Welcome back to another very overdue story ~

Life has been incredibly hectic at the moment, but when isn't it? And it's likely to continue to be hectic for a long time ...

For some reason, maybe because I'm a glutton for stress, I'm set to go back to University (yet again), but this time for my doctorate. It's something I've been working towards since I was 18 (so way too many years ago), but I'm incredibly proud of myself for even getting onto the doctoral training programme! So life will be incredibly stressful for the next 3 years and writing might become a form of stress relief - the way it does every time I'm back at uni. 

Still, I hope you enjoy the story which was requested by mugglenugget like a decade ago.

As always, let me know your thoughts! (Please ignore any mistakes)

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The head of my house, who seemed to know each of his eagles well enough to hold conversations with them about their interests, somehow never knew when to stop talking in his lectures. Of course, Professor Flitwick always said important things but sometimes, when you were sitting in his N.E.W.T level classes, it was difficult not to become overwhelmed with the knowledge that was always being imparted. Maybe that was why my brain was so prone to wondering during each Charms class?

Despite my best efforts, my concentration would always shift onto far more gripping topics until the end of the lesson drew my thoughts back to what I should have been doing, and I was left staring at my blank page which should have been filled with notes. Righteous Rowena, I could only imagine the look on Professor Flitwick's face when one of his own performed poorly on their N.E.W.T level Charms exam.

Picturing the expression on his face should have been enough to force me to focus - well, that and the impending anxiety about needing good grades if I wanted to do something worthwhile with my life - but it wasn't. My brain was spiralling, as it often did when I gave it even the slightest opportunity to, fliting to far more appealing thoughts of unwritten stories, of potential article subjects and taglines. Not that it was any less important; no, I knew all too well that all I needed - all it would take really - was one good gripping story that was carefully crafted into an article and I could justify the need for a school paper.

And because it had to be good, something of such high calibre that it demonstrated just why we needed to have a newspaper - that I would run, naturally - that my brain flicked through various story ideas, trying to hone onto the best one. It would have to be something that appealed to the students - not just to the teachers (or perhaps even something that the teachers wouldn't be too pleased with?) - something to do with the school to get my peers interested in reading it and -

Forbidden Forest

I scribbled the words down hurriedly on the corner of my parchment. Circling it a few times, I stared contemplatively down at the innocuous words; as of now, they didn't mean much. And yet, my mind ground to a halt on a single train of thought - something it so rarely did - but still; just what was it about the forbidden forest that made it so forbidden?

As the lesson drew to a close, I was forcefully drawn from my thoughts by the sound of the chairs scraping against the floor. Rising from my seat, I hurriedly started to gather my belongings and made a mental note to ask my dormmates if I could borrow their notes from the lesson. I took the time to check that the lid on my ink well was on tight - something I religiously did after an absolutely disastrous accident in my first year that involved our now infamous Head Boy - before securely tucking it away in my bag.

Just as I went to pick it up, Professor Flitwick, seated comfortably at his desk, called out, "Miss Lane, if you could stay behind please?"

My eyes shifted towards the classroom doors, watching enviously as my classmates made their way out of the day's final lesson. There was no telling just how long our Professor would hold me back - although history would indicate that if he suspected I wasn't paying attention - and driven by his desire for all his students to succeed - I ran the risk of Flitwick running through his lesson on an individual basis all over again. Merlin, I hoped that wasn't the case.

Sighing to myself, I prepared to walk towards a waiting Professor Flitwick, but my eyes remained a little longer, trailing appreciatively over the departing figure of our Head Boy before I could stop myself. Catching myself in the action, and wordlessly chastising myself for being a lech, I pointedly turned my gaze away from the door. There was no need to tempt fate; I'd already had more than my fair share of awkward run-ins with him.

As the last of my classmates left the room, I weaved my way through them until I reached Professor Flitwick's large wooden desk, although I could only assume it was wooden given the sight of the books and parchment scattered all over it. At the sight of me, the head of my house offered me a warm smile which I eagerly returned; that smile was all I needed to be reassured that he didn't suspect a thing. Thank Rowena.

"Can I help you with something Professor?"

"I spoke with Professor Dumbledore about your proposal," Flitwick started, adjusting his glasses as he considered me. "The headmaster was receptive to the idea, but he understandably had some reservations about how ... welcomed a school newspaper would be amongst your peers,"

"Of course," I said faintly, nodding my head; I'd suspected as much. What would be the point in wasting so many hours of labour on something that no one would read?

"Nevertheless - the headmaster did state that if you are able to submit a story for his perusal, he will consider it. And well, in order to increase your chances of success, Miss Lane, I'll be happy to look over it prior to your submission."

