Hermione made clucking noises, enticing Scratch to continue following her down the stairs, through the sitting room and the dining room into the kitchen. She went in backwards, knowing the layout of Harry's home like the back of her hand, still shaking the treats to keep the cat's attention.
"Oof!" she exclaimed, backing into something solid. Strange, the table shouldn't have been in her path yet... Hermione turned, then emitted a much louder sort of noise.
It was more like a scream, really.
That was not a table. It was a Harry. It was a Harry she was still entirely too close to, so Hermione backed up abruptly, stumbling as she met with Scratch, who had indeed stayed with her and was now caught up between her feet. The cat yowled, and Hermione jumped again at the ungodly sound, the canister of treats flying up into the air.
Hermione managed to catch her balance by grabbing onto the nearest thing. Which happened to be Harry's arm. Which she couldn't help noticing was very warm and very bare. Oh goodness. The rest of him was very bare, too. Very, very bare. Only a towel stood between the two of them, and Hermione yanked her hand away as if she'd been burnt.
Her face flaming, she was sure, she managed to stammer out, "H-harry! You- you're home early!"