Chapter Text
It was on a dreary April morning that Severus Snape looked up from the instructions for a particularly tricky potion and found that there was a kitten on his desk. It was just sitting there, happily, looking him straight in the eye without the slightest trace of shyness or fear. He’d never heard it come in, or seen it jump on the desk. It didn’t seem in the least bothered by his perplexed look. Instead, the moment it had his attention, it promptly began to produce a soft, relaxed purr, with a tiny melodious note every once in a while.
Snape looked closer, unsure if the creature was even real. It seemed so impossibly happy. Its gently gleaming silver fur reminded him of relinquished memories. When it closed its bright green eyes, he felt both relieved and deprived. As he peered even closer, the kitten suddenly bumped its nose against his.
He jumped back. The kitten’s eyes widened. And then it meowed. It had obviously trained long and hard to achieve the perfect meow, for Severus Snape had never in his existence heard a more endearing sound. It almost made him become sentimental. He wanted to hug the little thing.
“How the hell did you get in here, then?” he asked, mentally squishing any gentler feelings that were bubbling up. The kitten did not answer, but basked in his attention as only kittens can.
He decided he just couldn’t have a cat stalking around his house, ruining potions with carelessly scattered cat hair, or sharpening its nails on the backs of priceless leather tomes. He carefully picked it up and put it outside. As he went back to the potion he’d been about to brew, he couldn’t help but wonder how a silly little cat had gotten past the wards on his doors and windows. He also wondered how any creature could be so unbelievably soft.
Later in the afternoon, as he was enjoying a quiet moment on the loo, one of these mysteries was revealed when the kitten jumped in through the small bathroom window. It was a six-foot-high jump, so Snape was impressed. He finished his business, warded the window, and then proceeded to give the cat a saucer of milk in the kitchen. The milk was greedily lapped up, and Snape pondered on the fact that even cats seem to enjoy the most those things that aren’t good for them. Perhaps that, he thought, was why this young creature sought his company.
His broodings were cut short as the silver kitten unceremoniously climbed up his leg, and then clambered all the way up to his shoulder. Then it purred peacefully in his ear. Snape quickly stopped his attempts to remove it when he realized this could not be done without serious damage to his clothes and skin. For such a cute creature, the feline had fiendishly sharp nails. And besides, even though it was quite unsanitary, he found he rather liked having the little ball of fur on his shoulder.
Upon passing a shop window two weeks later, Snape’s eye fell on a small notice. He had expected it. He had even forced himself to look out for it. But now as he read “Missing: silver-grey kitten” he felt a sharp pang of regret. The next line of the notice, “Listens to the name of Albus”, made his nostrils flare in sudden fury.