Hermione Granger was lonely.
It was hard for her to admit that after all these years, but seeing Harry and Ron happily married, both with growing families of their own, it hit Hermione how truly alone she was for the first time in a very, very long time.
Not to say that her life wasn’t fulfilled.
She loved her life.
Loved her research position in Experimental Healing at St. Mungo’s, with its innumerable hours spent in the lab, and all the traveling and seminars she attended. She found it deeply satisfying to know that the research she did was making a difference in the quality and longevity of hundreds, if not thousands, of Witches and Wizards lives.
Loved spending part of her summers with her parents who had relocated to Australia several years back. Gorging herself on her mother’s cooking and baking herself to a crisp on its white sandy beaches.
Most of all Hermione loved being an aunt to James, Albus, and Rose, and took them off their parents hands as often as possible. She adored smothering them with affection and spoiling them rotten. Taking them on little adventures and hyping them up with too many sweets before handing them back over at the end of the day.
She was happy.
She really was, but something was missing. Hermione couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was though.
She just knew that some days it was harder coming home to an empty house than others. Especially with no one or nothing to greet her after spending all day hunched over lab reports and case studies. That her house was colder once the patter of little feet and the warmth of children’s laughter had evaporated as she shut the door behind them.
What she needed was something to fill the loneliness that had slowly been creeping up inside her without her noticing.
Like a pet. Maybe another cat.
It had been almost two years since Crookshanks had passed, and while Hermione wasn’t entirely ready to replace him, she knew she needed a companion of some sort.
She wasn’t adverse to getting a dog, but she’d never had one before and wasn’t sure if that was a commitment she was willing to undertake with her current work schedule.
All she knew was that she wanted something that would be excited to see her when she walked through the door, that would curl in her lap while she sat on the couch reading, or would snuggle up close to her at night while she slept.
Which is how she’d ended up in her current predicament—standing just inside the door of a frankly overwhelming pet rescue, waiting for her turn to speak with one of the helpers about what she was looking for.
Off to the left behind the front desk, where a family was currently being handed a carrier with a small brown puppy inside, was a room with glass walls and what appeared to be Heaven.
It was filled to the brim with cats of all shapes and sizes lounging lazily in cat beds or climbing cat trees. The space next to it housed clear fronted cages filled with kittens, and across the way was a door with ‘Puppies’ arched above it in blue bubble letters with a paw print dotting the i.
Hermione bounced up onto her toes excitedly as she took it all in. She may have been closing in on thirty, but it was nearly impossible to hold in the squeal that was threatening to escape at the sight of all the furry babies.
As the queue moved forward and Hermione made her way closer to the front, she spotted the most gorgeous all white Persian cat with the grumpiest of scrunched up faces resting in one of the clear cages by itself.
The creature blinked, lifting its head as if it had sensed her staring and turned to look toward her, eyes narrowed as it met her gaze. Its silver eyes widened for a moment, almost comically human in its mannerisms, before turning away from her again.
There was no doubt, Hermione was in love.
“Sorry for the wait, Miss.” came a sweet voice from beside her. “Been a bit busier than expected this morning, I’m afraid. My name’s Clara, how can I help you this morning?”
“Oh,” Hermione replied, dragging her stare away from the beautiful cat, as she turned to the young Witch and returned her warm smile. She waved her off, “No worries. Wasn’t much of a wait at all, Clara. Hermione.”
Clara smiled wider, eyes crinkling and cheeks dimpling as she took Hermione’s proffered hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
“I couldn’t help but notice you looking over at the cats, Ms. Hermione. Any of them in particular caught your eye or were you wanting to get a closer look to feel them out?”
Excitement bubbled up in Hermione again as Clara motioned for her to follow, stepping in the direction of the glass walled room.
She took in the room full of rambunctious cats at play, but turned away and moved over to the cages, walking past the kittens and stopped in front of the adorable little crab. “Yes, this one.”
The girl followed, her lingering smile faltering momentarily as she took in the white cat who was pointedly ignoring the both of them to groom itself, back leg lifted high in the air.
Hermione took in the tag taped to the glass, Drago, his name read. 2 year old male, not suitable for homes with children or multiple pets.
“Him? Clara asked, nose wrinkling. “Are you sure? He’s not very friendly.”
Hermione nodded, certain of her choice. “Yes, please.”