"Really?" I asked with a grin; if I didn't think Professor Flitwick would disapprove, I would have thrown my arms around him to hug him. "Thank you so much, Professor!"

"I support my students with their continued professional development," Flitwck said as if he wasn't helping me get one step closer to my goal. "Now, you should get a move on or else you'll miss the beginning of dinner."

"Thank you!" I said again, unable to stop my grin from becoming even wider. As I made my way out of the classroom, I swore I could hear Professor Flitwick chuckle at my enthusiasm.

Hurrying out of the room, I went to continue on my way to the great hall when I stopped still at a call of my name. Searching the corridor, I sought out the familiar voice.

"If you grin any wider, you'll split your face in half, Lane," Quinn warned as she closed the steps between us. My best friend nudged me teasingly with her shoulder, "No lecture from reliable Flitwick then?"

"No lecture, Harrington," I reassured her, "Just an opportunity?"

"An opportunity?" Quinn repeated dubiously, looking at me for further explanation - which she would soon regret.

Sure enough, once I started on my tirade - which Quinn had unfortunately had a front-row seat to on multiple occasions - she sighed quietly. Still, she listened attentively. But I'd withhold the newest development from her; rule-abiding Quinn would never agree, and she would never understand my thinking. But there was only one way to start my investigations off on the right foot; I needed to get detention and I could only hope that I would be told to help Hagrid.

**********

Rowena, with all her infinite grace, had shone her light on her most humble, undeserving member of her house, and I actually found myself being awarded detention with Hagrid! Quinn, who was so unbelievably shocked at my pleasure at being sentenced to my first detention in my entire time at Hogwarts, almost took up arms against poor Professor Kettleburn, until I insisted that she didn't need to. Still, as the detention drew nearer, Quinn's confusion at how I of all people had earned detention, only became even more pronounced. The guilt of keeping the secret from her settled uneasily in my stomach, but once the article was written, I could tell her the truth. It would only be a little longer.

Still, Quinn had insisted on walking me to the great hall for my detention where I was met by Hagrid who promptly dismissed my best friend and ushered me with him as we ventured onto the school grounds and towards the Forbidden Forest. The groundskeeper chattered about our task for the night - collecting ingredients for Professor Slughorn and giving me a grave warning that we couldn't be out for long given the fact that it was a full moon - even if he continued to shoot me disconcerted looks at my inability to hold back a smile. I was trying my best, really I was, but it felt so satisfying to finally be making some headway!

However, there remained an even greater matter to deal with. It was all well and good being in the Forbidden Forest after hours, with the added security of being accompanied by a physically intimidating Hagrid. But, how in Merlin's name, was I going to get any investigating done with him glued ever watchfully at my side? Although, I wasn't too sure what I would be hoping to find - or if I even really wanted to risk running into anything - but still. My fear couldn't hinder my journalistic curiosity, I refused to let it happen.

So, as Hagrid continued to venture through the woods, chattering about the creatures he had come across in his time at Hogwarts, I slowed my steps and he progressed ahead of me. I bade my time, slowly increasing the distance between the pair of us, just in case he turned to make sure I was still around. But when he didn't, I took the chance; turning sharply to the left, I held my wand steadily in front of me, illuminating my path ahead as I ventured off the well-trodden path.

I instantly regretted it. Not only did the forest appear infinitely more terrifying without the safety of Hagrid's formidable form lumbering at my side, but my anxiety decided to skyrocket as my intrusive thoughts reminded me just how fragile human flesh was, how easily it could be pierced. Swallowing down the rising dread, I forced my feet to continue on their path. I couldn't turn back; I just needed to continue to make the slow progress, even if I did find myself jumping at every single sound. Clenching my jaw so tightly that I knew it would ache in the morning, I harshly strangled every gasp and whimper; I had the most horrendous inkling that any sounds of weakness would draw a predator of some sort towards me.

Except, there was one sound that pierced through every shred of courage that I had pierced haphazardly together. A howl sharp and sounding far far too close to sit comfortably with me, had my lips parting. I breathed haggardly in what I hoped were silent gasps. It was fine, it was just a -

There it was again. Closer, definitely closer this time -

Turning sharply in the direction I had come from, I hurried in the direction which I hoped would lead me back to the path. Gone were my careful steps, as I stumbled, trying not to whimper or groan in pain when my ankle twisted awkwardly over a fallen tree branch. It didn't matter - how could it matter when I could hear something careening through the trees around me, sounding like it was gaining on me? Whatever it was, it was intent on reaching me and I didn't plan on finding out why -

Pushing myself even further, I widened my paces, now running through the forest and not daring to look back to see if I was being followed; the moment I did, I would damn myself. Pumping my legs even faster, I kept my eyes forward, searching eagerly for any and every sign of Hagrid, ignoring the sharp sting of branches that bit into my skin, piercing through my uniform and -

My feet, traitorous in their steps, tripped over something, sending me careening to the floor. The cold harsh ground scraped roughly against my palms, but I paid it no heed. I turned hurriedly, scrambling onto my back, trying to push myself up again, to continue running. But I couldn't. Not when hungry amber eyes were peering up at me through the thick foliage. Swallowing thickly, I tried to scream for Hagrid, hoping that he would find me, but the sound was stuck in my throat, refusing to come out.

