Chapter Text
The potion lab beneath St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries smelled of crushed herbs, parchment, and simmering magic.
Pansy Parkinson stood with her arms folded, eyeing the bubbling silver potion inside an enchanted cauldron.
"You know," she said dryly, "the phrase experimental antidote isn't exactly comforting."
The lead researcher laughed nervously.
"It passed every simulation."
"The fact that you said simulation instead of trial isn't helping."
A few Healers exchanged amused glances.
Post-war Britain had changed people. Even Pansy, once infamous for sharp remarks and impeccable confidence, had surprised everyone by volunteering at St. Mungo's during reconstruction. It wasn't about redemption—not entirely.
It was about doing something useful.
Magical accidents had increased dramatically after the war, especially failed Animagus attempts from witches and wizards inspired by stories of famous transformations.
This antidote was designed to reverse accidental transformations instantly.
It had worked on enchanted mice.
Twice.
"...Mostly," one assistant muttered.
Pansy heard him.
"Mostly?"
The room became suspiciously quiet.
The researcher quickly cleared his throat.
"Nothing to worry about."
That was exactly what people said before something exploded.
Pansy sighed.
"If I end up growing feathers, I'm haunting all of you."
"You have our word."
She accepted the crystal vial.
The potion shimmered silver before slowly turning midnight black.
"...That's normal?"
"Entirely."
"...You're lying."
"A little."
Pansy pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Brilliant."
She uncorked the vial.
"To science."
Then she drank.
For exactly three seconds...
Nothing happened.
"I knew it," she said smugly. "See? Completely fi—"
Pain.
Not unbearable.
Just... strange.
Her hands tingled.
Her vision blurred.
The room lurched.
Someone shouted.
"Pansy?"
She blinked.
The floor was getting closer.
No...
She was getting smaller.
Her robes pooled around her.
Her fingers disappeared beneath glossy black fur.
"No, no, no—"
Only a startled...
"Mrrrow?!"
...came out.
Silence filled the laboratory.
One Healer slowly looked down.
Another blinked.
Someone whispered,
"...Well."
The lead researcher looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.
"That's... not supposed to happen."
Pansy glared up at him.
Or at least she tried to.
Apparently, glaring as a cat wasn't nearly as intimidating.
One assistant made the fatal mistake of saying,
"...She's kind of adorable."
Pansy hissed so violently that he nearly fell backward.
"Definitely still Pansy," another muttered.
Chaos erupted.
"Find the notes!"
"Reverse it!"
"Someone contact—"
The cauldron suddenly exploded in a shower of silver sparks.
Smoke filled the room.
People shouted.
When the smoke finally cleared...
The black cat was gone.
Pansy had never appreciated how enormous the world was.
Doors.
Stairs.
People.
Everything looked impossibly huge.
She darted through busy streets, narrowly avoiding boots, owls, and one particularly rude Kneazle.
She tried meowing at every witch she passed.
No one recognized her.
Hours blurred together.
By evening, she'd somehow wandered beyond the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London.
Cold rain began to fall.
Fantastic.
She crouched beneath a bench, soaked to the bone.
"So much for dignity," she thought miserably.
Meanwhile...
Harry Potter was exhausted.
Completely.
Utterly.
The kind of exhaustion that settled into his bones after paperwork, Ministry meetings, and three separate Auror reports that should have been one.
He walked through a quiet Muggle street beside Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy.
It still felt strange sometimes.
Years ago, he'd never imagined casually spending an evening with Draco.
The war had changed everyone.
Some friendships had ended.
Others had started where no one expected.
"You look awful," Draco observed.
"Thanks."
"You somehow look worse than when you fought Voldemort."
"I said thanks."
Luna smiled dreamily.
"I think you look sleepy."
Harry sighed dramatically.
"Ugh, work was horrible today... I'm exhausted."
"I can tell," Luna replied.
"You've yawned six times since we left the Ministry."
"Seven," Draco corrected.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"You're counting?"
"I'm bored."
Luna tilted her head.
"Work would've gone better if you weren't distracted."
Harry blinked.
"What?"
Draco smirked.
"She's right."
Harry narrowed his eyes.
"...Excuse me?"
Draco folded his arms.
"Work would've gone better if you weren't distracted."
Harry knew exactly where this was going.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Oh, absolutely."
Harry groaned.
"I hate talking to you."
"So you've said."
A few weeks earlier...
The Ministry cafeteria buzzed with conversation as Harry sat alone, absently stirring his tea.
Across the room...
Pansy Parkinson was laughing.
Not loudly.
Just enough for Harry to glance up.
She'd changed since Hogwarts.
Still elegant.
Still sarcastic.
Still intimidating.
But she'd smiled more these days.
It suited her.
Harry didn't realize he'd been staring until—
"You know," Draco's voice drawled from beside him, "if you keep looking at her like that, you'll burn a hole through reality."
Harry nearly dropped his mug.
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
"I wasn't staring."
"You've been staring for almost three minutes."
"I have not."
Draco looked at his watch.
"Two minutes and forty-six seconds."
Harry buried his face in his hands.
"...Merlin."
"So."
"So?"
"You fancy her."
Harry froze.
"No."
"Harry."
"No."
"Harry."
"...Maybe."
Draco looked entirely too pleased.
"I knew it."
Harry looked around frantically.
"You cannot tell anyone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You swear?"
Draco actually looked offended.
"I may enjoy irritating you."
"You definitely do."
"But I'm not cruel."
Harry studied him for a moment.
"You'd really keep this secret?"
Draco shrugged.
"You trusted me enough to ask for help rebuilding relations after the war."
A pause.
"I can return one favor."
Harry smiled faintly.
"...Thanks."
Draco immediately ruined the moment.
"I reserve the right to mock you privately."
"There it is."
Present day.
Harry rubbed both hands over his face.
"Malfoy, I'm too tired to even protest with you right now."
"I'm aware."
Luna suddenly stopped walking.
"So did you hear that?"
Harry frowned.
"Hear what?"
A soft...
"Mew."
It came again.
Faint.
Almost hidden beneath the sounds of passing cars.
Harry turned toward a narrow alley between two brick buildings.
Another tiny cry echoed through the rain.
"Mew..."
His expression immediately softened.
"There's a cat."
Draco glanced into the alley.
"Oh."
Curled beside an overflowing rubbish bin was a tiny black cat.
Its sleek fur was soaked from the rain.
Its bright blue eyes watched them cautiously.
Luna smiled.
"What a lovely little thing."
A passing Muggle woman noticed them looking.
"Oh, don't bother with that one," she said with a sympathetic laugh. "Black cats are nothing but bad luck."
Harry looked at the little cat.
She looked back.
Small.
Cold.
Shivering.
Alone.
He snorted.
"I've faced Dark Lords."
He crouched carefully.
"I think I can handle one black cat."
The cat stared at him.
Then, to Draco's surprise...
She slowly walked forward.
Right up to Harry.
Without hesitation.
She rubbed against his leg.
Harry blinked.
"...Well."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I thought she was supposed to bring bad luck."
Harry gently scooped the cat into his arms.
The tiny creature immediately curled against his chest, purring despite herself.
"I don't believe in superstitions."
He smiled down at her.
"Come on, little one."
"You look like you could use somewhere warm."
Pansy closed her eyes for just a second.
She hadn't expected rescue.
She certainly hadn't expected it from Harry Potter.
As he carried her out of the alley and toward home, she couldn't help thinking one thing.
Please...don't figure out it's me.