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Saturday
“Moony, your cat has been staring daggers at me for twenty minutes. Please put it in the other room.”
“Bet he’s scared, poor thing,” Remus says with a sigh, swirling the warm amber liquid in the bottom of the glass before seeing it off. “Top up, anyone?”
“Me please!” Lily half-squawks, waving her glass in Remus’ face. “Love this stuff.”
“Prongs, your missus is drunk!” Sirius wails to James, who is currently in the toilet. “She’s draping herself all over Remus’ antique furniture! Quick!”
Lily, in retaliation, plucks off her remaining shoe (the other one had fallen off an hour ago) and lobs it at his head. She misses, shattering the porcelain mooncalf Professor Cricket had gifted Remus in his final year for earning the top marks in the class.
“Lily!”
“You’re lucky I’m drunk–”
“Watch the mooncalf!”
“–I have fantastic aim the rest of the time.”
“How many times do I have to say?!”
“Prongs!” Sirius yells. “Your missus has smashed Moony’s mooncalf in a jealous rage!”
Lily scowls at him, fishing her wand out of one of her long cotton socks, muttering a quick “Reparo,” before returning to her slumped position on the settee.
Remus turns into the other room without another word, not wanting to be dragged into the usual Lily-Sirius bickering. The tiny black kitten follows him, nipping at his trouser leg. “Oi!” he yelps, before crouching down to scoop it up into his arms. It’s a tiny little thing, maybe two months old.
His mum used to foster kittens for the RSPCA before they were adopted. Every summer Remus would return home to a new litter, and would help his mum nurse them until they were old enough to eat solid food.
This kitten, however, doesn’t seem to want to eat at all. It just wants to yowl. And bite.
“What do you want?” he mutters. The kitten stares at him, with his big yellow eyes, and Remus almost melts. As obnoxious as he is, he must admit he’s rather adorable. He smiles. The kitten swats at him. “Merlin,” he says, exasperated, “ what?”
He’d found him that morning whilst foraging for bitterroot in the woods by his bungalow. He had crept up on him (not that tiny kittens make much noise, anyhow), but had seemed more surprised than Remus had when he’d looked down to find a kitten pulling at his shoelaces. He’d tried for a good ten minutes to lure him inside, the kitten viciously opposed to being picked up, to no avail. He only came when Remus had warned him of the coming storm, and that inside there’s a nice warm blanket, and a tin of tuna with his name on it. A little bemused but otherwise satisfied that the kitten had finally decided to come inside, Remus had watched in delight as he curled himself up in the warm blanket on his settee and slept for six hours. He firmly rejected the tuna.
The kitten lurches forward and bites the tip of his nose. Remus yelps, pulling away, holding him by his scruff. The kitten blinks curiously at him, and enough’s enough. Remus stomps over to the back door, throws it open, plops the kitten on the ground, and waits. “Want to go? Go.”
The kitten turns his head, seemingly assessing the value of staying inside over facing the fat droplets of rainwater hurtling down onto the grass outside, before hissing - which Remus takes as a feline “fuck you” - and slinking back into the kitchen to curl up under the table.
His fur is so black he blends into the shadows, his beady yellow eyes blinking at him like two stars.
Sunday
Mission of the day: Get the kitten to eat something.
He has rejected everything Remus has offered so far. Milk, a tin of tuna, cut up pieces of plain cooked chicken, cut up pieces of plain raw chicken, a slice of ham. Everything.
Remus flicks his wand lazily; the front door shuts behind. At a whistle, the little kitten comes skittering into the room. “I need to give you a name,” Remus mutters. “I can’t just whistle. I’m literally cat-calling.” The kitten meows and sits by Remus’ feet.
“I am going to pick you up now,” Remus says slowly, bending down. “Please don’t bite me.”
The kitten meows again, wobbling a bit as Remus places him on the table. “I got you some food,” Remus says. “Expensive stuff, for really posh cats.” He takes the silver bag of cat food out of his jacket, dangling it in front of the kitten before placing it on the table for him to examine. The kitten takes one, hard look at the very, very expensive cat food, before batting it off the table and onto the floor.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no thank you’.”
