satismagic prompted me to write about Severus, Hermione, and kittens:
Severus jammed his wand into the other wizard's throat and literally snarled.
"P—please don't h—hurt me!"
"I don't want to hurt you," spat Severus, applying one knee to the other man's groin while assessing the cat's condition, "but it will have to do."
The cruel sod fell to the ground as Severus Summoned a soft towel and approached his patient.
"Agreed," Severus remarked, before Disapparating.
Two days later, and following the food and water dishes that Severus had bespelled to move away from the cat by degrees, Spithead emerged from under the bed. Two weeks later, following a long litany of feline cries and complaints, three kittens emerged from under Spithead.
"That's a dreadful name for a quean, Severus," Hermione told him, watching Spithead aggressively groom her tiny, furry babies.
"Don't touch them. She doesn't like it. She might—"
"Mrreeowww . . ."
Without being told, Crookshanks left the room, his tail puffed and waving.
Hermione giggled, and then frowned, calling, "Crooks?" as she rose and went after him.
"That's right," Severus said to Spithead, the hint of a smile causing his mouth to twitch. "'Spithead' is a perfectly apt name for you, isn't it?"
Spithead groomed and purred, groomed and purred, and Severus wondered how he and Hermione were going to manage a household of five cats.
"Because there's no question of giving any of you up."
"Well, of course not!" Hermione said, as Crookshanks glared down at the little family from her arms.