Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Seed	By : hefox Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12034 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Part two
- 2-Part three: A kitty named Snape
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- 2
Title: Seed Author: Foxgoddess Warnings: Fairly fluffy in this part. No new warnings. Disclaimer: Don't own them. Summery: meow.

Part Three

His mind frolicked on cloud nine. It swam and bounced around the cloud. It picked love-me not flowers and eat them. He rode pink elephants into the horizon. He chatted with a black- and pink-stripped cat about the cat's doctorate in philosophy and kitty chew. He raced the leprechauns for their chocolate money filled caldrons. They had white caldrons. The leprechauns used white caldrons, of all the whacked up things. Harry giggled. Something blue bubbled inside those caldrons. A sweet smell wafted from the liquid. A black robbed doctor stirred the pot. A rat or cloth covered his mouth. The man talked and he was God. His voice boomed over cloud nine: "Delightful, almost done. Just hang in there, boy. Girl. Isn't it pretty? Sky blue. Just a bit more Nightquile. A bit more." He threw a glass bottle into the substance. It melted into the mixture. "Done. Now don't move, Harry. Not that you can't." Harry looked down. Snakes crawled over his body. Venom dripped from their fangs. He screamed. He tried wiggling away from the snakes. They clamped harder on him.

A snake bit him. Its venom entered his body. In his last clear thought, he saw he was not chasing cloud nine; he was in Doctor Mani's laboratory. The snake had not bitten him; Doctor Mani had injected him with something. He fell asleep.

---

He ran. Dark blurs chased him through endless hallways. He slipped. Blood splashed around him. Blood covered him his unclothed body. He struggled away. The blood hardened into ts. ts. Red silk sheets. He covered his ears as a mad cackle surrounded him. A doctor stood above him. A broad grin covered his face. A syringe with bubbling pink goo he held in his hand. He turned. He rather the dark blurs to the unknown doctor and the syringe. A light blinded him. He screamed; snakes crawled over him, pressing into his arms. He shook.

He awoke.

"HARRY, Wake up!" A red-faced Ron shook Harry, ignorant of his awakened state. Ginny stood next to him, fiddling with a strand of her hair. She'd straighten her long locks so they gleamed like sheets of red gold. Arthur Weasley bought home some muggle makeup last night. Her fingertips and lips matched her hair's colour. Her face seemed flushed under the pink blush.

"He's awake," said Ginny. She'd straighten her long locks so they gleamed like sheets of red gold. Arthur Weasley bought home some muggle makeup last night. Her fingertips and lips matched her hair's colour. Her face seemed flushed under the pink blush.

"Harry. You are?" Ron said. He looked startled.

"Yes, thanks. You can release my arms, if you want."

"Oh." Ron yanked his hands away. His face paled to it's normal colour. His red hair framed his face in such a way that he seemed to have a healthy reddish tone always. He'd let his hair go as it wanted to this summer. It fell in tinny ringlets over his eyes, and in back, it tickled his neck. He'd grown five inches that summer. He was over a foot above a frustrated Harry. Harry hadn't grown a centimeter in two years. He checked every week on Ron's doorframe ever since he moved into the Burrow a week into summer break. He 'accidentally' turned a harmless garden snake onto his cousin. He innocently told the snake that Dudley's hat was a lovely hiding place. He floo-ed to the burrow that night.

"So, what was your dream about, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Dream?" Harry said.

"The thing that made you sleep for the past two days. And kept us up with your disjointed screaming and worry. Dad planned to take you to Dumbledore or St. Mungo's Hospital today if you didn't get up."

"I… don't remember."

"You sure? Nothing at all?"

"Ron," Ginny said. "He needs food."

"Oh yes, mum'll make some delicious pancakes, sausages, eggs, bread, and all the toppings."

'Sounds yummy,' Said a female voice.

'Who are you?'

'Emma. Ignore me. Now go get us fed.' Harry complied. Maybe bright red fireworks flared somewhere in his mind at the intrusion. Maybe a siren blared. Maybe a worried voice demanded he investigate this mysterious voice. It didn't seem important enough to take special note of Emma or the reason why she might be in his mind when hot, juicy food waited downstairs. His mind accepted here there without question. ---

A little boy sat starring at his toys. His? Untrue. There were less his than the carpet he lay on. The man had given them to him. The man, labeled Harvy, counted his eggs before they hatched. He and his wife went to Swarts' Magical Mayhem Toys months before their first cuddly baby boy was due. Two days after arranging the toys in the baby's room, his wife died. Until the man received duty over the little boy, these toys he left in the dusty baby room for over five years. He'd tried washing, but five years of dust stained them. Another stain covered them: that of the dead baby's. His spirit's fingers tips smudged them; his wind moved temper tantrums dented them. The little boy needn't even touch them to feel the baby's presence. So he only looked from the safe vantage of his corner and played with his given toys. His arms, his legs, his hands, his mind. The clothing covering him, the room he stayed him, the name the man called him, and the world the heritage the man claimed was his were not. The memory of pained green eyes like his own, he cherished more than anything: his arms, his leg, his ears, his nose, and his mind.

