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Ferrety

I did an rp a while back where the other person had a similar prompt, and I wanted to play it out again, so I borrowed the concept and wrote my own! Draco gets himself cursed into a ferret, and Harry’s the only one that can help him out of this rather terrible situation.

You: ((Eight years after the War; not epilogue compliant)) It had been seventy-two hours since Draco had last seen the sun. Seventy-two long, long bloody hours in which he’d been trapped in a box with teeny, tiny air holes and sentenced to a life being shoved around by Muggles who had no idea who they were dealing with. A /ferret/. He’d been trapped in the body of a bloody /ferret/. /AGAIN./ The first time had been embarrassing, but this was just downright cruel. It was like the universe was playing some gigantic joke on him, one that wasn’t one bit funny. The entire Wizarding World treated him and anyone else who had ever been associated with The Dark Lord like dirt. No, worse than dirt. Dirt didn’t have to watch its back every moment to make sure some curse wasn’t flying its way. Because that had been it. One minute, he’d been walking through Knockturn Alley, hood drawn low over his face, and the next, he’d been scurrying around and squeaking indignantly. He’d heard laughter, and then a hand had grabbed him and shoved him into a sack. He’d figured he must have passed out, because the next thing he knew, he was waking up cold and alone, halfway covered by the sack in some snowy part of London. After that, it had been a hop, skip, and a jump for someone to find him, shove him in a box, and ship him off to… Wherever this new fresh hell was. He grunted as the box was lifted, and then blinked rapidly as he a bright light hit him. Stunned, he didn’t even react as he was lifted out of the box and placed in a-- Oh, no. Not a cage. Anything but a cage. Draco squeaked again, panic licking into his throat. His paws were trembling. The man --it had been a man, a great, hairy, fat man-- who had put him there only smiled jovially. “Don’t you worry, little one,” he said, smiling down at Draco. “We’ll find you a home soon enough.” Draco blinked once, watching as the man walked away, and slowly turned around in the stupid habitat to see other ferrets on the other side, all sleeping in a pile. Looking some more, past them, Draco could see… Oh, no. Not only was he in a cage, he was in a bloody /pet store/. He was so, so entirely fucked. ((Continue as Harry? This is intended to be… not beastiality. More of a Harry-finds-him-recognises-him-takes-him-home-tries-to-help-him thing. Responses don't have to be quite as long! But paragraphs are appreciated ^.^))

Stranger: Honestly, Harry didn't think a pet was going to do anything for him. He could barely take care of himself. How was he supposed to take care of an animal? Harry had done his part and he just wanted to be left alone. But Hermione never knew how to leave anything alone. She'd come at him with piles of research, wanting him to see a therapist or a 'Mind Healer'. He'd outright refused. Harry was never going to give someone the chance to sell his personal thoughts and feelings to the Daily Prophet. She'd needled him for a while, but finally backed off. Harry had hoped that would be the end of it. That had been stupid. Hermione had just been bulking up for a second attack. Piles of papers and books on therapy animals and animal healing and a bunch of other shit that Harry didn't care about. How was he supposed to replace Hedwig? But after weeks of being pestered, he finally gave in. He should just get a goddamn fish and be done with it. Hermione would be so mad at him. This was his third pet store, but he hadn't really... connected with anything. Harry gave a polite smile to the store owner, pushing his fringe down self consciously. He strolled around the aisles, peering into cages and tanks, but he steered clear of the snakes. He watched a hamster run on a wheel for a bit and a pair of guinea pigs nibbling on some seed. Harry moved over to the large cage holding a bunch of ferrets, unable to keep from smiling when he saw the sleeping pile. They were kind of cute. He noticed one alone off to the side. "Hey, why's that one awake?" Harry asked, glancing back towards the man who'd greeted him, "I thought rodents were nocturnal. Are they something else?"