“Well alright, Miss.” the helper shrugged, leading Hermione to the door of a small room she hadn’t noticed while waiting. “Sit tight and I’ll go grab him for you.”
Hermione took in the small room as the door clicked closed behind her. It wasn’t a very large room, barely big enough to fit Hermione, and reminded her very much of a repurposed supply closet.
It held a padded folding chair squeezed into the corner next to a small table that had a sachet of cat treats and a basket of toys on top, while a litter box sat three paces away in the other.
She pulled the strap of her bag over her head and placed it in the folding chair, nabbing the treats and toys as she opted to sit cross legged on the floor.
Clara returned just as Hermione had gotten comfortable, holding the wiggling Drago out at arms length as he hissed and tried to fight his way out of her grasp. She winced all but tossing the poor cat in Hermione’s direction as he scratched at her.
“Here you go, Ms. Hermione. Give us a shout when you’re ready.” The girl ran, acting as if Drago would attack her as soon as he was steady on his four little legs, and closed the door with a tight smile.
Hermione snorted, shaking her head as she watched the girl go.
“You’re not that scary now are you, Little Dragon?” she said, addressing the creature as she held out a hand in his direction.
The cat tilted his head but sat unmoving, blinking silver eyes slowly as he studied her.
“Pspsps.” Hermione tapped her fingers together. “Come here sweet boy.”
Drago regarded her for another moment, seeming to decide if she was worth the hassle before slinking over hesitantly to brush against her fingers.
Hermione ran the tips of her fingers gently down his spine and up his tail, cooing nonsense at him as he bumped his head into her bent knee.
“I knew you were a sweetie,” she murmured, scratching behind his ears as Drago rubbed against her legs.
He paused, giving a perturbed look at the comment, before flopping into her lap.
Hermione snorted, “I’m so sorry. You’re not a sweetie, you’re the meanest boy to ever mean. Is that better?”
Drago closed his eyes and began to purr, paw curling and uncurling as he kneaded her thigh. A clear yes as any.
Clara popped her head in a few moments later, a look of shock on her face as she took in Hermione sitting there completely unscathed and soaking up kitty cuddles.
“Alright?” Clara from her position hiding behind the door.
“More than.” Hermione nodded, running her fingers through Drago’s long white fur again before scooping him up. “I’ll take him.”
“You sure?” Clara asked again, eyeing Drago suspiciously from where he was perched in Hermione’s arms, not a care in the world.
“I am,” Hermione laughed, looking down at the sweet kitty. “Ready to come home with me, Little Dragon??”
Drago gave the most unaffected meow as he gave his assent, giving her a slow blink before nuzzling deeper into her hold.
“I can’t believe it.” Clara murmured, giving them a wide berth as she opened the door. “I never thought anyone would adopt the demon cat.”
“He’s not a demon,” Hermione replied, cuddling him closer as she headed to sign the paperwork that would make him hers. “He’s perfect.”
___
Drago lay on the Witch’s bed, a dark green and silver stitched collar fastened around his neck. It had been weeks and he still hadn’t grown used to the silver bell jingling and jangling with his every move. Another tinkling came as he shifted, and if anyone had been paying him any attention, they would have heard something akin to a cat sighing as he began to contemplate the slow murder of the Witch who had purchased him.
He’d thought the Witch had been bright, possibly the brightest of her age, and had learned from her incessant rambling to him in the evenings, that she was a Healer, but even she didn’t realize he wasn’t a fucking cat.
If you wanted to be technical, then yes, his current form was, in fact, that of a cat, but he was not a cat. He didn’t particularly want to be stuck in this form either, but it’s not like he’d been given much of a choice when his conniving bitch of an ex had cursed him.
As for whether he deserved it or not, he didn’t think so. Astoria was a bit of a cow and Drago, which wasn’t even his fucking name, had been forced into and unwanted entanglement with her thanks to their parent’s wishes. He’d simply wanted out of their arrangement, but the bloody bitch had cursed him.
No one truly had an idea how demeaning it was to go from being a powerful, able bodied Wizard to being trapped in a wee little fluffy body that no one found at all terrifying. He had to use a litter box for Merlin’s sake! It was abominable.
