[april mp] who am i to tell you [jazz]

The kitten had liked him. Or had seemed to—Henry wasn’t familiar with animals, as much as he admired them. He’d wanted a pet most of his childhood but it was never treated like a serious suggestion; he said it in the way he said he wanted a Firebolt. So he hadn’t been intending on adoption even when he went to have a look at Sugar and Spice’s baby Kneazles. Hadn’t even thought about it, until he was playing with a tufty, big-eyed kitten and an enthusiastic, muscular wizard was encouraging him to take her home.

Henry knew better, he really did—if he allowed himself an inch he’d inevitably dash off a mile. He was easily swayed by lots of things and affection most of all. How had he been expecting to go pet cats without getting attached? It had been easy to convince himself, of course, that there was no real reason why he shouldn’t. Hogwarts provided room and board for animals as well as students, and during the summer... well, surely they could find a place for a little cat at home. Henry wasn’t sure his grandparents would be pleased. But that didn’t matter, not when he in love and being impulsive. Better to ask forgiveness and a sweet furry face couldn’t hurt when he did.

They sat on a bench along the High Street. Henry looked down at the fuzzball purring in his lap and gently stroked a finger along her head between the ears. He’d admit another responsibility was the last thing he needed, with all the pressure he was already feeling. But…maybe it would help him too. He already felt calmer than usual as he sat here with his new friend. “You’d do homework with me, wouldn’t you?” Henry asked softly to the kitten as she stretched. Maybe even patrol corridors with him, like a less threatening Mrs Norris. He’d always fantasized about a devoted companion, someone who reciprocated his fondness equally and was always there if he had the need—he’d just always expected a human.

A passerby paused to tell him how cute his cat was, and Henry looked up at the Ravenclaw girl, beaming. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?” he agreed proudly, lifting the kitten up closer to Jasmine.  “I’ve just gotten her.” She followed up her comment, though, by asking his new pet’s name. Henry paused. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about it.” This was an important decision, he realized, embarrassed. She probably deserved better than anything he would come up with under pressure.

“What do you think she looks like?” Henry asked.

@Jasmine Williams

"You're so lucky," Jazz said, trying to keep the envy out of her tone. She plopped down on the bench next to him without really being asked to, but she didn't think he'd be the sort who'd mind. She's met people who just doesn't like... people. And that's fine perfectly fine, but she's always been more initially drawn to those as open as she was. The mysterious, brooding type was fun at first, but too much work in the long run. "I'd love a kitten to take home with me too, but Charlotte and Wilbur will probably make a huge fuss," she sighed again, plump lips tilting into a slight pout, "they still pretend they're two months old puppies, it's exasperating. Just like you boys can be sometimes."

Jazz looked into brown eyes as warm as hers and smiled, just so Henry knew she meant it as a joke. Mostly. She grew up with enough male cousins to know that boys, even those older than her, can still be pretty stupid. She didn't know Henry too well; they weren't friends in the way that Jacq and Mere were friends, but they got on alright. Something about him seems to have changed over the last few months, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but she's sure it was for the best, especially if it meant they could actually become proper friends.

"Oh gosh, I mean... I think she looks adorable, but that probably isn't very helpful, is it?" She gave him a sheepish grin, her fingers reaching up to tug at her thickly coiled curls out of habit. She was an artist, and she was ok with words, but she couldn't spout off poetic couplets with deep meaning off the top of her head like some of her friends could. She wasn't even sure if anything she said on a daily basis had any meaning to it at all. Jazz was always told she should stop running around and shooting her mouth off all the time, but it was definitely way more fun to have a casual argument with Moaning Myrtle about toilet etiquette than worrying about whether what she said made perfect sense. 

"Ok let's see... Do you have any bands you like? Historical figures or something like that you look up to?" She might not have a way with words but she could definitely still try to help. Naming things, as her mother always tells her after she signs off one of her portraits, was of the utmost importance. "Ooh! Hey, I'll buy you a butterbeer if you can figure out where I plucked Charlotte and Wilbur's names from!" Who knew, maybe that'd serve as inspiration for him too if he managed to guess it right.

