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Limited Edition Harry-Cat	By : Sarryn Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 7092 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Disclaimer: I don�t own the rights to the Harry Potter Series, which solely belong to J.K. Rowling, et al, but that hasn�t stopped me from writing about them.

Warning: This story contains the themes of sex, shota/chanslash, slight bestiality, and male/male relationships, a.k.a. slash/yaoi. If any of these may offend you, then stop reading. If, however, you do read this, in spite of my warnings, and it it offensive, then I have to say it is your own fault. Some scenes are/may be of an erotic nature, but I have attempted to write them as tastefully as my ability allows.
Note: I will not accept any flames, however, comments and criticisms are welcome. I am under the assumption that anyone reading this has a clear understanding of the difference between flames and criticisms so I don�t have to explain it. Here are some reason why I don�t accept flames: 1) they generally include an attack on the author�s character without regard to previous or future works that may or may not be in the same vein, 2) not only are they childish, but they make the writer of them sound immature and not old enough to read the material contained herein, 3) flames help neither the author nor the flamer to improve the work and, therefore, are not constructive, 4) if something is so offensive as to elicit the impulse to flame then it is better forgotten and not dwelled upon, 5) you waste time writing it and I waste time reading and then deleting it, 6) it won�t do you any good to point out my lack of scruples, morals, intelligence, sanity, etc., because not only don�t I care, but I won�t listen.
Scenario: (A/U) For his thirty-sixth birthday, Severus Snape, potions master and jaded teacher, receives a BioSorce GEE� Toy from none other than headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Harry Potter does not exist in this story, but Harry-cat does thanks to the combion oon of biotechnology and sorcery (hence �Bio� and �Sorce�).

If you want to discover the inspiration behind this story, email me or leave an email address in a review.

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The morning of Severus Snape�s thirty-sixth birthday starts out the same as any other day. Really, why would the world stop to acknowledge a single potions master? It has better things to do. So, without fanfare, the severe man pres fes for another day of intensive research, a cup of tea during a ten minute break at ten o�clock, and snatches of food when his stomach�s complaints can no longer be ignored. Then, when exhaustion steals the strength from his limbs, he will trudge to his large bedroom and collapse upon the firm bed. It�s his daily winter break routine and neither birthdays nor acts of God will change it.
However, acts of a meddling old man may.
A knock on the door interrupts Severus� ten minute tea break at precisely ten o�clock AM. Setting the porcelain cup upon its mismatched saucer, he pushes his chair back and stands with an angry sweep of black robes. An awful feeling of dread weighs down his finicky stomach. The knock most likely heralds some drastic, unwanted change in his comfortable, mundane life. What else could bring someone knocking on his door?
Usually the house elves would answer the door, but Severus forbade them from doing so after they invited in a rather tenacious magic vacuum salesman. He is tempted�the level of his temptation is something inconceivable to most mortals�to simply ignore the knocking, but morbid curiosity prompts him to leave the rather homey kitchen, where he always takes his tea. He reaches the front door by the eighth persistent and businesslike knock.
With an ever-present sneer, he opens the door.
�Greetings!�
He shuts the door promptly in the face of an overly cheerful, bearded twenty-something year old. Another series of knocks echo through the mansion

