the black cat
“Do you think he's alright, sir?”
“Potter, I have told you too many times,” he grumbled, watching the girl coddle the cat. “He is fine.”
Harriet nodded again. She was crossing her legs, sitting in front of the fireplace —so that the kitten wouldn't freeze to death—, in her words. Regulus watched, still in his Animagus form, from the girl's lap.
“Can we keep him, sir?”
“No.”
“Please,” she begged: it was the first time that Harriet had replicated one of his orders, so he had the right to look surprised. “Just for tonight, sir. Look at him.”
Oh, he did look at him. He looked right at him and he saw Regulus. Regulus and his stupid black fur, the grey cat eyes, and the mischievous glint.
But then he looked at Harriet, and her green eyes, begging him to let the stray cat in.
Severus let out a sigh.
“Just one night.”
“One night,” Harriet nodded, smiling. She brought her face close to the cat's, murmuring. “Did you hear, kitty? Mr. Snape is letting you stay!”
“Go wash your hands,” he ordered. “Leave that cat. Dinner is going to be ready at any moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harriet let the cat in the sofa, standing up to walk towards the bathroom. Once she closed the door, Severus took the cat, raising him in the air.
“What are you doing here, insufferable beast?” He spoke.
The cat meowed, letting out a hiss too.
“Do you like cats, sir?”
Severus immediately released Regulus, who ran to Harriet's feet. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “Next time make more sound, please, Potter.”
“Mr. Regulus is not coming for dinner, sir?” Harriet asked, sitting down.
“No, Potter. He is not,” Severus looked at Regulus.
“Why do you call me Potter?” She asked suddenly. The cat sat at her lap, and Severus held back his grimace of disgust.
“Well, it is your last name.”
“Yes, but I don't like when you say it like that, sir.”
Harriet looked at him while Asla served the dinner. Severus looked back at her, grabbing the tableware.
“What I should call you, then?”
“I like it when you call me Harriet. You don't say it with hate, like you do with Potter.”
Hate. Hate?
“You think I hate you… Harriet?”
“I don't know if you hate me, sir.” Harriet shrugged, gently stirring the food. Asla hadn't prepared anything special: pasta with tomato sauce. “But you hate my last name.”
Neither of them spoke again at dinner.
“Go wash your teeth,” he said softly after she finished the dessert —a slice of treacle pie—. Harriet obeyed silently, scampering towards the bathroom. He looked at Regulus, and the black cat looked right back at him, moving his head.
Harriet came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, fixing the sleeves of her dress. She carried Regulus in her arms, walking towards her room, but a few seconds later she returned.
“Did something happen, Harriet?”
“Thank you for letting him stay home, sir.”
And after that, Harriet left a brief kiss on his cheek, running towards her room.
Regulus hadn't been the best person. At least not in his adolescence. As an adult, things had changed drastically.
Pandora had had a daughter, a daughter of whom Regulus was the godfather. Narcissa also had a son, but his godfather was Severus —something that had made him very angry at the time—. The Potters were dead. Sirius had been imprisoned. A little baby had defeated the Dark Lord. Said baby —not so baby any more— was now in the hands of Death Eaters —he was one of them—.
Regulus was dead. Or at least he was dead to the Wizarding World.
He walked out of the girl's room, stretching into his Animagus form. Harriet had taken him to her room, snuggling next to him.
She had been too cute to scratch and run away, so Regulus had allowed himself to relax for a few hours with the sound of the girl's soft breathing.
He changed into his human form, straightening his shirt. Normally an animagus, when changed into human form again, would return naked, but Regulus had mastered the transformation and being able to return clothed —like Professor McGonagall, and his brother and friends—.
His breath hitched when Severus slammed him into the library, knocking over books. However, despite his tight throat, Regulus smiled, finding his amusement in Severus' cold expression.
His friend had never been of good temper, and Regulus still remembered his anger when the circle of friends they shared insulted Evans. However, he had also insulted her once, didn't that give others the right to do so too?
“What are you doing here?” Severus growled.
“I have to take care of my brother's god-daughter, don't you think?” Regulus smiled.
“The girl is being cared exceptionally. What are you doing here, Regulus?” Severus let him go. He made a sign to Asla, who quickly began to make coffee for them.
Regulus's expression became more serious, adjusting his clothes again —he hated having wrinkled clothes—. He sighed, sitting down across from Severus. The coffee didn't take long to arrive, but Regulus just stirred it. He hadn't had black coffee since his mother had died, and he also hated the coffee Severus had, preferring green tea.
“What did you find out?”
“You have to promise to not get angry at Narcissa,” spoke Regulus.
“What?” asked Severus, totally confused.
“Promise it.”
