Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Harry Potter (or I would be very rich and would have done different things with the characters) and neither do I own Supernatural.

Author's note: Part three! I still haven't watched many episodes, but I hope I've done a decent enough job anyway. I wanted to wait a bit, before writing this, but the plot-bunny wouldn't let me alone, so I HAD to write it. The you-will-see creature at the end may be a bit ooc, but I don't care.

Have fun reading and if you have a prompt you want me to write, just post it and the character in your comment and I'll do my best!

Fandom: Supernatural/Harry Potter X-Over

Pairing: Dean x Harry

Prompt: Feline (ShadowOkamiYokai)

Rating: Maybe T…

Warning: slash-y, stalking *snort*, creature and uh their dealing, but nothing graphic, I think.

Damn. Cat.

But why did he even bother to become annoyed anymore? It wasn't a new thing by any stretches of the word and he had given up hope to change his little… furry problem anytime soon. That didn't change the fact that he wasn't able to turn around in his cheap, uncomfortable motel-bed, because the cat was sleeping on him. Again! Like almost every time he lay down for the last six months. And if it didn't, it was sleeping right next to him. Sighing he let his head plop back onto the pillow and silently cursed tiny, little stalker-cats.

Six month ago they had been in Ohio again, doing a relatively easy job concerning the ghost of some young woman who had been scorned in life and was seeking revenge in death. Routine really. Hadn't even taken two days to deal with her. Even the first meeting with the cat – a black little beauty with startling green eyes, white paws and a matching zig-zag pattern on its head in the same color - had been perfectly ordinary. Probably a stray; at least there hadn't been a collar. It had come up to Dean, purring as if its life depended on it, and had begun head-butting his legs. Dean hadn't been amused – at all. Somehow the cat had found its way into their car and they had only noticed a couple of miles later.

Then it had started.

At first they – majorly Dean, because Sam had been mostly amused about his plight – had tried to get rid of it. Pulling up on the streets, throwing the cat out and driving away like the devil was behind them. Putting it in a box and leaving it behind or even lashing it on a lamp post. It hadn't worked. The cat had found its way back to them every single time and resumed its cuddling up to Dean. That had lead to the suspicious-phase. No normal cat was able to stalk them that well, right? There had been all kinds of counter-measures and researches on shape-shifters, demons and other beings, which were able to look like a feline. Nothing really fit and the cat still acted like all its normal conspecifics – well, mostly at least. Several weeks and countless sleepless nights later they had given up and resumed their 'normal' lives as best as possible. Which involved one new companion, who insisted on sleeping in Dean's bed and being overly affectionate towards him.

Sam was amused again, Dean grumpy.

And now here they were. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Iowa, trying to get a job done.

"It's a ghoul!" Scrowling Dean looked up at his overenthusiastic brother - the result of not enough sleep and too much caffeine - who had just banged open the door to their room. One hour later they were, nevertheless, standing in the forest the ghoul had hidden itself in after digesting yet another person from the nearby town. No longwinded search was necessary. Merely fifteen minutes later a surprisingly fast, human-shaped ghoul with a very sharp butcherknife was appearing in front of them and promptly used said knife as a projectile. It never connected with Deans chest. He, instead, found himself lying on the forest floor with a black-haired guy sitting on him. A black-haired guy, who had been the cat, that had stalked him for month now, just seconds before.

"Shape-shifter!" He had known there was something wrong with the cat. "Sam, the silver bullets!" He hated to be defenseless in these kinds of situations. His sword was lying a couple of feet away and it was hard to use some kind of combat moves in this position. "I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment," Sam shouted back, while dodging another swipe of the ghoul and proceeded in trying to decapitate it. The guy on top of him snorted. "Nice way of thanking me for saving your life." His chin pointed to the knife that was now imbedded in a tree behind them.

Apparently it was a very British shape-shifter, who didn't look like he was moving anytime soon, Dean thought incidentally. He even looked quiet cozy sitting there. "If I wanted to kill or harm you in any way, I would have done so already, don't you think? And you even tried all kinds of things on me. The holy water, the salt, the… would it help if I said 'Christo' to ease your mind? No, wait, that was demons, right? I, like any sane person, don't like being shot with a bullet, be it silver or not, so please don't try that. I could probably-" Sighing Dean let his head plop back onto the forest floor and silently cursed tiny, admittedly good-looking, stalker-cat-shape-shifters.

"You know? I think I liked you better as a cat, there was a lot less talking going on." And maybe all that cuddling hadn't been that bad either, even if he would never say that out loud, ever.