Mr. Whiskers - Chapter Three
The Beauty of Cotton...

It was a nightmare. It had to be. There is no way in heaven or hell this could be happening in real life. With all the events of his life so far, not to mention the ever present prophesy still hanging over his head, it would take a seriously demented mind to come up with more ways to torture him.

But, we are talking about the great Boy-Who-Lived here. Some times it seems the Powers That Be were seriously stoned when they planned out his life.

Forget that there was no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, and no pain. No night of death-filled visions from Tom ever induced the kind of horror he was going through right now.

She was brushing his hair.

OK, so maybe the brushing itself wasn't that bad. His coat had become rather scruffy after hanging out with Hangrid and Fang for the last six weeks. And summer had just started so he was shedding a little. Besides, Tonks had brushed out his coat plenty of times to help massage his sore muscles he first mastered his transformation. He actually kinda missed the rubdowns she would give him after some of his more strenuous workouts, but she was seven years older than him and it wasn't like they were going to start seeing each other or anything (although Remus didn't seem mind the fifteen year gap between the two of them...)

After Hangrid left Hermione brought some of Mr. Whiskers stuff up to her room, including that bloody brush Albus had sent along. Harry was confused at first when she sat on the floor, leaned against her bed, and waved him over. But when she grabbed him by the scruff and hauled him into her lap he was petrified. Eyes closed, he wondered how she was going to get even with him. They had not parted on good terms and Harry was convinced she had figured out it was him. The first swipe of the brush through his glossy pelt surprised him so much that he had almost reverted to his human form, but he was completely taken back when he opened his eyes to find she had drawn his upper torso into her lap with his head currently pillowed on her thighs. Then she started to talk.

And it wasn't stuff she would normally share with him or Ron.

Or, it might be now. Harry knew she started to open up after becoming friends with Ginny over their summer in Grimmauld Place. And she did spend several evenings each week with the other 'Gryffindor Girls' while their boyfriends were having Quidditch practice (he still wondered how Jack Sloper ended up with Lavender Brown, though). Evidently makeup tips weren't the only things she had been picking up.

It wasn't exactly gossip, she was just describing the people that might drop by or talk about while he was there. But some of the details she provided were far more 'colorful' than what he was used to coming from her. Or, at least what used to come from her. It had been several months since he had taken the time to sit down and talk with her. The distance that had grown between Harry and his friends was even more pronounced when he realized she had described most of the Weasleys (with less than flattering comments about her ex-boyfriend), all of the Order members, and even the girls from her dorm, without mentioning him.

At that point, Harry knew this was real. No mater how inadequate he might feel when it comes to the prophecy, however much he may torture himself over endangering his friends, he would never of dreamed that the one person who has always treated him like a normal person would forget about him. There wasn't a bitter comment like she had for Ron, or even the 'off chance they visit' description of her dorm mates, evidently the possibility of seeing him didn't even cross her mind.

Harry's attention drifted as Hermione began to talk about her parents. He had figured she might be upset with him after the argument they got into during the spring break, but he never thought she would have simply dismissed him. He had thought she went home for the Easter holidays like Ron and Ginny, but evidently her parents were celebrating their anniversary with a Mediterranean cruse so she stayed behind. He was already running late for training with Flitwick and Tonks that morning, so while he was surprised to see her, he only had time to give her a quick wave before running out the common room door.

That evening would have probably gone a lot better if Harry had not just spent six hours trying to hold his Animagus form while his teachers cursed him with everything short of the unforgivables to test his magical resistance. His pelt had absorbed so much magic that his skin was still tingling from it and he was getting little static shocks every time he touched anything magical. Blindly stumbling through the portrait hole, he was heading toward the boys dormitories when Hermione grabbed his arm. Looking back the next day, both Albus and him agreed she probably just wanted to speak with him, but at the moment all Harry knew was that a magical surge had thrown him clear across the common room. Tired, hurting, and already feeling slighted about how Ron and her had been avoiding him for months, the following conversation did not go well.

The rest of the students returned by the time Harry cooled off, and when he tried to approach her the following weekend to apologize Ron took a swing at him. Being that Ron had taken after his brother Charlie and was now a good 6 ½ ft with plenty of muscle from Quidditch, that wasn't really something to sneeze at. But training to fight 10-15 hours a day combined with his own natural seeker skills, Harry had little trouble staying out of Ron's reach. It probably would have ended with Ron just wearing himself out if he had kept his mouth shut, but after ten minutes of him ranting about Harry's fame, wealth, and ego Harry had enough. When Ron took that next swing, Harry didn't bother ducking, allowing the energy he had absorbed during that afternoon's training to come to the surface.

Fortunately this was a controlled release, so unlike the forced feedback Hermione had caused, Harry was in control this time and didn't move an inch. Unfortunately while Harry had been blasted into one of the many chairs scattered around the room when Hermione touched him, Ron met with the tower wall.

Hard.

