "Shut the fuck up."

The delivery wasn't quite as forceful as he'd hoped, but the sentiment was certainly there.

"Oh how wonderful!" the voice squealed, piercing something deep in his brain. "Did you hear that, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I certainly did," Poppy answered. She sounded relieved. "Perhaps you should try whispering, Hermione. I expect Professor Snape has quite a headache."

Hermione? He tried to think of any reason Hermione Granger would be at his bedside, and gave the problem up almost instantly when it made his head ache even worse.

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm so sorry. Truly sorry, Professor."

"Hermione's the one who found you, Severus. She probably saved your life."

Just then, he wished she hadn't bothered. With a supreme effort, he managed to open his eyes, squinting against the glare as two faces swam into view. Poppy patted his hand, and he was vastly irritated that he hadn't the energy to snatch it away.

"Can you remember anything about what happened?" Poppy asked. "Your cauldron exploded, but we've no idea why."

He cast his mind back, reaching through the fog to remember the moments just before everything had gone black. "I...sneezed," he said finally.

"You sneezed?" Poppy repeated.

"A lot. No warning. I was holding...a vial of dragon's blood."

"Oh, no," Hermione said. "Professor, you're not by any chance - um - allergic to cats are you?"

He turned to look at her, wishing he had the energy for a proper glare.

"Because you see," she went on, "when I found you, it was because I'd gone looking for Crookshanks. He'd somehow...er...gotten into your laboratory."

He licked his lips again. "Was he...injured?"

"He's fine," Hermione assured him. "He was hiding under the table and wasn't hurt a bit. Please don't worry about that."

"Not...worried." He cleared his throat. "Just want...the pleasure...of killing him myself."

§§§§

The next days were given over to sleep, mostly, punctuated by Poppy's occasional assaults on his person to do whatever was done for half-dead potions masters. He was too weary to fight her, and he supposed whatever she did worked, because by the third day he was sitting up in bed, the headache reduced to a dull buzz, when Poppy ushered in Minerva and Albus.

"Ah, Severus!" Albus exclaimed jovially. "How wonderful to see you looking so much better. You had us worried there for a bit."

"I wasn't worried for a minute," Minerva said. "Severus has more lives than any ten cats."

"I would consider it a personal favour if you would never again mention cats in my presence," Severus said. "You do realize that the author of this disaster was that vile beast of Granger's."

"I do," Minerva said, "and I gave him a dressing down you wouldn't believe. But he's newly returned to Hogwarts, Severus, and he didn't realize that your laboratory lacked the usual anti-allergen charms. He promised never to venture in there again."

"Speaking of Miss Granger," Albus put in, "I've taken the liberty of asking her to take over your classes for the next two weeks."

"Take over my classes!" Severus exploded. "I don't need anyone to take over my classes. I'm well enough to teach them myself."

"Poppy won't hear of you returning to work yet, Severus, and I find that I agree with her. You don't look at all well."

"I thought Granger was here to write some bloody book. Won't it deprive the world of her genius if she's distracted by potions classes?"

"The world can wait two weeks," Albus said, looking amused. "Hermione feels very badly about what happened, Severus, and is anxious to make amends."

"Crookshanks feels badly as well," Minerva said. "He's a decent fellow, you know, once you can get him talking.  A bit prickly, perhaps, but not at all a bad sort."

"I've no intention of talking to a cat," Severus snapped.

"Well!" Minerva was clearly miffed. "I, for one, find their conversation quite superior to that of some of the people I know - not that I'd be so crass as to name names."

"You can tell that particular cat, for me, that if I ever catch him near my laboratory again, he'll be a snack for the Giant Squid. And tell Granger that if she makes a hash of my classes or coddles the little beasts, I'll make her experience with Polyjuice look like a cheering charm."

"So much for the hope that being cracked on the skull might sweeten your disposition."

"What a revolting thought. And since when does a raging headache sweeten anyone's disposition?"

"Not the headache. But I had a perfectly horrid uncle who sustained a head injury in the first war and woke up as sweet and docile as a child. Of course, he did occasionally think he was an owl, but even so, his wife liked him much better that way than she had before. He had his own perch in one corner of their bedroom."

Severus stared at her, and Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should just be thankful that Severus is recovering, even if it means that he ahem will be his old self again."

