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Pretty Kitty	By : CherryStarburst Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 156655 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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
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Harry
ran a hand through his messy hair as he made his way down the stairs
to the Entrance Hall. He'd barely had time for a good shower, and
made a mental note to have another one after the Quidditch game. And
then before dinner. Maybe even after dinner, too...

Harry's
happy purring stopped when he reached the end of the stairs and his
eyes met a rather suspicious scene.

Malfoy, smirking, lounged
against a wall in a far corner, with Ginny standing in front of him
and looking uncertain.

“What the-” Harry mumbled
as Malfoy smiled winningly and Ginny laughed, the unease melting from
her face as she leaned in just a little bit closer. Harry's grip on
his Firebolt loosened, and the broom hit the floor with a loud
clatter.

Ginny jerked back, wide eyes going to Harry. Malfoy
slowly turned his gaze towards his school nemesis, looking very
satisfied. Harry's eyes narrowed angrily – what was Malfoy up
to?

“Looky here, it's Potty-wee-Potter, and without his
bodyguards,” Malfoy exclaimed, pushing off from the wall and
beginning to stride forward, green Quidditch robes billowing behind
him in an almost Snape-esque impersonation. Harry resisted arching
his back threateningly.

“What's wrong, Potter –
they finally see exactly how worthless you are, eh?” Malfoy
continued, moving ever closer to Harry. Harry growled under his
breath, claws extending from his hand – he was vaguely glad he
no longer held his Firebolt.

“Don't think that's too
good an idea.” Charlie popped up beside Harry, causing him to
startle with a loud hiss and nearly claw Charlie's eyes out. Charlie
grabbed Harry before he could lunge.

“Relax, mate,”
he said, patting Harry's head. “Probably wasn't the best idea
to startle you when you're so wound up.”

Harry had to
agree with him on that point, but consciously made an effort to calm
down, which was easier with Charlie there – the man exuded a
calm, kind air, much like his father. Harry's raised hackles lowered
and he retracted his claws.

Malfoy sneered and turned away,
stalking to the doors leading into the Great Hall – he
obviously wasn't so confident with a man older and more experienced
than him. Charlie smiled after him amicably, until Malfoy had
disappeared from sight.

He then turned to Ginny with raised
eyebrows. “Gin! What on earth are you thinking?” he
hissed, striding forward to rest his hands on Ginny's shoulders.
Ginny bit her lip, looking down – Charlie didn't know much
about Ginny's sudden alliance with Malfoy, but apparently that wasn't
going to stay the same for much longer.

“Um...”
she stuttered, sending an almost pleading glance to Harry. Harry shot
her a cold glare – he really couldn't forgive her for turning
on her brothers like she had.

“I know Malfoy can seem
charming,
the smarmy bastards are too good at that. But don't let him, you
know, seduce you.
He's pure evil, and he'll only end up dragging you down with him,”
Charlie scolded, taking a hold of Ginny's arm and beginning to lead
her back upstairs, presumably to his quarters for a further talk.

He seemed to remember Harry at the last minute, and turned
back to him. “You'll be all right? Wait for the twins to get
down and stay with them until the game,” he ordered sternly.
Harry rolled his eyes – he didn't need to be bloody protected.
Voldemort hadn't leapt out of a shrubbery to attack him yet, and he
got the feeling it would stay that way.

“Sure,”
Harry agreed, watching as Charlie nodded and continued on his
journey, a reluctant Ginny in tow. Maybe he could talk some sense
into the girl, make her see exactly what she was doing to her own
family. All the Weasley children seemed to look up to Charlie and
Bill as the oldest and most mature.

When they disappeared,
Harry turned and walked into the Great Hall, the smell of breakfast
luring him in. It was the first Quidditch game of the year, against
Slytherin, and he was hungry – pre-game jitters had long since
stopped ruining his appetite, thankfully.

Harry seated
himself at the Gryffindor table, avoiding looking at the Slytherins –
he didn't care to see Malfoy smug and surrounded by his groupies so
early in the morning. That would
upset his appetite.

