"You. Are. Rushing," Severus enunciates, smiling very slightly, rather distantly, each syllable settling into place with a very quiet, sepulchral BOOM. "And making a cat's breakfast," this with a slit-eyed look illustrating very clearly who the cat and what its squeaking breakfast is, "of our supper. Mind yourself, bring the tea things, fetch him an unspoilt glass, and do not trip over your clodulous feet."