It was 4:42 A.M—hours past bedtime—and she should have been in bed a long, long time ago.

In the trophy room located on the third floor, Gracie stuck to the shadows, brows furrowed as she concentrated, the line of her shoulders taut as she listened for anyone—prefect, professor, or caretaker—who might happen to chance by. Right now the corridor was empty, but there was always someone up and about, and she wasn’t about to risk anything. The spot she had picked out—behind a column case facing a moonlit window—was a good place to hide. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to be in at the moment, with the way her shorts rode up and her hair kept getting in her face, but the lack of cover also meant she’d have more leeway to run without knocking something over.

She needed that. It’d suck balls if she was caught now. Not when she was so close to accomplishing what she’d been working on for years-

Gritting her teeth, Gracie closed her eyes—narrowed them—and breathed. For a few tense, heart-sinking seconds, she felt nothing, and then. . . she did.

And it hurt. Like. Hell.

Pain pain pain—it was everywhere, in everything, so bad she could have sworn she was feeling it from the tips of her nails to the very ends of her hair. She could feel her bones moving, shifting, elongating and curving. Her skin stretched to accommodate, pulling taut over her head, her neck, her back—everywhere, and it positively crawled. It itched and prickled even as it hurt, as her ears slid back to the back of her head, as her body shrank and lengthened and her arms became legs, hands became paws, nails became claws. . .

By the time she had finally stopped hurting, Gracie had crawled underneath the nearest table, overwhelmed by dizziness, new smells, and a numbing distress that threatened to give way to panic. In her wake she’d knocked over several trophies, each and every one of them making the most god-awful noise, but preoccupied as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Quietly, the Slytherin curled up into a ball, burying her muzzle into her tail, and shut her eyes tightly.

   

So much for fixing his sleep schedule. Regardless of what he said he would do, in this case go to bed after his damn patrol, Church once again stayed up wandering the corridors. No matter what, he was always restless afterwards, and couldn't get to sleep. Such a drag, really. In the back of his mind the Ravenclaw had an idea of where this would lead. Sleep deprivation. Which would eventually lead to a whole slew of other health problems Church didn't want to deal with. And yet, here he was awake.

It probably had something to do with his love for the night. The darkness, how almost no one was around and how he could hear himself think. Unlike during the day. In fact, subconsciously Church's mind had probably decided to make the most out of the fact that he could be out of bed whenever he felt under the protection of being Head Boy. Too bad tomorrow was Friday.

Well, no. Today was Friday, but still. It was going to be rough.

Church had bumped into the two seventh years that were assigned tonight as they made their rounds up and down the castle and decided to stick with them for a bit. After all, he had nothing better to do. Not to mention the two boys that were paired were a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. And, while in Church's year, he had never noticed how much they disliked each other. The cutting remarks they exchanged clued him into that. It was obvious that they didn't like being paired together and were doing their best to show restraint. But in Church's mind this was a good thing. He hadn't known the boys that well, and he hadn't known of their contempt for each other. Now that he did, he would be forcing them to work together more often and encourage them to get over their grudges.

It was on the third floor that things started getting out of hand though. The two had been bickering the whole time, regardless of Church's presence, but this was just childish.

"I can't see a bloody thing," the Gryffindor had muttered through a yawn as the trio came down a particularly dark hallway.

"How is that any different from the rest of the time?" the Slytherin countered. "You squint ninety-percent of the time anyways."

"Been watching me a lot, eh?"the Gryffindor shot back. "I didn't think I was your type."

What followed next was such an incredible noise that Church, who hadn't been paying close attention, thought the two had actually started fighting. But as the three of them stopped and listened it became clear that the noise was coming from the trophy room which they had just passed by.

Curious, the three seventh years headed towards the door, but Church waved the two prefects off. "I got this," he said quietly, pulling out his own wand and lighting it. "You two continue on with your rounds. And for the love of God, try not to kill each other..." and he stepped into the room.

For a moment Church simply held his wand up, letting the light fill as much of the room as possible as his eyes shifted from corner to corner. He didn't see Peeves, which was his prime suspect, so now Church began looking for a student. It didn't exactly follow that they would be up this late and in the trophy room, of all places. But perhaps they had heard the boys coming (it would be hard not to) and attempted to hide. Still, knocking something over took a level of clumsiness. Carefully, quietly, Church moved deeper into the room, taking his time to check everywhere as he did so. Eventually he came to where a multitude of trophies had been knocked over. Eyes scanning the room revealed nothing, however, and Church let out a sigh ans slouched slightly, tired eyes dropping to the floor... Where he saw...

