Crookshanks stood up straighter with indignance. First this caveman stole his daybed from him, and then he insults his cleanliness? This simply would not do. Crookshanks would win this game, once and for all; he would mark his territory and let him know exactly who the boss was round here.
or:
Crookshanks just simply wants a nap.
The One Where Crookshanks Just Wants A Catnap - AO3 link
Read below for full fanfic:
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A/N -
hello! dramione was my first fanfic i wrote 11 years ago on wattpad and i have finally gotten back into writing so wanted to give this oneshot a try
i haven't written in a long time i am an english graduate but my creative writing is rusty af
there's no smut here but there is some allusions to masturbation- please see archive warning as well (major character death)
just some fluff- enjoy!
Crookshanks was very happy to be reunited with his mother, purring contentedly on her lap as she fussed over him and flicked through a book in the Head Boy and Girl’s common room. Crookshanks hadn’t seen her for almost a year, and he had missed her. He wasn’t fond of many humans, but Hermione was different- she was lovely and warm and kind. He kneaded her lap softly, and she chuckled affectionately and scratched an itch that had been plaguing him behind his right ear. Crookshanks sighed; this was purrfect.
And what made it even more perfect was that the blithering ginger oaf wasn’t around to pat- well, attack- him with his massive paws. Crookshanks had never liked him, and sulked in the fact that he had to share the same coloured fur as that imbecile. Ever since he had denied Crookshanks his rightful food (which had actually turned out to be a plump balding human, not so tasty) all those years ago, Crookshanks had decided that this boy was never going to be his friend. He could tolerate the bespectacled boy, who was quieter and sometimes snuck Crookshanks some chicken when Hermione wasn’t looking, but Won-Won? No, he was Crookshanks’ sworn nemesis.
Crookshanks was very happy indeed that he had his mother all to himself after those boys had stolen her from him. He had felt like an orphan for the best part of a year, and in half-kneazle years that was basically a lifetime. As Hermione gently stroked his fur, Crookshanks vowed that he would never let her out of his sight again. He would be the only ginger in her life from this day forth, and her loyal protector.
He blinked slowly and yawned, squirming softly on her lap as he fell into a catnap.
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Crookshanks had underestimated just how much he had missed chasing Mrs Norris through the halls of Hogwarts. After a spectacular afternoon playing hide and seek (he had won of course), he had skulked back up to the common room ready to enjoy a nap, but had been stopped short at the foot of the sofa.
Somebody was in his seat.
It was that blonde boy. He lived in the bedroom across from Hermione’s, often staying holed up in there, and seemingly only emerging for classes or if she wasn’t there. Crookshanks wondered if he was scared of her- Hermione could be very fiery and formidable, but luckily Crookshanks had never been on the receiving end. Crookshanks was a good boy, she often said, giving him a treat as a reward as he proudly basked in her praise.
But now, this vampire had emerged from his cave and had decided to sit in his spot at nap-time. And Crookshanks was not happy: he was not happy at all.
He stared and flicked his tail. The boy did not notice. He had his head buried in parchment, scribbling ferociously, ink flying in specks onto his face. His long legs were stretched across the sofa, feet dangling off the edge of the armrest. Crookshanks stared harder, and huffed out a small grumbling miaow. The boy looked up and glared down at him with piercing silver eyes, cocking his right eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
“She’s not here.” The boy said, burrowing his head in his work again and wiping his brow. One of the ink spots smeared as his fingers brushed against his skin. Crookshanks scoffed, and the boy looked up again. “If you have a hairball,” he snarled, “please go outside. I don’t wish to see that on the carpet.” He bent his head back over his parchment.
Crookshanks stood up straighter with indignance. First this caveman stole his daybed from him, and then he insults his cleanliness? This simply would not do. Crookshanks would win this game, once and for all; he would mark his territory and let him know exactly who the boss was round here.
Crookshanks narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a menacing way. The blonde did not look up. He grumbled again, loudly, and flicked his tail again. Still, no reaction- instead, the imposter turned his page with a flick of his wrist and started writing with more gumption, muttering his own words to himself as his quill scratched against the parchment.
And so, Crookshanks decided to leap on him.
The boy cried out and spluttered against Crookshanks’ fur as he kneaded against his chest, pushing his paws against his shirt and flicking his tail against his face. “GEROFF ME!” He bellowed, but Crookshanks just purred lightly as he sat down.
The blonde tried to push him off, but Crookshanks stayed firmly put. “What are you doing you big beast?” Bewilderment shrouded the boy's voice, mixed with alarm and quite possibly fury. Crookshanks smirked to himself. This was his spot, and he didn’t like to share, but if the boy refused to move then he would be the bigger kneazle and compromise. Maybe that would teach him.
