For the Love of Crookshanks

Again - thanks and more thanks to my beta Meucci Warlock.

Chapter 2

Too @#$&*%! long! I can't believe how @#$&*%! long this thing is! Everything a pet owner needs to know about Kneazles could be fit into approximately 100 words, as I myself have so succinctly done in the past.

--Newt Scamander, author and noted Magizoologist

~~~~~

Most striking about the Kneazle is his ability to identify untrustworthy or unsavoury people and animals. It is currently unknown how Kneazles are able to do this, however, you can be sure that your Kneazle will never fail to alert you to those people or animals you would do well to avoid. Amazingly, Kneazles will not only discover distrustful characters, they are also able to identify when an otherwise trustworthy person is engaged in something they know to be wrong. Occasional reports have surfaced in which a Kneazle has alerted his owner to inadvisable or shady business dealings. For this reason, Kneazles are largely banned from weekly poker games and used broomstick dealerships. However, a Kneazle will occasionally display aggressive behaviour for no apparent reason. Therefore, it is essential that you track your Kneazle's moods, activities and most importantly, his reactions to those around him. I have devised a revolutionary log to enlighten you on your Kneazle's behaviour, which can be found in Appendix Q. You may find that it is more intricate and detailed than you might prefer, but in the interest of your Kneazle's care, I strongly suggest you follow the guidelines suggested here. (excerpt from For the Love of Kneazles by Beneficent Bast, pg 475)

~~~~~

In search of her quarry, Hermione tread lightly among the stacks of boxes. Hermione was still amazed at how many boxes she and Ginny had accumulated in three short years. The official count of boxes was in the low forties, but Hermione was positive that there were literally thousands. While she was terribly excited to move into the old house she had just purchased in the country, the mountains of boxes prevented her from properly stalking her prey. She knew he was in here. She had seen him slink in between these boxes. Obviously, the guilt was tearing him up inside, as it should be. Noticing a tuft of orange fur around the corner of a box, Hermione hunched down to see her cat sitting contentedly among the boxes. She laid down on her stomach to better see him.

The problem with Crookshanks was that he didn't look particularly insane. Although Hermione wasn't one to openly admit it, he looked like a scruffy old cat with a smashed face. His favourite activity was sleeping, often times in the middle of the room, the middle of doorways, the middle of Hermione's bed, and so forth. But that certainly didn't make him crazy. It just made him. . . middling. His second favourite activity was sleeping in Hermione's lap, which Hermione thought was rather sweet.

And yet, here he was, purring contentedly, his eyes half shut. This calm, relaxed demeanour belied the fact that Crookshanks was completely unbalanced. Hermione was loathe to make such a claim. She had defended her cat countless times against unfair accusations, but she had been deceived for all these years. Crookshanks was a bad bad cat, or even worse, a crazy crazy cat. Hermione shook her finger at Crookshanks, just so he understood this, but it had no effect. The horrid animal just continued to lie there, his eyes half closed, his paws tucked under him, with not a care in the world. Hermione could forgive him this deception if he would just stop purring. It gave him an air of self-satisfaction that disgusted her.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" Ginny called to her. "Are you interrogating Crookshanks again?"

"No," Hermione answered defiantly. "I'm just. . ."

Ginny peeked over the top of the wall of boxes and laughed at the picture of Hermione lying on her stomach, studying Crookshanks. "Trying to stare him down, make him break under the pressure and confess to his crime?" Ginny asked.

"Well maybe," Hermione said in a childish voice and hoisted herself up and manoeuvred herself out of the labyrinthine paths of boxes. "I still have no idea what he was thinking. It's just not like him to do that."

"Don't waste your time thinking about it, Hermione. That Mark guy sounds like a tosser anyway."

"It's more the principle of the thing, Ginny," Hermione said, throwing herself onto the sofa, between piles of Ginny's clothes. Hermione and Ginny had rarely fought as roommates, but this moving business was grating on them both. Ginny's idea of moving was to grab armloads of things from her bedroom and dump them in the living room, which greatly conflicted with Hermione's nicely organized and labelled boxes. Hermione was quite looking forward to her own place at this point.

"And what principle is that?" Ginny asked, settling herself into the one armchair free of debris.