You: Why did this thing have to be so entirely ferret-proof? Draco had burrowed into every corner, pawed at the glass so many times he'd lost count. Nothing. No weak spots, no way out. It was infuriating, really. He was desperate for /something/, especially as the day went on. Little children came and went, tapping on the glass, startling the living shit out of him because that shit was much louder than he'd expected it to be. The owner of the shop turned off the lights and assumedly went home, and Draco curled up in a tiny ball and fell asleep, ignoring the occasional nose pressed against him from one of his curious cage-mates. The next morning, he was up and at it again, though his efforts were less fervent. If he hadn't found anything before, he doubted there would be anything new now. The bell at the front tinkled, but he ignored it... Or at least, ignored it until there was a face close to the glass and he looked up, right into a pair of emerald eyes that he knew well enough to make him jump. "Most of 'em are," the shopkeep said from his place behind the counter. "You lookin' at the ferrets?" At Harry's acknowledgement, the man nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's a part of our rescue program. We've got all sorts of rescues in here. People think they can handle pets and then they can't, and they dump 'em. We find 'em and help 'em into new homes. Sometimes they're a little funny in the head, but they're harmless enough."

Stranger: Harry stared through the glass and he swore that ferret was looking right back at him with far more intelligence than any ferret should have. "Oh, uhh, thank you," he said, giving another polite smile and the man went back to whatever he was doing at the counter. Something was tugging at Harry's mind, but this ferret seemed familiar somehow. And the way it was just staring at him was... unnatural. Was this the connection that he'd been looking for? Harry glanced around for a moment, ensuring that he was the only customer in the shop. The man at the counter wasn't looking. As subtly as he could manage, Harry slipped the tip of his wand out of his sleeve and pointed it towards the ferret. "Revelare," he whispered. A bright purple light surrounded the ferret for just a moment, indicating the presence of a spell. That wasn't a ferret. It was either a person or some other animal that someone had changed. Harry couldn't leave it there without feeling guilty. "I think I'd like to take that one home," he called back towards the shopkeep, "The 'funny in the head' one."

You: Funny in the head. Draco let out an indignant squeak, glaring in the shop keep's direction. If he weren't in such a predicament, he would've... well, he wouldn't have just sat there and let him insult him, that was for sure. He turned his gaze back to Potter just as he caught sight of his wand, and his eyes widened further. He braced himself, head down, but... The feeling of magic washed over him momentarily before receding without doing him harm. Oh. That hadn't been too bad. He looked down at his paws, irrationally disappointed that he hadn't changed form. Potter wouldn't have done anything that stupid, especially not in front of a Muggle. He perked up a little, though, as the shop keep headed towards them, a little cardboard box with holes in the sides in his hand. Had Potter realised who he was? Unlikely. They no longer had any sort of feud between them, as far as Draco knew, since they'd spoken briefly after the war. But if Potter /had/ realised who he was, Draco figured that he wouldn't have bothered. There hadn't been such a thing as good conscience in the Wizarding World towards former Death Eaters in a very long time. The owner of the store was talking to Harry, giving basic instructions about the cage, about the food, and about the care as he put together the box and then headed over towards the cage to get the ferret out. "'m glad you're taking him. He's been a bit skittish since he came in. Needs a good home," he confided setting the box down and making to open the top of the cage.

Stranger: "I'll do my best to give him one," Harry said genuinely. He didn't know who this was exactly, but his spell had proved it wasn't a ferret. He'd known that gaze was way too intelligent. It almost seemed like the ferret had known who he was. Of course, Harry was forced to buy all the other supplies as well, which wasn't a huge deal. It wasn't like he was short on money. But it was all going to go to waste since Harry wouldn't actually be keeping a ferret. Still, he played along for the owner, getting everything he needed before finally being handed the box with the animal inside. "Uhh, thanks for helping me out," Harry said a bit awkwardly. He never knew what to say to employees. Leaving the store with bags upon bags wasn't exactly fun, but Harry didn't have much of a choice. He had no idea how apparition affected animals or people that had been transfigured into animals, so he decided it was probably safer to just hail down a cab. After an irritatingly bumpy and cramped ride home, Harry was dragging everything into Grimmauld Place. Most of the old home was sealed off, but Harry had chosen a few rooms and tried to make them more... homey. Once inside, he levitated everything and had it follow him up the stairs into his room. He shut the door before placing the cardboard box on the bed. He opened it up slowly and reached inside to pull the animal out. "Don't bite me, don't bite me, don't bite me," he mumbled as he struggled to get a hold on it. He'd never held a ferret before. Finally, Harry pushed the box away and placed the animal down onto the bed, stepping away to draw his wand. "Finite incantatem."