Severus nodded. “I promise. Now, talk.”
“The Potter girl—”
“Harriet.”
Regulus looked at him for a few seconds, but nodded.
“Harriet.” He corrected. “Dorothea found out about something that happened to her. Something that they didn't show you.”
Severus' curiosity was activated instantly, putting the coffee aside.
What he was doing wasn't wrong. Regulus knew, much better than Narcissa and Dorothea, that Severus had to know about the sexual abuse Potter had gone through. However, he also knew that they hadn't told him for a reason: Severus didn't have the best anger control. He had almost killed the Dursleys just by knowing that they had mistreated her.
What was he not capable of doing when he knew that the girl had been raped?
“Your little protégée has been assaulted. Sexually assaulted.”
Was he too direct?
He was. Oh, he was.
He totally was.
Severus' face went cold. No expression on his pale face. It was almost like seeing a ghost. The ghost of a memory, Regulus suddenly remembered.
He remembered the screams, the blood, and the spells they had used on many people. Neither Severus, much less Regulus, were good persons. They had killed and manipulated so many people. There was so much blood on their hands that they could easily make a river with it.
“Severus,” he tried calling, but the man showed him no attention.
Snape stood up from the chair, walking with force towards the girl's bedroom. As quick as the devil, Regulus grabbed Severus's arm, forcing him to stop in front of the door.
“Think your next move, Severus,” Regulus warned. “Narcissa and Dorothea didn't say it to you for a reason. Think about what that little girl is going to feel if you ask about it now. Don't be an idiot, Severus.”
The two men looked at Harriet, who was sleeping like a baby in her bed. Her hand moved to the side, searching for the cat. Regulus let out a sigh, looking at Severus one more time before transforming, lying in his animagus form, purring in her palm.
The black cat was absolutely adorable! Her whole heart was melting for him while he purred, rubbing against her knee.
“How should I call you?” She mumbled, even though she knew Mr. Snape wasn't going to let him stay another night.
He had not seem very fond of the cat. Not even when the kitten let her put a ribbon on him. The cat was the cutest she had ever seen, not minding the grey eyes that seemed a little too human for an animal. She wasn't the most normal, after all.
Harriet was a witch, not a freak, but not normal.
Nothing weird had happened living with Mr. Snape, and she was truly grateful. What if she broke something? Or worse, like burning the house with her stupid magic. Being a little more normal didn't seem bad, especially while living with Mr. Snape, who fed her and gave her a bed.
Draco sent her letters with an owl. Yes, an owl! It was amazing, it even let her coddle it. Her new friend was the nicest boy she had ever seen before. Nothing like Dudley and his friends. No, nothing like them.
They chased her around, kicked and insulted her like if Harriet was rubbish.
Draco was nice to her. He explained things she didn't still understand, and read with her, even if he wanted to play Quidditch. He didn't hit her, neither spat at her.
Dear Harriet,
How is your day going? I hope is going as well as mine.
You may wonder why am I communicating this way, but this is the normal way here in the Wizarding World. You should ask Snape for a parchment and tint, and once your letter is dry, sent it to me with the owl (his name is Salazar).
I wanted to invite you to my house the next week. My mother and father agree with me that I should present to you the rest of the children that I know and are certainly close to me: their names are Blaise (he is Mrs. Zabini's son, she probably has mentioned him), Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Theodore Nott.
I hope Snape lets you come. My mother is going to buy the best biscuits for us.
Sincerely,
Draco L. Malfoy.
Harriet smiled, closing the letter very carefully. “I never had a friend before, you know,” she talked to the cat. “Draco is very nice. I didn't know boys could be that nice.”
The cat purred, rubbing against her hand now.
“You are very nice too, even if you don't have a name.”
“Harriet.”
Mr. Snape voice cut through the air, calling her. Harriet turned around, standing up —since she and the cat were sitting in the floor—. “Yes, sir?”
“Come with me.”
She followed him, swallowing dryly as she noticed that they were entering his chambers.
“Don't be afraid,” he said softly.
Mr. Snape opened a door, letting her in first. Harriet felt her eyes widen, her mouth drop open in surprise.
A greenhouse appeared in the door that Mr. Snape had opened.
It was barely big, with enough room for both of them to move around. It had plants that Harriet had never heard of, and she didn't dare touch them either.
“The other day you told me that you liked gardening. I thought that maybe you would enjoy seeing it.”
Harriet turned to him in surprise, feeling her chest warm. Her eyes looked at him with genuine emotion, noticing that there was an almost immense softness in Mr. Snape's eyes.
Without either of them expecting it, Harriet threw herself at Snape, hugging him tightly. Her arms went around him, squeezing him.
“Thank you, Mr. Snape. Thank you, really.”