@Emily this is so late and i'm so sorry jazz will not shut up x__x

Henry was about to suggest that Jazz run over to Sugar and Spice and go choose one, but thankfully she cut him off with her reason against it. “You have dogs?” he asked. “Well, if they wouldn’t like it, at least there are cats roaming about Hogwarts you can see most of the year.” That had been his consolation to himself in earlier years. Carefully, Henry handed his kitten to Jazz. “There,” he said. “Maybe if she likes you she’ll come find you at school now.” He paused and shook his head. “No, sorry, I’ve no idea whether kneazles do that, don’t get your hopes up.” They were meant to be sharper than standard cats, but Henry wasn’t too familiar with them either. “She seems like she likes you, at least?” he said. “Hope your puppies won’t get jealous.” He wasn’t sure, on the other hand, what to say about the boys.

He grinned at Jazz’s suggestion. Good advice, but Henry was perhaps in too cheerful a state of mind to deliberate properly. “Bent-Winged Snitch?” he tried. “Curse Chaser? Tony Tillman, former Appleby keeper?” He laughed loudly. “Harry Potter, y’reckon? Wonder how many cats have been named after him—or kids.” Personally, Henry believed namesakes should be long dead or otherwise entirely unable to find out about it. It worried him that Harry fucking Potter might someday, through some incredible coincidence, hear that he had named a kneazle Harriet in his honor.

“Harriet’s not a bad sort of name for her, really,” said Henry, looking down at the kitten in Jazz’s lap. “She seems sort of mumsy, somehow.” Should he have felt as bad as he did for saying that? “Maybe it’s all the fur.”

“I don’t know, about Charlotte and Wilbur,” he said, hoping it wouldn’t have been obvious to anyone with half a brain. “I’ve had so much Butterbeer today, though, so that’s alright, I s’pose…”

She brought her feet up and rested her elbows on her raised knees. "It's not that they don't like cats," she explained, "it's just that they're very possessive when it comes to me. Can't tell you the number of times they almost got into fights with each over belly rubs." If only there could be a day where dogs would be welcome at Hogwarts. Why were the only pets allowed cats, toads, and rats anyway? She's seen the picture books of her younger cousins who had muggle or muggleborn parents, and those stereotypes of witches certainly weren't very flattering. She didn't know about anyone else, but she certainly didn't consider cats familiars.

"That'd be nice," Jazz smiled, kitten in hand. It got lonely sometimes; but not actually, because she was in a castle full of people all the time who never really went away. Still, it'd be nice to have the warmth of a cat curled up on her lap when she was reading or something. Lifting the tiny, soft bundle up to eye-level, she allowed the kitten to touch its cool nose against hers, giggling a little at the ticklish touch. "I think she does like me." She smiled to herself when Henry didn't respond to her comment about boys– it was such a typical 'boy' thing to do, really.

Jazz snorted, "I'd like to see you name this sweet little thing bent-winged anything." She dropped the little ball of fur in her lap, not caring if its tiny claws loosened the stitches of the thin sweater she was currently wearing. Hearing his laugh made Jazz laugh too. He had a very nice laugh, warm and not annoying; she wondered if many girls have told him that. "Oh please name her Harry Potter! She's a kitten, she doesn't know if her name's feminine or masculine, do you," she asked the kitten as she gave its ears a fond scratch, which earned her a soft meow in return, "Harriet's fine but Harry Potter's better. Can you just imagine if she got loose and you chased after it in the halls? It'd certainly give Professor McGonagall a good surprise!" Just the thought of Henry chasing after a tiny kitten, yelling stop Harry Potter made her break into a fit of giggles all over again.

"Don't tell me that's all you did today, drink butterbeer and adopt kittens from ridiculously pretty men?” Her tone was light so Henry would know she was just kidding. She never had much planned on her Hogsmeade trips anyway– she didn't think she would've even left the castle today if she wasn't in desperate need of a change in scenery. "Charlotte and Wilbur are characters from a muggle children's book, Charlotte's Web. It's about a story of a spider and a pig. I know it sounds a bit silly," Jazz admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up a little, "but it's one of my favourites." She wanted to ask him if he had any stories he liked but thought better of it; she didn't think many seventeen-year-old boys would have a list of children's stories on the tips of their tongues.

Jazz ran with his Harry Potter suggestion, and Henry laughed at the thought but wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know if I could do that to her,” he said. “Harry, maybe. I mean—she is hairy. But she’s too small for a full name, I think.” In truth he just wasn’t sure he had the ridiculousness in him. Jazz’s confidence could let her get away with doing things just to weird people out. Henry wasn’t that sort of person, even if he had the occasional fantasy of it.