"What in the God damn...?" Church muttered to himself as he saw a spotted white cat laying beneath a nearby table. He honestly had no idea what to make of this discovery, for let's be honest, how often did you find a snow leopard in a trophy room at nearly five in the morning? That was odd even by Hogwarts standards. After a very long minute of pure shock and disbelief, Church reached out a cautious hand that he quickly retracted before it could touch the animal. He had realized mid-motion that touching an animal that could likely maul him was probably bad.

Church considered for a moment, not sure if he wanted to wake the animal or go get a teacher to figure out what the hell to do. Still... something about this didn't add up... Letting out another sigh Church stepped back and plucked a trophy of a nearby table. Ensuring he was a good distance back to protect himself if he had to, the Ravenclaw threw the trophy towards the animal with his left hand. While he had been aiming for the giant cat, the trophy fell short and clattered to the ground noisily... right next to the animals head.

Smooth...

With her new set of ears, she had heard him walk through the door.

Still, she hardly stirred. Had she been in a clearer frame of mind, she would have gotten the hell out immediately, but… she wasn’t. Instead, she had only curled up even more—albeit with one ear twitching and a heavy-lidded eye for approaching feet. She wasn’t interested in who it was, so much as hopeful that it’d go away-

But no. Whoever it was pushed aside what sheet remained draped over the table, and swore. Alas, she thought semi-coherently. With a reluctant twitch, her tail edged to the side.

A… boy, as it turned out, and a familiar one—from what she could smell, anyway. From her perspective he wasn’t entirely all that recognizable, given the new dimensions her lack of height gave her and the altered set of her eyes, but if anything, the distortion only helped rouse dormant memory. Groggily, she shifted, about to get a better look at him—but when he began to back away, she stopped, letting her eyes drift shut again.

They promptly flew open at the crash.

What the goddamn fu- Reflexes kicking in, Gracie scrambled to her feet (-well, paws, really) and hurled herself away, only to tumble out from the other side of the table and knock even more trophies over. The noise, on top of that lingering dizziness and pain—it was too much. Fur bristling and ears flattening, she shifted, swallowing a scream as she forced herself to change back, faster this time. Several painful seconds later, she was human again, on her hands and knees and very much pissed.

And when recognition kicked in, it didn’t help at all.

“Church!” she hissed, slowly rising to her feet. By accident she kicked back a trophy—swore—stumbled a bit, and braced herself against the table. Leaning heavily against it, she gave the Ravenclaw a fierce, green-eyed glare. They hadn’t spoken in years, but still- “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

---

Well, great, the damn thing was moving. Quickly Church lifted his wand, ready to fling a spell at the beast. But now that he watched it he saw it simply roll out from under the table and knock more trophies over until it stood shaking on the spot. And then it... changed. Seemingly the instinct that had told him something was off had been correct. For where once was a leopard now there was only... what?

Gracie?

Church returned her glare, although his was also mixed with confusion. What was wrong with him? "I could ask you the same damn thing, Gracie," Church replied rather harshly. After all she was out well past curfew practicing... "Since when were you an animagus?" Recently, he suspected, considering the clumsiness and how she was barely able too stand after.

It felt a little odd talking to Gracie one on one after so long. It had been almost three years since their last... rendezvous. It may well have been in this room; he didn't recall exactly where the last one was. Well, that was an old memory. It was a good few months before Jeanette, which pushed it back into his fourth year. He hadn't thought that far back in ages.

With a sigh Church leaned back against the table, eying the girl carefully. "In response to your earlier question," he said flatly, "I was trying to come up with a way to wake up a snow leopard without being near it." Church gave a slight shrug. "Seemed damn odd that there was one curled up int eh trophy room, after all. Figured something was up. And I was right." Again Church shrugged, this time with a small smile across his face.

"Could have been worse, lovely. I could have hexed you. Or I could have gotten one of the teachers. I'm sure they'd love to know that you're practicing turning into a cat in the middle of the night."

Still too annoyed to answer him, Gracie stubbornly stayed silent and folded her arms, letting the first question pass under a dirty look. Despite what history they had between them (which was totally besides the point), he was nuts to think she’d answer that—and thick, if he couldn’t figure out the answer for himself. Her current lack of finesse, she felt, made it pretty clear.

She snorted at his light—but not quite subtle—reminder that she was still the one at a disadvantage. “You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” she pointed out, raising a brow as she waved the not-quite-a-threat away. “Nothing like a bit of Aqua Eructo to wake a… cat...”

Finally the girl let herself focus on that one, tiny detail she’d been trying not to dwell on since he had first mentioned it. Eyes lit with excitement, she took step closer to Church, letting a brilliant smile break out across her features. “A snow leopard? Really?”

