Drabbles

“Hello, gorgeous,” Draco murmured, trailing his fingers softly through thick ginger fur. 

The cat mewed happily, arching into his touch, and Draco returned the contented sound under his breath. 

“You’re all warm. Been lying in the sun?” He could feel the rumble of purrs under his fingers as he scritched behind its ears. “Lovely day for it. I wouldn’t mind a little nap in the sun myself.”

A throat cleared, drawing Draco’s cat-lazy gaze upward in a slow motion. The expression that greeted him was a mixture of conflicted and confused, a combination that looked wholly out of place on her. Granger. 

Down on a bent knee, Draco froze. The ginger tabby under his hand yowled a plaintive sound; he resumed his fussing immediately. 

“Sorry,” Granger began, sounding uncertain but still plenty bossy. “But what are you doing?”

Draco frowned. It was quite obvious what he was doing. “I…don’t understand the question?”

Granger’s eyes slipped to where his fingers were still tangled in soft fur. The cat seemed happy enough, so he couldn’t understand her protest.

And anyway, he was at a cat bookstore. Petting the shop cats was the entire point. Which, as a frequent patron to all the cat cafes and wine bars in the area, he knew for certain.  

“That’s my cat,” she said after a moment. “He hates being pet by anyone but me.”

Draco looked down at the very-content tabby under his hand, then back up at her. “That doesn’t appear to be accurate.”

For a moment, Granger seemed speechless. Her eyes were still fixed on the easy strokes Draco was sending down the arching spine of, apparently, Granger’s cat.

“What’s his name?” Draco asked. “He seems like a Simon.”

Granger spluttered out a laugh. “Simon?”

“Simon is an excellent name for a cat,” Draco defended. “Look, he loves it.”

The orange beast was gazing up at Draco with water-logged eyes, his squashed little nose twitching with overt joy. Granger scoffed. 

“Crookshanks loves his given name,” she informed him, then narrowed her eyes when Draco’s mouth twitched up at the edge. “Don’t you dare. It’s a perfectly good name.”

“Hmm.” Draco shared a conspiratorial look with the cat. He could be Simon with Draco; a dignified name for a dignified friendship. “If you say so, Granger.”

She cleared her throat again and he wondered if she’d thought he’d forgotten her. Impossible. It had been nearly a decade since graduation, sure, but one never forgot Granger. 

“So if Crookshanks isn’t here to be fussed, then why is he in a cat bookshop?” Draco asked. He felt a little silly to still be down on a knee in front of her, but one didn’t stand while doting on a lounging feline. “That seems cruel. For him, and for me. And anyone else who’s here to…” He trailed off. 

It seemed impolite to voice how he trawled the town for establishments that tended to his need for physical contact. With cats. And not euphemistically. 

The little vertical line between Granger’s brows deepened. “A cat bookshop? What, like, books for…cats?”

For such a smart little witch, she seemed rather slow on the uptake.

“For fussing them,” he explained patiently. “You know, like the wine bar down the road. You can have a drink and cuddle a cat. It’s lovely.”

A beat. And then: “Malfoy, this is an ordinary bookshop. My bookshop. And that’s my cat. He’s not here for…for public affection.”

Draco considered unhanding her pet but the beast bleated out another pathetic sound, perhaps sensing his imminent departure in the premonitory way cats sensed every shift of the universe, and so he ran another stroke down the fluffy tail instead.

“He likes it, though,” Draco pointed out. 

There was something odd going on in Granger’s expression. He marked the slow shifting from forcibly-put-out to begrudgingly-curious to…something undefinable. 

“Right, well…” She looked between them again, a faint pink dusting her cheeks when the cat mewed happily as Draco worked his hand from neck to rump in a series of little scrunches. “If he scratches you, don’t come crying to me about it.”

Draco tutted, peering down at the cat. “You’d never, would you? You’re a sweet boy.”

The sound that heralded her departure was the same as had notified him to her approach, though this time, it sounded as if she was clearing her throat over a sudden tightness and not simply to be bossy.

Draco watched her go from the corner of his downturned eyes, smiling to himself, and then to the cat. 

“Don’t worry, Simon,” Draco whispered, thumbing at the dopey little ears. “Your mum said I could stay and play a bit longer. But I promise, I’ll come back to see you again soon.”

Granger had marched herself over to a cart stacked with books to be reshelved. Draco watched her stretch up on her toes to reach a high shelf and very nearly got to his feet to help her.

But no. Not yet. 

“Tomorrow,” he promised the cat softly. “I'll be back again tomorrow.”