Title: Rubber Ball

Author: magika_draconia

Other pairings/threesome: None

Rating: Gen

Content/Warning(s): None

Prompt: The Potter family pet (Ginny is gone / deceased / whatever you would like) keeps finding its way to Severus' house / lab / office; Severus keeps bringing it back

A/N: So I'd barely started writing the story when I wrote the summary. As you may be able to tell, it sooo did not go the way I planned!

The clamour of the doorbell heralded a stampede of small feet and the cries of "I'll get it!" "No, I'll get it!" "I'm older than you!" "I'm older than both of you, so I'll get it!" "No faaiiirrrr!" before the door swung open to reveal a horde of small demo—ahem, a small horde of Potters.

"I believe," said Severus Snape, "that this is yours."

"MINNIE!" the littlest Potter squealed, reaching for the ball of fluff that Severus was holding out. A small pink tongue emerged to lavishly wash the child's face, and the entire body moved in a way that suggested its tail – if it actually had a separate tail – was wagging.

"Hey," a deeper voice called from further inside the house, "did I hear the— Oh, Snape," it finished, lilting higher in surprise.

Severus inclined his head in greeting. "Potter," he said.

"What are you . . . ? Oh, no," Harry Potter groaned. "Don't tell me Minnie got loose again?"

"Very well; I won't tell you," said Severus, and one corner of his mouth twitched as Potter glowered at him. "Perhaps," he offered, sardonically, "you might try tying her up?"

"We do," one of the Potter clones piped up. Severus lowered his gaze downwards as one of the male spawn held up what looked like a garland of twisted vines. A length of rope dangled from one side of it. "We found this under the hedge this morning."

"Then perhaps another method is called for," Severus said, eyeing the thing. It didn't look like it would stop a puffskein, let alone a . . . whatever the Potter pet was. "Potter." He nodded sharply at Potter Senior and turned to leave.

"Thanks, Snape," Potter called, but Severus had already Disapparated.

Sighing, Harry shut the door and turned around to face his children. Sometimes – okay, most times – he thought that agreeing to bring Minnie into their household had been a stupendously bad idea, but he'd thought getting a pet would distract the children from Ginny's . . . leaving.

He wasn't a dog person; even now, he could still remember the pump of adrenaline through his body as he scrambled to get higher in the tree than Aunt Marge's bulldog Ripper could jump to. But Minnie had so greatly resembled a dandelion that he'd thought it'd be fine. After all, how much trouble could a little fluff ball like that be?

As it turned out . . . a lot.

For starters, it – He? She? It was impossible to tell – had barely been inside for five minutes before starting to eat them out of house and home. It was ridiculous. Harry had no idea where the hell all that food was going, as the creature never seemed to grow anything but fluffier. Within a week, he'd had to start owl-ordering all their groceries, as he'd found himself lugging bags and bags home every night.

Then Minnie started doing her disappearing act.

The first time, it had taken a while for anybody to notice. It wasn't until increasingly frustrated calls of her name had failed to produce her that the children had realised that what they'd thought had been the dandelion-fluff of Minnie hiding behind a small bush had actually been dandelion fluff stuck in the bush.

Cue three very hysterical small children.

Harry had just been about to go and put up missing posters when a brisk knock at the door had derailed him. He had almost flung the door open, fully prepared to lay in to whatever poor salesman had managed to get around his wards that usually just gave Muggles the pleasant feeling that they'd spent a happy twenty minutes talking with him and sent them away satisfied.

The tall, dark and unexpectedly alive man on the doorstep halted him in his tracks.

"Snape!" he blurted. "I mean, Profes—I mean, Headma—I mean . . . um—" Blushing furiously, he forcibly bit his tongue to stop himself from rambling on.

The man that had been bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack the last time Harry had seen him looked a combination of amused and irritated. Irritation seemed to be winning by a mile – a long mile.

"I found this outside my front door," Snape said, holding out his hand. Minnie was curled up – or possibly just sitting; it was hard to tell – in the middle of his palm. "A return-to-owner spell led me here. I trust you will take better care of your belongings in future."

Passing off Minnie so abruptly that for a moment Harry was juggling her in an effort not to drop her, Snape had turned and disappeared before Harry managed to even open his mouth, let alone actually get something out.

After that, Minnie seemed to make it a habit to disappear at least once a week and, without fail, she always seemed to end up at Snape's – or, at least, it was always Snape who brought her back. However, much to Harry's increasing frustration, the taciturn man never stayed longer than the time it took Harry to say 'hello'.

One of these days, Harry swore to himself, he was going to get the man to set foot inside the door. He wanted to sit down with Snape, discuss his mum and why Dumbledore had done what he had to the both of them, ask how the man had survived getting a gaping hole torn in his throat, wonder why he had chosen to settle on the outskirts of this Muggle village, ponder over how handsome he had become, marvel at the ma— Wait, wha . . . ?