You: Draco had to fight hard against the urge to struggle as the man picked him up. He was squeezing him! He squeaked in annoyance as he was plopped into the box, and began scrabbling as soon as it was closed. Even with the holes, it was too dark in the box. Ohh, he did /not/ like it. He found himself cowering in the corner, eyes shut tightly as he felt the box move. The last thing he wanted to do was think about the fact that he was being carried. In a box. A very dark box. By Harry fucking Potter, of all people! It felt like a year before the box opened again, before a hand --much gentler than the shop keep's-- reached in and picked him up. He huffed against Potter's skin as he handled him, more amused than anything else. Potter had already figured out that he wasn't an actual ferret; why the hell would he bother to bite him? Especially since he was pretty much his only chance of getting back to normal. Once again, Harry bloody Potter was saving the day. /Great/. He sat up on his haunches when he was set down on the bed, cocking his head to the side as Potter pulled out his wand. He shut his eyes, more out of habit than anything else, and tried not to flinch as Potter spoke. Within moments, though, he was sitting on Potter's bed, back in his normal, human form. Admittedly, he didn't feel too great. He was... dizzier, than he thought he would be. The magic that had forced him into the ferrety form had not been kind to him, and being pulled back out of it hadn't, either. His head felt a bit like it was spinning, and he didn't open his eyes, both because of the feeling and because he didn't know if he wanted to see Potter's reaction to the person he'd just conjured. Instead, he sat as still as he possibly could, hands fisted in the bedding beneath him as he struggled to regain any iota of composure.

Stranger: Seeing Draco Malfoy appear on the bed was possibly the last thing that Harry had expected. He didn't really know who he thought was going to pop out of that ferret, but Malfoy hadn't been it. He stood frozen in place for a moment, wand still raised, waiting to see if the blonde was going to make a move. After a moment of staring, Harry decided that Malfoy looked more likely to throw up than to throw a curse. Slowly, Harry lowered his wand, putting it back into the sheath in his sleeve. Once the tense air from a possible fight was gone, the only feeling in the room was awkwardness. "Umm... hey," Harry greeted, in possibly the most awkward way he could, "You... you look like shit. You should probably... lay down or something. I'll get you some water? I guess. Uhh, be right back." Harry slid from the room without turning his back to Malfoy, still feeling pretty strange about this whole thing. Of course, Malfoy probably felt worse about it. Harry gave himself a few minutes before returning to the room with a glass of cool water that he placed on the bedside table.

You: Potter really hadn't changed since they'd been at school, Draco noted in the part of his mind not spinning out of control. He didn't say a word, managing to open his eyes as Potter made a hasty retreat from the room. At least he hadn't cursed him. He supposed he should count that as a plus. Breathing deeply, he slowly unballed his fists from the sheet underneath him. At least he'd kept his things on him. He could feel his wand in the pocket of his robe, a comforting presence just in case he needed it, though he doubted he would be able to manage any sort of apparition in the state he was in. When the door opened again, this time his eyes were still open, and he forced them to focus as Potter crossed to his side and placed a glass of water down on the nightstand beside him. "Thank you, Potter," he said quietly, voice sounding weak. Merlin, he hated that. Maybe speaking was a bad idea.

Stranger: "No problem," Harry said with a small shrug, looking Malfoy over again. Did he get taller? Harry couldn't tell for sure, but it felt like it. Or maybe he was just realizing how short he was. Silence fell in the room as the two of them just kind of didn't say or do anything. All the ferret supplies were still in the pet store bags on the floor, but now there was no ferret to go with them. "So... I don't really know what to do here," Harry finally admitted, figuring they'd have to talk about it at some point, "I... Do you need anything medical? A place to sleep? Someone to call? How long were you like that? And how'd you end up in a Muggle pet store of all places?" Once Harry let himself ask questions, they just kept flowing. There really was a lot to be curious about.