Crookshanks made himself comfortable, ignoring the boys’ shouts of protest. He closed his eyes, counted mice, and drifted into a dream.
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The door opened with a creak. Crookshanks opened one eye slowly, blinking both open as his mother came into focus, carrying a large array of books that she placed carefully on the coffee table. She looked down at him and smirked, then rested her gaze onto the blonde’s face. Crookshanks followed her eyeline- the boy was asleep, lips parted and his usually perfectly kempt hair slightly ruffled. Crookshanks turned back to Hermione; her expression had softened slightly, but there was something like concern shining in her eyes as she stared intently at the boy’s tired features. Crookshanks had noted the boy’s pale appearance, accompanied by dark circles underneath his eyes, earlier. Crookshanks’ cunning thinking had obviously resulted in a much needed rest for Nosferatu beneath him. He felt a twinge of pride in his paws- he really was a very good lap cat.
Hermione bent down slightly and picked him up, cuddling him close to her chest. He purred in her arms, nuzzling his nose against her cheek as she wordlessly flicked her wand and conjured up a soft blanket, levitating it over the boy and gently placing it over him. Holding Crookshanks in one arm, she used her spare hand to carefully tuck the boy in, her soft fingers slightly grazing his sharp cheekbones as she folded the blanket around his tall frame.
“Goodnight, Draco.” Hermione whispered, turning towards the stairs that led up to her room.
When dawn broke, Crookshanks slinked back down to the common room, hungry from dreaming about mice and rats and ready to begin his morning hunt for breakfast. The boy-Draco, Hermione had called him- was sitting up, writing on his parchment again, with the blanket Hermione had burrowed him neatly folded next to him.
Crookshanks miaowed in greeting. He had decided that after their co-sleep yesterday evening, perhaps he and this human could come to a mutual agreement about shared spaces.
Draco looked up and froze. He glared at the cat. “Come to smother me in fur again have you?” He quipped, haughtily. Crookshanks just stared. Smothering was an exaggeration, and besides, Crookshanks was quite simply the cuddliest half-Kneazle there was in the wizarding world. His mother fell asleep in mere minutes with him nestled against her pillows and her hair. He was the feline equivalent of melatonin, and this wizard should be grateful for the good night’s sleep Crookshanks’ paws had blessed him with.
As if he could hear his thoughts, Draco’s cheeks showed the smallest hint of a blush. He averted his eyes sheepishly, then looked back and tentatively met the cat's gaze.
He patted the blanket next to him, extending an invitation. Crookshanks jumped up, splaying himself across his half of the sofa and started tending to his morning bath, purring. He felt a tentative finger lightly stroke the back of his head, then scratch behind his ear.
The morning hunt could wait a few minutes.
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It was Halloween and Crookshanks had found a spider to catch. He had hidden himself in a dark corner, outside of where the Halloween Party was being held, unmoving and unblinking, watching it slowly scuttle down the wall. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on it and feed.
Just as the spider had crawled into a spot where Crookshanks would be able to snap his hungry jaws around it, the wooden door flew open rather aggressively, squashing the spider into the wall. What had once been a promising meal had now been obliterated into ash.
Crookshanks scowled up at the wizard who had emerged from the party, still hidden by the shadows. It was none other than Draco Malfoy, his white hair gleaming in the darkness, a scowl on his face and his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. Crookshanks thought if he pressed any harder he’d draw blood. The wizard was shaking slightly, looking unsteady on his feet, a gleam of sweat against his forehead. Perhaps he was coming down with something- he certainly didn’t look very well.
The door swung open again and Hermione swept into the corridor, running as quickly as her short legs could carry her. She grabbed Draco by his robe sleeves- he shook her off and started striding down the corridors, seemingly as fast as his own long legs could carry him. “Draco, wait!” Hermione called, chasing after him with a terrifying speed Crookshanks had not seen her possess before. He decided to climb up on the windowsill for a better view of them; nosiness was in a cat’s nature, after all.
Hermione had caught up to Draco and had grabbed his sleeves again. He turned round sharply. “What, Granger? Just leave me alone.” He snapped, “I’m going to bed- have fun at your Slug Club.” There was a sneer to his voice, accompanied by a subdued tone. Crookshanks’ ears perked up at the mention of slugs- perhaps there was a tasty treat waiting for him after all.
“You can’t let people get to you like this, Malfoy!” Hermione shouted, sounding exasperated. Draco was staring down at her, his pale eyes gleaming, nose scrunched as if he was trying hard not to cry. “You are Head Boy, Draco.” Hermione continued, waving her arms frantically as she talked. Crookshanks was worried she would take out one of Draco’s silver eyes with her wand if she wasn’t careful. “You must assert some sort of authority over these- these bullies.You can’t just walk away and let them think they’ve gotten away with it!”
