The evening in your dorm was supposed to be peaceful. The fire crackled softly, and Ginny was sprawled across your bed, flipping lazily through a Quidditch magazine while you sat beside her, scratching your cat behind the ears.

It should’ve been a calm, cozy night. But your cat—decided otherwise.

—“Honestly,” Ginny muttered as the cat leapt straight onto her stomach for the third time, “does it ever get tired of this?”

You laughed, watching her try to push the small creature off her lap while it stared up at her, purring like a motor.

—“She likes you,” you said.

Ginny shot you a look.

—“She attacks me.”

—“She’s just showing affection.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

—“Right. So the claws in my jumper are a love language now?”

The cat meowed loudly, rubbing her face against Ginny’s chin, and Ginny groaned dramatically, leaning back on the pillow.

—“Merlin, why me? There are two people in this room, and she picks the one who didn’t even want a cat.”

You tried not to laugh, which only made her glare deepen.

—“Don’t,” she warned, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t you dare find this cute.”

But you were already laughing, and Ginny rolled her eyes, trying to pry the cat off.

—“You think I’m joking, but I’m not sleeping here if she’s on the bed. I’ll go back to the common room.”