In the end, Ron ended up in the care of Madam Pomfrey for the rest of the weekend, Hermione was hiding in the girls doom (evidently she wasn't too happy about Ron referring to her as 'His' during the argument) and Harry moved his belongings into the Room of Requirement, much to the dismay of several couples that had been using it for after-hours activities. And, he didn't get a chance to apologize to Hermione for their fight the previous day.

Now, three months later, he is disguised as a large cat, with his head lying in her lap, purring like Crookshanks in a sunbeam while she shares stuff she would never normally tell him about.

She is going to hate him when she finds out.

Hermione quickly slipped out from beneath him as he pondered the situation he was in. The sound of her voice quickly got his attention as she entered the in-suite bath.

"Well," the laughter was evident in her voice, "we may have gotten you nicely groomed but now it looks like I'm the one shedding"

Curious as to what has her so amused, Harry got up and trotted over to the open door just in time to see Hermione dropping the peach top and tan skirt that she had been wearing, now covered in his hair, into the clothes hamper.

OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod, Harry was in a full-blown panic now. Forget hating me, she is gona kill me when she finds out.

Noticing Mr. Whiskers at the door, Hermione turned to face him. "Didn't anyone teach you not to spy on a lady while she was changing?" She asked with a smile on her face. It felt good to smile again. She knew her less-than-chipper attitude had been getting on her mother's nerves for the past month and was amazed at how much better she was feeling after just a few hours with her new friend. No wonder they suggest elderly people get themselves a pet.

Harry never saw that smile though. Being that he was on all fours in his Nundu form his field of view was much lower than her head. He had been quite entranced by the play of muscles in her thigh as she stood there on her tiptoes. When she turned to speak, his attention was traveling up toward her face before noticing that while she may have stopped moving, some parts hadn't. He was just wondering why clothing manufacturers bother with bright colors and fancy fabrics if simple white cotton could be so entrancing when her voice broke through his daze... 'Didn't anyone teach you not to spy...' Mortified at the realization he was ogling Hermione while she was wearing almost nothing, Harry quickly closed his eyes and tried to back out of the room.

Having forgotten her new friend would understand her, Hermione was surprised when the large cat ducked his head in shame and closed his eyes, quickly turning to amusement as he tried to back out without looking and ran into the wall.

And then slipped on the linoleum.

And knocked over the trashcan.

The urge to start laughing came to an abrupt end when the panicking predator clipped the wall trying to get leave the room, splintering the doorsill and leaving a blood-covered tuft of fur hanging from the frame. Worried about his safety Hermione quickly followed him back into the bedroom, just in time to watch the large cat collide with the side of her bed hard enough to knock it into the wall.

Jumping to the side of her fallen companion, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck in a soft embrace, hoping to calm him down before he was injured further.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Whiskers. I was just teasing," Hermione softly petting the back of his head, still holding him closely. "Shhhh, I wasn't really mad." She continued to stroke his soft fur and murmur quietly until she felt him relax.

Harry came out of his panic slowly, comforted by the warmth of his best friend's embrace and the soothing sound of her voice rumbling deep in her chest. But as peaceful as it was he couldn't let himself accept her comfort for too long, especially when she didn't know it was him. Slowly climbing back to his feet, he gave Hermione a gentle nudge, trying to thank her for her concern.

"Feeling better then?" She asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his soft coat.

Harry responded with a throaty rumble, rubbing his face against her cheeks to reassure the worried girl.

"OK then," she smiled, trying to brush the black hairs off herself as she stood and walked toward the bathroom once again. "I better get cleaned up before my parents get home. They've been anxious to see you for some reason."

Harry moved closer to the open door to hear her better as she was rummaging through the bathroom, but was careful not to look in.

"I'm not sure what Professor Dumbledore told them to get their approval for you to stay here, but mum has been very excided about it. I've never known her to really be an animal person, but she's already been talking about taking an afternoon off to get to know you. She's the one that suggested Crookshanks leave for a while to avoid any territorial disputes."

Hermione's voice was further muffled as he heard her opening the various cupboards. Concentrating on what she was saying, Harry moved right up next to the doorway, being sure to keep his view away from the open door.

"Dad has been a bit weird about it. He's the one that usually takes in every stray he comes across, but he's been kind of reserved about this. You will have to be on your best behavior to win him over."

As the shower started Harry began to suspect that Albus had told her parents that it would be him in disguise. But why would her parents agree to have a disguised wizard in the house? Wouldn't it be easier to use the Fidelius Charm to protect the entire family? And he really didn't think any parents would be willing to use their own child as bait. As soon as Albus told them about the Death Eaters collecting information on their family they should have gone into hiding. Obviously there was something going on that Albus did not inform Harry of.

Harry's pondering was cut short when the white cotton garment he was admiring a short time ago fluttered through the open doorway, slipping across his muzzle and being hooked by one strap over his left ear.

So much for Hermione killing me when she finds out, there will be nothing left after her Father is done.