A/N: SPOV
A/N #2: I love the small moments of humor I can put into my stories, as well as the occasional anachronistic wtf moments. See if you can spot them. -DaniSnape
As Severus skulked in the hidden shadow that he preferred in the Order meetings, he realized that he had been having a remarkably enjoyable day, considering. The note on his breakfast plate about tonight's meeting was undesired, but a healthy dose of irish creme in his coffee made it better.
Even his Double Defense class had went well, considering he had them all dueling silently and with their non-wand arms. Before any of the students made an objection, he had made the pointed comment that anything could happen to your casting arm, like a rogue bludger or an inept Professor wielding a wand when he had no right to.
Potter was glaring daggers at him, and Granger and Weasley were having to remind the boy that it was Lockhart who de-boned his arm as well as threatened to obliviate their memories and abandon them at the bottom of the Chamber of Secrets. That boy needs to get over his prejudices and hate. He thought darkly, knowing that it was the way he was seduced to The Dark.
And then he was here. Sitting alone and early for the Order meeting, wondering why there was a striped tabby on the long dining room with her back leg pointed vertically while she deftly cleaned her... Minerva.
Severus stared at the cat as she shamelessly cleaned her crotch where the Weasley clan ate.
"How can you do this here?" He hissed at the cat. "I thought you had some sense of decorum."
The cat looked up at him for a second, blinked, and resumed cleaning herself. Severus was undecided between pushing her off the table or not, since it would involve touching her.
After a few more minutes, he decided that he couldn't stand it any longer. Picking up the feline, he began to chastise her for having no sense of propriety for a woman of her age.
It was then when he bumped into Minerva.
"Severus, what on earth are you doing with that cat?" Severus looked between the tartan-clad woman and the meowing furball in his arms. He put her down, muttered something about "never speak of this again", and went back to his hidden alcove.