Spooning himself some porridge and adding
plenty of milk – Lavender wrinkled her nose – and sugar,
he quickly dug in. Halfway through his bowl, a hand clapped his back,
causing him to choke on his mouthful. The hand then began pounding
his back unhelpfully.

“All right, Harry?” Seamus
asked, rubbing his back soothingly. Harry rubbed away the moisture in
his eyes and nodded shakily. Seamus laughed. “Sorry, didn't
mean to startle you.”

“S'all right,” Harry
said, waving of the apology. He should really have been more aware of
his surroundings. For a cat-boy, he was very unperceptive.

Seamus
grinned brightly, before the smile slipped from his face. Harry, in
the middle of scooping up another spoonful of porridge, frowned at
the downcast expression his friend was donning. “What's wrong?”
he asked worriedly.

Seamus bit his lip and, after looking up
and down the table suspiciously, began to speak hesitantly. “Listen,
Harry... I sort of need some advice.” Harry raised his eyebrows
in surprise – he was hardly one to go to for advice. Hermione
often called him dangerously oblivious.

“Well, okay,
I'll try to help. But, I mean... shouldn't you be going to Dean 'bout
this, or something? I don't think I'm the best choice-” However
Seamus, who had jolted at Dean's name, clamped a hand over Harry's
mouth and once again threw that panicked look around the room. Now
Harry was really worried.

“It's... it's not really
something I can go to Dean about. And, well, you're... you know...
with George, so I thought-”

At that moment, though, a
heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Harry and Seamus looked up
into the rather dark faces of Fred and George. George, not removing
his hand from Seamus's shoulder, raised an eyebrow.

“That's
right, he is... you know...
with me. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't hassle ou- my
kitten,”
he said. Fred nodded right along with him, before stopping,
remembering that that would look rather suspicious.

Seamus
winced, paling, and Harry sighed. “Look, he was just asking me
something, what's with you?” he asked. Fred and George threw
him incredulous looks, before shaking their heads in unison. George
hauled Seamus up and lead him down the table right to the end, while
Fred sat in Seamus' vacated seat, taking Harry's hand under the
table.

“You really are adorable,” he murmured,
stroking the hand in his grasp. Harry scowled – he was manly
and masculine, not adorable. Fred, seeing his expression, laughed
loudly.

“Be quiet,” Harry mumbled, blushing.
Fred, it seemed, couldn't resist rubbing his drooping ears adoringly
in apology, and Harry quickly forgave him, if only so he could get
more of that wonderful feeling right there.

“That's
the spot,” Harry purred out, blinking at Fred in contentment.
Fred grinned and blinked back slowly – the twins still loved
doing this to Harry for hours on end, which hurt all their eyes, and
often made their friends (and Harry) rather irritated.

When
George returned, leaving a rather terrified Seamus with a satisfied
smile, he sat on Harry's other side, pulled him closer with an arm
around his waist, and helped Fred in his petting. Lavender and
Parvarti, sitting across from them, cooed in delight when Harry
butted his head against Fred's hand.

“Will you stop
molesting him for two seconds?” Ron asked as he sat down next
to Lavender, both of them looking like they'd rather be sitting with
anyone else.

“Aww, is George upsetting Ronnikin's
delicate sensibilities?” Fred asked mischievously. George
smirked.

“I think he likes it, you know.”

“Oh
yes, I know what you mean.”

“After all, he did
purposely walk in on that scene this morning...”

“Shut
up!” Ron growled, face flaming. He had walked into the twins
dormitory with the intention of dragging Harry from the two and
making him get ready for the Quidditch game. However, he had come
across a scene embarrassing for both him and Harry, which involved
George pressing Harry against the wall and ravishing his neck while
Fred was in the shower.

The twins, of course, had been
delighted.

Exhibitionists.

“You really shouldn't
go walking into people's dormitories unannounced, Ron,”
Hermione reprimanded, taking the seat next to Fred. Ron scowled down
at the table.