Drago had been stuck in this Merlin forsaken form for nearly two and a half years now, probably presumed dead by anyone who had actually given a shit about him, and had resigned himself to a life stuck in that cursed animal rescue surrounded by actual cats.
Drago hated cats. Most animals really, but he abhorred ferrets with a passion. Honestly he’d been surprised Astoria hadn’t cursed him to turn into one of those, a missed opportunity on her part to rub salt into an old wound. Instead she had chosen a cat.
He’d had spent quite a bit of time contemplating her motivations, and as cunning and vindictive as Astoria was, he’d figured that she’d perhaps intended to keep him as a pet in an attempt to break him. Whatever the true plan had been, it hadn’t worked in her favor.
He had done everything in his very limited power to be an absolute terror. He’d snuck into her closet and shredded all her favorite dresses, pissed on all her expensive heels, and hacked hairballs onto her pillows. It had been deeply satisfying to catch a fat rat and drop its bloody and eviscerated body onto her face as she slept.
It had maybe been a tad overkill and had almost ended with Drago drowning, but it was worth it. Apparently Astoria would rather he be dead than as a cat doing his best to shit (literally) on everything she loved. He’d escaped, and barely, and spent months foraging for food and sneaking into homes before he’d been caught and taken to the rescue.
Drago, whose actual name was Draco, not that he was ever able to clarify that with anyone—a bit hard when instead of words all that comes out of one’s mouth is a meow—didn’t mind living with the Witch, not really. It was a step up from the abysmally overcrowded rescue that had been his home for the last several months.
She fed him well and he didn’t really mind the belly scratches, plus she treated him like a king. Draco had quite missed the preferential treatment he had been accustomed to as a Wizard. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was close.
No, out of everyone he could have ended up with, he was glad that it was the lonely little Witch who’d had possession of him. This Hermione wasn’t half bad, talked a bit too much for his liking, but not bad.
Had Draco been a Wizard still and not a bleeding cat, he imagined he would have tried to shag her. He had to admit the tiny Witch was fit with her warm brown eyes, long golden brown curls and shapely body. Her tits were smallish, but Draco had been an arse man, and that perfect little peach would have fit his human hands nicely.
Draco had noted that the cutest thing about her had been her freckles. So many freckles. He would have liked to trace out the constellations patterned across her golden skin in varying shades of brown.
No, the Witch wasn’t fit, she was gorgeous, and as Drago the cat he could do nothing about it.
He watched Hermione as she readied for bed, pulling on her tiny knickers and what Draco had heard her call a bralette once, before slipping under the covers.
She patted the spot beside her, calling out to him for a cuddle, and he came. Slowly, of course, giving a big stretch and a yawn so large as to show off all his sharp little teeth, before slinking up beside her and giving her a nuzzle.
“‘Night Little Dragon.” She murmured sleepily into his fur, giving him a quick peck in the space between his ears before drifting off to sleep. "Love you."
___
Hermione woke slowly, snuggling deeper into the delicious warmth of the body behind her.
The body.
The body that had not been behind her when she had fallen asleep last night.
The body whose arm was currently thrown over her, hand cupping her right breast like a stuffy.
Her eyes snapped open, hand shooting out from beneath the covers she’d cocooned herself in to grab her wand from where she kept it on her bedside table, always at the ready.
She slowly pried the fingers away that had been holding onto her breast like a lifeline, breath held as she slid as gently as possible out from beneath the arm of her bedroom intruder so as not to wake them. The hand holding her wand shook as she took a steadying breath and spun.
Hermione gasped, taking in the very naked, very good looking man who was currently sprawled atop her bed snoring lightly.
As far as intruders went, he appeared to be a rather tame one—outside of the general nudity and all around being in her home without her permission thing.
Hermione could admit that he was handsome. Features sharp, but softened with sleep, shaggy blonde hair in disarray around his face— such an unusual shade, so light it could have been white.
His shoulders broad, and body lithe but well muscled, and as her eyes traveled down the plains of sculpted back she took in the impressive swell of his taut bum.
Sweet merciful Merlin this man’s arse! It was tight and round and had he not been an intruder she would have gladly begged for the privilege to sink her teeth into it.
“Fuck sake Hermione, focus!” She grumbled quietly to herself as she gave herself a shake, dragging her eyes away from his arse and focused back on his face. She truly was hard up if she was ogling that man who'd broken into her home like a juicy steak.