Draco let out a sarcastic snort, then pulled up his robe on his left arm, turning it towards Hermione. Crookshanks saw her grimace, but she looked at it, then turned her gaze back to Malfoy’s.
“This mark is the reason they taunt me, Granger.” His voice wobbled, and he averted her eyes, shame flickering across his face briefly. “I was part of the dark side- I may not have killed but my family, the people I associated with are the reason that some students have never returned back to Hogwarts. My own aunt tortured you in our family home.” He spat, bitterly, running his trembling fingers through his hair. “I will never be accepted by these people. I don’t know why McGonnagall made me Head Boy; all I wanted to do was keep my head down and get through the year, not draw more unwanted attention to myself. I knew coming to this party was a mistake- I knew coming back here was a mistake, but mother insisted I finish my studies. I cannot blame anyone’s dislike for me- in fact, I welcome it!” Draco’s voice started to rise, his hands growing shakier with every word. “When I look into a mirror, when I see a glimpse of myself, all I see is a coward- a Death Eater who didn’t kill, yes, but a coward who didn’t stop the bloodshed, or even try to.”
Crookshanks felt a little pang in his chest at the boy’s words, sympathy buzzing through his paws, even in his huff at the loss of his Halloween feast. He watched as Hermione stepped closer to Draco, and took his hand in hers. Draco’s eyes flashed, and he looked down at her with what only Crookshanks could possibly describe as a mix of both fear and longing.
Their eyes met. Crookshanks watched from the edge of his seat (the windowsill) as their staring contest continued, silence falling over them as Draco’s silver eyes bore into Hermione’s brown.
She was the one who broke the silence. “When I look at you, Draco, I don’t see a coward.” Crookshanks could see the hairs on the back of the boy’s neck begin to stand up, goosebumps rising against his pale flesh. Hermione continued, “I see a boy who was given an impossible task, who cared for his mother and the safety of his family far more than he cared about his own. I see a boy who should have been protected more by his teachers, especially the one who knew he had been instructed to kill him, and was instead left to face and battle his own demons alone.”
Crookshanks noticed that their hands were grasped quite tightly.
Draco’s voice trembled as he spoke. “How can you even look at me, when I stood by and let her torture-”
“What could you have done?” Hermione interrupted, and Draco trailed off. “I know it was you who slipped a pain potion into my pocket, Draco. I found it when we were at Shell Cottage- you risked your life to slip me that, so don’t pretend that you simply stood by and did nothing, when that alone could have cost you everything!”
Draco seemed at a loss for words. At this new revelation, Crookshanks decided that the wizard had been promoted from humans he could tolerate, to humans he really really liked.
The blonde’s pale skin was reddening at a rapid rate. It was obvious he did not expect Hermione to have brought this up, or even realise it was indeed him who had slipped her the potion. “I-I had a well-stocked supply,” He spluttered, “The Dark Lo- I mean, V-V-Voldemort, was quite fond of the cruciatus curse himself so I always kept some spare. I-I just thought that in case you were rescued, you could do with something to help ease the pain, the shakes and-”
Hermione stood on her tip-toes, placed her hands against Draco’s face and pulled his lips to hers.
Crookshanks almost fell off the windowsill. It seemed curiosity had indeed (nearly) killed this cat.
The kiss was not unexpected, but it had taken him by surprise. After the blanket situation he had had to deal with both of their brooding, watching them both steal longing glances at each other when the other one had their back turned. Cats had great senses- muggles thought dogs were man’s best friend, but really cats were the best listeners. Dogs only ever listened if you spoke to them in a gentle voice that Crookshanks really thought should only be reserved for babies. Cats were far more superior and attentive, thank you very much, and Crookshanks had seen both Hermione and Draco struggle with their feelings for one another, which they both obviously thought were unrequited.
He had watched as Hermione had written in her diary (a suggestion from her mind-healer) about her longing for Draco’s friendship, how she wanted to spend more time with him but could see his guilt prevented him from wanting to be around her.
He had listened as she remarked that she thought he had grown taller and said things like Crookshanks, do you think he is eating properly? or I think he needs more sleep. He had observed and been entertained at how her cheeks had flushed when she had burst into their shared common room and seen Draco making a cup of tea in nothing but a towel, fresh from a shower after Quidditch practice. She had immediately run up the stairs to their shared bathroom, cheeks burning, and had taken a rather long bath.
A few days following this incident, whilst the pair of them were both doing homework, Crookshanks had watched Draco appear rather flustered when Hermione had dropped her quill and bent over to retrieve it from under the table. She had been wearing a rather short school-skirt, and Draco had hastily gathered up his school books and ran to his room. When Crookshanks skulked up to Hermione’s room for a catnap a few minutes later, he had had the unfortunate pleasure of hearing Draco moaning as he had passed his door. He had cursed the feline Gods above for blessing him with impeccable hearing.