“So, how're you feeling, Ron?”
Harry asked in a desperate effort to distract the twins and Ron from
their impending argument. Ron looked up, confused, and then paled
considerably.

Damn, that
backfired,
he thought – it seemed the twins had been doing a good job of
distracting Ron from the upcoming Quidditch game.

“I'm
doomed,” Ron moaned, head lowering until his forehead thumped
against the table. He then proceeded to repeat his action, until
Hermione grabbed his head and forced it to stay up.

“Don't
be so melodramatic!” George exclaimed happily. Ron beating
himself senseless was, apparently, cause for joy.

“You'll
be fine, Ron,” Harry said reassuringly, and Ron quirked a small
smile at him, before going back to beating his head against the
table, upturning a bowl of sugar in the process.

“Ugh,
women,”
Fred muttered in disgust, shaking his head. Ron shot him a dark
glare.

“What's wrong, Weasel? Suddenly realised how
much of a failure you really are?” Ron shot up and turned to
fix Malfoy with a dirty look. Malfoy was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle,
also in Quidditch robes, holding their broomsticks. Goyle also held
Malfoy's.

“Fuck off Malfoy,” Ron muttered
despondently. Malfoy barked out a sarcastic laugh, expression
mock-scared. Fred and George shot up at the same time as Ron slouched
back down.

“Look, Malfoy-” George started, and
Harry intervened before they could get into a fight and attract
Snape's attention. Or, worse, Umbridge's.

“Malfoy, you
better run along before Charlie comes back. You seem so scared of
him, after all,” Harry said. Malfoy paled and directed a sneer
on to him, while Fred and George looked questioningly at Harry. Harry
ignored them, raising his eyebrows at Malfoy.

“You
won't be the one ordering me around when I win,” Malfoy
snapped, turning and walking away quickly, as if Charlie were
somewhere in the vicinity. Ron snorted with laughter.

“Sure
Malfoy, because you've won so many times before!” Ron called
after him, his ego seeming to return a bit. Harry smiled at the
redhead and Hermione looked slightly relieved.

“Ooh,
looks like Ronnie's bite is worse than his bark, eh?”

XxXxXxX

Harry
crashed back down to earth, struggling snitch in his palm, grinning
broadly. He was instantly engulfed in hugs by two shrieking female
Chasers as they threatened to squeeze the life out of him.

Harry
had caught the snitch in what seemed like record time – his
cat-like attention span had proved to be rather effective. The moment
he'd seen the shiny snitch, he'd been off like a bullet, and only
came back to himself once he had the snitch and found himself, rather
embarrassingly, batting it back and forth between his hands.

He
could only hope no one had actually noticed.

“You did
it!” Angelina screamed, and Harry laughed despite his slowly
crumbling ribs. Angelina was strong.

“'Course
he did!” Fred called from behind them, grabbing Harry and
throwing him up so that the boy landed on his shoulders. Harry
laughed, clutching at Fred's head as he shifted to get comfortable –
he felt content at being at such a height.

“Never had a
doubt!” George roared, grabbing at Harry's robes and pulling
him down for a deep kiss. Harry grinned and returned it, not breaking
off until Fred smacked his thigh playfully.

“Oi, no
canoodling on my shoulders!” he scolded, and George laughed,
releasing a dazed Harry who was donning a goofy smile, glasses
slightly askew. He blushed and quickly righted them – there he
went, acting like a lovesick teenager again.

Malfoy touched
down to the ground, looking suitably furious, cheeks flushed as he
took in the scene. Spotting Ron slightly apart from them, being
engulfed in a hug by Hermione, he swiftly moved over to them. At
least he could take his anger out on Ron without the twins hovering
over his shoulders.

“Oi, Weasel! Nice work today!”
Malfoy called as he crossed the distance between them. Ron, flushing
slightly from the long embrace with Hermione, turned to Malfoy with
narrowed eyes.

“Shut it, Malfoy.” He had,
unfortunately, been atrocious in goals. The Slytherins new chant
'Weasley is our King' had completely distracted and humiliated him so
much he couldn't save even one goal.

