Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

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After six hours of teaching incompetent, negligent dunderheads, two hours of cleaning up after them, an hour of listening to his colleagues complaints about the new -- and returning -- crop of students, and another hour of setting final times for nightly rounds and detention monitoring, Severus was exhausted, wanting no more than to take a hot bath and relax with a glass of brandy and a good book. Or maybe just sprawl in an easy chair and stare into space. That would be good, too.

But he had the potion for Filch to prepare -- one which took almost four hours of prep time before even starting the fire under the cauldron, followed by constant monitoring for another four, then simmering and stirring and cooling . . . it would be done by Friday, but only just, and he meant to have Filch drink it or be damned by then. Plus he had summer assignments to grade, two detentions already to monitor, both students from his House, with the detention assigned by Minerva -- damn her -- as well as potion ingredients to prepare for tomorrow's lessons.

It was going to be a long night.

He entered his quarters with the expectation that it would be quiet -- Nelli had been on duty with Harry until noon, at which point Fern and . . . the other one took over until bedtime -- and Harry should have been fed dinner already and be in the process of getting ready for bed even now. Severus was disappointed that he'd missed dinner with Harry, as he'd known the boy was still having a difficult time after the mess with Filch in the Great Hall. But Dumbledore had insisted he be present for dinner with the rest of the staff, for at least this week, and he had acquiesced, though he had not eaten much, given his worry for his son.

Even with this expectation, he was not prepared for the still, almost deathly quiet of his chambers. No breath of sound came from anywhere.

Immediately on alert, with wand at the ready, Severus moved cautiously through the sitting room to the hallway which held doors to the bedrooms and his office. The door to Harry's bedroom was ajar, just a crack, and he crept quietly toward it, noting that a mere sliver of light escaped the room, enough for a single candle, no more.

Not until he was almost at the door did he hear anything, and then it was only an odd scritching sound . . . then silence again.

Sidling to the small shaft of light of the opening, Severus peered into the boy's room, able to see only a portion of the bed. Harry's body was sprawled across the part he could see, an arm, a leg and partial trunk. And then . . . over the band of Harry's black hair where it met his neck, a large, pointed tuft of white-furred . . . ear? appeared. The ear swiveled toward him and then twitched as a clawed paw rose to scratch at it.

What the . . . ?

Severus aimed his wand at the tufted ear, pushed open the door, then slipped into the room. Candlelight glimmered in ice blue eyes below white ears, in the white (or cream colored, perhaps), narrow feline face of a kneazle kit, no more than three or four months old.

Where the . . . ?

Harry had not stirred from where he had apparently passed out cold on the bed, though he looked unharmed. Severus glanced for only a split second at the House-elf, Fern, fast asleep in the small rocker in the corner of the room. The blue-eyed kneazle watched his movements, not blinking, and Severus stared right back. Very deliberately, gaze still locked with Severus', the little furred face lowered over Harry's neck and a little pink tongue lapped at his exposed skin . . . as if the bloody thing were taunting him!

Harry's hand came up and scratched absently at his neck, his eyes still shut.

After another moment, Severus stepped out of the room and said, under his breath, 'Fern.'

From his vantage point, he could see the House-elf's eyes fly open, accompanied by a soft gasp and then a Pop as Fern disappeared from the chair and appeared right in front of Severus. 'Master Snape, sir!' she squeaked, and Severus shushed her, pointing out how close they were to Harry. Coloring in embarrassment, she whispered loudly, 'You is home!'

Severus found it unnecessary to agree, but pointed at the kneazle and pitched his voice low. 'What is that?'

'A kneazle, Master Snape, sir!'

'Yes.' Severus sighed and regarded the creature. The indistinct grayish spots in the otherwise pure cream- white pelage, on top of a pink nose and blue eyes, leant the animal the look of a small, white leopard. It was rather beautiful. But it was in his home. 'Now, what is it doing here?'

'Master Hagrid was showing the kneazle kit to young Master Harry, and Master Harry is liking the kit very much.'

'And so Hagrid gave the beast to him.' Another sigh. He was going to have to have a long talk with the man in which the second half of the compound term 'gamekeeper' was elucidated. Honestly!

'Oh, yes,' Fern said happily. 'And Master Harry is showing Treacle the whole castle, even the ow--'

'Wait,' Severus interrupted. 'What did you call it?'

'Master Harry is naming his kneazle Treacle Tart.'

Severus shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The boy had already named it. Damn.

'Father?' came a sleepy voice from inside the room.

Severus peered into the room again, and lifted an eyebrow at Harry's expression as the boy pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes. One of the worst cases of bed hair Severus had ever seen was currently glued to the side of his face with sweat and -- he would swear -- drool. Maybe even some kneazle spit. The kneazle rose on back paws and stretched up to lick the boy's ear. Harry giggled. 'Quit it, Tree.' He scratched the kit's head and it leaned into his hand, purring.

'Harry . . . ?' Severus said, in a leading tone.

'Hagrid gave me her. Isn't she pretty? Hagrid says she can pr'tect me from bad people and help me find my way home if'm lost, 'cause she's nearly magic and real gentle. Can I keep her?'