Lynx jumped onto her lap, burrowed her head into her stomach, and began to knead her paws up and down.  The cat had a very loud purr for the size of her body, though she was hardly tiny anymore.  She could feel Pansy's eyes on her, and rather than look up and meet them she smoothed out the parchment in her hands and began to read.  It was hard to focus on the text; the words kept swimming in and out of focus and she squinted at the neat handwriting in confusion.  It looked like the first draft of Pansy's book on the Blacks, though most of it had been crossed out.  "Your book?" she asked.  "It's not going well?"