She slipped closer, knee propped up on the bed as she jabbed the wand into the soft spot just below his chin.
The intruder jerked awake, his silver eyes instantly alert and warily focused on her.
Hermione stared back, looming over him poised to hex him if he moved an inch, and pressed the tip of her wand in harder. He flinched, throat bobbing as he tried to swallow, looking almost as terrified as she felt.
“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET IN HERE?!” She screamed, finally able to get the words out. “AND WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”
Hermione had meant to stay calm, she really and truly had, but there was a naked stranger in her bed and suddenly it had started to sink that there was a naked fucking stranger in her bed instead of her cat.
Naked.
Stranger.
In.
Her.
Bed.
Oh, Merlin! Where was Drago?!
If this naked fuck in her bed had somehow hurt her cat she was prepared to use an Unforgivable. It was not ok to hurt animals! Or people, of course, but never ever animals.
She looked as best as she could around the room to search for Drago, not budging the wand from the intruder's neck as she bent and twisted to look around.
No Drago.
Her gaze settled back on the man cowering in her bed, “AND WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CA—”
He flinched again and the bell tinkling around his neck caused her words to die in her throat.
She shook her head, unable to grasp how or why the naked stranger was wearing her cat's collar. Was this some fucked up fetish? Breaking into people’s homes and wearing their pet’s things.
Hermione’s train of thought slammed to a halt as she realized her wards hadn’t even alerted her to an intruder! That should have been impossible. Her spells were meticulously layered, and should have alerted her the moment he so much as breathed on them.
The intruder rolled away from and onto his back, just far enough that her wand could no longer dig into his throat like a knife. One hand lifting up glacially slow to show he meant no harm, while the other curled around a fistful of blanket to cover his now exposed penis.
Hermione’s eyes flicked down and then back up, cheeks flushing. Oh, Merlin.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, doing her best not to peek again.
Now she was the creep.
“Please,” the intruder’s low deep voice implored, sounding scratchy and out of use. “Let me explain.”
He wet his lips then cleared his throat, drawing Hermione’s eyes back to the green and silver collar and its little silver bell.
It made no sense.
“May I please sit up?” He asked, sterling gaze flicking from her wand to her face and then back again.
“Oh,” She jerked back, just now realizing she was still hovering over the man in her knickers, and flushed again at the state of her undress. “Yes, yes alright.”
The man sat up slowly, carding the trembling fingers of the hand that had momentarily been held up in surrender, through his mussed up hair.
“How do I know what you’re about to tell me isn’t a load of shit?”
The intruder chuckled, “For the sake of transparency, it’ll probably sound like I am.” He shrugged. “I swear on Salazar Slytherin’s grave that what I’m about to tell you is the absolute truth.” He paused for a moment, studying her. “Are you a Legilimens? That would make this easier.”
Hermione shook her head, “No.”
“Blast! I suppose you wouldn’t have any Veritasurem on hand then either.”
“Oh yes, actually, let me just nip downstairs right quick.” Hermione turned as if she was going to head that way then hissed, “No, I don’t have any bloody Veritaserum!”
“Merlin!” He held his hands up this time. “I was just asking. You weren’t this tetchy when I was a cat.”
Hermione turned up her nose. “Yes, well, I liked you better when I thought you were just a cat.”
“Noted.” He replied with a snort. “Something you and my ex have in common!”
“What is that supposed to mean?!” Hermione didn’t completely understand why she felt offended in that moment, just that she did.
“Well,” the stranger began. “She liked me much better as a cat at first, easier to control that way.”
“I don’t want to control you!” Hermione shouted.
“Relax, I know that.”
Hermione huffed and lowered her wand, moving to sit with her back against the headboard.
“My family comes from a long line of pure blood Witches and Wizards. When I graduated Hogwarts—”
“Oh,” Hermione cut him off. “What year?”
“Two thousand seven.”
“Twenty twelve, for me.”
“Lovely.” The intruder replied drolly.
“Sorry,” Hermione winced and motioned for him to continue. “Go on.”
“When I graduated I was expected to take a wife from another of the well off pure lines, and my engagement to Astoria Green—.”
“Oh my fuck!” Hermione screeched, cutting him off. “You’re the missing Malfoy heir.” He looked perturbed but nodded. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.” She added unhelpfully.