“Sorry, King,”
Malfoy said cheekily, just itching for a challenge. Ron blushed
harder, crossing his arms, while Hermione glared at Malfoy.

“Oh
bugger off Malfoy, no one wants a smarmy ferret hanging around,”
she snapped. Malfoy narrowed his eyes – the mention of Moody's
punishment in their fourth year never failed to make him feel
mortified and slightly scared.

“And no-one wants a
dirty mudblood either, Granger, but you don't see me saying anything
about it,” he retorted. Ron immediately went on the defensive,
tucking Hermione behind him and clenching his fists. Malfoy's grip
went to his wand.

“Don't call her a mudblood, ferret!”
he yelled.

Harry attention became diverted by the angry
argument, and he looked over to where Malfoy was confronting Ron.
Harry quickly slid off Fred's shoulder and ran over to his friends –
the last thing Ron needed was Malfoy hanging around with his snarky
comments.

“You're not much better, Weasley. When was
your broom made? The 1950's? You're poorer than dirt, you-”

Ron
lunged for Malfoy, and Harry lunged after the redhead, grabbing him
and holding on tightly. Ron snarled, struggling against Harry. “Lemme
go! I'll beat that little shite to a bloody pulp!”

“Ron,
calm down,” Harry said in an attempt to be soothing, which
didn't work when his voice strained from the effort of keeping Ron
secure – the boy was quite a bit bigger than Harry. It looked
like Harry would have to resort to his arsenal of weapons.

Harry
unsheathed his claws and, silently begging for Ron's forgiveness, dug
them into Ron's chest. Ron cried out and stopped his struggling. “Ow!
Fucking hell, Harry!”

Harry cautiously let Ron go, glad
to see that the rest of the Quidditch team, Seamus, Dean and Neville
had, by then, joined them. At least he and Hermione would have backup
if Ron tried to murder Malfoy again.

“Ooh, looks
like I got to you, Weasley. Don't you like the fact that you can't
even afford decent robes. Some of the things your mum wears, simply
awful!” Malfoy said, grinning widely.

A growl from Fred
and George was the only warning the rest got before they, along with
Ron, were attempting to maul Malfoy. Harry grabbed George, who was
closer, while Seamus restrained Ron, Angelina helped him with George
and Katie and Dean and Hermione leapt onto Fred.

“Then
again, guess it's better to have a mother with a hideous fashion
sense than none at all, eh Potter?” Malfoy continued. Harry's
grip on George slackened and he saw red.

“Harry!”
Angelina called as George successfully broke her grip and lunged at
Malfoy, catching him around the middle and sending them both
toppling. Harry didn't even hear her as his claws once again escaped
and he ran at the battling Malfoy and George, immediately joining the
fray.

He was quickly dragged away by Goyle, who punched him
square in the nose. Harry dug his claws in Goyle's restraining arms
and, when they let go, socked the boy's jaw, the claw on his thumb
opening a deep wound.

Fred had escaped, and leapt at Goyle
when the large Slytherin got Harry in the gut. Crabbe tackled Fred,
swiftly gave him a black eye, and knocked out a few teeth. Fred got
his revenge by catching Crabbe's stomach, and then kicking his jaw.

Ron couldn't escape from his captors grip, as everyone had
taken to restraining him while Lee and Seamus tried to separate the
fights occurring, which little success.

Harry leapt away from
Goyle, banging right into Malfoy. Harry narrowed his eyes, drew back
his fist, and aimed for Malfoy's perfectly straight nose.

Only
to find himself blasted six foot away from the boy.

His back
impacted with the dirt and he groaned in pain. It seemed that all the
other fights had been broken up with the same method, and McGonagall,
Snape and Umbridge loomed above the students. McGonagall's lips had
turned white with rage, Snape's dark eyes promised torture, and
Umbridge was deeply satisfied.

Harry groaned again, head
dropping back down and thumping against the ground.

XxXxXxX

“What
were you thinking?”
McGonagall hissed at the four boys sat in her office. Harry winced at
the disappointment colouring her voice. “In fact, were you even
thinking at all?”

