Draco leaned back in his chair, a mischievous smile curling on his lips as he watched Johanna, his sleek grey cat, prance around the room. The little feline was grooming herself, her fur shining in the soft light of the room.
"Alright, Johanna," Draco said, picking up a small piece of paper. He wrote a note with a flourish, the ink gliding across the page as he carefully chose his words.
He folded it neatly and tied it with a bit of ribbon before calling to his cat, who had wandered over to the window. "Johanna, come here," he cooed.
The cat padded over, and Draco attached the note to her collar with the same precision he'd used to write it. He petted her head affectionately, and she purred, as if aware of the important task she was about to take on.
"Go give this to Harry," Draco instructed. "And don’t dawdle.”
Johanna blinked up at him and meowed, as if in agreement, before she strutted out of the room, her tail flicking behind her. Draco smirked, leaning back again to wait.
It wasn’t long before Harry appeared at the door, Johanna trotting ahead, the note hanging just slightly from her collar.
"Is this for me?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took the note from Johanna.
Draco leaned against the doorframe, watching with a smirk. "Johanna's my messenger," he said, watching as Harry unrolled the note.
Harry read it, his eyes flickering with amusement. "You couldn’t have just told me this yourself?" he teased, walking over with the note still in his hand.
Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "Where’s the fun in that?"
Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he read the note and looked back up at Draco in disbelief. "You’ve spent the last several months teaching her to fetch things, just so she can deliver dirty notes?" Harry teased, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Draco's face flushed, but only slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to maintain his usual aloof demeanor. "I don’t know what you're talking about," he replied, but there was a trace of mischief in his voice.
Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Johanna, who was now lazily grooming herself after completing her important task. Harry laughed, his heart swelling with fondness. "I can’t believe you’ve actually trained her for this."
"She’s a quick learner," Draco replied, his tone more smug than apologetic. "Besides, you didn’t seem to mind the note, did you?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving Harry’s.
Harry walked over, leaning down to give Johanna a gentle scratch behind the ears. The cat purred loudly, seemingly proud of her efforts. "You’re a little accomplice, aren’t you?" Harry whispered to her, smiling as the cat nuzzled into his hand.
"Don’t let her fool you," Draco said, watching with a fond smirk. "She’s the one who gets the most out of this arrangement. I’m just here to make sure she doesn't start charging for her services."
Harry shook his head, his smile widening. "I can’t believe I’m in love with someone who’s training our cat to deliver naughty notes."
Draco’s smirk softened into something more sincere as he stepped closer. "I can’t believe you’re in love with me, either," he murmured.
Harry chuckled again, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. "Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep you around. And Kepler too."
Draco’s eyes sparkled with affection as he leaned in, brushing a kiss to Harry’s forehead.
“Besides,” Draco says, “it’s not a naughty note, it’s a poem.”
Harry scoffs, crossing his arms. “A dirty poem, and you should really consult Pansy next time. She’s got a talent for poetry that you clearly lack.”
Draco smirks, unbothered. “Ah, but it’s not Pansy I’m trying to impress, is it?”
Harry rolls his eyes, though the flush creeping up his neck betrays him. He reads aloud from the note:
“I’ll take you beyond the Milky Way,
To places where only stars dare play.
Forget the galaxy, let’s aim for more,
A journey to Uranus—can I explore?”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Really, Draco? This is terrible.”
Draco tilts his head, a sly smile curving his lips. “So,” he drawls, “does that mean you want to do what was in the poem?”
Harry narrows his eyes, his face already burning. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but his voice softens as he adds, “Yes.”
Draco’s grin widens, victorious. “I knew my literary talents would win you over eventually.”
Harry snorts, shaking his head. “Literary talents, my arse. You tried to rhyme ‘cock’ with ‘fuck.’”
“Creative license,” Draco retorts breezily, already pulling Harry closer. “Now, let’s see if reality lives up to my artistic vision.”