Locking my eyes steadily on the creature - whatever it was, it was difficult to make out in the dark - I searched blindly for my wand which had fallen away from me. Thankfully, it wasn't far. Curling my hand around the handle, I gripped it in a tight fist. My brain whirred, flicking through every spell I knew, trying to find the best one to use to get me out of this situation.

To my horror, the creature's eyes lowered, as if it was preparing to pounce - my thoughts blanked, every single spell dismissed as overwhelming fear blanketed my body -

There was a second figure, much smaller than the first, which bounded through the trees and headed straight for me before I could even hope to move. I closed my eyes tight, trying to brace myself for whatever came next. Only, no pain ever came.

Slowly, far too slowly, the sound of some form of scuffle, had my eyes peeking open slowly. Finally lifting my wand before me, I cast a lumos to find a stag of all things standing before me, its magnificent head bowed as it used its antlers to bat back the fucking werewolf that had been intent on making me its prey.

"What the actual fuck," I hissed under my breath, immobilised as I watched the stag continue to beat back the werewolf which was locked in its antlers. The smaller creature pushed forcefully, successfully throwing the werewolf away from me.

My eyes followed the creature as it slammed against a thick tree trunk, only to prepare to stand again. Not that it went far. I watched, still tucked away safely behind the stag which remained standing insistently in front of me, as yet another creature - was that a fucking Grimm?? - tore its way through the trees and careened straight into the werewolf.

There was a yelp, although I didn't know which creature the sound had come from. Not that I watched for long enough to find out. The stag turned to face me, looking at me with eyes that were far too intent - clearly fear had made me loopy - but still, the animal lowered its head towards me. It appeared to be outstretching one of its antlers towards me.

I stared dumbly at the creature; the heavy pounding of my heart beating in my ear was now thankfully the only sound that was close to me. But distantly, I could still hear the werewolf and the Grimm. When I didn't move, the stag nudged me softly on the leg with its nose before once more gesturing with its antler.

Taking the prompt - which was a little disconcerting still - I used the support to stand on my shaking feet. The stag remained at my side, watching as I rose to my full height, dusting off my school robes before I studied my scraped and reddened palms. Well, it seemed like my life had been saved by a stag of all things, but I still had no idea where I was going

The stag nudged me again, urging me from behind. I tried to resist at first, but when its pushes became more forceful, I stumbled and conceded, allowing it to push me through the forest. It wasn't as if I had a reason not to trust it, after all. Righteous Rowena, if Quinn had the faintest insight into my thoughts, she would have rushed me to St Mungo's for an evaluation. But, my stag-shaped saviour brought me quickly towards an all too welcome well-trodden path, and as we drew closer, I could hear Hagird calling out my name.

"Hagrid!! I called out eagerly, searching for the gamekeeper.

It took a short moment longer, and the stag remained faithfully at my side before Hagrid appeared within eyesight. It was only then that my companion left me alone, slipping back into the cover of the trees. Hagrid, visibly relieved at the sight of me, hurried towards me, looking over me with worried eyes and proceeded to fuss and mother me. Not that I paid it much heed. Rather, my eyes were fixed on the treeline once more, and on the faint man-shaped figure I swore was heading further into the forest.

Distantly, I heard Hagrid mutter to himself, "Thank Merlin you're okay. Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let me lose another student."

On any other day, I would have questioned him on it and might have even contemplated investigating the student Hagrid had lost, to form the basis of a story. But there was no need; right now, there was a more interesting story. Was there an Animagus in Hogwarts?

**********

The very next day, with my brain whirring and full of dozens of unanswered questions, when the morning broke and Quinn took one look at my "haggard and disastrous state, just look at you" I found myself promptly steered to the hospital wing. Only once I was under the careful watch of the matron, and after the witch had very firmly dismissed her, did Quinn leave to attend breakfast. Still, on her way out of the room, she warned me that I wouldn't like the curse she hurled my way if I let my 'injuries' go untended before promising to save me a muffin.

