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Harry woke up to a cold bed and sighed. Draco had recently achieved his animagus transformation and took every opportunity to transform - for research he insisted - early in the morning, while Harry was asleep and Draco had the house to himself. It was amusing to watch Draco get caught up in the curtains and meow pitfully, but he was beginning to miss waking up with him. Hopefully, the luxury of his transformation would wear off soon.
Stretching, Harry dragged himself out of bed. Glasses in hand and slippers on his feet, Harry made his way downstairs to find his husband and some breakfast.
The living room was empty to his surprise. Battling with cushions was Draco’s favourite morning activity.
“Meow.”
“Draco?”
“ Meow.”
The noise was coming from the back door and Harry hurried into the kitchen. A very disgruntled cat greeted him as he opened the door.
“Oh you poor thing,” Harry murmured, scooping Draco up into his arms and brushing snow off his paws. “Did you get the chills?”
He snuggled into Harry’s chest as Harry settled down on the couch.
A few minutes later, Draco had fallen asleep, head pressed against Harry’s neck. He supposed there were a few benefits to Draco’s animagus form.
Eventually, Harry drifted back off to sleep himself, only to be woken quite abruptly by the chiming of the floo. Draco stepped into the living room in his healer robes, covered in a purple potion and something that looked like sick.
“What are you doing?”
Harry looked down at not-Draco, who was still fast asleep in his arms, with horror.
“Whose cat have I stolen?”