Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: A short drabble for the fabulous PartyLines.

One of a Kind

The door slammed behind him as he hurried inside his flat. "Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck," he hissed.

The covered bundle under his arm wriggled impatiently.

"All right," Draco said. "We're here." He unwrapped the restless creature from her makeshift blanket.

She landed noiselessly on the back of the leather couch, taking an indulgent moment to stretch her forelegs. Then she sat with her whiskers held high in the air like a queen surveying her kingdom—and finding it particularly lacking.

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "What?"

She blinked at him lazily; her keen amber gaze slid to his portrait, which took up most of the wall opposite the windows.

"It was a birthday present from my mother." Restless fingers combed through his pale locks. "You know, you're in no state to pass judgment on others—"

A whoosh from the fireplace hushed the rest of his admonishment. In the next instant, Pansy strode into the room, a scowl twisting her pretty features. "Ugh. I knew you'd still be here. You're the worst." Her heels clacked a harsh staccato on the wood floor. "Can't you ever take a bloody minute off from work to help out your oldest,"—she arched a perfect eyebrow—"and only friend?"

"Pansy, now's not a good time—"

With a sigh, she waved his words away and plopped onto the couch. "I told you I cannot be alone with that woman." She took out a cigarette from her wristlet and stuck it between her teeth as she searched for her wand. "I don't care if she birthed me or not. That woman's a menace to—"

"Mreow."

Pansy lifted her gaze and found a cat peering down at her. Irritation melted from her face. "Oh! When did you get a cat?" She reached over and ran a palm down the cat's back. The creature leaned into her touch. "So pretty. A cat with curls. Never seen anything like it before."

"Safe to say she's one of a kind," Draco muttered.

"What's her name?"

"Herm—" He choked. After a clearing cough, he mumbled, "—meowne."

Pansy's fingers froze mid-stroke.

The cat stared at him with exasperation.

"You named your cat—" Pansy leaned towards him. "Hermeowne?"

Draco bit the insides of his lips. "Mm-hm." He nodded slowly.

Pansy pinned him with an analyzing glare; then she threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, you poor, poor man." Tears of mirth pooled at the corners of her eyes. "You poor, stupid man, are you ever going to tell her?"

Blood drained from his cheeks. "Pansy—"

"Unrequited love is one thing, but naming your bloody cat after her is not your smartest move." She traced her knuckles under her eyes, wiping away her smudged mascara. "Or maybe it is. Maybe it'll finally get through that thick, bushy hair of hers that you're in love with her. Merlin knows it's obvious enough to the rest of us."

Draco fixed his unblinking stare on his best friend, too horrified to glance at the creature beside her. 'Hermeowne' sat as still as a statue.

Once her laughter died down, Pansy stood from the couch. "Well." She walked to the fireplace; on the way, she gave Draco a consoling—or pitying—pat on the shoulder. "Looks like you're busy today. Guess I'll handle Mother Dearest by myself." She threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire. As she stepped into the green flames, she said, "You owe me for this."

With a rush of air, she was gone.

Draco closed his eyes. Shite, he thought. Shite-shite-shite-shite-shite.

A brush of fur against the back of his hand startled him. Hesitantly, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't suppose you missed any of that conversation?"

Hermeowne flicked her tail.

"Of course not." He sighed. Without thinking, he brushed his fingertips between her ears. "We've got some things to talk about."

She shifted head and nuzzled the inside of his wrist.

A smile tugged on his lips. "Right. First, we've got to turn you back."

A/N: Thanks for reading!