"Hello?" Oliver called as he walked in. "Marcus? You home?" He kicked the door shut behind him, wand levitating a bag of groceries as he scanned the sports section of the Daily Prophet. At the sound of a soft meow, he glanced down with a smile. "Hey Mortimer," he said to the purring feline twining between his legs. "Have you been fed yet?" Several more meows and a rather pitiful look answered the question.
Shaking his head, Oliver walked towards the kitchen, only to find Marcus fast asleep on the couch. "Lazy sod…" Oliver muttered. He whacked Marcus with the paper before continuing on his way.
"What the hell, Ollie?" Marcus yawned, rubbing his abused forehead. "I was sleeping…"
"While the poor cat was starving to death," Oliver said, watching Mortimer attack his newly filled food dish with the strength of a Bludger. "And I expect you did the dishes like I asked this morning?" he continued.
"Umm…"
"That's what I thought."
"...whatever...prat."
"Bastard."
"Nag."
"Troll."
"I'll show you a bloody troll..."