Peter hadn't been able to find more clothes, and he didn't want to ask people who clearly had more important things to deliver, like food. Having his arms bared made him uncomfortable, but, he reasoned, it wasn't as if people didn't know.
He had taken up residence downstairs without much discussion needed. He could hardly insist on a bedroom when there were five women in the house - not that he would have dared. Unsurprisingly no one wanted to share with Bellatrix, either. He spent most of his time sitting in the little (admittedly somewhat rodent like) nest he had build for himself in the corner out of spare sheets and cushions, trying to meditate his frustration into something productive. He hardly paid attention to Tonks and Hannah's conversation until two furry things bowled into his knees.
He squeaked with no dignity whatsoever and jumped up as both animals turned to stare curiously at him. Cats and foxes. It was just unfair. Both of them could tell, he was sure. The cat in particular kept looking at him as though he was something to eat. He shuddered, backing away until the creatures started chasing each other's tails again. The sooner he got out of here, the better. At least Snape didn't have cats. Admittedly that would deal with the mice problem, but frankly Peter preferred the mice.
"Why did there have to be a cat?" he muttered, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as though the heavens might hold an answer.