If the cat had not looked up at her so pointedly, Evanna might have managed to overcome the urge to turn around and roll herself back into her blankets.
The fact that she had gotten out of bed in the first place, was nearly a miracle. The floor was cold and her mattress had gotten that perfect grip on her curves that was only possible after a full night’s sleep. But she pushed herself to her feet anyway, and slipped into her favorite sweater instead.
She opened the curtains, because the fresh yellow sunlight woke her up better than a bucket of water, even if it made her blink hard, and consider leaving her eyes closed. There was no warmth coming through the glass, but she supposed that warmth was just going to be reserved to comfier things that day.
She took a half dozen slow steps to the door. She opened it.
The cat crossed the hall before she had taken the next step out of her room, and looked directly up at her.
Her hand still on the doorknob, Evanna tried not to listen to the audible thought as it crossed the feline features:
Why are you here?
Evanna took a breath, and watched the cat continue idly down the hall. Then she shut the door and sat back down her bed. Who was she to argue with a cat?