And so I remained stranded, perched on one of the beds as the paste - a foul, putrid purple monstrosity that Madam Pomfrey had smeared onto each of the abrasions that had pierced my skin. She insisted that I was flirting with some form of an infection. Personally, I thought she was being overdramatic. Not that I said it aloud. Instead, I stared absentmindedly into space, swinging my legs slightly to feed the urge I had to flee straight to the library. Rowena's wrath, I was bored - and a bored Ravenclaw was an extremely unproductive Ravenclaw. After last night I could hardly afford to be unproductive.

Blowing out a long-suffering breath, I glanced down at my knee and risked a quick poke at the paste that covered the gash that spanned my kneecap. Finding it dry - thank Merlin for that - I looked hurriedly across the hospital wing, seeking out any sign of the matron who appeared to have disappeared somewhere. Just as I went to call out for her, the doors of the wing creaked loudly in protest as they were pushed open, drawing my eyes in an instant.

The boy who entered the hospital wing did so with such familiarity that I knew the rumours were right; this might as well have been his second home. Potter, striding into the room with easy steps, looked around as if seeking something out. Despite knowing better - and Rowena's wrath did I know better - I allowed my eyes to linger on his features; on the unruly hair that demanded someone run their fingers through it in an attempt to sort it out, those glorious eyes that were hidden away by glasses that always seemed to slip down the bridge of his straight nose and that same easy, smile.

Before I could recollect any of my sense, however much was left of it, my eyes were held captive in their appraisal when Potter's came to a halt. Even from a distance, I could see the way his gaze lingered questioningly on me, before flickering across me, no doubt cataloguing the sheer amount of purple stuff that covered the skin that was bared by my uniform. He surprised me then, taking a halting step in my direction. Surely he wasn't going to -

"Miss Lane," Madam Pomfrey, my saviour in a mediwitch's apron, called as she thankfully drew my attention away from Potter who appeared to have been just as startled by the matron's appearance as I was. For her part, Madam Pomfrey gave Potter a wide berth, even if she did shoot him a questioning look, as she headed straight for me.

I waited rather impatiently until Pomfrey reached my side. She reached for her wand, getting to work on testing that the paste had worked as it was supposed to before she set about removing it bit by bit. My skin, freshly healing and a faint pink when it was revealed to the air, felt a little tight as I stretched it. Outstretching my leg, I peered down at the puckered flesh of my new faint scar. When Pomfrey handed me a vial, instructing me to apply it to areas that had previously been covered in the paste, I was quick to comply.

Listening absentmindedly, I nodded as Pomfrey gave a weary sigh and warned me not to run away from Hagrid the next time I had a detention. Accepting her words with a chastised smile, I finished rubbing the clear lotion into my knee and the palms of my hands. Satisfied that she had done her duty, Madam Pomfrey announced that I could leave, before turning away from me.

"Mr Potter," she greeted questioningly as she walked past a still silent Potter, who greeted her with a passing charming smile.

This time, I made sure that my attention lingered on him for a few brief moments. This wasn't the time for appreciating the annoyingly handsome Gryffindor. Instead, I reached for the tights I had discarded the moment I'd entered the hospital wing. Still, I hesitated to put them on. Uncertainly, my eyes flickered back to Potter, my ears beginning to burn slightly when I found his eyes on me once more. Clearing his throat, Potter turned his back to me and I was quick to shimmy my tights back up my legs.

Once I was done, and my skirt was back in place, I waited uncertainly. When Potter showed no sign of turning around again, I said quietly, "I'm done."

"Sorry," Potter apologised, taking me by surprise as he walked towards me. As he drew closer to me, his flushed cheeks became apparent. He watched as I shrugged into my robes. "Those looked like some pretty nasty cuts."

Startled slightly by his addressing me, I said warily, "Not really, they were nothing more than a few scratches."

"I don't know," he said dubiously, coming to a still at the foot of the bed. He considered me with weighted eyes, "How did you get them? Here I was thinking that only us lions got into scrapes like that."

"It's nothing, really." I assured him again, offering him the same smile I'd been giving my concerned peers all morning. Except, it didn't work with him, just like it hadn't worked with Quinn. Under my scrutiny, Potter's eyes searched over me again, as if seeking out more wounds. I hid my hands behind my back, although I wasn't sure why his curious gaze made my tongue feel thick all of a sudden. "I'm just clumsy, that's all."

"Clumsy?" he repeated in the same tone. Still, Potter who had never seemed to look at me, to even want to return my fleeting secret appraisals, was now looking at me like he wanted to know each of the thoughts that ran rampant through my mind.

"Anyway." Clearing my throat pointedly, I gestured in the vague direction that Pomfrey had headed in. I spoke pointedly, "Aren't you here to see the matron?"

