Summary: A collection of drabbles, oneshots, and AUs from my Harry Potter/Hetalia crossover "The Price of Wisdom". Mostly centered around things that happened behind the scenes, or things that COULD have happened. Some are made for humour purposes, and others are more serious. Updates are sporadic and dependant on both reviews and my own whims. Don't expect the same level of quality as TPoW.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Axis Powers Hetalia. I did write both this and The Price of Wisdom, though.

Back again with some more short drabbles because I'm bored and need a break from the main time-line of The Price of Wisdom.

#3

Meow

Prompt: Cats. Why couldn't it be dogs? Dogs are better in almost every way. But no. Cats.

Ever the one to be late to retire and late to rise, Brandee the cat stretched out on the human's bed and arched her spine with a muffled m'row to greet the morning. Her master had already left, leaving behind only a fading indent in the bed, outlining where his weight had once rested throughout the hours of the night. She touched this spot once with her dainty, pink nose, feeling his fleeting warmth and inhaling his familiar scent of tea-leaves and forest-smells. No doubt he was in the office in the next room over, trying to get an early start on finalising preparations for a lesson...

Automatically, she looked around for the ball of white fluff that had been the newest addition to the bed. But her companion, the white bear-cub, was no where to be seen. If it was within the nature of felines to sigh out loud, Brandee most certainly would've indulged at this moment. The comfort of night had temporarily washed away her memories, and she had forgotten that he had left just yesterday.

During the course of the bear's stay, the cat had obtained a hidden inkling that the cub was not to be trifled with. If she prodded it too much, it might just snap her neck, or eat her up. Or both, for that matter. Despite all this, she had enjoyed his company.

She sat down on her haunches and lifted a leg, licking it clean with her course tongue. The calico fur that she was so very vain of was flattened (for a time; fluff could not be contained), and smoothed by the merciless lashings of her tongue, and once that spot was satisfactorily groomed, she moved on to the next patch that required attention. While in the middle of this domestic and somehow soothing task, she engrossed herself in her primitive animal thoughts, which were perhaps simpler than human cogitations, but were still pure and valid.

Humans were swell and fine, and she deeply adored the blond-haired man that cared for her very dearly, but sometimes she longed for more animal interactions. When she had been a kit, she had always had that sort of socialisation in her life, while constantly at the side of her mother and surrounded by various mewling siblings. Now, she only had her human, and for a brief and blissful time, she'd also had that soft, small bear.

But now he was gone.

Cats were not ones to be overtly nostalgic or melancholic, or at least not for very long, so Brandee ceased her grooming and got to her paws, leaping down to find her human. She was very much in the mood for a good stroking, and sharpening her claws on the ends of the pelts, "pants", he wore, would entertain her for a time...

Her contemplations turned to the human itself as he came into view, stooped over the desk. The human had always reminded her of a cat. Somehow, he'd struck her as feline, in both personality and in action. Brandee remained convinced that this strange ape would've made a swell house cat, or perhaps, even one of the greater cats. A tiger, or a lion, perhaps. Some wild beast that was both regal as much as it was savage. She did not necessarily believe in "souls" being born into the wrong species, or even in the existence of a "soul", (such thoughts were above even her understanding), but a feline body would've certainly done her master justice...

"M'rrow?" She used the tone she always did when she wanted attention from him. It was plaintive, and a cry to, "notice me! Love me, slave!"

"Morning," her pet replied in that strange tongue that she couldn't quite grasp or comprehend, lifting his head and regarding her once.

Brandee padded over with a friendly purr, ready to be caressing and cuddled. With or without the bear cub (who she would nevertheless always miss), she would survive just fine, and life would be swell, so long as she was with this wonderful man that was her master.

#4

In Need of Assistance

Prompt: Some people wanted more details on Alfred's visit to Scot's house (mentioned in chapter 27 I believe?). Welp. Here's an entire scene! (Ok, not an entire scene. A sliver of a scene. 'Can definitely be considered cannon to the fic~)

"...HELP! HOLY SHIT, I'M TOO YOUNG."

Scot roused himself from bed like a sprung board, groaning, and instantly sunk back into the blessed blankets. He was tired as hell, and it was a struggle to stay awake for more than a few moments with his body so drained. The shrieks that had initially woken him were silent for a blessed 3.8 seconds, but suddenly struck up again with a frightening amount of fervour, this time accompanied by the barks and howls of Scot's own hounds and sheepdogs.

"KEEP YOUR TEETH AWAY FROM THIS SHIRT. IT'S STAR WARS VINTAGE- OW! HARRISON FUCKING FORD SIGNED IT YOU BITCHES. SCOT! SCOOOTTT!"

Growling like a disturbed badger, Scotland tore himself away from the bed at last and staggered with a vengeance out of his modest home. Whoever the hell had tripped his magical traps could expect either a castration, or, if he was feeling merciful, a well-placed kick in the genitalia.

His frustration only mounted at seeing the bright, sheepish face of the American hanging upside down from one of Scot's blackthorn trees, overtop his well-cared-for garden and flowerbed of thistles. A dozen dogs, mostly various breeds of collie, were congregated around the dangling American, yapping their muzzles off and leaping to snap at him. Occasionally, a lucky one would latch their jaws around his wrist, arm, or clothing, amidst Alfred's profanity-filled yelps of pain.

"Ouch- Scot! Alistair! There you are, buddy-friend-pal-dude! PLEASE, CALL THEM OFF?!"

"We are not friends."

"-PLEASE-"

"-I hate you-"

"P-PLE-EAS-SEEEE," Alfred practically sobbed.

"Why the ruddy hell should I?!"

"I'LL BUY YOU SCOTCH, SO MUCH SCOTCH."

"I don't want any of your SHITEY AMERICAN SCOTCH!"

"I'LL BUY IT NATIVE, I PROMISE, JUST-"

Cutting him off, Scot sighed and whistled shrilly, calling the dogs back to him at least. The beasts had suddenly reverted from their vicious states into friendly, peaceful pups, all hostility instantly washed away at the sight of their owner. They swirled around him with excited yips and wagging tails, expecting some form of reward for their hard, well-done work. For the moment, Scot ignored them and turned his full gaze on the relieved country that still swung suspended from the tree, like an ill-placed Christmas ornament of considerable ugliness.

"I'll expect that scotch in a barrel. At least fifty litres. You disturbed my sleep, and damn it, I need it."

"K...What the fuck is a litre?"

Author's Note:

Blah. New batch will come whenever I feel like it, as work is mainly being done on the newest chap of TpoW ;w; This was just to get me back in a writing mood with some miniature scene practice. Writing block really bites guys ughh, so sorry these aren't all that interesting.

Review? Please? *o*