Wrong Place, Wrong Time
Written for Lamia's Weekly Squick Fest
Prompt - someone gets peed on
Scabior wasn't really sure where he was when he stumbled out of the pub at one in the morning. He was so drunk he could barely see straight, and after a night of heavy drinking he really had to go the bathroom. He looked around for a secluded spot to relieve himself, then staggered off into an alley around the corner.
He stood in front of a row of trash cans, the garbage from a torn trash bag overflowing into the street. Scabior unbuttoned his fly, sighing with relief as his bladder began to empty. Moments later a brown tabby shot out from behind the trash cans, shaking its head and hissing at the drunk Snatcher. The cat was soaking wet, its fur dripping with urine as it ran down the alley and disappeared around the corner.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore stood on the street corner several blocks away, awaiting his friend's arrival. It wasn't like her to be late. He didn't really mind, though, and stood humming a tune as he gazed up at the starry skies above. He was always in such a cheerful mood that not even waiting for a late friend could spoil his mood.
And then she saw her, the shadowy figure of a cat running across the road to join him on the corner, the cat's body shifting and morphing into that of a old witch.
"Good evening, Minerva," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly at her. He then noticed a pungent aroma wafting from her hair and clothes. "Why Minerva, is that a new perfume you're wearing?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Albus," McGonagall muttered.
The old wizard put his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of sweets. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"No, thank you," McGonagall replied. "I've had quite enough lemonade for one evening."