“What, is that supposed to sound like a bad day?” he asked her. Henry had actually been feeling sort of pleased with himself for doing so much. “I also talked to @Viktor Krum about Snargaluffs, for your information,” he said, putting on a faux-defensive tone. “And then I ran into @Jeremy Edwards... And then I let a pretty bloke give me a cat.” He laughed weakly. “And now I’m talking to you. It’s been a long day.” He looked off toward Hogwarts and wondered whether Jazz would walk with him and the kitten back to the castle. That was sort of like a date, wasn’t it? Or at least a moment. Though probably not to her, being someone so friendly.

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember the pig book! I guess that was his name.” Henry felt like an idiot. He’d never been good at remembering names, especially the names of characters from books he’d been read as a child. At least the ones that hadn’t made much of an impression on him. He didn’t want to say that to Jazz, though, when she’d just told him it was her favorite. “My dad used to read me all sorts of wild Muggle books,” he said instead. “He thinks they’re funny. I liked the one about the candy factory, the bloke who had a contest to... Willy Wonka, that one. You ever read that one?”

He chuckled. “Don’t reckon I should call her ‘Willy,’ though,” he said. “Though it’s not as if she’ll grow up and get bullied at cat school... I guess.”

"Well, if I ever get a cat you know what I'll be naming it," she said, giving him a playful wink, "full credit to you of course." Chances of that happening were not particularly high, but she also didn't want to push it. It'd be funny sure, but Jazz didn't want to risk actually giving Professor McGonagall a heart attack or anything.

She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. Henry's day sounded like it'd been ten times more entertaining than hers, and while she didn't really have any illusions about Krum, she still would've liked to meet the Quidditch celebrity. "I, too, have very low defence against pretty men with cats," she joked. Screw the muggle firemen calendars, they should have calendars of men with cats. And maybe puppies; cats were fine but Jazz firmly believed that if you had it in you to be nasty to puppies, then all bets are pretty much off the table.

Jazz nodded along when Henry mentioned that his dad used to read him muggle books. Were they funny? She never thought of it like that– she supposed they're entertaining, especially the ones about magic and magicians, and how absolutely wrong they got everything. "I'm surprised you remember all that, honestly." Henry was nice, but he was also very typically... well, Gryffindor. Or at least that was how he came off. Most Gryffindors she knew had absolutely no interest in books and reading, much less remember books read to them from their childhood if it wasn't of particular interest. She was about to make a comment about how he didn't seem like the reading sort, but she was the one who brought up the subject. Seemed like a bit of a low blow to say something like I didn't know you read.

"I've never heard of Willy Wonka, but that sounds wild! You'll have to let me borrow it sometime if you're still hanging onto a copy," she said instead. She really did want to read it now. "And don't worry about cat school. If they make fun of her you'll know it's not any good, then you can take pride in the fact that you've raised a fine young kitten." Her tone was serious but there was a smile so he'd know she was kidding. Jazz wondered what he thought of her now; was she as unlike who he thought she was as she did, a little bit?

Absentmindedly, she started playing with a tuft of fur behind the kitten's ears. "D'you think we should head back to the castle soon? I'd feel awful if I took up time that you should be, I dunno, studying or something." Especially for something like naming his new kitten.

Henry felt his neck flush at Jazz’s teasing words. “It wasn’t like that,” he muttered. He didn’t know why he’d said it that way. It had just obviously been the intention, to seduce young women into cat ownership. Henry, though, found that if anything, men with hairless chests just kind of made him curious. Was that the expectation? Not that his own chest was particularly hairy, but he vaguely entertained the thought of taking his face razor to it the next time he took a shower. In case anybody ever wanted to like, see him naked or whatever.

If he’d first been embarrassed at the thought of her thinking he wanted to feel up the cat man, he was then embarrassed that he’d ascribed that intention to her just because she was a girl—but she was just making fun of him wasn’t she? There was no need to take the comment so seriously, was there? “Y’know, some people, there’s no other way to describe it, yeah?” Henry laughed. “I don’t imagine I was the target audience, but I don’t know why they thought they needed people to get their kittens adopted.” He reached over to stroke the cat (HIS cat!) in Jazz’s lap again.