"Not really, no." If he saw the way I frowned at his words, trying to rack my brain around why Potter was at the hospital wing if he wasn't here to see the matron, he didn't react to it. Instead, he explained, "I was looking for something, but never mind. Let me walk you to breakfast?"

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously, unable to hold back my surprise. Potter's smile widened at my outburst, amusement filtering into his features. Gathering my composure, I protested, "No, you don't need to do that."

"I insist." He raised a hand to his chest in mock chivalry, eyes alight with mischief at my obvious displeasure. I half expected him to bow his head to me. "Just to make sure you're getting about safe after your injuries."

"Really - please don't."

"I'm just doing my duties as the head boy." Tucking his hands into his robe pockets, Potter considered me with a tilted head. He shrugged easily, "It's part of the role; if there's anything you need help with - if you ever need saving from your clumsiness - you can come to me."

"Potter," I said mildly, sensing the stubbornness that I'd only ever heard about, "you're not going to relent, are you?"

"Look at you, Lane, already getting to know me." He chuckled when I rolled my eyes. He gestured towards the doors. "Now come on, let's get some food in you."

**********

I didn't limit my investigations by making them solely take place within the sanctuary of my school's walls. Rather, being within the ground of Hogwarts had proven to hinder my progress. There were restrictions at every turn, stumbling blocks that were proving impossible to overcome, and I could hardly turn to the teachers for guidance. No, I couldn't risk outing the very person - people? - I wanted to seek out. Not if I had any hope of communicating with them.

Really, I had no choice but to use my school holidays in the most effective way possible. Even if it meant I had to turn down some of Quinn's invitations for a well-needed catch-up. Once we were back in school, I'd make it up to her.

For now, however, I needed to seek out a very specific part of the ministry and try not to make a fool of myself whilst doing so. My dad worked for the ministry, and I didn't know what I'd say to him if one of his nosey colleagues asked him what his daughter was doing on the second floor. Not that I would technically be doing something I wasn't allowed to do. But still, the sight of a school-aged visitor to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was bound to draw some questioning glances.

Tucking my bag tighter against me, I kept my eyes facing forward, avoiding the eyes that lingered quizzically on me. The sooner I did what I came here for, the sooner I could leave, and the sooner I could escape the weight of those stares. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I located the Improper Use of Magic Office and came to a stop. I hadn't technically done anything against the rules by walking through the department, but well, that was soon about to change. I did my best to appear inconspicuous, not wanting to draw any further speculation. Instead, all I could do was hope that the office was empty. If by some miracle, it was empty, I had a very short window of time to try and find the list of registered animagi, before running the risk of being discovered. And if it wasn't empty then, well -

Either way, I had only one opportunity.

Swallowing thickly, I tried to suppress my heart which seemed like it wanted to leap out of my throat, and let out a slow breath. If only I could have borrowed some of that foolhardy courage the Gryffindors carried around with them wherever they went. But that wasn't a possibility, and I wasn't a lion; I was an eagle, and I would use that to my advantage.

Knocking on the office door, I held my breath, trying to listen out over the steady pounding in my ears for a response. To my disappointment, it came; short and resolute. "Come in."

Pushing the door open, I stood uncertainly in the doorway and waited for the older wizard sitting behind his large desk to acknowledge me. He glanced up eventually, peering up at me from behind his glasses, eyebrows drawing together at the sight of me. Maybe Rowena was smiling her luck down on me, after all. Mr Whalen's familiar frown greeted me as he called my first name.

"Hello," I said simply, watching as one of my dad's closest friends stood from his chair. He walked past me to shut the door, blocking out the sounds of the ministry chatter as he regarded me with steady eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

I thought quickly. "Dad said something about a book that he meant to pick up from you before he left work yesterday? He heard I was going to be in Whitehall visiting friends and asked me to pick it up."

"Oh." The furrow between his brows eased. "Let me get that for you so you can get back to your friends."

"That would be great." I offered him my most pleasant smile. "Thank you."

He gave a distracted nod, tracing his steps back to his desk. With a wave of his wand, he stashed away the papers he had been working on and once he was satisfied that there were no evident security breaches, he gestured for me to take a seat.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back."

"Take your time," I insisted, watching the older wizard. My eyes traced his every step as he finally left the room.

I waited for a few seconds, just in case Mr Whalen decided to turn back around again. Once I was certain the coast was clear, I glanced contemplatively around the room. If I were Mr Whalen - detail orientated, security vigilant Mr Whalen, where would I put the animagi registry?