Snape had dragged Malfoy, Crabbe and
Goyle to the dungeons when they'd reached the castle, looking furious
– which only intensified when he glanced at Harry. He felt it
safe to assume that many detentions were coming his way in Potions.

Umbridge had chosen to follow McGonagall up to her office
with the reluctant boys. Harry really wished she wouldn't –
she'd somehow make everything even worse than it already was.

They
all mumbled apologies, but McGonagall shook her head. “Sorry
simply isn't good enough!” Harry noticed that she wasn't
offering any ginger newts. “Detention, all of you! A month for
you three,” she said, pointing to Harry and the twins. “Two
weeks for you,” she finished, gesturing to Ron. Harry, Fred and
George all shot dark scowls at Ron, who gulped nervously.

“And
fifty house points deducted. Each!”
No-one
dared to argue, although Fred pouted, George sighed and Ron grit his
teeth. Harry remembered a similar incident in his first year, where
such a large number of house points had been lost.

The other
Gryffindor students had not been happy.

“I expected so
much better of you!” McGonagall continued. “Maybe I was
wrong to think you could act maturely in the face of provocation.”

Harry felt guilt instantly flood him and, from the looks on
the other's faces, they felt the same. McGonagall's quiet declaration
seemed to be worse than the detention and loss of house points.

McGonagall sighed deeply, sitting behind her desk. She looked
rather worn out and very disappointed. Harry desperately wished he
could just take back the past hour, go back to when he'd won the game
and start off afresh.

“Detention and a loss of house
points? They seem to be getting off very lightly,” Umbridge
finally said, leaning against a wall. Fred and George turned dark
looks upon her, but she ignored them. Ron groaned, already predicting
something even worse about to happen.

“Lightly? They
are not getting off lightly at all! They were provoked, and their
reactions were immature and hasty, and they are getting justly
punished,” McGonagall said harshly. Umbridge raised her
eyebrows.

“Provoked or not, they shouldn't have reacted
as they had. They assaulted Mr
Malfoy, Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle. I suggest...”

McGonagall
cut her off angrily. “You suggest?” she hissed. “Well
then, let's hear it, if you
suggest
it!” Umbridge looked put-off and insulted, and Harry felt
slightly satisfied. Apparently McGonagall wasn't in the mood to put
up with the false Professor either.

“A ban from
Quidditch,” she said silkily. Harry stopped breathing, and
McGonagall's eyes widened in horror.

“No, absolutely
not,” she said, shaking her head. Umbridge's mouth stretched in
a grin, and Harry shuddered. As she opened her mouth to continue her
point, Fred and George abruptly stood.

Harry, Ron and
McGonagall watched, confused, as a silent conversation passed between
Umbridge, Fred and George. The twins faces were tense, and Umbridge
had paled slightly.

Umbridge's eyes narrowed and she turned,
practically running to the door, yanking it open and making her
escape. Harry and McGonagall stared, gobsmacked, at the twins, while
Ron grinned secretly.

“I-” McGonagall finally
said, before shaking her head. “Actually, no. I'd rather not
know.”

The twins smirked and reached down to coax Harry
and Ron to their feet. “Wise choice, Professor,” Fred
said, nodding, and beginning to lead Harry out.

“Have a
good day, Minnie,” George finished cheekily. McGonagall fixed
him with a stern look, but they all noticed her lips twitch upwards.

“Professor,”
she corrected. Harry and Ron grinned at each other while the twins
pretended to take her comment seriously.

“Sure,
Professor.”

XxXxXxX

Umbridge
stormed into her office, feeling the childish urge to kick something.
Maybe one of those bloody twins.

“Soon, their 'power'
will be useless.”

XxXxXxX

Poor
Umbridge.

... All right, maybe not.

So, I've somehow
managed to get a multiple strain injury in my left hand –
unfortunately, not fun. Updates may be shorter or something until it
goes away. And it will go
away ;;stares at hand sternly;;

Thanks to all readers and
reviewers! You make my day :P
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