"I think Crookshanks is insane," Hermione said, with no little difficulty. Ginny laughed at her friend's dilemma.

"He's not insane, Hermione."

"Well, how do you explain what he did then?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, I don't know why you're so upset about this. You didn't even really like Mark all that much." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ginny cut her off. "You didn't. Maybe Crookshanks sensed that or something."

"You really think he could do that?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione. Crookshanks is a pretty smart animal."

"I guess," Hermione said sullenly. "I've just never seen him do anything like that before. Except to Scabbers."

"Don't think about it too much," Ginny said. "I know, I know," she said waving her arm, "Hermione Granger, deliberately not thinking about something." Ginny rolled her eyes. "There's a first time for everything, or so I hear anyway," she said, winking.

The two women heard the pop of Apparition outside the door to their flat. Something thunked against their door, and a masculine voice loudly cursed his misfortune.

"That'll be my knight in shining armour," Ginny mumbled, getting up to answer the door. "How that man defeated the most evil wizard of all time and still always seems to be thwarted by our door, I'll never know."

Harry walked into the room. Tossing the empty boxes he was carrying to the side, Harry rubbed his head.

"Hi Harry."

"Oh hi, Hermione. Say, did you take that spell off your door?" Harry asked.

"The one we put up for the Halloween party?" Hermione asked in reference to a very fun spell that had repeatedly amused and delighted their guests. Well, the spell had amused and delighted Ginny and Hermione, while it had frightened and terrified their guests for a brief moment before entering the flat.

"No, the other one," Harry said.

"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Harry," Hermione said, smiling widely.

"You know, the one that makes things appear further away than they actually are?"

Hermione frowned in concentration, trying to recall such a spell. "Longinquitatis erroris?"

"Er yeah, that one." In an effort to stifle her laugh, Ginny snorted. She looked away when Harry glared at her.

"We've never used that one on our door," Hermione said, with a small laugh.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. Ginny erupted in laughter, completely unable to keep her mirth inside.

"I'm quite sure, Harry," Hermione cleared her throat. "I believe you are the only one to have experienced difficulties with our door." Hermione and Ginny had devised several theories over the course of the last couple of years as to just why Harry had issues with a door. Hermione had suspected that there was an unknown spell on the door targeted at poor Harry. When Harry had nearly knocked himself unconscious by running into their door, Hermione had performed every detection spell known to wizard-kind in an attempt to free her friend from the horrors of their door and found . . . nothing. It was just a door and Harry had difficulty operating this particular door. It was a source of great amusement for Hermione and Ginny.

Harry grunted in displeasure.

Crookshanks hopped up on the chair next to Harry and settled into his lap. "At least Crookshanks doesn't give me any trouble. Not like you women," he grumbled, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears.

"Crookshanks is in the doghouse right now," Ginny said mischievously.

"What have these women done to you, Crookshanks?" Harry asked, pulling the animal up, so they could look each other in the eye. "You can tell me, I know all about their underhanded little ways." Ginny lightly hit him on the arm. "You see, Crookshanks," Harry said, completely ignoring his girlfriend, "I know how it is. I know how brutal these women can be. Weaker sex my arse."

"Crookshanks attacked Hermione's date," Ginny said.

"He did?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione for verification. Hermione nodded. Harry patted Crookshanks on the head and again addressed the animal. "That was a good boy. Even though they're evil, we have to protect our women."

"It's not funny, Harry," Hermione said as primly as she could.

"Yes it is," Ginny giggled. "Tell him, Hermione. Tell him what Crookshanks did," Ginny said with the enthusiasm of a four year old asking for her favourite story. Hermione shook her head.

"C'mon, Hermione," Harry cajoled, "give a guy a break. I've spent the whole week on an unsuccessful stakeout. Do you know what we do on stakeouts, Hermione? Do you?" he asked, accusingly. Hermione shook her head. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I could use a good story." Hermione did have to admit that he looked drawn and haggard.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, "but you're going to be disappointed."

Harry shrugged.

"Well, I've kind of been seeing this guy, Mark," Hermione started.

"Who's a prick," Ginny interjected.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, but I think it's important that Harry know he's a prick."

