Disclaimer: I AM WRITING F-A-N-F-I-C-T-I-O-N. Maybe someday I will be published and receive lots of money and praise and warm fuzzy feelings, but, until then, I write about other people's characters.

A/N: There was a plot bunny bouncing around in my head. Or, rather, a plot cat. And he wasn't bouncing. More like, plodding around gracefully and meowing at me until I wrote this. So here it is.

Crookshanks was a cat. Cats generally can't make up deviously clever plans that involve getting revenge on your owner, who hasn't sat down for a good cuddle with you in ages and therefore deserves it. Cats generally don't understand emotion beyond being fed and being superior to everyone and everything around them. And cats certainly don't take belly dancing lessons to improve their posture and any weight problems they may have.

But then again, most cats aren't Crookshanks.

Ronald Weasley would certainly agree. He would tell you that most cats were rather docile, though he probably wouldn't use those exact words. He would tell you that most cats ate, slept, and purred, and he was perfectly happy with it that way. But, he'd say, eyes narrowing, then there's Crookshanks.

Harry Potter, trying to be fairly neutral in the grand debate between Ron and Hermione about the cat in question would probably say very little. Unless, of course, he was pressed. At which point he would confess that the orange cat was sort of unnatural, in a very uncanny sort of way.

Hermione Granger's opinion of her cat would definitely vary depending on her mood. And whether or not Crookshanks had decided to scratch her recently. But, then again, whether or not Crookshanks had scratched her would, as Crookshanks would tell you, greatly depend on whether or not he'd been cuddled.

And so we're back to the cuddle issue, which brings us to Crookshanks rather devious plan, which none of the above three are aware of. Then again, if they were aware of it, it wouldn't be very devious at all. So there you have it.

In short, Crookshanks had decided to send a note to someone. It was going to be rather embarrassing, as notes go, and it was probably going to humiliate his dear owner Hermione. Which would, in turn, make her burst into tears and come, sobbing, into the room for a good cuddle. Well, Crookshanks thought, perhaps she'd just need a cuddle.

Crookshanks had found a way to write without using opposable thumbs, which had a lot to do with where he'd been before dear Hermione had bought him and a lot to do with the amount of spare time he had on his hands. Or paws, rather.

So he wrote a letter, an extremely romantic letter. It went a little something like this:

I have loved you since I met you, but for obvious reasons have been unable to confess this to you. Now that I plan to do away with my two best friends, who are rather unappreciative of my cat, I feel it is the time to see if you adore me as well.

I know it seems rather unlikely, as you are you and I am, well, me, but I believe it can work. My wonderful cat, Crookshanks the 4th has advised me in this matter, and I believe what he says to be true. We do have a chance if we just try, and if we are filled with as much love for each other as I have for my cat.

Lovingly and sincerely yours,

Cr- Hermione Granger

He enchanted to say the words out loud in a rather dreamy, though incredibly loving, voice. It also smelled sweetly of vanilla, as that was Hermione's favourite scent. Crookshanks, needless to say, was rather proud of himself. He sent it right away, though it was merely by calling up a favour, not by threatening any of the owls upon pain of death. He decided he would hide under the staff table the next day at breakfast to watch the scene unfold.

The Next Morning, at Breakfast, Great Hall, Slytherin Table, Draco Malfoy's Hands

"We do have a chance if we just try, and if we are filled with as much love for each other as I have for my cat.

Lovingly and sincerely yours,

Cr- Hermione Granger," the floaty voice rang out over the Great Hall. The Slytherins smirked, Draco Malfoy himself looked a little confused and bemused, the Ravenclaw's grinned, the Hufflepuffs just looked confused, the Gryffindors looked horrified. Though not nearly as horrified as Hermione did.

At first, she'd been just as amused as the rest of the Great Hall at the letter, but once she'd her name she'd been a lot less amused. As she ran out of the Hall, nearly in tears, only one person saw the bright orange streak that followed behind her.

And that person was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione Granger was mortified. Which was odd, really, as she generally tried to avoid mortification, and the last week had been no exception. She was sitting in the library, in one of the far back corners, and cradling Crookshanks. Crookshanks was always there for her. Crookshanks never laughed at her. Crookshanks would never send a letter to anyone to make her mortified.

She smiled at the thought, it was so absurd.

Just then, Draco Malfoy walked out into her little quiet area. Hermione looked mortified all over again.

"Look Malfoy," she began, standing and still holding Crookshanks, "I don't need you to give me a hard time. I didn't write that letter, and you're a fool and an utter prat to believe it. Why would I write you a letter declaring my love after you've treated me like dirt for the entire time we've been at Hogwarts? You may be smart and good looking and full of yourself, but that doesn't attract me in the least. Well, maybe the smart bit, but that still doesn't mean I would write you that letter. Or any letter, for that matter, unless I was telling you how I'd want to kill you should I have the chance, though I don't think there'd ever be an opportunity for a letter like that."

"Well yes…" Malfoy said, still holding the vanilla-scented piece of note paper, "I believe you."

"What?" Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "You, of all the people in this school, believe me. What have you done with the real Malfoy?"

"The thing is Granger," he responded, ignoring her witty commentary, "I think your cat wrote it."

She stared at him. She stared at Crookshanks. She stared at him. Then she dropped Crookshanks. "Read it to me again," she demanded, pulling him down on the floor with her.

And he did.

And they both concluded that it had been Crookshanks, who had long since disappeared.

"But why didn't you just take advantage of the situation?"

"Because I'm better than that," he responded pompously.

She snorted. He glared.

"Well excuse me for not buying that as a response," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Did you expect me to tell you I believed it because I love you?"

"No, that would simply lead me to believe your cat is controlling your brain."

"I own a hawk, actually, but he would never do that to me."

"Never?"

"Never," Malfoy responded with assurance.

"Well…" Hermione began, suddenly feeling very awkward. "What about the rest of the school?"

"We tell them your cat wrote it," Malfoy replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She looked at him. "Good point."

"You could say you wrote it to yourself."

"Why would I do that for you Granger?" He asked her condescendingly.

"Because you love me," she replied, fluttering her eyelashes and grinning.

"You wish," he scoffed.

"No, my cat does," she replied, and they both burst out laughing. And then there was more of that awkward silence thing. And then a few kisses. And then a few heavy breaths. And then a bit more of the awkward silence involving shy/awkward looksfollowed by awkward good-byes.

"Thank-you," Hermione called down the hall after him. He just smiled at her.

A week and a half later and Crookshanks plan had failed miserably. And not only had it failed, but it had back fired. Now, instead of only getting the occasional cuddle, Hermione went to her boyfriend for that.

Draco Malfoy was her boyfriend. Crookshanks was miserable. Ronald Weasley still hated Crookshanks, but he hated Malfoy more. Harry Potter was still trying to stay neutral, but it was beginning to get harder. Crookshanks was pretty sure he should try and break the couple up. It stood out clearly in his mind as the right thing to do, for the good of everyone, including himself. Harry and Ron would probably help. But that's another story.

A/N: Um, OK, so fairly random. Review, please, but if you're going to flame don't burn. And if you have a favourite line, why don't you tell me? Makes me smile.