***
If you asked Remus how long it took him to capture a live shrew from the garden, he would not deign to answer.
It took him an hour and a half.
“Here, kitty,” Remus sings, dangling the squeaking animal in front of the kitten. He just sits there, eyeing up the thing, before standing up and trotting away. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little rejected. (Fine, a lot rejected.) He sighs, releasing the shrew back outside.
***
Remus plonks himself down on the settee, knees drawn up to his chest with his bowl of butternut squash soup balancing on top of them. He has, absentmindedly, reached out to stroke the kitten a few times now, before being reminded of his place with a low growl.
The kitten has finally settled, after hours spent stalking around Remus’ bungalow, clawing at his bookshelf and attempting to tear up the photos Remus has taped to his wall, particularly the one of him and Sirius laughing at the camera. The kitten, clearly, did not take a shine to his friend.
After finishing his last spoonful, Remus places his bowl on the floor and stretches out, reaching for his book. He keeps his knees bent, leaving enough room for Jet - the name he finally landed on, not just because of his fur, but also because he can tear around Remus’ living room alarmingly fast - to remain curled up at the end. His bones are starting to hurt, his transformation less than 48 hours away, and he grunts as he feels his neck twinge painfully at the change of position.
Jet’s ears perk up at the noise, and he turns his head to observe Remus. Remus raises an eyebrow at the kitten, propping his book up on his chest, and hears a soft thunk as Jet jumps off the settee. He ignores it, perfectly happy for him to roam around. After a quiet clink, clink , Remus sighs, sets his book down, and cranes his neck to find Jet licking the bowl - and spoon - clean.
“Seriously?” he says, the kitten’s ears prick and he looks up, eyes wide, his small pink tongue poking out. “Butternut squash soup? That’s what you’ll eat?”
The kitten meows.
Monday
Remus lowers himself down onto one of the kitchen chairs with a small groan. He’s decided by now that the transformation isn’t even the worst part of being a werewolf, it’s the lead up to it. At least his skin is only tearing for a good thirty seconds! His pre-transformation flu wipes him out for days . Jet climbs up his trouser leg, and Remus hisses at the small claws digging into him, his skin too sensitive. Jet meows, bumping Remus’ hand with the top of his head, before hoisting himself up onto the table. He sniffs the Pepperup Potion curiously, then sits down and watches Remus as he slings it back. Remus cringes at the taste, still not accustomed to it after all these years, and vanishes the empty bottle. Jet meows.
“Don’t tell me you’re hungry again,” Remus says with a heavy sigh. “I don’t have it in me to make any more soup right now.”
Jet tilts his head, silent.
“Good.”
***
The day of the full moon, Remus typically spends in bed. Jet has been content enough to do this too, curled in a ball by Remus’ feet, watching the rain spatter against the window as Remus lies there with the radio on. They’re like this for hours, before the kitten springs up at the sound of the Floo.
James and Sirius are at Remus’ bedroom door in seconds. “Hiya, Moony,” James says with his lopsided grin. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.”
“Figures,” James says with a nod. “Let’s get you outside, yeah?”
The pair of them haul Remus out of bed and help him down the stairs. Jet follows them, yowling the whole time.
“How can you stand that thing?” Sirius asks. “It’s awful .”
“He’s actually quite nice company once you get to know him,” Remus says, slipping his battered shoes on. He turns to Jet. “See you in the morning.”
“Great, now he’s talking to the thing,” Sirius observes aloud. “Moony has officially lost it.”
“It was only a matter of time,” James says.
Tuesday
Remus wakes to the feeling of something small and wet licking at his cheek. He groans, stretches, and opens his eyes to find Jet sitting by the side of his head. Remus is back in bed, exhausted. On his bedside table sits a Pepperup Potion and a cheese toastie, still steaming. Sirius has a certain knack for heating charms.
“Morning,” Remus grunts. Jet meows. “Afternoon,” he corrects himself. “Are you hungry?”
The kitten remains silent, squinting before leaning down to bonk Remus’ chin with the top of his furry head. Remus chuckles. The kitten has become quite accustomed to Remus’ fussing now. He thinks he’s growing on him.
“Sometimes I swear you can understand me.”