"He's not," Hermione said, waving her hands, "he's just . . . "

"Tell him about the way he kissed you."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed in indignation. She could talk to Ginny about the men in her life and Ginny regularly discussed the more intimate details of her relationship with Harry, but Hermione simply couldn't talk about men with Harry. It would be like discussing men with her father, which Hermione just couldn't fathom.

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Hermione." Turning to Harry, Ginny continued, "He stuck his tongue so far down her throat that she gagged." Harry's face twisted in horror at the thought and Ginny laughed.

"He apologized," Hermione said, more to defend her own decision to date Mark, than to defend the man himself. Why in the world she had even accepted a second date after he had probed her mouth like an especially inept alien on their first, she didn't know. But his apology had sounded so sincere and heartfelt. There was something about Mark that didn't seem quite right, but being that Hermione couldn't identify just what it was, she guessed it was all in her imagination. He was such a gentleman - he was interested in what she had to say, and he was overwhelming charming. Mark had treated her the way that magazines marketed to the modern young man suggested, with a bit of soft pornography on the side to make it all go down easier - feign interest, ask questions, laugh with her and make sure she has her orgasm first, and Mark had done a magnificent job. Of course, Hermione wasn't sure about the orgasm bit. She had briefly considered investigating the matter, but after sharing a kiss with Mark, Hermione was quite sure that she didn't want him probing any other part of her body, although she couldn't help but wonder at the full capabilities of that tongue of his.

"Sounds like a real winner," Harry said.

"That's beside the point. He came here to pick me up for our third date."

"Third date," Harry said, wagging his eyebrows, "you know what that means."

"Stuff it, Potter," Ginny said.

Hermione glared at Harry and continued her story. "Anyway, he got here a little early and I wasn't quite done getting ready. I went back to my room and I was there about two seconds and then I hear this yelling, so I ran back out here and . . ." Hermione waved her hands around, not quite sure how to explain the spectacle she had walked in on.

"Yeah and - " Ginny said eagerly, even though she had already heard most of the particulars of the occasion.

"Well, Mark was twirling all around here and knocking things over. I don't know how he did it, but Crookshanks was on top of Mark's head, clawing at him. Mark kept trying to pull him off, but Crookshanks just kept moving around. First, he was on his head, then he was on his back, and he was just hissing and biting. I had to pull Crookshanks off him."

"Hermione's not telling it right," Ginny said.

"How would you know, you weren't there!"

"Yeah, but I was here to help you clean up afterwards," Ginny shot back, turning to tell Harry everything she knew. "When I got back from work, Hermione's got this poor man bound to a chair in the middle of the living room. He's all scratched up and bleeding. Hermione's pacing and muttering and Crookshanks keeps circling the man and growling at him. The guy's yelling about how Hermione is a freak and her cat is evil and she'd better get that stick thing away from him."

"Stick thing?" Harry asked, his eyes much wider than usual.

"Her wand, you idiot."

"Oh. A Muggle huh?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"There was stuffing pulled out of the sofa, two of our lamps were broken, several pictures were on the floor, and Crookshanks just kept circling this guy and the best part is," Ginny laughed, "this guy kept throwing insults at Crookshanks and taunting him, asking for a rematch. He was hopping around in his chair, like this." Ginny held her arms to her sides and hopped up and down on her chair. "His face was all red, it was just. . . the absolute funniest thing I've ever seen" Ginny doubled over in laughter.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "What made you go out with this guy anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "He asked me."

It had been very reasonable to accept a date from Mark. He fulfilled the three requirements she, Ginny and Luna had fashioned after a night of too much reflection on relationships and far too much wine. First, Mark was indeed a man. Hermione had not taken the opportunity to fully investigate the matter, but she was quite sure that her deductive reasoning was sound on this point. Second, he wasn't noticeably psychotic. Hermione didn't consider superficiality and banality to be mental illnesses, just quaint, if supremely irritating little character flaws. Third, he was interested in her. Hermione had long ago lowered her standards when considering a date. She had decided that she was far too discriminating and she could very well let the man of her dreams slip through her fingers simply because he wasn't literate, had revolutionary ideas about personal hygiene, or thought ladybugs were harbingers of death. Price Charming himself might be disguised by such interesting traits, for all she knew.

Ginny continued to laugh. "And get this, Hermione had put all these protective spells around Mark so Crookshanks couldn't get at him, but Crookshanks climbed up on the bookcase and leapt down on Mark and he," Ginny paused to giggle, "he screamed like a little girl."