As Crookshanks watched them embrace, he hoped this would put an end to their nonsense. In fact, he wondered if either of them would ever come up for air- were they trying to suffocate each other?
Young love is really very concerning these days, Crookshanks thought as his stomach rumbled. He wondered if Mrs Norris would be around to hunt for a midnight snack. He had to admit that she had a certain knack for catching mice, and looking at the pair in front of him he felt a little bit lonely- he could do with the company...
His mother and the blonde were still snogging, and seemingly would be for quite some time. Crookshanks bounced off the windowsill and skulked down the corridor. When he returned to Hermione’s room later with a full belly, she was not alone. Draco had his arms wrapped around her, their bodies entwined as they slept, his nose buried in her bushy curls.
Crookshanks softly leapt upon the bed, kneading the duvet and settling in between them. He purred happily.
He could get used to this, so long as there was always some room for him to nap.
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Years later, there came a time where Crookshanks did not have any room to nap.
He was attempting to lie on Hermione’s lap, but her protruding belly had begun to kick him. Crookshanks was both concerned and miffed- his mother did some odd things sometimes, but to eat something so large that was now trying to harm her beloved son and simultaneously interrupt his sleeping schedule was, quite frankly, alarming.
He huffed in indignation, and was simultaneously shocked and offended to see Hermione begin to giggle at his expense, placing her hand on her belly and rubbing it. Crookshanks stuck his nose in the air and made his way over to Draco (whose stomach had not tripled in size), curling into his lap instead, and making a point of purring louder than usual. Not long after the Halloween snogging incident, Draco had been promoted from the list of humans he really really liked to the list of humans he loved.
“Mrs Granger-Malfoy, I believe our son now prefers me.” Crookshanks’ father said haughtily, a glint in his eye as he petted Crookshanks’ head with one hand, his other resting on his wife’s belly. Hermione chuckled, and Crookshanks resisted the urge to hiss; his mother may be laughing at his expense, but she was obviously not of sound mind. He was very worried that this change would become permanent.
“Don’t worry, Crooks,” she chortled, smiling down at the scowling cat as though she could hear his thoughts. “Not long now until you’ll be able to sit on my lap again and have all the naps you’d like.”
It was, indeed, not long until Crookshanks found himself cuddled into Hermione’s embrace like the good old days again. Only now, his naps were often rudely interrupted by the cries of two human infants: it seemed Crookshanks was no longer an only child.
The girl had dark brown, untameable curls and grey eyes that glinted silver in the light; the boy had bright blonde hair like his father, but his eyes mirrored the soft brown of his mother’s. As they grew, they dressed Crookshanks in obscene outfits, forcing him to attend tea parties with their toy animals and dolls, pushing him around in a buggy and stuffing a dummy in his mouth. They petted him rather aggressively, and Crookshanks fretted that if their smothering cuddle sessions carried on this way he would become a hairless cat soon enough.
But he enjoyed it when they played with him, and stroked him with their sticky hands, even if his gorgeous thick orange fur was ripped away from its follicles painfully. Crookshanks loved his human siblings with all of his half-kneazle heart. He had two new slumber spots and was spoiled with treats and catnip daily- he lived a very happy life even though he acquired a few bald spots, and as the twins got older their hands became more gentle, and Crookshanks no longer had to worry for his fur.
When Crookshanks grew too old to hunt, his family bought him some delicious cat food that they piled into a bowl with his name on for him to devour. When his legs grew too frail for him to climb up the stairs for catnap time, they gave him a basket and a mountain of pillows and blankets for him to cuddle into.
When the time came for Crookshanks to say goodbye to them, he did not feel sad; he felt loved. His family stared down at him with glistening eyes, two sets of brown, two sets of silver, as he struggled to keep his own eyes open with slow blinks.
Each of them softly stroked his fur. Hermione had her hand on his head, scratching behind his right ear where he had begun to feel an itch. She always knew exactly where he needed relief, and that was one of the many reasons why Crookshanks loved her so much.
He kept his eyes open and she kissed his head gently. “Goodbye, Crookshanks,” His mother whispered, “You have been the most perfect boy.”
Crookshanks purred happily, and slowly closed his eyes.
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A/N -
rest in peace crookshanks <3 had a lovely cat growing up who i believe i kicked in the womb when he tried to get on my mom's lap. i miss him always.
hi!! I write too, I'm trying to pick up some fics I abandoned years ago and write a new one that I'm feeling really excited about. My ao3 is filthypureblood 😊
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