You: Just looking at the water, Draco debated on attempting to pick it up. Twitching a couple of fingers, he made the decision to wait. It wasn't exactly easy to be shoved through different forms on someone else's magic. Especially since the first time had been unwilling. He wondered if this was how those stupid rats felt, back when they were first learning transfiguration at Hogwarts. At Potter's sudden barrage of questions, Draco winced, shaking his head slowly and then wincing again when it only furthered the pain in his head. So much for not speaking. He supposed he did owe Potter some sort of explanation, though, given that he /had/ helped him. A little. "I was in Knockturn Alley," he said, voice quiet to attempt to disguise just how rough it was. "Minding my own business. A group of people attacked me. Pretty sure your friend Finnegan was at the head of them. Next thing I knew, I was in the snow, and then someone threw me in a box. Not sure how I ended up in the pet store," he admitted, dropping his head into his hands and taking another deep breath. "I should be fine. I might need a few hours to get used to being back in my own body, and then I can be out of your hair."

Stranger: Harry listened to Malfoy, a little surprised that he'd been attacked in broad daylight. He knew things weren't good for ex-Death Eaters, but he'd kind of hoped that things weren't that bad. Whenever you isolated a group as the targets, things went south. Harry didn't want to deal with anymore killing or war for any reason. "Malfoy... you really look like shit," Harry finally said, sticking his hands in his pockets, "At least stay the night. Unless you're really in a rush to be somewhere. Kreacher still skulks around here somewhere. He'd probably be overjoyed to serve you some dinner. I think there's some Pepper-Up in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, if you think that'll help. I'll just... let you relax... I guess." He paused for a moment before figuring he didn't have anything else to say, so he turned to leave the room.

You: Blinking against his palms, Draco forced himself to raise his head. He hadn't been expecting Potter to offer him... that. Or anything. The most he'd been expecting was tolerance, or maybe an offer to side-along him back to his own place to get him out faster. But an offer to stay? That was more than pretty much anyone had done for him since the war. "Why?" he asked, voice coming out in a croak. He glanced at the water again and slowly reached for it, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip, eyes closing as the cool liquid slid down his throat. He cleared it, too, just to make sure he wouldn't sound like an utter toad. "Why are you trying to help me?" There was absolutely no reason for it. Potter couldn't want anything from him; he didn't have anything /to/ want. He was curious, too, as to where exactly they were. The room they were currently in was decorated sparsely, but the furniture was too nice and too matching to believe that Potter had done the decorating himself. In fact, the furniture looked strangely familiar. He frowned, staring at it, his gaze locked on the bureau in the corner instead of actually looking at Potter for a response.

Stranger: "Because you just spent who knows how long as a ferret and that sucks?" Harry said after a moment, "Because real life doesn't have sides? Because the war fucked us all up in one way or another because we were fucking children that had to be adults? Take your pick." He didn't feel any real animosity towards Malfoy. Sure, there was a tingle of dislike and discomfort. He didn't exactly have happy memories of their time together at school, even before everything went to shit. But that wasn't a reason to be a complete prick. Besides, Hermione always said he had a fucking hero complex. Maybe he's just at it again, trying to save someone that needs help. "I'm not going to make you stay if you don't want to," Harry added with a shrug, "Just figured I'd offer."

You: "I..." Draco didn't know what to say. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been a ferret for the past seventy-two hours. Maybe it was the way his head still hadn't quite stopped spinning. Maybe it was simply the fact that Potter was one of the first people to actually give a damn about him in a fucking long time. Whatever it was, he could feel something warm bubbling up in his chest, a strange-but-familiar fondness that he hadn't even given thought to since the end of the war. "I appreciate it," he finally said, taking another sip of water and glancing at Potter, though his gaze was drawn back to the bureau. There! At the top, carved into the wood. That was the Black Family Crest. His mother still had jewelry with it on them, necklaces and bracelets. How the hell had Potter gotten ahold of that? He didn't have to look at the matching furniture in the room to assume they all had the same markings on them. Perhaps he was hyperfocusing. Oh well. "Where exactly... are we?" he ventured, before Potter could escape from the room like he seemed intent on doing.

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