---

Church rolled his eyes at the Slytherin's suggestion. Yes, water on a big cat that could shred him. That's such a good idea, amazing that he hadn't thought of that. "Duly noted, Gracie," he said with a wry grin. "Personally I'd rather have my ears run for a second, but if you insist. Next time I find you curled up under a table I won't think twice about soaking you. Just don't get pissy at me for it." But of course, if he had doused her with water she'd be much angrier with him. It was really a lesser evil, what Church had done.

And there was the smile he remembered. And based on her excitement, the question of how long she had been an animagus was answered. The answer being 'not very long', though it was shorter than Church had anticipated. Still, that seemed to fit seeing how disoriented she was. "Yes, pretty, a snow leopard. Fully grown." At least he assumed it was a fully grown form. She was pretty big when he had stepped into the room.

"You're quite cute as one, I must say," Church added. "Curled up in a wittle ball."

Despite herself and her irritation with him, Gracie fistpumped—an honest to god snow leopard!—and then promptly drew close enough to slug him in the arm.

“Shut up!” she laughed, torn between honest mirth and outrage as she shoved at him, and then punched him again. Even now, ages after they had last spent any real amount of time together, Church Comer was still a smartass—one of the few who could get away with saying something so ridiculous, actually, without getting an unimpressed look in return or a well-aimed hex in the face. “Take that back. I’m not- was not cute!”

She hadn’t been called that since she was twelve. It was horrifying.

   

It took a great deal of effort not to laugh slightly as she fistpumped. It was always sort of entertaining to see her act like that when normally she was much more like a Slytherin.

Which is why it came to no surprise that she punched him afterwards. She had a habit of doing that, if he recalled correctly. Though she was much stronger now than she was three years ago. Church had to actually catch himself as Gracie pushed him and then proceeded to punch him again. "You're adorable," he said again with a smile. "Then, now, and always. Don't see why it's such a big deal," he teased. "Just accept your fate."

Church shrugged slightly and picked up a trophy off the ground, looking it once over for damage before he placed it back on the table. "I supposed I could call you other variations with similar meaning. But cute is just... cuter."

In the face of such logic, she snorted, and went over to where some of the scattered trophies lay. One of them had rolled to a stop at the foot of a column; she hooked a finger through a handle and straightened. “Now you’re just being cheeky,” she grumped, rolling her eyes as she set the thing back on the table. He was kidding, she knew (-or, as far as she knew, anyway), but ‘cute’ was something what she would never, ever call herself by her own volition. That was something best saved for fireworks like Sophie Flickwick, or second years like Pax Wintergreen—spitfire personalities in tiny packages, and even tinier packages who were the very definition themselves.

A thought struck her. She looked at him then, with a teasing, yet curious grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Y’know, I don’t remember you being so affectionate, Church,” she drawled, one brow cocked as she turned to face him fully, arms still crossed and all. “Sarcastic, yeah-” which he hadn’t been, really, when she thought about it, “-but not so... truthful. If that’s your idea of a compliment, it could use some work.”

   

"Your memory must be fuzzy, then," Church countered slyly. As best as he remembered he had always been affectionate. At least to some degree. Right? Well, okay, maybe not. If he really thought about it he was normally rather cold to people he didn't like and was often very... apathetic to people he didn't know well. Be he had been pretty nice to Gracie when they had been together.

"But I suppose I can think of some other things to call you." He smirked and flicked his wand, sending a few more of the trophies flying back onto their shelves. Why hadn't he thought of that first? Much easier than picking the damn things up. "What would you rather I call you then? I could go with kitty. But I don't think Li would take kindly to that. Or Huxley."

Kitty. The idea was so ridiculous, she burst out laughing. Dear god, the thought of it alone was enough to make her cringe. “Don’t even joke about that,” she groaned, dragging a hand over her face. She tried not to imagine Huck’s reaction in particular; Kitty’s would be almost as bad—no doubt would the other girl twist it into some form of blackmail, if she wanted to—but it wasn’t her feelings Gracie cared about. “I wouldn’t take kindly to that, you lousy git.”

Once the laughter had subsided, however, there was a genuine, if tiny tiny grin peeking from beneath the curve of that hand. Even when he was being a pain in the arse it was easy to remember why they had been friends, and how they’d hit it off; he hadn’t always been cold. And apparently some of that was still there—not whatever soft, mushy feelings there had been, but the actual friendship.

It just a little rusty from time apart.

“Man, this is the first time we’ve hung out at all, isn’t it?" she sighed, trying to think of a time they had last spoken after they’d broken things off, and coming up with nothing. To be fair, fourteen was a busy time for everybody, but still. “Now you’re Head Boy and I’m…”

A vague gesture at herself, and a laugh. “Caught.”

