: Here, Pussy!Author
: Minerva/Crookshanks, various and sundry Other CatsRating
: R for r
: Uh, did you see the pairing?Themes/kinks chosen
: Cat fightWord Count
: 1350 (excluding canon text)/1530 (including canon text)Summary
: Wild Kingdom: Hogwarts-style. Author's notes
: *head desk* I don't even know what to say here. There is no excuse, is there? But dude, that prompt was clearly calling out for this.
Deep and very special thanks to angela_snape
for agreeing to
spork out her eyes
Minerva sat at her desk, nearly twitching with excess energy. She'd been like this for days, but with one thing or another, she'd had no opportunity to do
anything about it. Casting a Silencing Charm on her desk, she casually rested her hand on it and allowed her fingers to drum the surface.
It didn't help. Blast!
Shifting in her chair, she watched the clock as it ticked the last minutes of the school day. To pass the time, she transfigured a small glass paperweight into an hourglass, playing with the sifting sand trapped inside it until she estimated that the sand on top would run out at the same rate as the seconds left in the day. She scowled as she saw that she still had more than fifteen minutes remaining in this class period.
Looking out at the students, she noted the bored, glazed gazes of all but one student. "Miss Granger, please come forward and bring your test with you. The rest of you, pass your parchment to the front of the room; those of you in the front will bring them to my desk." As Hermione slowly stood, still scribbling furiously, the rest of the room erupted into a flurry of shuffling parchment. "Miss Granger!"
Hermione snapped to attention and nearly ran the several yards that separated her from Minerva's desk. "Yes, Professor?"
"Give me your test, child."
Biting her lip, Hermione looked down at the parchment before reluctantly holding it out. Minerva snatched at it, almost in a fever to get... out
. A cursory glance at the parchment showed exactly what Minerva had expected to find. Each question was followed by a more-than-sufficient answer. The girl appeared to be working on footnotes with background theory to support each of her conclusions. "Thank you, Miss Granger. This will be fine." Raising her voice, Minerva said, "Class dismissed. Have a pleasant weekend."
The last student had barely cleared the doorway before Minerva sighed and focused her mind, forcing her body to assume the shape that had been quite literally clawing at her from the inside. As she shrank down, shifting into the sinuous form that felt so right
during these times, a shiver raced through her body. Stretching her paws out in front of her, she flexed, purring as her claws slid smoothly out of their sheaths, digging into the stone floor before she retracted them. Bending her upper body to the floor, Minerva raised her tail and stretched until her hindquarters were wriggling in the air.
God, the cool breeze against her felt delicious
. Minerva's purring grew louder and she couldn't stop herself from rubbing cheek to tail against the corner of her desk. Soothing as that was, she turned and brushed against it several more times before the call of more
Minerva knew that others had difficulty keeping their human minds while in animal form. She'd never found that to be an issue. There were times when she felt that this was
her true form, and her mind that much sharper for it. She had no inhibitions, no reason for
inhibitions. There were so many cats around the castle—students' familiars as well as ordinary feral cats that roamed the countryside—that another wandering the grounds never drew notice.
Slinking through the castle, Minerva trotted quickly to the front entrance before darting through the open doors into the beautiful spring day. Finding a patch of warm grass, she rolled in it, writhing and twisting and simply revelling in the feel of the prickly blades rubbing against her fur. A low yowl rumbled from her throat and she rolled back to her feet, stalking stiff-legged through the grass to the wall of the castle. Turning, she lifted her tail, wriggling against the warm, rough stones of the castle wall before spraying her scent onto them. Satisfaction nearly overwhelming her, she let loose another yowl, this one louder and longer than before.
A growl in the distance made her shiver in anticipation. An answering growl from near the entrance of the castle caused her ears to perk forward. Two, then three more. Minerva writhed with satisfaction. Again she lifted her tail, leaving a tempting trail of scent as she stalked toward the path to Hogsmeade and the perimeter of the grounds of Hogwarts.