With little time to spend sorting through my hypotheses about Mr Whalen's filing tendencies, I approached the nearest bookshelf-lined wall. The registry was technically available for public viewing, and I had every right to request to see it, but sometimes it was just easier to avoid answering questions so where -

Finding the book, I opened it onto the desk. I was presented with a list of names, as well as the form their animagus took. Helpfully, the current status of each animagi was listed next to their name. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the parchment and travel quill, I jotted the name of each animagus who was still alive. However, there was a single name that I recognised - Professor McGonagall - and there was no mention of a stag. My saviour was clearly an unregistered animagus, but why?

Closing the register once more, I returned it to its original place before I took my seat in the chair that had been offered to me. As I waited for Mr Whalen to return, I allowed my thoughts to flit back to the vague shape of a man that that stag had taken. I had only seen him from behind, even then, I had struggled to make out his form in the dark. And I was, of course, assuming it was a him - purely because of the fact it had been a stag and not a doe. Was there evidence that the form taken reflected the biological sex of the animagus? Or was that another assumption I had also made?

Mr Whalen's arrival saved me from spiralling into another train of speculation. The wizard, reentering the office, outstretched a thick tome towards me. I accepted it with two hands, struggling a little under the weight of it; I regretted my excuse now. Why couldn't I have just asked to see the register? At least then I wouldn't be stuck lugging the dead weight of the book around with me.

"Thank you," I said, wrestling the book into my bag. My poor shoulder felt like it would fall off by the time I got home. I was quick to take my leave from Mr Whalen who was all too willing to escort me out of the office so he could get back to his work.

Once I was out of his line of sight, my thoughts drifted once more back to my earlier contemplations. There was at least one unregistered animagus on the grounds of Hogwarts, and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to uncover their identity. The animagus registry was the only way in that I'd found and it was a dead end -

"Lane?" The questioning call of my surname had me glancing up sharply. I searched the busy ministry corridor, only to find Potter, of all people, standing in front of me. He considered me with curious eyes. Perfect, just perfect; my brain was too preoccupied with the dozens of dead ends to make much sense of the boy who stood in front of me. Or to fight back the heat that flooded my ears at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" I shot back, unintelligently.

"I asked you first," he teased, as he closed the space between us. "But don't worry, I'll bite. My dad's getting on a bit, so I said I'd get some stuff done for him. Now go on, your turn. What are you doing here, Lane?"

I paused, uncertain of how to respond. It didn't make sense - not that much made sense for me when it came to Potter - that I couldn't think as quickly as I had done when confronted by a similar question from Mr Whalen. Eventually, I managed to get a hold of myself. "I had to pick something up for my dad."

Potter's gaze lingered on my face, eyebrows raised in evident disbelief. "You're a shit liar; you've trouble written all over your face."

"And you'd know all about trouble, wouldn't you?" I shot back before I could catch myself.

"Bit of a firecracker, aren't you?" His tone didn't lose its teasing edge and I hesitated at the sound of it.

I was losing my grasp on this interaction, not that I was sure I had much control over it to begin with. Still, I needed to say something and well, Rowena had appeared to be on my side today. What was to say that this - Potter appearing in front of me - wasn't another show of her favour?

"Listen, Potter," I started slowly, wondering how to phrase my request, "you said you'd help me?"

Potter nodded slowly, eyes lowering from mine and dropping to my knee as if he could see through my trouser legs. "How is your knee? Still scraped up?"

"Don't worry about that." I swatted the thought away. "But do you remember? You said you'd help me?"

The Gryffindor continued to regard me with uncharacteristic silence. His eyes had grown heavier now, probing in their intensity. It was unexpected and completely unusual, and I didn't know how to proceed. But I forced myself to anyway.

"Come on Potter," I said pointedly, nudging him when he still didn't respond. "We should talk somewhere else."

The wizard didn't protest when I led him out of the ministry. Rather, he unexpectedly followed obediently as I navigated my way onto the streets and to one of the nearest cafes I could find. He didn't ask questions, didn't demand to know what I wanted to talk about, not like I thought he would. Instead, Potter waited patiently at my side as I ordered my coffee and he followed suit - ordering himself a tea after grimacing at my coffee order. Wordlessly, Potter paid for our drinks before I could protest and led me towards one of the empty tables. He pointedly did not comment when I shot him a look.

Settling down into a chair, I warily eyed Potter as he sat across from me. It had been my idea to get out of the ministry, and it had been my request to talk that had brought us here. And yet, as I sat across from wizard, who the rumours suggested often struggled to hold his tongue - and yet was holding it perfectly fine, I felt as if I was the one on the back foot. Needing something to do, I reached into my bag for my purse.