   

Church shrugged. "Yea, but what you think doesn't matter," he said playfully. "We all know that it's my opinion that matters." Of course he was teasing her. Apparently it didn't take long for him to fall back into old habits with the girl. Well that was probably good. Even after all this times they were still friends.

"Yea, it's been a long time," Church said with a small nod. They were both a lot younger back then. The end of his fourth year... about two months before he started dating Jeanette. He wasn't even sure why they had ended it now.

And there was kicker. He was Head Boy and she was breaking the rules. "Yea..." Church wasn't entirely sure what to do. He knew what was right, and what was expected of him. Not to mention that he would be a hypocrite if he let her off after docking Gracean twenty-five points. Of course, Gracean had been ridiculous the other night.

"But I think I'll let you off the hook this time, if you agree to go right back to your house." He gave a shrug. "But if you get caught again, I'm not going to be able to spare you from any punishment."

Grinning faintly, Gracie watched him, the look on her face still intent, ever so slightly amused. . . and warm, once one got past the playful glint; she wasn’t put off by his blasé demeanor in the least. That was Church for you. The thing was just knowing when to take the attitude at face value. “Then I’ll just make sure I won’t,” she teased, elbowing him lightly, “and just… stay out of your way, yeah? ”

It wouldn’t be too hard, she figured. Now that she had finally, finally achieved her form, she could focus more on getting used to the shift and the form itself—change back and forth and back again, instead of nearly pissing her brains out just trying to change. The first time was always a bruiser, she’d read somewhere; it would get less painful the more she practiced, like working out muscles that weren’t often used. That meant finding another room, another shadowy corner to stick to and stay there. And she would.

Then, once she got that out of the way, she’d get used to walking around on four legs instead of two.

“Y’know, we should bum around sometime,” Gracie suggested cheerfully as she tugged at her shorts—at some point they’d risen uncomfortably high. “Hang out wherever, when you’re not sleeping with your nose in a book or whatever it is Ravenclaws do. It’s been too long, Comer; I miss punching your guts.”

"And the other prefects," Church added. "Although I don't really expect a Slytherin prefect take points from you." He didn't expect really think many prefects would take from their houses, really. Not to mention he wasn't entirely certain Mr. Morgan would take points. Church was surprised Professor Levartian had. After all, Heads of House generally wanted to win the Cup.

Church cocked his head slightly. "What? This doesn't count? It's just like old times!" Although with admittedly less kissing and much more transfiguration. The punching was still there though. "But yea, we probably should. It would be fun," he agreed. "Just be sure Huxley doesn't get jealous." Last thing he needed was something like that.

Wordlessly Church picked up the last of the trophies and arranged them to the best of his memory on the table. With luck no one would notice that some of them were in the wrong place. "Right, well, I think we've dallied here long enough. Should get back to the dorms." Church gave her a small smile and headed towards the door. "Give it a few minutes after I leave, okay?"

With that Church carefully opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. Time to go distract some prefects to make sure they didn't come back around and catch Gracie.

Equal parts amused and pleased, Gracie watched him disappear into the hall. He didn’t need to tell her twice; getting caught wasn’t on her agenda tonight.

In those last few minutes he had told her to wait, she gave the room one last look and grinned at the trophies he had righted. Tomorrow’s, of course, included finding that new room, possibly another floor, probably an entire different time—she’d have to weigh the pros and cons of getting caught after dark, and getting caught by hundreds of others, teachers notwithstanding. Come to think of it, maybe not even tomorrow; most likely Church wouldn’t expect her to be stupid enough to lurk around again so soon, but getting strung up right after he’d warned her would make her look really stupid.

Which reminded her: she’d have to tell Huck. It didn’t seem fair that Church knew and he didn’t, and the thought of him finding out from someone else… Yeah, no. No~o. Definitely not.

…Later, she decided, once the sound of footsteps finally faded away. She’d let him see later, once the shifts were only half as painful, and tiring, and not as likely to send her crawling under another table again. And, Ny and Livi would get to see, too, of course—as well as Tracy, now that she thought about it. Just… later, when she was good at it, period. For now, Huck and Church would be the only ones who’d know, out of necessity. (And… other things.)

Her own footsteps ever so quiet, Gracie took to the walls and cast a Bedazzling Hex on herself. Carefully, she peeked outside; the dimly lit halls were empty. He’d left, had taken whoever might’ve been with him, and no one else seemed to be approaching, either. Good.

Grinning slyly, the Slytherin slipped out of the room, mindful to keep to the walls. Thanks for the break, Head Boy.

---