Prince, or the Royal Pain as Draco liked to call him hissed right back at him, but then stalked off, stiff-legged, his tail held high, the siamese clearly not feeling Draco was worth further effort. More then likely, he was off to stake out a high spot from which to pounce later.
Easton, however, thought everyone loved him, including Draco, and adored them right back, with every fluffy orange pound of himself, winding himself around Draco's ankles and trying desperately to climb up to get snuggled. It had been adorable when he was a kitten, but he was about ten pounds heavier with much longer and sharper claws. He mrowled his distress at Draco's lack of appreciative pettings loudly.
Astoria, of course, heard that and she laughed. "Easton, you let him alone," she called, coming around the corner out of the kitchen to the front foyer. "Oh, Easton, not all over his pants, you bad thing. He'll give you love later, once I've fed him and he remembers how sweet you are!" She said, bending over to reach down and gently unhook the claws from Draco's legs, and gave the large fluffball a push into the flat. She straightened up, laugher in her expression. "Hello, Draco."