Grim black spectres floated just beyond the boundaries of the school's wards, but their magic did not extend to animals, not even animals that spent more than ninety percent of their time in human form. Minerva slunk past them, shuddering as she sprayed again... simply to wet the hem of their cloaks. Evil, nasty creatures.
Gazing about with her improved vision, she saw several toms slinking down the edge of the road, toward the school. More feline-shaped bodies darted through the now-visible haze of magic that surrounded the school. Within moments, Minerva was surrounded. Turning sinuously, she pranced for them, showing off her body, her tail. Rolling onto her back, she yowled again: a dare, a challenge. To mate.
One tom, an ordinary calico, stepped forward, his jaws opening to show sharp teeth as he screamed in response to her bold calls. Minerva's tail flicked back and forth as she watched him, sizing him up for the coming confrontation. Another tom, pure black, answered the calico with his own deep roar and leapt, ears splayed flat to his head as he swiped at the first tom with claws extended.
Lazy with lust, Minerva rolled to her feet and stalked to a safe distance. They'd fight. One would win. And then... she threw back her head and let loose a long, "Merrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrroowwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Her call sent the toms into a frenzy. Within moments, over half of her prospective 'suitors' had been eliminated from competition. They slunk off, fur ruffled—patches missing in some cases—bleeding copiously. Minerva brought a paw to her mouth, smoothing her tongue over the pad before grooming her ears. The losers were not worthy of her attention.
A large, mean-tempered Kneazle was bringing down two of his competitors with one swipe of his paw. The others, sizing him up, simply conceded the battle. For now.
These toms would watch, waiting until the Kneazle was done with her before they fought again. Regroup and wait, no need to expend energy now when she'd still be in heat once the Kneazle had finished with her.
As the Kneazle—vaguely familiar to her—moved closer, Minerva flattened her body against the ground. A low, fierce growl erupted from her, threatening him and any who might approach. Opening her mouth, she let out a loud sound that was a cross between a hiss and a scream. He stopped, body perfectly still. Relaxing, Minerva stared at him for a long moment before standing upright. She curved her body, nearly prostrating herself to him as the victor. Hind legs pawing at the ground, she twitched her tail to the side, clearing the way for him.
The afternoon air went flat, stale. Everything seemed to pause in that moment. And then....
He pounced. Landing on her, his solid weight drove her breath from her lungs even as his teeth sank into her neck. She went limp beneath him, unable to do anything but yowl as he hunched against her, settling and resettling his body until finally, with one powerful thrust, he penetrated her. As she felt his penis enter her, Minerva went wild, thrashing beneath him, screaming out her fury. Twisting, she swatted at him with claws fully extended, attempting to unseat him.
Growling through his hold on her neck, the Kneazle released his seed and jerked free of her body, the barbs on his penis raking her inner walls. Yowling, Minerva twisted away, rolling along the ground for several long minutes before lifting her hind leg and beginning to bathe herself. Low growls continued to emerge from her throat as she did so, her eyes never leaving him.
Throughout the long night, the other toms kept their distance, waiting. Their patience would not be rewarded as the Kneazle never tired of his game.Later That Night... … [Harry] was feeling very thirsty. Quietly as he could, he got out of his four-poster and went to pour himself some water from the silver jug beneath the window.
The grounds were still and quiet. No breath of wind disturbed the treetops in the Forbidden Forest; the Whomping Willow was motionless and innocent-looking. It looked as though the conditions for the match would be perfect.
Harry set down his goblet and was about to turn back to his bed when something caught his eye. An animal of some kind was prowling across the silvery lawn. Harry dashed to his bedside table, snatched up his glasses, and put them on, then hurried back to the window. It couldn't be the Grim—not now—not right before the match—
He peered out at the grounds again and, after a minute's frantic searching, spotted it. It was skirting the edge of the forest now... It wasn't the Grim at all ... it was a cat.... Harry clutched the window ledge in relief as he recognized the bottlebrush tail. It was only Crookshanks....A/N #2: Text in italics from the end of the fic is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. No harm or copyright infringement is intended.