P0cketf0x's prompts. Tw for references to self harm scars.

"I made your favourite"

It's a quarter past eleven, and all through the flat, not a creature is stirring, not even a cat.

At least - until a stream of sunlight catches Winky directly in the face. Groggily, she wrinkles her nose in disgust, swatting lazy claws at the would-be intruder. Another few minutes, and her inability to return to blissful sleep, has her grumpily clambering to her feet. She blinks one sleepy eye after another, and yawns widely.

The living room is vaguely warm for once - at least, in the patches of golden light, it's deliciously cost, and it's difficult to resist the urge to bask in them on the way to her food bowl, which is -

Still empty. Hm.

Unimpressed, Winky turns her attention to her Human, who is sprawled across the sofa with one arm flung over his face. He had come home with his friends, all three giggling like small children, as the edges of dawn were beginning to creep through the flat. Now, the sun is high in the sky, and Winky's stomach is growling. She's been patient enough. Time to wake up.

Winky stretches determinedly, pads across the room to her Human, and gently noses at the bare arm hanging off the cushions. The skin is marked with crisscrosses of silvery white lines, delicate as the spiderwebs that form in the corners of the stairwell. She licks her lips at the thought of the crunchy, scuttling treats, and then scrapes her tongue across her Human's arm (sweet and salty all at once).

Her Human groans, shifts, then flails as he rolls gracelessly off the sofa, thumping on to the floor. Winky only just darts back in time to avoid being squashed, letting out an indignant mewl. Honestly, her Human would make the worst cat - it's just as well that he's padded enough to make up for it.

Her Human groans again, rubbing blearily at his eyes, and patting around for his glasses. She nudges them towards his fingers, and he raises his head, smile splitting across his face at the sight of her. She preens a little - it's nice to be appreciated.

"Good morning, you," he says, in a voice that crackles with fondness and exhaustion.

(She loves how her Human sounds - during the cold months, when the dregs of the heating have finally run dry, the two of them huddle together beneath blankets, her tiny body nestled against his chest. From there, she can feel the way his body thrums as he speaks, the vibrations soaking through her too. It's safe and warm and completely hers).

For now, Winky allows him to run a hand over her head and under her chin, before she flicks her tail and makes her way to the empty food bowl.

"Shit," her Human says, "sorry, Winky, shit."

Mmmhmm, she thinks, but forgives him for the speed with which he scrambles to the cupboard and clatters around for a tin. A generous helping is dumped into her bowl-chicken in gravy: classic, reliable, if a little predictable - and she devours the portion within minutes, only raising her head once sated and the bowl licked clean.

Her Human is sitting with his back to the counters, knees to his chest. She knows this one - it's anxiety: discomfort radiating from him, he's digging his 'claws' into his thighs, and his gaze is distant and troubled. But she also knows what he needs, and so she winds her way around his leg until he lets her in, then settles into the soft give of his stomach. They breathe together for a while, until her Human's fingers are busily scratching that sweet spot behind her ears.

(It's comfortable and it's safe and she loves him as he loves her. Of these things, she is sure).

Eventually, his stomach gurgles beneath her, and he sighs, "my breakfast time," then lifts her gently off him.

(Everything about her Human is gentle, and it's a softness she has come to adore).

The next while passes in something of a sleepy haze; now that she has eaten, she is free to curl up in the patches of gold, and so she does so, whilst her Human bumbles around the kitchen, his soft humming a pleasant familiarity beneath the chopping, sizzling, and scraping of his handiwork.

The smells emanating from the kitchen aren't unpalatable exactly, they are simply uninteresting, and so Winky wanders away from her Human. It's been a while since she has had to keep him in her sights whilst he plays with knives.

At the window, she is level with the pigeons strutting around the roof of a lower building - cocky, cowardly creatures, deceptively hard to creep up on for how stupid they are (next time, though).

(Her Human would be so pleased and proud of her, and she wants to make him smile).

The bedroom floorboards squeak and Winky's ears prick up at the sounds of footsteps moving around. One glance at her Human tells her that he hasn't heard (useless humans with their terrible senses), but even he doesn't miss the lengthy yawn that announces another person's arrival.

"Morning." Ah yes, the tall, slender one who moves with the grace of a dancer. Now, he would make an excellent cat.

Her Human looks up from his almost empty plate, and smiles. "Alright?"

The Dancer groans dramatically and flings himself into a chair. "Urgh, why do I feel hungover when there was no goddamn alcohol?"

Her Human laughs, "I made breakfast if that helps?"

"Ugh. Remus. Marry me."

Another chuckle. "You're welcome, Kingsley."

