Prompt #31: Dress Robes

It was old, ratty, and smelled funny.

But Crookshanks liked it and could have cared less to who it belonged to--as far as he was concerned, it was now his.

Purring contentedly he kneaded the bundle of cloth with his front paws before curling up in it, ready for a nice cat nap. It was much nicer than rag towels.

But it wasn't meant to last, for not three minutes later Crookshank's yowl of indignance mingled with a cry of fury from the Boy's dormitory--

"HERMIONE, GET YOUR BLOODY CAT OFF OF MY DRESS ROBES!"