He covered my hand with his when I tried to open it. My eyes shot to his, surprised at the feeling of his warm calloused palm over the back of my hand. I searched his gaze; did he have any idea of the effect he could have on others?

"You better not be trying to pay me back," he warned. When I relented and moved to put my purse away, Potter leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Go on then, Lane. What are we doing here? Or did you just fancy having a drink with me?"

"I've always wanted to be a journalist," I said quickly, and with little finesse. Potter, who tilted his head slightly, clearly hadn't expected my answer. Not that I blamed him, it was random. But it was the truth, and it was where this had all begun. "After leaving Hogwarts I'm set to start an internship with the Daily Prophet. But before that I need experience, and well, Dumbledore has finally agreed to consider letting me set up a school paper. But before he signs off on it, he needs me to submit a story and I need to have a good story."

He blinked slowly at me. "Okay?"

I lowered my voice, leaning slightly towards him as I said, "There's an unregistered animagus at Hogwarts."

Potter, who had leaned towards me to hear my quiet words, sharply drew back from me. His disbelieving eyes assessed me - not that I blamed him - but he was saved from having to respond when our drinks were brought over to our table. Curling my hands around my mug, I warmed my palms and waited until the waitress was out of earshot.

I was quick to speak before he could contest my words. "Trust me, Potter, I'm certain and I'm going to figure out who they are so I can interview them. So? Will you help me?"

He slowly shook his head and looked away from me. "Listen, Lane -"

Sensing the reluctance, I reached out for him then; after all, he was the one who had started it. His hand, which had been drumming random rhythms on the tabletop, fell silent when I touched my fingers to his. His eyes sought mine out.

"Come on Potter, please?" I asked quietly, offering him an expectant smile. "You're the Head Boy, you'll be able to help me."

A conflicted look filtered across his features before Potter sighed. He conceded with a warning glance, even as his fingers wound themselves ever so slightly between mine, "That look on your face is dangerous, something tells me it'll get me to agree to a lot of things."

**********

The school holiday passed and little progress was made; I was losing hope. It was becoming apparent that it didn't matter where I was, whether I was in school or outside of it, what did matter was that I was overly ambitious. I had picked an extremely difficult story to cover and there was a dwindling chance of me getting to the bottom of it. Righteous Rowena, I had fallen headfirst into the Ravenclaw curse; I was pursuing a project that was just too large. Maybe it was time for me to start looking elsewhere. Sometimes, when the goal was big enough, it was more sensible to accept defeat. Even if doing so felt like going against every part of my being.

A plate of eggs, thrust insistently under my nose, drew me from my sullen thoughts. Looking up sharply, my eyes followed the hand that had outstretched the plate until I met Quinn's insistent, probing gaze. When I finally accepted the breakfast she had painstakingly plated for me, she narrowed her eyes at me.

"What's running through your brain?" she questioned, watching as I picked up a fork and pushed my scrambled eggs around the plate. What was the point of eating eggs when there were more important matters at hand?

"Nothing," I assured her with a smile that she didn't buy. To emphasise my point, I reached for a slice of buttered toast.

"Lane," Quinn insisted with a sigh, "You're clearly thinking about something, and we've known each other long enough for you to know that I'll get it out of you one way or another."

"Harrington," I parroted in the same tone, "nothing is going on. You're just overthinking things - as usual."

Scoffing, Quinn said steadily, "Point me towards a single member of our house that doesn't overthink and I'll write your essay for Flitwick's class."

I was spared from having to admit surrender when up against such an impossible task, by the sight of the Gryffindor who was steadily making his way down the Ravenclaw table. My eyes, disbelieving and confused, tracked each step that Potter took. He continued on his way, paying no heed to the glances and whispers that followed him; rather, he looked like it was perfectly normal for him to be making his way into our eyrie. Quinn, realising that my attention was no longer on her, followed my gaze.

"I should've known," she mumbled, even as she also tracked the Gryffindor's movements.

"Hush.

Thankfully, Quinn didn't say another word. Not when Potter came to a stop, smiling so easily down at me that I could feel my palms beginning to sweat slightly. The tabletop shielded me as I wiped them against my tights. When I said nothing - because really what was I supposed to say in this strange situation - Potter's smile only grew wider, almost more knowing. I didn't dare wonder what exactly it was he thought he knew.

"Good morning, Lane," Potter said steadily, his eyes shifting slowly between both of mine.

Quinn pointedly cleared her throat when I didn't respond. Right -

Still, it had Potter shifting his gaze towards her, almost as if it was a second thought. "Morning Harrington"

Quinn returned the greeting, shooting me a look that told me just how stupid she thought my continued silence was. Not that I could blame her.