�What do you want?� he hisses upon opening the door again. The young man�s smile is decidedly strained. He feels no pity for the unfortunate fool.
�I have a package for you, sir.� The scowling man peers around the athletic youth and discovers that he speaks the truth. A large, white package tied with an obscenely bright green bow rests complacently behind him. Severus� scowl deepens.
�Why?�
��Why�, sir?� the dim deliveryman asks. �I�This is your address, right?� The potions master takes the delivery sheet from his hands and scans the address printed.
�Yes.�
�Then this package is yours, sir.�
�I didn�t order anything.� The youth shrugs as if to say that it isn�t his problem. Of course it wouldn�t be. He just curries the things; he holds no responsibility for the reason behind why anyone would send anything to anyone else.
�Just sign here and I�ll be off.� The young man seems to be nearing the end of his forced patience. Severus finds himself unable to effectively argue the offensive package back into non-existence.
With a practiced, economical scratch of quill on parchment he signs the delivery sheet and seals his signature to prevent identity theft. It is rather amazing how a simple signature, when unprotected, can result in a wizard or witch�s entire life becoming another�s. He has heard of that happening too many times to let his guard down.
�Thank you, sir, and I hope you enjoy your package.� With a jaunty little bow the deliveryman takes back the sheet of parchment and jogs away. Thus, Severus finds himself alone with the package. No amount of scowling will cause the package, which he suspects to be some manner of birthday gift, to suddenly disappear.
With a resigned sigh he levitates the wrapped container into the foyer. Once inside he slams the door closed and locks it. Then he turns to regard the present. Slowly he circles it as if he expects some horrible creature to burst forth or a bomb to go off. When nothing happens, he cautiously undoes the bow with a sharp tug.
The box collapses to reveal a strange, egg-shaped object made of what appears to be lamb�s wool. He stares at it in bewilderment. Someone has decided to give him a giant, fuzzy egg for his birthday? He would rather have nothing at all, as usual.
Suddenly a gold embossed card pops into existence before his eyes. Growling out a string of guttural curses, he grabs the card and pulls it back till the words are no longer blurred squiggles of gold.
�Dear valued customer,� the card says, the words appearing with a flourish of superfluous curlicues. Severus� already sour mood reaches its nadir. �BioSorce thanks you most heartily for your interest in our-of--of-the-line, limited edition GEE (Genetically Engineered Entity) Toys �� The sinking in the vicinity of the potion master�s stomach becomes more pronounced. �BioSorce would like to take this time to explain a few basic maintenance necessities of the GEE Toys�. First, as a living creature, your new companion requires sustenance. It is capable of ingesting and processing all human foods and then some. Second, it will need facilities to relieve itself after processing the food. All GEE Toys� have built in sanitary modules and are perfectly capable of using a variety of different toilet facils. Ts. Third, as with any creature, your new companion will get dirty. Again, the sanitary modules enable it to use almost any bathing facility.�
�Oh, Merlin.� A rather pronounced throbbing settles between his eyes. With great trepidation he continues to read.
�Fourth, as a livintitytity, it requires shelter and warmth. Please do not leave your GEE Toy� out in the rain or lock it in a damp and cold place. Such treatment of it will invalidate its lifetime warranty.
�Thank you, again, and BioSorce hopes that you enjoy your new GEE Toy�!�
Severus snarls and crumples the damned card. Whoever sent this to him is about to face hell. Who dared, anyway? The answer comes in the form of a rust-red owl tapping impatiently at one of the foyer�s windows. He recognizes that owl: it is one of those held on reserved by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The only person who sends him anything from that place is�
�Oh, shit.�
He considers simply ignoring the owl and sending the egg back to where it came from. Unfortunately a small knob of curiosity propels him forward. His curiosity would kill even the luckiest cat, it seems.
The owl drops a blank envelope on the sill and takes off without pausing to replenish its strength. It must be aware of Severus� tendency to take things out on the messenger, human or not. Feeling unaccountably slighted about the bird�s distinct lack of trust, the man grabs the envelope and rips it open without due respect for its contents. The headache explodes into a full-blown migraine as he reads it.
�Dear Severus, dear friend,� the epistle begins in the overly familiar handwriting of none other than the headmaster of Hogwarts himself, Albus Dumbledore. �I�ve decided that you have been li alo alone and brooding for more years than is healthy.� Gods, he can practically hear the man�s cheerful voice in his head. �With that thought in mind, I have decided to take it upon my humble self to remedy this deplorable situation. You can thank me later, old friend. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore.�
The short letter encounters the same fate as the card. In a towering rage the potions master stalks about the fuzzy egg. Horrific images of exactly what the headmaster has sent ravage his beleaguered brain. He considers hexing the thing into oblivion, but both BioSorce and Albus hinted that the thing in the egg is alive. No doubt both would be very disappointed in him if he attempts to murder the thing.
He snarls and approaches the egg. He touches it with one long fingered hand. The response is immediate. The lamb�s wool parts into five distinct sections and slowly curls down. His stomach clenches and threatens bilious rebellion. Damn Albus and his meddlesome ways. �Alone and brooding�? Hardly! Well, if he is to be honest with himself, perhaps he bro brood a little upon occasion, and of course one can only brood effectively alone. He feels immensely pleased with himself for that rationalization.
When the fuzzy petals finally reach the floor, Severus discovers the true horror of his present: a slight child of thirteen with messy black hair. However, if that wasn�t the worst of it, the child is obviously not human, at least completely. A pair of white furred ears twitch upon registering his indrawn hiss of dismay and a white furred tail, tied with a blue bow sporting two tiny silver bells, lashes the air delicately.
Then the child emits a kittenish mew and opens bottle green eyes, which light with saccharine adoration upon seeing him.
Acid surges violently within the man�s stomach. A thousand dwarven hammers beat against the soft tissue of his brain.
Without further ado he lets loose a string of curses that would surely immolate the ears off of any hardened sailor, and then some. The cat-child smiles, revealing delicately pointed canines, and seems to be completely oblivious to the imprecations flying precariously close to his tender and quite sensitive ears.
Thus begins the worst birthday Severus can remember and by nighttime he will achieve new levels of mental distress, all thanks to the misguided meddling of a sentimental old man.

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