Warnings: None.
Notes: For the lovely Capitu, who requested Harry, Draco, and their cat. This is short and silly, but I hope you like it anyway Beta-read by Iwao - whatever would I do without you? :')
"Malfoy!" That's how it always starts. "Thought I asked you to keep that beast out of my room while I'm gone."
"His name is Leo. He'll get mixed up if you keep calling him different names," Malfoy says. "Plus, he's been extremely well-behaved today—" he reaches down over the armrest to scratch behind the Kneazle's ear, "—haven't you, little one?"
"Then how come my books are all over the floor?"
Again.
It's becoming a routine of sorts, this thing with the Kneazle, and Harry still hasn't figured out why Malfoy does it. "He's just trying to get a reaction out of you," Hermione keeps telling him; "He's a git. That's just what gits do," Ron says, time and again … but in truth, Harry thinks Malfoy's become almost tolerable over the years.
Except then he'll go and pull something like this, and deny it when Harry gets home. All while lounging shirtless on Harry's sofa. What is up with that?
"How should I know?" Malfoy stretches languidly and, for a moment, looks every bit like his feline companion, except nowhere near as hairy and definitely a great deal sexier. And still much too shirtless for Harry's comfort. "Perhaps you thought it would help your study process? Merlin knows you need all the help you can get." Meanwhile, the Kneazle just sits there, on the ground. He sits there, giving Harry that look of immense distaste that seems to be meant for Harry alone. Come to think of it, there's a very Malfoyesque quality to that look. Funny, that. What is it they say about pets and their owners? "In any case, I'm sure it's a massive improvement over the usual mess."
"My room is not—Remind me again why I decided it'd be a good idea to invite you and your menace of a Kneazle over to my flat?"
"If memory serves, you said it'd be convenient, what with us being in training together"—Malfoy smiles innocently—"which I've come to realise was the Gryffindor way of requesting easy access to my Poisons and Antidotes notes."
Malfoy is infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, with his bare feet and his bloody Kneazle, and his too perfect skin, and his hair slightly mused from lying down, and … and still no shirt. What the hell is his problem with shirts, for fuck's sake? Harry wonders, embarrassed and frustrated because, Merlin, he wants to touch Malfoy, and nothing good can come of this silly infatuation of his.
"Besides, you love Leo to bits," Malfoy adds. "I saw the both of you cuddling before the Muggle box the other day, don't think I've forgotten."
"We weren't cuddling! I was watching the game when the thing just jumped me out of—"
"Potter, he's not a thing," Malfoy snaps. The Kneazle hisses. Of course the Kneazle would hiss, as if Malfoy needed any help feeling validated in his kitten-rescuing ways. "See, now you've hurt his feelings. No wonder he doesn't like you much."
Harry sighs. If only it were just the Kneazle. Some days, it feels like life in general doesn't like him much.