"Stop before you have me weeping, Albus. And go away, both of you. I find you very tiresome."

"Well, there's a fine thanks," Minerva huffed, standing up. "And if you find us tiresome, wait until Hermione gets here. She's coming for instructions about the classes."

§§§§

"Oh, Professor! You're looking so much better. Here, let me arrange those pillows for you. You don't look at all comfortable."

"I don't need " but it was too late. She manhandled him into a sitting position and went three rounds with his pillows, pounding and plumping them into what she determined was an acceptable arrangement. The bossy girl had grown into an even bossier woman, and his infirmity had placed him at her mercy.

"There," she said with satisfaction, allowing him to sit back. "Much better. Now we can have a nice, long chat. I want you to tell me exactly what each of your classes is up to. You know, I'm really excited about this; I've always wanted to try teaching and secretly thought I'd be rather brilliant at it. All that tutoring when I was a student here, you know."

"Tutoring requires nothing more than knowledge of the material," Severus said repressively. "Teaching requires the ability to manage a class. The two are not the same, Miss Granger - a fact you will learn soon enough."

"Oh piffle," she said, waving a hand airily. "I'm sure the students will love me." She didn't say, "compared to you," but he sensed that it was implied.

"You are not there for them to love, Granger. You're there to teach. Do try to remember that."

"I think I can manage just fine, Snape," she said, looking affronted. "You just tell me what to teach and I'll take it from there."

He had a feeling that this was going to be a disaster. And truly, the only thing that bothered him was that he wouldn't be there to witness it first-hand.

§§§§

He convinced Poppy to let him return to his rooms the next day, and he never would have admitted how exhausted he was by the trip from the infirmary to his dungeon quarters. He crawled straight beneath his duvet without bothering to shed his robes and was asleep within seconds.

He awoke to the sensation of movement in his bed and was immediately confronted by the glow of two golden eyes in the darkness. He did what any normal, recently concussed human being would do under those circumstances:  He screamed.

Whatever it was jumped and emitted a low growl, and Severus gathered his wits sufficiently to reach for his wand.

"Lumos," he hissed, and the tip of his wand flared, revealing an enormous, squash-faced cat the colour of a pumpkin and nearly as big.

"You!" He regarded the cat with the look he usually reserved for boggarts in his underwear drawer. "What? Come back to finish the job?"

The cat gave him a haughty look and then turned himself around and, presenting Severus with an impressive view of his hindquarters, settled comfortably on the duvet.

"You're not sleeping here," Severus said, using the voice that had reduced many a first-year student to tears. "I don't know what you're doing in my quarters, but you're not sleeping in this bed."

Crookshanks answered with a soft snore.

Severus considered the amount of energy it would take to lift the enormous cat and carry him to the corridor. "Just stay on your side of the bed, then," he snapped. "I do not cuddle."

§§§§

He woke to the sound of knocking and the feel of something soft and warm pressed into the small of his back.

Damn.

He'd cuddled.

In his sleep didn't count, he decided, but just to be on the safe side, he nudged the cat and said, "If you tell Minerva McGonagall about this, the Squid will seem merciful." Crookshanks opened one eye and then launched into a toothy yawn.

Severus crawled out of bed and staggered through the sitting room, opening the door to Hermione Granger. For practically the first time in his life, he was glad to see her. His head was hurting again, but he raised himself up to his full height and was relieved to feel that his glare was quite back to its usual potency. She'd think twice before plumping his pillows this day. "Granger, do you mind telling me what the hell your cat's doing in my bed?"

"He's here?" she exclaimed, sounding delighted. "I've been looking all over for him. Oh, but your allergies - is he bothering you?"

"Is he bothering me?" Severus repeated. The glare was beginning to make his head ache even more, but he kept it firmly in place. "He's in my bloody bed - of course he's bothering me!"

"But your rooms are allergy-proofed, right? So you're not sneezing."

"I do not have to be sneezing to be bothered, Granger."

"Yes, I've noticed that about you." Drat the girl; she didn't seem at all intimidated. In fact, she rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Snape. I'll take my cat with me when I go."

"Which will be soon, I trust."

"What? I'm interrupting your busy schedule? I'm the one teaching all your classes, remember?"

"Because your cat nearly killed me, remember? A favour I'm likely to return if you don't get his fat arse out of my bed."