Stunned, Harry ran his mind back over his thoughts. Yep, he had just thought Snape and handsome and marvel all at the same time.

That settled it, he thought, as he headed back towards the noise his children were making. He'd been spending too much time with only toddlers for company and was grasping onto Snape out of desperation. He needed to get out more.

The next time Severus rang the doorbell – almost a week later – it was greeted with such a deep silence, that went on for so long, that he began to think he'd miscalculated and nobody was home. Frustrated, he stabbed the bell again, and when another five minutes had gone by with no answer, he pressed his finger to the button and left it there.

"All right, all right, I'm coming!" came an annoyed voice from inside.

Relieved, Severus drew himself up straight and opened his mouth, fully prepared to lecture Potter on how to secure his pet, when the door finally opened, and every thought went completely out of his mind.

He'd apparently interrupted Potter in the shower, as although he was wearing what looked like thick pyjama trousers, they were clinging damply to the muscles of his thighs, and the only thing covering his chest was drops of water.

His eyes following one such drop that was slowly meandering its way down between Potter's pectoral muscles, over his abdomen until it was soaked up by the waistline of the strange trousers, Severus felt his mouth go dry, and wondered absently if Potter would mind him licking the water off of his skin.

"Snape," Potter's voice interrupted, sounding puzzled but happy. He was rubbing a towel briskly over his wet hair.

Jolted back to a remembrance of where he was, Severus' eyes shot up to meet Potter's, his back straightening a fraction more. "I believe," he managed to get out in a semblance of his usual tone, "that this belongs to you."

Potter's gaze dropped to where Severus was holding his hand out. "Oh, Minnie," he sighed at the white fluff ball in Severus' palm. "How did you manage to get out this time?" He glanced back up at Severus, and his mouth twisted into a wry grin. "We should have called her Houdini," he said.

Severus was about to insist that it didn't matter to him what they had or should have called their pet, and that Potter should take back his property at once, when the boy – no, he really was all man now, and a very well-developed one, too – abruptly shivered.

"Look, Snape, just come in while I go finish drying off and getting dressed," Potter said, moving away from the door.

Unable to resist the siren call of that muscled frame disappearing into the caressing shadows, Severus found himself in Potter's front hall before he'd entirely decided to move.

He cleared his throat. "If you'd kindly remove your pet from my person, and take better care in future that it doesn't end up at my home—"

"What, you think we're deliberately setting her loose, just to lure you here?" Potter scoffed from somewhere in the front room.

Severus stiffened and let the fluff ball drop to the ground. "If you—" he began, heatedly, but Potter cut him off.

"Believe me, we've tried everything and nothing seems to work." Potter suddenly appeared in the doorway, and grinned at Severus. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"You like your pet getting out and wandering off?" asked Severus, perplexed. He'd thought Potter would be a more responsible pet owner than that.

"The reason I'm not complaining—" Potter corrected, sauntering into the hall towards where Severus stood, frozen. Hadn't he said he was going to get dressed? "—is that it gives me more chances."

"Chances—" Severus' voice broke in a way it hadn't done in decades, and he felt a flush crawling over his cheekbones as he hastily cleared his throat. "Chances for what?" he repeated, in his usual bass voice.

"To see you," Harry murmured, so close now that Severus could feel the warmth of his skin. Wait a moment . . . since when has he been Harry, rather than Potter? "To talk to you – when you weren't rushing off," Harry continued, smirking up at Severus.

Severus opened his mouth, but found all his words had deserted him, so closed it again and just looked at Harry. He felt rather as if he were floundering out of his depth, and it wasn't a feeling he enjoyed. "Potter, I . . ." he began, helplessly.

"Don't worry," Harry said, softly. He reached out and tentatively laid a hand on Severus' chest. "We'll take it slow, get used to each other—" A loud bang and a shrill, indignant cry from outside announced the arrival home of Potter's children, and Harry hung his head, laughter bubbling up as he shook it. "After the children have gone to bed."

The Pompadour currently known as Minnie – and he'd heard all he ever wanted to about puffskeins and dandelion fluff, thank you very much – sat beside the front door, looking as dignified as it was possible for one of his kind to be.

It was gratifying to see that his master's plan had worked. His master had fretted over the entire thing, and yet the only thing holding him back had been himself. He supposed he could remain here for just a few more days, just to ensure that his master didn't get cold feet and run off again. It was so tiresome having to invent plausible – and implausible – ways of escaping and 'pretending' that he just happened to end up at his master's house, all so his master had an excuse to visit.

Yes, the Pompadour decided, as the youngest Potter child danced towards him, chanting, "Minnie, Minnie, Minnie," and waving some unidentifiable food substance in front of his nose, a few more days won't hurt.