The kitten yowls, the note low and long. Remus’ sits up slowly, huffing out a pained breath. “See what I mean?” Jet swats him. “Oi!” he yells. Then, he pauses. “Meow if you can understand me,” he says slowly, eyes narrow.
Jet meows.
“Meow if you’re a dog.”
Nothing.
“Meow if you’re a cat.”
Nothing.
Remus lets out a breathy laugh, rolling his eyes at his own ridiculousness. It’s the post-moon delirium; it’s a cat , of course it doesn’t understand him.
Jet growls and swats him again.
“Blimey, you’re a real piece of work.” This elicits another growl from Jet, who leaps off the bed and stalks towards his chest of drawers. Remus watches in half-awe, half-wince as the small kitten claws his way up the wooden cupboards, reaching a framed picture of Remus and Sirius, and knocking it onto the floor.
“You are the weirdest cat I’ve ever met,” Remus chastises, getting out of bed - stark naked, mind - and picking up the frame. As soon as Remus picks it up, the kitten lets out a series of the most horrifically high-pitched yowls it has Remus covering his ears. “ What?! What is this vendetta you have against my friend?”
Jet meows.
Remus sighs, hating himself for what he’s about to try again. “Can you understand me?” He asks, feeling ridiculous.
Jet meows.
“Meow if you’re a cat.”
Jet doesn’t meow, but he does– squeak?
“Meow– no, hiss . Hiss if you’re not a cat.”
At this, Jet lets out the most menacing hiss Remus has ever heard in his life. He stumbles back, clutching at his bed frame for balance. “You’re not a cat?” Remus asks, breathless.
Jet meows.
“You understand me.”
Jet meows, tilting his head.
“But, you look like a cat. You’re too cat-like to be a kneazle. Not that kneazles understand English… holy shit.” Remus’ heart drops to his stomach. “Are you a— no, there’s no way.”
Jet hisses, and Remus grimaces. Please, please, please be wrong, Remus chants over and over in his head, fumbling for his wand on his bedside table. I’ll never be able to live this down. He takes a deep breath, looks at the kitten…
“Finite.”
A swift zoop noise is heard, the chest of drawers rattles and loose pages of notes fly into the air as Remus’ kitten - his tiny, fluffy, adorable kitten - vanishes and turns into one very human-sized, very human-looking, Regulus Black.
“FUCKING FINALLY!” Regulus yells.
Remus screams, to put it simply. The realisation all comes crashing down at once. Remus has been housing Regulus Black for the past few days, cooing at him, in kitten form . Regulus Black has watched as Remus has muttered to himself, sung along to music, Merlin– picked his nose , chased a live shrew through his garden, and last but not least, transformed into a werewolf.
Not to mention that Regulus is looking at him right now, as Remus - staring on in horror - is very, very naked.
He shrieks, scrambling for his pillow to cover his crotch. “What the fuck ?! What are you playing at?!”
“Don’t cover up on my account,” Regulus says, voice smooth. He sits casually atop Remus’ dresser, amused.
“Wh– what…”
“I should thank you, really. You make some really nice soup.”
“ What the hell is wrong with you? ”
“Bellatrix cursed me,” Regulus says with a roll of his eyes. “She said, last week, that she’d cursed me after I insulted her dress–”
“ Whatthefuck. ”
“--and that I would find out what the curse was only when it was too late. I thought she was being dramatic.”
“Right.”
“But when I turned into my animagus form, I couldn’t turn back.”
“And you just happened to be stalking about my house at the time.”
Regulus blinks. “Well, of course. I was spying on you. Your pillow is slipping.”
“Close your eyes!” Remus yells, and Regulus does so with a chuckle. Remus hurries into his pyjama bottoms, before taking the opportunity to launch himself at Regulus - abandoning magic entirely - to grab him by the scruff of his shirt, haul him off the dresser, and push him against the wall.
“Spying on me?” Remus spits out, crowding Regulus further into the wall. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to confirm my suspicions,” Regulus chokes out.
“ What suspicions?”
“That you’re a werewolf.”
“And what? You’re going to report me to the Ministry? I’ll Obliviate you.”