"Crookshanks isn't fat. He's big-boned." Hermione sounded personally wounded. Not surprising, Severus thought. She'd gotten rather big-boned herself during her years at University.

"Right. Now, if you didn't come here for your cat, what did you come for?"

"Oh, yeah. I just wanted to ask you about the lessons for the third-years. Today seemed a bit hard for them. Are you sure they're ready?"

He gave her a suspicious look. "What happened?"

"Well, it wasn't that bad, really..."

"What happened?"

"Er, just a couple of exploding cauldrons. No one much hurt - I mean, not as badly as you were, anyway. There was a bit of damage to your desk, but I'm sure you can put that right again."

"You did remember to tell them to stir the potion clockwise, didn't you?"

"Well, I might have forgotten in the first class, but the next one went much better...er, up to a point."

"What happened there?"

"Well..."

"Granger..."

"No explosions, so that was good, wasn't it?" she asked with false brightness. "There were some noxious fumes one of the students used dragonfly wings instead of lacewings."

"Good God!" Severus clapped his hands to his aching head. "You won't be able to go back into that classroom for a week!"

Hermione winced slightly. "Er, three days, Dumbledore says, and since tomorrow's Friday that means only one day of cancelled class."

"Why wasn't the cabinet with the dragonfly wings locked?" Severus exploded. "Third years shouldn't even have access to that area."

"Um...I might have left it open by mistake. Some of the fifth years stopped me after class to ask some questions, and I forgot to go back and lock it."

"So, maybe not quite as brilliant as you thought," he snapped.

"It was my first day," she said defensively. "I admit, it didn't go completely smoothly, but I'll get better."

"We can only hope you don't kill someone first." He sank into a chair; all the glaring and being upright had caught up with him. "Thank you so much for coming by. My head hasn't ached like this since I first came out of coma. Come to think of it, you were there that time, too."

"When was the last time you ate?" she demanded.

"How should I know? I don't even know what time it is now. I've been asleep."

"Sit right there," she said briskly. "I'm going to have the House-Elves send down some food."

He was too sick and tired to argue. He slumped in his chair whilst she buzzed around his rooms, straightening things that had been pleasantly disordered for decades, and then, when the food came, making him a tray and bringing it to him where he sat. He had the feeling that she would have spoon-fed him if he hadn't fed himself, but that would have been one irritation too many, so he put forth the effort.

While he was eating, Crookshanks meandered out of the bedroom, pausing to rub himself against the doorframe. His pleasure in the act was nearly obscene.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over to pick him up. "There's my darling boy! What are you doing down here you naughty thing?" She punctuated her remarks with several kisses to his furry head.

While watching this nauseating display, he caught Crookshanks' eye, and the cat gave him a look that seemed to say, You see what I have to put up with?

He looked back thinking, It's ghastly, yes, but you're not hanging around here.

Crookshanks gave him a look of abject humiliation, and Severus realized with sudden horror that he was - in some odd way - actually having a conversation with a cat. The head injury must have been much worse than he'd thought.

"You're not eating," Hermione said.

"Watching you torture that cat has robbed me of my appetite."

"Torture?" She clutched her cat closer. "He loves this."

"He hates it," Severus said flatly, absolutely certain that he was right but unwilling to examine how, exactly, he knew. "Put him down. Give him his dignity."

"Look," Hermione said, lowering Crookshanks to the floor. "You'll see."

Crookshanks immediately dashed away from her and hid underneath Severus's chair.

"See?" he said, suddenly liking the cat a bit better.

"I don't know what his problem is. It must just be being in a strange place. I can't think why he came down here."

"I can't think how he got in here," Severus groused.

"Oh, Crookshanks is part kneazle. He can go anywhere."

Severus did not find that thought particularly reassuring.

§§§§

He slept until nearly lunchtime the following day and woke to the sound of rhythmic purring. It took him a moment to place the sound, and when he did, he sat up and glared at the huge orange mound on his bed.

Crookshanks glared back.

Severus nodded his approval. As long as there was no mushy stuff, he figured they'd get along all right.

§§§§

"Is he here?" Hermione said with a sigh.

Severus nodded and stepped aside to let her in.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't think why he keeps coming down here. With your classes cancelled today, I thought I'd get a little work in on the book. I just left long enough to get some information from Professor Dumbledore, and when I got back, he was gone. I'll take him now."