"What'd you guys do? Memory charm?"

"Yeah," Hermione sighed. It had been quite a long night.

Harry gave Hermione a very strange look. Hermione looked away from him. "Hey Gin, you promised me dinner if I helped you move," Harry said.

"Oh shit, I forgot," Ginny said, racing to the kitchen.

Harry picked up Crookshanks, pushed Ginny's clothes to the floor and sat next to Hermione on the sofa.

"You okay?" he asked putting an arm around her. Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Did you really have a thing for this guy or something?" Harry asked, gently stroking her hair.

"Oh no. It wouldn't have gone anywhere. There really was something about him that I didn't like. Plus he was an idiot."

"Then what is it?"

Hermione shrugged against him and said with a smile, "Sometimes, a girl doesn't like being reminded that her cat is smarter than she is."

It wasn't quite a lie, but it also wasn't quite the truth. Hermione didn't know just what had started it - if Crookshanks had attacked Mark, or if Mark had taunted Crookshanks or tried to hurt him. Either way, Mark hadn't so much as gotten his hands on Crookshanks, but from the enraged look on his face, Hermione was simply positive that Mark would have broken Crookshanks's neck in the end if he could have. It had been the briefest of moments before Hermione stunned Mark and tore Crookshanks away from him, but she remembered that look of Mark's, that frothy, mad look and she shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to Crookshanks.

"He's not smarter than you," Harry forced out through his chuckles.

"Yeah well," Hermione sighed. "There was just something about that guy and Crookshanks figured him out before I did. It's quite an experience to realise your cat is smarter than you," Hermione said, grinning up at her friend, trying to shake off the electrifying shock and fear she had felt when she had seen Mark violently twirling and twisting, reaching for her gnarling, snarling Crookshanks.

After she and Ginny had dealt with Mark, Hermione had found herself in the interesting position of being irrationally furious with Crookshanks for putting himself in harm's way. Ginny had misinterpreted Hermione's anger and Hermione didn't dissuade her from that notion. Hermione had tried to talk herself into forgiving Crookshanks, firstly because he had probably acted on instinct and secondly, because it was just unreasonable. While Hermione could handle irrationality in others, she didn't find it in any way acceptable in herself.

"See, that's where I have you beat. I've always known Hedwig was smarter than me and I figured out that Crookshanks was smarter than me a loooong time ago." Harry paused and scratched the cat behind his torn ear. Crookshanks tilted his head, showing Harry just where he needed to be scratched. "Remember how he found us?" Harry asked in a faraway voice.

"Yeah," Hermione said airily. "That was pretty amazing."

"I still don't know how he did it. I mean we Apparated everywhere," Harry said, looking down at the cat, as though hoping for an answer from Crookshanks himself. Crookshanks's only answer was a deep sigh as he settled more deeply into Harry's lap.

Hermione snuggled in closer to Harry and Crookshanks. "I'll never forget that," she said, silently recalling the moment not two months after they had left the Burrow to search for the horcruxes. It had been very late at night and the three friends had been rather shaken by some information they had learned earlier in the day. Sitting quietly around the fire, each absently munched on their dinner. Hermione remembered how she had trembled for hours that night after discovering evidence that fully demonstrated what humans were willing and capable of committing.

Harry had been the first to spot him. He'd given a strangled shout and exclamation. She and Ron had scrambled to their feet, wands at the ready, only to find Crookshanks trotting toward them. Crookshanks had acted as he always did - he didn't seem overly surprised to see them, he didn't celebrate his discovery in any way, he had simply rubbed against their legs and later, settled himself into Hermione's lap. More than once on their journey, Crookshanks had alerted them to the presence of those who would do them harm. That soft low growl of his had twice given them a moment's advantage in surprise attacks. He hadn't made that sound in years, but in retrospect, Hermione thought she may have heard it when Mark had entered the flat.

"Don't feel too bad. So he might be smarter than you. He's got to be one of the smarter creatures out there. Plus, he'll weed out all the nasty dates you might bring home," Harry said, lightening the conversation.

Hermione smiled and protectively wrapped an arm around Crookshanks. "Yeah, he is a good cat isn't he?" Crookshanks purred.