Wolfblood

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Page count: 8

Three weeks later...

"Give that back, you overgrown flea-bag!"

Hermione frowned in confusion as she entered the kitchen, laughter threatening to bubble out of her the moment she became aware of what was going on.

Crookshanks was sat on the surface of the kitchen table, his tail swishing back and forth lazily, a slice of bacon hanging from his mouth and his eyes locked in a staring match with an annoyed looking Derek. He stood in front of the table with his arms crossed over his chest and glaring down at her cat.

In response to Derek's words Crookshanks let out a hiss and narrowed his eyes at the werewolf.

"Don't look at me like that, you ugly, monster. You're fat enough and if Hermione finds out you're stealing food from the plates, you know she'll cut off your supply of treats, which is probably a good thing. You're so fat I don't enough know how you managed to jump onto the table in the first place."

Crookshanks let out a meow of indignation which was so soon followed by a hiss and he reached out to swipe at Derek with his paw, his claws out and looking to make contact with his stomach.

Derek stepped back and his folded arms dropped down beside him before a growl rumbled in his chest and he bared his teeth at her cat. Crookshanks let out a meow, gave Derek what she could only describe as a withering glare, and then jumped down off the table and strutted out of the room with his tail swishing in the air and the bacon he'd stolen still in his mouth.

"Can't you two just get along?" Hermione asked, alerting Derek to her presence.

He turned his head to look at her, his annoyed expression still on his face but it softened slightly when he caught sight of her, an amused look on her face, her hair surrounding her face and spilling over her shoulders in wild curls and wearing one of his t-shirts, along with a pair of stretchy pants and some fluffy white slippers on her feet. Really she looked like she'd just woken up but in reality she'd been in the library for the last couple of hours.

"He stole the bacon right off the plate," he told her, sending a glare in the direction of the living room where he could hear Crookshanks eating said bacon. "That was the last of it."

"Doesn't matter anymore, I've changed my mind," she replied.

"That doesn't surprise me," he said, picking up the empty plate and taking it the sink to be washed. "So, if you don't want bacon sandwiches for lunch, what do you want?"

"Pancakes," she said.

"That's not going to fill you; I've seen how much you can eat."

"If I have bananas, strawberries and whipped cream it will."

"You ate the last of the strawberries last night," he spoke. "I've put it on the list but we're not going grocery shopping until tomorrow."

She frowned. "I really wanted strawberries."

"We don't have any, there's nothing I can do, and I'm not going all the way into town just to get you some. You'll have to have something else."

"Fine, then I want fish and chips."

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean fries?"

"No, I mean chips," she said, making her way into the kitchen and digging through the cupboards until she found the potatoes.

Derek moved to stand beside her and watched as she used her wand to peel the potatoes and slice them into chips, and much to his surprise, she literally set them on fire while they were still sat on the chopping board. She had a concentrated frown on her face as she focused her attention on controlling the flames as to not set the kitchen on fire. It was a few minutes later when the flames died down, revealing golden brown chunky chips which she sprinkled a little salt on and added a dollop of tomato sauce onto the corner of the chopping board.