"In the bedroom," Severus said. "And if he gets fleas in my bed..."

"Crookshanks does not have fleas," Hermione said testily.

"He'd better not."

She went into his bedroom and came out with her arms full of disgruntled cat.

You let her interrupt my nap, Crookshanks' look seemed to say.

So keep your fat arse at home next time, Severus thought unrepentantly.

Oh, hell. He was doing it again.

§§§§

"Granger, a word." He stopped Hermione on her way into the Great Hall for lunch. It was the first time he'd made it to the Great Hall since his injury.

Hermione gave him a surprised smile. "Look at you! You must be feeling better."

"Never mind that," he snapped. "Your cat pissed in my bathtub this morning."

She sighed. "You're going to have to get him a litter box."

"A litter in my rooms? Have you lost your mind?"

"He needs a place to do his business."

"He HAS a place!" He realized he was nearly screaming and lowered his voice to a sinister hiss. "In your rooms, Granger, not mine. I will not have my quarters smelling like a sewer just because you can't keep your cat at home."

"Don't be a git, Snape. There are charms to deal with the odour, as you perfectly well know. I'll bring you the box and even be the one to clean it. It's obvious that Crookshanks wants to be with you during the day, and as long as I'm teaching your classes, I can't make sure he stays home every minute. When you go back to work, I'm sure that'll be the end of it. In the meantime, a litter box is the best of your options. You're just lucky he went for the bathtub."

"Speaking of my classes..." he said suspiciously.

"I think things are going...better," she said, but her face looked troubled.

He decided his meal would go down better if he didn't ask.

§§§§

"Came to visit my cat."

He studied her face carefully: something was wrong. Since Crookshanks had become a regular visitor to his quarters, Granger had, too, and this was practically the first time she hadn't come bounding in and immediately started bossing him around. One cracked skull and suddenly he had a cat in his bed and a woman driving him up the wall, and the thing that really terrified him was that he was beginning to wish it were the other way 'round.

He stepped aside. "Come in."

She did, crossing straight to an armchair without even enquiring about Crookshanks. "So, um, how are you feeling?"

"Much better. Poppy thinks I'll be able to return to work a few days earlier than expected."

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding rather hopeful. "Because to tell you the truth, I don't think things are going so awfully well with your classes."

"Yes, I've gotten that impression," he said dryly. Several of his Slytherins had visited that afternoon and regaled him with the travesty that was Hermione Granger in the classroom.

"It's harder than I thought it would be," she said glumly. "You know, I've never really failed at anything before "

"High time then."

"What?"

"People who never fail at anything are irritating, Granger. You're irritating."

"Thanks loads," she snapped.

He shrugged.

Crookshanks wound his way out of the bedroom, cocked his head at Hermione and looked at her thoughtfully, and then ran and jumped in her lap. He kneaded his paws against her robes and rubbed his head against her chin. She clutched him to her chest and heaved a grateful sigh; he bore it patiently and gave Severus a look that said, Sometimes a bloke has to do these things, even if it means sacrificing a little dignity.

I suppose you're right, Severus thought.

"I don't particularly feel up to dinner in the Great Hall tonight," he said aloud. "I think I'm going to have the House-Elves send something down. Would you care to join me?"

She sighed, still hugging Crookshanks close. "Sure. That would be nice."

§§§§

They had left a trail of clothing across his sitting room. He'd intended to make it to the bed but decided at the last minute that the sofa would serve just as well. It indicated an eagerness and a degree of impatience that wasn't entirely befitting a man of his age and reputation, but no one except he and Hermione would ever know.

No one except...

Crookshanks was on the hearth radiating disapproval, his tail twitching irritably.

You said yourself that sometimes we had to sacrifice a little dignity, Severus thought as he looked at the cat. I did this for her.

Crookshanks returned his look: Right. And I'm the Sphinx.

Hermione smiled and pressed a flurry of soft kisses to Severus's lips, his jaw, his neck.

Crookshanks looked disgusted. Don't say I didn't warn you.

In truth, Severus had grown rather fond of the hideous furball over the past weeks. Fond enough that he was willing to endure a certain amount of Hermione's affection if it meant that his feline friend would be spared.

He gave Crookshanks one final look before dismissing him from his mind entirely: I think I'll risk it. And by the way, you're not sleeping in my bed tonight.

End