Obviously." He stated in a bored and affected tone. “It's Draco, by the way.” The not-so-stranger extended his hand to her.
Hermione gave it a shake and nodded, figuring he already knew her name. “I know. Your disappearance has been one of the most high profile cases DMLE has ever seen!”
Draco blinked at her slowly, much as he had as a cat.
“Sorry, go on.” She smiled sheepishly.
“My engagement to Astoria was supposed to be a quick one. It’s tradition to wed early and make heirs as quickly as possible before pursuing any further education, not that I needed to.”
Hermione nodded. She didn’t even want to think about how many Galleons were in his family’s vault. Surely more than she’d ever see in her lifetime.
“I didn’t want to get married, so Astoria and I agreed to put it off. It wasn’t a love match or anything.” Draco shrugged. “So we did our own thing.”
“Alright, if neither of you wanted to get married then how did you end up a cat?”
“Astoria seemed to think that I’d eventually want to settle down—I didn’t, and when I tried ending our engagement the spiteful bitch cursed me. I guess she’d figured if I spent a few months as her new furry friend that I’d be more inclined to get married.” Draco laughed. “I was a terrible pet.”
“Maybe for her, but you were such a sweetie!”
“Hermione, they called me the demon cat for a reason.”
She snorted. “Well I thought you were sweet.”
“You were misguided.” Draco chuckled. “I was actually contemplating a way to murder you for this earlier.” He flicks the bell around his neck. “So bloody irritating.”
“Cmon, it’s cute!”
“I promise you, it’s not.”
Hermione was silent for a moment, just taking in the man as he sat amongst her bedding, the smile slowly falling from his face the longer she stared.
“Now what?” She asked, finally looking away from him and down at her lap.
It was then she remembered she was still sitting there in her knickers, and squeaked, yanking a pillow off the bed to cover herself.
“I didn’t mind the view,” murmured, his vow pitched low.
She whacked him with the pillow before covering herself again, “Dog!”
“Cat, actually.” He rebutted with a smirk.
A look of horror flitted across Hermione’s face. “Oh, Merlin, you’ve seen me naked!”
He gestured down at himself, “Likewise.”
Fair, he had her there.
“Well?” She needled
Draco exhaled, a bit exhausted just thinking about what he needed to do. “I suppose I should let my family know I’m alive, then confront my cow of an ex, but first I would like some pajamas or something.”
“Shit! I’m so sorry,” Hermione scrambled off the bed and stumbled over to her wardrobe. “I think I have a pair of Ron’s old bottoms somewhere.”
She continued to dig, and if Draco wanted to take a look at her arse while she was bent over then that was fine, she didn’t mind. “Ah-ha!”
She turned, lifting up a well worn pair of plaid pajama bottoms that she had stolen from Ron back when they dated in seventh year in triumph, and tossed them to Draco.
He caught them easily, his silver gaze unreadable as they slid slowly down her body and then back up.
“I’m gonna go down and make some tea.” She hiked a finger over her shoulder in the direction of the stairs, suddenly feeling awkward. “Oh, I should probably fix my wards so you can apparate home as well. Obviously you’ll be wanting to leave.”
“Thank you.” He murmured softly.
“Right.” Hermione blindly reached towards the wardrobe to grab the floral robe that hung off the door. “Yes, of course. You’re welcome, Draco.”
She tugged it on, avoiding Draco’s eyes as she darted over to grab her wand and then drifted out the bedroom door.
——
Hermione made her way into the kitchen, reaching for the electric kettle on the counter, and with a flick of her wand the tap turned on. In the quiet kitchen with the sound of water flowing against the metal sink basin, Hermione took a moment to let her sadness swallow her whole.
Fucking Merlin, she felt so silly to feel so glum about losing her cat. Er, man. Cat-man? Losing whatever Draco had been. She’d forgotten how it’d felt to be loved by a pet after Crookshanks had died. Had actively avoided it.
Drago—Draco had had such a large personality for a cat. He’d made the house feel so much less empty in the last six weeks than it had before his presence had taken up space.
It had been so nice to blather on about her work or her niblings or about whatever book she had been reading, and then curl up on the couch and have a cuddle with the fluffy monster that had stolen her heart.
How was she supposed to go back to everything being empty again? She certainly couldn’t go back to the rescue. How was she supposed to explain this?