In dreams, he reached toward those eyes, stretching out chubby arms. Whose they were, he knew only that they were not the man with the dead baby. He needed to find them. They held the answers that plagued the few days of his life. Why had they left him here with minds clouded by dark clouds of sanity and insanity burning? He did not know where or when those eyes were. Not here or anywhere else close.

He had to comply the man now, do what the main said and learn what the man taught. Right now, it meant playing with these toys. He would try playing with them, yes, but not as the man wanted. The man knew where the eyes were. The boy had seen the eyes inside the man; he hated and the feared them.

The boy picked up one of the toys. It was a rounded, metal thing with four circular rubber things on the bottom. The man had called it a 'car'. The boy wrapped his mind around it; he smashed it. Knife, the man called the sharp metal on his belt. The boy had made a knife. Taking up the knife, he started carving the wooden chair that the man had earlier rested upon. "Stop," the man said; his thoughts whirled around trying to figure out the weird bastard he'd been forced to baby-sit for. The carved a girl's face into the wood. Two pieces of fabric, ripped from a nearby sofa, they served as eye colour.

Green eyes stared back at him as he grinned and started carving the rest of the girl.

A knife shot out of the man's glove and buried itself in the carving's right eye.

The boy screamed. The man fell down to sleep, covering his ears. The man slept for a while, until another man came and took over for the man. The new man became the man.

It was the fifth man the boy had.

--

Two mutts battled. Their bites yelps scarred the water only; it rippled perhaps from the bounding around. They batted and bite each other. The purple spotted part Dalmatian, part bull, part something had the upper paw. He jumped atop a furry, tabby striped gray dog. The prize, a knotted rope, wiggled unnoticed from under their paws in the mouths of a two-headed runt.

The pained yelp of a kitty overrode the dogs playful ones. Prancing about while watching a huge barn owl, Ron stepped upon the tail of a sleeping cat. The black cat growled and clawed up Ron. It swatted Ron's face before gracefully jumping into a cage. Three midnight kittens blended into the clawing cat's fur. Their eyes glowed from beside what must be their mother.

'How cute!'

Harry didn't notice the thought. He reached into the bin and petted one of their kitties. It's fur glided below his fingers. So soft� He picked the kitty up. It meowed. Its wee face looked perpetually confused with a tinny nose and large eyes. Harry cradled the kitten against his chest, petting it.

"Harry, you ok?" Ron said. Blood dripped from his scratched ignored. His eyes wide, his lip curled up, the red tint missing from his skin, he looked at Harry. Weeks before Harry's two-day sleep, Ron sometimes acted weirdly like now, It was as if he feared or even hated Harry at such times. When asked, he claimed ignorance.

"Huh?"

"You're acting like a, a girl."

"No." Harry put the kitten back with its siblings. It growled and clawed his retreating fingers. He back away.

'You can't just leave it now.'

'I don't need a cat.' He answered.

'Yes, you do.'

'No, I don't'

'Yes, yes, you do.'

'No, I don't.'

His thoughts trailed away. The cat purred at him from his hand. His feet treaded toward the register. His other hand carried an overflowing basket with the owl food he'd previously picked up and an assortment of cat things including a little pink mouse. Ron trailed behind. His face hadn't changed. If anything, it paled more.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"I don't know." He told no lie.

--

The kitty swatted at the fly. It buzzed from under her paw, uncaring of the fearsome claws that sought to tear it apart and leave it to die unnamed, unloved, and unnoticed on the tabletop. Such was the fate of the common fly if finally swapped down by the kitten. Such was not the fate of any fly at that table. A colossal hand swiped the cat up and preceded to mother it. A thunderous voice boomed, "What a cute little thing. Aw, so beautiful. What's her name? She's a she, right?" The hand lifted up her tail. She bit an unware finger. The hand set her back on the table. "A girl. That hurt. Bad kitty." A finger waved at her face. She bit that. Her owner picked her up. She curled into his hold. He smelled like summer, earth, and strawberries. His chest rocked her as he spoke.

"Don't know, Hermione. With her temperament and looks, I'm tempted to call her Snape."

"Snape?! Have you gone loca?" The red-haired guy said.

"Loco, Ron. Loca is for females. Calm down. The cat does act like Snape."

"Snape doesn't curl up on Harry's lap. At least we hope he doesn't." The redhead's face scrunched up. He gave her owner and her a nauseated look.

She jumped out her owner's arms and onto the redhead's legs. She purred and sunk her claws into the guy's skin.

"Snape, it is." Her owner laughed as he picked her up. He held her up. "You are Snape." Snape? She purred. She liked that name. Agreeing, she swatted at her owner's face.

"I hadn't notice," said someone behind the three humans. He was tall with hair the colour of her own. Snape wiggled out of her owner's grip, jumped to the floor, then proceeded to claw up the man's robes.
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