While he’d been overthinking one sentence, it seemed like Jazz had been busy not giving a shit, so Henry gladly shut up about that and let her be genuinely interested in Willy Wonka. “Oh, yeah, definitely!” he said. “I’ll write home and see if we’ve still got it, we should.” She was looking at him sort of funny, and it made him nervous. Maybe just because she was a Ravenclaw. After six years he definitely knew it was stupid, but Ravenclaws all made him sort of nervous when they looked like they were thinking. Like they were smart enough to see things he didn’t.

She suggested they head back to the school. “Yeah, reckon so,” agreed Henry, because what was he going to do, disagree? “Guess it’s almost dinnertime.” His hand was still on the cat in her lap. As he found himself suddenly aware of how awkward a position this was, some horrible, impulsive confidence possessed him and he lifted his hand off to clap Jazz ‘s thigh.

“Right!” Henry said loudly after a second, as if he’d just slapped his own knee like a normal fucking person. “I’ll be off! No, sorry, I’ll take the cat, then.” He stood and quickly gathered all of his books and kittens and junk. “Nice to talk to you, of course! I’ve just got to go, y’know, get a new quill first. Don’t let me keep you, of course!” It took a great deal of resolve to smile at her as he realized that he’d already said of course one sentence ago.

Merlin’s shriveled ballsack At least now he had something to cuddle while he thought about what a mess he was.

[out]

"Hmm, good question." She titled her head far back, so far back she could practically feel her head on the back of her shoulders, and tried to make it seem like she was pondering some deep philosophical issue when in reality she was thinking of the correlation between half-naked men and cats. And possibly pie. "It's like... brownies, yeah? Good on its own, better with ice cream. At least, if you're an ice cream on brownie sort of person." She could see the argument going both ways, but she didn't really want to get into the semantics of it. She couldn't really think properly anyway, because all of a sudden Henry feels close. Too close, with his hand practically on her legs. But this was nothing. She hung out with guys all the time, so Merlin forbid Jazz, keep it together and stop thinking about weird things.

She nodded and flashed him a quick smile when he said he'd write home and ask for the book. "That'd be nice, yeah." See, again! This just wasn't something Gryffindor boys—or at least the Gryffindor boys she knew, she didn't want to generalise—did! Most of Jazz's cousins were in Gryffindor, and she's never seen any of the older ones do something quite as thoughtful. They were just sports and stupid jokes and a general lack of personal hygiene. Even her dad sometimes lapsed back into his schoolboy behaviour. Her dad! But Henry was nice and all those things, probably why he was picked for Prefect and all. It never seemed to be more than grades with Ravenclaw.

Thankfully, Henry agreed to head back. She could feel one of her obsessive phases coming on, where she would focus only on one thing for a certain period of time before shoving it to the back of her mind until she needed it again. Hopefully she could snag some potatoes or something at dinner before holing up in the library. Although, given the subject matter at hand, it'd probably be more useful to talk to a guy friend for some practical information, someone like Lionel maybe? A Gryffindor would be more helpful, but she wasn't really close to any in her year.

Jazz was going through a mental list of dependable guy friends, a somewhat dismal one in length, when she felt Henry's hand on her thigh, and her mind just... stopped working for about thirty seconds.

In that thirty seconds, she registered that Henry was talking, about what she wasn't entirely sure of, but by the way he collected his stuff and left, he sure seemed pretty eager to get the hell out of here. Great, so at least she could be sure that that was a fairly weird interaction between them. Huh. Granted, she was about seventy percent sure that he probably just... missed his own knee or something, and it wasn't like he did something totally random, like lick her face and tell her that this whole afternoon had been a dare or some sort. It's just... It was brief, but Jazz swore she could still feel that momentary warmth on her leg, which made her feel some sort of way immediately after. She definitely wasn't repulsed by it, but it also was definitely nothing like what she felt with Lip, which was still an entire bag of mess she wasn't sure she wanted to look through.

Slowly, she got up from where they'd been sitting. It was getting pretty damn cold, and she didn't want to spend another minute freezing out here if she could help it. Well, she's saving this information for another day, when she's capable of dealing with it. Maybe a nap, which would hopefully turn into a blissful thirteen-hour snoozefest, and oh yeah, no more potatoes for dinner tonight.

[end finally]