“Oh I’m sorry, the cat I adopted here a few weeks ago was actually a cursed Wizard. He’s fine now, don’t worry, but I’m still lonely and need a replacement pet to fill the void he left. No, of course I don’t need to see a Mind Healer, I’m fine.”
She was certain if she spewed any of that at Clara or whatever unsuspecting helper was assisting her that they’d try to have her committed at St. Mungo’s. The irony.
The pad of footsteps coming up behind her drew her out of her thoughts, back to the sounds of the water running and the feel of the kettle still empty and clutched in hands.
He was so tall, Hermione noted as he advanced. So much taller than she had expected. Her head craned back, curls brushing just above her bum as she looked up at him.
“Alright, darling?” Draco asked as he gently, brows pulled together in concern as he pulled the kettle out her grasp.
She might have nodded, she honestly wasn’t sure. Her eyes roved over his sharply handsome features, a pang of sadness shooting through her as she noticed the missing collar.
She deflated further as she watched mutely as he filled it with water, shut off the tap, and set about making the tea she’d promised.
She wondered how he knew how to make tea this way, most Witches and Wizards used magic, but Hermione’s parents were Muggles and truth be told tea tasted better done the Muggle way.
It dawned on her that Draco had watched her make tea countless times in the weeks he’d been living there.
“I… I’m not sure.” Hermione finally replied, glancing out the kitchen window and into the yard beyond. “It’s a lot to process.”
Draco maneuvered her over to the small worn kitchen table and motioned for her to take a seat into the chair he’d pulled out.
“I imagine it’s not everyday that one’s pet turns into a human.”
It really wasn’t.
Hermione could count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen an animal turn into a man and vice versa.
“It’s all just so very unexpected.”
Draco hummed and stepped away as the kettle beeped, pouring the steaming water into the mugs sitting on the counter. He moved about her kitchen as if he’d done it thousands of times, tossing the bags into the bin, scooping two spoons of sugar into each mug followed by a splash of milk into hers.
Needless to say it was strange watching your former cat make you tea exactly the way you liked it. Possibly even more strange than her cat being a man. Sitting here as he placed the mug in front of her and took the chair across from her, she wasn’t entirely certain this wasn’t a dream.
She pinched herself.
Nope, definitely awake.
“You don’t have to stay here.” Hermione broke the silence, warming her suddenly cold fingers against her mug. “I’m sure your parents would be thrilled to see you—”
“Hermione,” Draco started but she kept on speaking.
“And you can keep the pajamas. No need to bring them back, just toss them. They’re practically garbage anyway, I just kept them because they’re large and comfy and—”
“Hermione,” he tried again but she shook her head.
If he didn’t leave soon she might cry, and Hermione hated crying. She wasn’t a pretty crier. Her eyes would turn all red and start to swell, her nose would turn bright red and wouldn’t stop leaking, and her face would crumple into this god awful grimace that her friends had referred to as her ‘ugly cry face’.
Hermione wanted to avoid that at all costs, and Draco didn’t need or want to see that anyway. Besides, one of them needed to rip the plaster off and get the goodbyes over with. Might as well be her.
“You should go home, Draco.”
She wasn’t even sure why Draco was trying to fight this.
“I should.” Draco agreed. “But my family already thinks I’m dead, so waiting a little bit longer won’t kill them. Quit trying to tell me goodbye, Hermione, as if we’ll never see each other again.”
“Why would we?” She asked perplexed and not quite understanding why he sounded so exasperated with her.
“Salazar’s sake woman! I’ve spent the last two and half years wanting to be human again, and out of all those weeks and the countless people I’ve been in contact with, only you were able to bring me back.”
“I don’t even know how.” Hermione said quietly, gripping her mug so tightly she was afraid it might shatter. Mostly she was afraid she might shatter.
“Doesn’t matter.” Warm fingers pried the mug out of her hand. “You somehow broke the curse without even trying, you wonderful Witch. Besides, I very much want to know you as myself, and not as your cat.” Hermione glanced up at that and blushed. “Though do be warned, I'm still a massive prat either way.”
A laugh burst out of her, his words chasing away the sadness. It was nice to know she didn't have to lose him.
“Ok,” she said. “I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know the real you." She took a slow sip of her tea." I did quite like the cat though.”