“I’m not going to report you, you dolt,” Regulus chokes. He claws at Remus’ wrists until Remus relents his grip. Regulus swallows, readjusting his shirt. “I just take great satisfaction in being right, that’s all. I’ve had my suspicions since school.”
“That was five years ago.”
“A true detective never relents,” Regulus says with a sly grin. Remus wants to slap him silly. “I’d take no satisfaction in ruining your life. I like you. I just wanted something to gloat to Sirius about. Or to be rather cryptic about and send him into some sort of anxiety-induced spiral. I hadn’t quite decided yet.”
Remus decides to skip over the majority of that. “You like me?”
“You’re nice, very accommodating. And handsome.”
Remus gapes.
“Sorry, I haven’t been able to speak for three days, it’s all coming out.” Regulus clears his throat, rubbing at his throat. “Being that small for that long is not fun.”
“You’re–”
“If you say cute , I’ll have to kill you.”
A slow smile crawls its way across Remus’ face. “It is rather hilarious that the oh-so-stern Regulus Black’s animagus–”
“Don’t say it.”
“Is a teeny, weeny–”
“Shut up.”
“Kitten!”
“Fuck off!” Regulus hisses, rather cat-like.
Remus clutches at his stomach, laughing hard. Oh, he can’t wait to tell Sirius.
“I can’t wait to tell Sirius!”
“I hate him. He didn’t even notice I was gone!”
Remus continues to laugh, and he notices Regulus break too, succumbing to his fit of giggles at the utter ridiculousness of it all. Eventually, Regulus tries to walk forward, but stumbles on his first step. Remus reacts instantly, rushing towards him to help.
“Sorry,” Regulus says, still grinning. “Not used to being human yet.”
Remus grips his arms and lifts him up. Regulus holds onto his biceps for leverage. Remus watches the column of his throat as Regulus swallows. “You’re my hero,” Regulus says. “And I don’t say that lightly.”
“I probably owe you therapy after what you’ve witnessed these past few days.”
Regulus smiles, his fingers flexing on Remus’ arms. “Don’t be silly,” he says quietly, “I owe you. I’ll just kill my brother instead.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to use you calling me handsome as leverage for you not to do that.”
Regulus sucks his teeth. “There’s worse leverage.”
“Oh really? Like what?”
Regulus, without a pause, lurches forward and kisses him. It’s a quick press of the lips, but has Remus’ heart racing at a pace it hasn’t done since James fell seventy feet off his broom during a Quidditch match in fourth year.
“There,” Regulus says with a satisfied smile. “Now we both have things we don’t want Sirius to know.”
Remus says nothing, moving his hands to cradle Regulus’ face. The smaller man seems to melt a little at this, his playful expression shuttering. Regulus Black - enigma - is standing in his bedroom, after spending the past three days with Remus and witnessing all sorts of damning behaviour, and is smiling at him.
Remus moves forward, capturing Regulus’ lips with his own and kissing him again, slower this time. Soft. Regulus lets out a small noise and digs his nails into Remus’ arms, gripping on for dear life. Remus pulls away, eventually.
“Do you want to stay for lunch?” is all he can think to say.
“Will you make that soup?”
“Sure.”
Regulus kisses him again.
Saturday, the following year
He fits into Remus’ life like he was meant to be there all along. It’s surprising, how easy Remus lets him in. Remus was comfortable before, but he’s content now. Every dark nook and cranny of his soul seen and nestled into by one Regulus Black. Nurtured and brought into the light.
Regulus Black, and occasionally one teeny, tiny kitten.
“I am going to step on you one day!” Remus warns, stumbling over Jet and dropping onto the sofa. Jets meows, climbs up Remus’ trouser leg, and with a swift zoop , he’s Regulus again, perched on Remus’ lap.
“Morning,” Regulus says, nipping at his ear.
“Where were you when I woke up?”
“Carrying out my birthday wish.”
Remus grins at his boyfriend’s coyness. “Which was what, dare I ask?”
In answer, Remus’ fireplace lights up in a bright blue, and out steps one James Potter, and one barking mad Padfoot.
“Moony! What the hell is wrong with Sirius?”
Remus turns to Regulus, who is grinning maniacally. “You didn’t .”