"I'm being serious," the Dancer says, shovelling in a mouthful of green stuff (ew).

"You can't have him, he's mine," chimes a third voice a little croakily, and Winky stiffens slightly. Her Rescuer. The Lover. The one who drapes himself all over her Human, makes him in turns joyful and miserable - she loves him for bringing her here, but she is wary too. His words cause her Human to smile for hours on end, but also lie in bed for days at a time; her Human's heart is not to be trifled with, and yet, this man holds all the power in the world.

"I made your favourite," her Human tells the Lover quietly, and a look passes between them that is almost painfully tender. The Lover crosses over to them, pecks both men's cheeks, and is distracted enough by his breakfast to miss the way her Human's face flushes with pleasure.

Behind the Lover's back, the Dancer leans over the table with a smirk, "you're so gone on him, I could throw up this delicious white girl breakfast."

Her Human sticks his fingers up at the Dancer, who responds in kind.

Behind them both, the Lover moans around a mouthful of fluffy eggs. "Moony. How are you so wonderful?"

The Dancer smiles, waggles his eyebrows at Remus, and says, "innit? I was saying the same. Moony here is gonna be snapped up quick one of these days."

"Hah," her Human says hollowly, and Winky knows this face; it's his I-don't-like-myself face, and she knows it because he always wears it when looking in the mirror. (She doesn't like this face). "That'll be the day."

"Nah," the Dancer says, his smile growing wicked behind the mug resting between elegant fingers, "don't you think so, Sirius?" His eyes dart to where the Lover is standing, an unreadable expression marring his handsome features.

"Sure," the Lover says slowly, and the Dancer grins wider still. (It's a game, Winky realises, like when she allows the mice in the basement to dash between her paws, only this is something much more subtle. A game of feelings. The Dancer seems to be enjoying it immensely - both the way her Human's face is fast turning the colour of raw beef, and the tension in the Lover's shoulders).

"And any man would be lucky to have him, eh, Sirius?"

"Of course, but-"

"It's a shame some people can't see what's right in front of them," the Dancer says loudly.

The Lover opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, eyes flitting between the Dancer's shit-eating grin and her Human, whose gaze is resolutely on his empty plate.

The silence stretches for so long that Winky almost loses interest, but then the Lover turns and puts his plate back on the counter. "I - uh - so, I have to meet Prongs. I just remembered. I should go-" her Human's shoulders slump a little. "- thanks for the breakfast, Moony. See you later."

He can't leave quick enough, and there's another long pause, before her Human stands angrily.

"What the fuck, Kings?" He snatches the plates, and shoves them into the sink with more force than is necessary, and certainly more than he can afford.

"Relax," the Dancer says, sipping his drink and looking entirely unruffled, "it all went to plan."

"To plan? Are my feelings a fucking joke to you?"

The Dancer looks up sharply. "What the fuck, no, you fuckwit. I just gave him something to think about." When her Human looks blankly at him, tense hurt still plain in his frown, the Dancer sighs. "Just a reminder that you won't wait forever."

Another pause. "I think I might, though," her Human says softly, sadly.

The Dancer stands, and drags her Human into a cuddle. "You won't have to," he says confidently.

The door opening again takes them both by surprise (again, useless human ears) - and the Lover is back. The three of them stare at each other for a few seconds - in panic, shock, confusion - before the Lover stammers sheepishly:

"My shoes," and everyone's gaze falls awkwardly to the Lover's socked feet. He crosses the room to his sparkly purple Doc Martens, and doesn't even stop to put them on before backing out of the room. It's painful and embarrassing and Winky turns back to the window. She's had enough of men humiliating themselves today, she has Better Things To Do.

In the background of her Pigeon Plotting, her Human is frantic. "Do you think he heard?" The Dancer is reassuring him moderately effectively, and so she tunes out, letting her attention drift to the hallway.

(Unbeknownst to the two men, the Lover remains motionless just outside the door, presumably deep in thought. After a minute, he jerkily moves off, steps slower than his usual easy strides).

(He heard, she's sure of it. But it's what he's planning to do with this information that concerns her).

(Her Human's heart is not to be trifled with. But she thinks the Lover knows this. And if he now knows just how much power he holds - well. Use it wisely).

Author's Note:

Short, sweet, soft (like Remus)

Am i a fucking idiot for writing a Winky POV chapter? Yes. Do I regret it? Also yes.

Apologies that this is so short and strange. Promise I'll do better next time.

if y'all have any questions, or requests or if you just wanna chat, pls hit me up on tumblr (little-old-rachel) or twitter ( littleoldrachel), or on here to get in touch!

love always & take care xoxo