DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, its publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made for this. No copyright infringement is intended.

TITLE: Warm Place To Be

AUTHOR: Relala

BETA: lady of scarlet

FANDOM STATUS: Canon

It's a mediocre hiding place, Crookshanks knows, because it does not hide him at all. But then, Crookshanks is a cat and he knows absolutely nothing of the inner workings of the Man-Dog's mind, cannot contemplate the way a brain might have ideas and thoughts.

Cats are creatures of instincts and knowledge acquired by experience. The cat sees the Man-Dog and, from the experiences he has had of hiding in places to catch his own prey, he knows that the Man-Dog is visible and not likely to catch whatever he is waiting for.

His eyes glow from the deepest depths of the shadows like polished slices of black glass; they prevent him from truly hiding himself. And Crookshanks knows, instinctively, that this is no true dog. No animal is capable of making his eyes glow with the threat of vengeance.

His orange fur stands on end and he pities (honestly pities like a human would) the idiot who has inspired such blistering loathing.

They're teasing each other now.

It's been a week since that first glance and since then they have been playing cat and mouse with each other. Showing up at the Man-Dog's lair, leaving tiny orange furs and the dead corpses of mice behind as if to say "I have found you, I know what you are. Now what are you going to do about it?" Muddy paw prints--fresh and runny--left underneath the Quidditch pitch bleachers where Crookshanks sleeps, serve as a playful warning.

They tease each other in the language of animals like a boy might tease a girl when he likes someone for the first time. Coaxing each other to come closer. "Come get to know me" they are saying to each other with these gestures. "That is, if you dare."

And they're daring, the two of them. They are as brave and as mighty as any mythical hero, as courageous as any fool. If Crookshanks had been human he might have been a Gryffindor.

He darts into the Man-Dog's path, tail swishing in the air to knock him in the muzzle, little paws moving so swiftly but not swiftly enough as the Man-Dog's teeth graze the flesh just under the fur. A gentle touch.

They are playing dangerous games with each other, delighting in the thrills.

The Man-Dog is sometimes nothing more than a Man. This happens only on rare occasions, in the times when the students who are so afraid of him in his monstrous dog form are asleep, and in the moments when Crookshanks can escape the worried hands of his Ink-Smelling girl. These times happen few are far between.

But it seemed important to the Man that they happen.

He would find them someplace in the Forbidden Forest, someplace hidden deep within in the bushes and shaded by the trees, to lie low for a couple hours and he would be a Man for a while. A Man, something made of snow white skin pulled over bones with burning eyes that promised death and pain.

Sometimes the Man would speak, opening his lips to emit sounds which Crookshanks did not understand with his feline mind. His sounds were made of human words, things which had syllables and vowels and deeper meanings, and the cat would sit close by him in these times, even though he was unable to understand.

Sometimes the Man spoke in the tongue of an animal, however, and although Crookshanks did not understand the human word he understood the message.

"Peter," the Man would hiss, the polished darkness reappearing and Crookshanks would feel the anger, nervously twitching his tail. More words would be said but always it would come back to the previous word and the vengeance promise. "Peter."

Crookshanks begins to learn the word. Not, of course, by deciphering the Man's human speech but rather by understanding that whenever the word was spoken a new flame of anger appeared in the Man-Dog's eyes.

It isn't until much later that he connects the Peter word to the cowardly creature which lives within the pockets of the Ink-Smelling girl's friend. Nevertheless, the cat does learn what a Peter is when they are watching his owner and his friends cross the grounds and the rat, sensing the Man-Dog and the cat, tries his hardest to run away.

From deep within his furry chest rumbles a growl and Crookshanks beings to watch the creature after that. For weeks, for months, he watches.

And at last he understands.

This rat creature is not a rat at all. This creature is a Man-Rat (or rather a Rat-Man as he has been a rat far too long). Human emotions are shown up the Rat-Man--terror and horror and comprehension--in the glass pieces of shining blue that are his eyes. The Rat-Man's eyes are polished glass, pools of thin ice ready to be smashed.

The rain is pouring down in bucketfuls and Crookshanks shivers angrily as it seeps into his fur. It's freezing out here, even underneath the many layers of his ginger coloured coat, and absolutely everything is soaking wet.

The cat desires nothing more than to laze by the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, the girl running her hands down his body. Yet the cat is bound by loyalty to stay with the Man-Dog. They have become friends somehow, the two of them, the cat and the dog, and no matter how odd their relationship might be Crookshanks isn't about to give up on it.

He hasn't loved many people in his life and he has liked and trusted even less, but the Man-Dog has become one of the few people to join the ranks.

So the shaggy, starved-looking, Man-Dog and the sopping wet cat make their way around the Hogwarts castle together, poking their faces into random places in hopes of finding more hidden passage ways.

But by the time the dawn arrives they have found nothing.

The Man-Dog huffs, shakes out his fur as the rain keeps pounding down onto his back, and lays his head on his paws in disappointment. Crookshanks curls up against his massive side, becoming nothing but a rolled up mat of orange fur and the Dog-Man snorts in amusement.

At any other time catching the Rat-Man would mean nothing to Crookshanks, finding a big enough hole to fit a Man through wouldn't occur to him and befriending someone would have been nothing more than something that only witches and wizards did. Now, however, things have changed.

Crookshanks is a cat and he knows nothing of hatred. But lying here, curled up so tightly to the Dog-Man that his doggy pants for breath rock his tiny body, Crookshanks thinks that he understands what love is.

It's simply a warm place to be.

THE END

"Reviews are the only payment FanFiction authors receive. Even if it's just a word or two, leaving a review lets me know you've passed this way."