"Good morning Potter," I returned eventually, the words coming out fainter than I would've liked. Why in Merlin's name did his smile grow even wider? And why did I desperately want to catalogue the dimples on his face? Clearing my throat, I asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I thought we had a deal?" When I continued to look at him, clearly uncomprehending, he raised both of his eyebrows, "No? About my duties as a head boy?"

"Oh! Yes!" I glanced around the Great Hall, taking note of just how many nosey students were casting occasional glances our way. "Did you want to do that now?"

"No time like the present." Potter gave an easy shrug, before gesturing for me to make space.

Despite how dubious I felt, I complied, sliding down the bench a little so he could take a seat beside me. Not that Potter did anything in a typical manner; he took a seat, straddling the bench with one leg on either side and facing me. His knee brushed softly against my thigh, and I tried not to fidget, or shift away as the heat of it scorched me. My eyes flickered down, locked onto his knee which he appeared content to leave in its position; resting ever so slightly against mine.

His gaze, soft and yet persistent, settled on my face. "Well?"

Potter's voice drew my attention back to him. But not for long. Rather, I quickly and pointedly shifted my attention to my school bag as I rifled through it. Potter didn't even do me the courtesy of averting his gaze while I searched for my half-formed plan of action; the utter bastard. Was it a Gryffindor trait; to be so singularly focused?

Finding the piece of parchment, I placed it on the table in front of us and smoothed out the corner that had folded over. Potter leaned towards it, his shoulder brushing against mine as he considered my written words.

"I'm not surprised that you've got it written out," he commented faintly, as he regarded the parchment. His eyes flickered, just briefly to my face, before he turned his focus once more to the written words. "So your first idea is to go to the Forbidden Forest?"

I nodded and spoke in a tone far quieter than his, "It makes sense to go back to the scene of it all; that's where I encountered them."

I didn't even dare say the word anigamus aloud; it felt inauspicious to even say the word, as if just speaking it into the world would push me even further away from my goal. That was the last thing I wanted. The corner of Potter's mouth twitched upwards as if he knew what; if he knew what I was thinking, he didn't comment on it.

Instead, he asked, "When are we doing that then?"

"We? You're coming with me?"

"You're stuck with me now," Potter warned, sounding pleased with himself. I forced myself not to be swayed.

"Well ... I was thinking of going out tonight. It's a full moon and since people are so-"

"Absolutely not happening," Potter cut in so insistently that I was startled. I turned towards him for an explanation - pointedly not thinking about how it brought us even closer together. Still, his eyes sought mine out and held them firm as he spoke adamantly, "Listen to me, Lane, you can't go anywhere near the Forbidden Forest tonight. I don't care how desperately you want to get this done, the forest is dangerous on the full moon, so you stay away. Got it?"

"Potter, I-"

"Promise me," he cut in once more. His expression, so different from the boy who had smiled at me from the moment he'd appeared at my table, didn't falter. I couldn't do anything more than nod. "Okay, thank you."

"So, not tonight then."

"Why don't we start tomorrow," he proposed instead, visibly relaxing under my eyes once more. His shoulders dropped slightly as he reached out to fidget with my parchment. He pointed to some of the written words. "For now, let's focus on getting the permission slips to get into the restricted section?"

I nodded, even as my eyes stayed stuck on his features. It was his turn to evade my gaze as I catalogued each micro - and not-so-micro-change in his expression. I didn't think I'd ever seen Potter as frightened as I had in those few short moments. Whatever it was about the full moon, which was absolutely superstition, - even if I had encountered a werewolf during the last full moon - I wouldn't press the matter with him anymore.

**********

I'd anticipated that it would be easy to get the permission slip signed, that Professor Flitwick at least, with his earnest desire to support his students to pursue their passions, would sign it for me with no issue. Except, of course, that would be too straightforward, too easy. It had taken me the better part of a year to have even the possibility of a school paper greenlit, and since then I'd hit stumbling block after stumbling block, so why would this be any different? Rowena's grace had to have run out at some point - it was probably someone else's turn.

With a resigned sigh I pushed the thought away from the forefront of my mind; it was time for Defence and I couldn't spend the entire lesson wrapped up in thoughts of an unsigned permission slip that was tucked in between the pages of my Charms textbook. Although, I wasn't sure how long I'd succeed at pushing the thoughts away. And I didn't even share this class with Quinn who, if given the sign, would spend the entire class chattering at my side and give me all the distraction I needed.

Trudging through the doorway with heavy steps, I prepared to head to my usual seat, tucked into the back corner of the classroom where the Professor wouldn't notice if I had stopped paying attention. Only, an unexpected call of my name - from an equally unexpected voice - brought my steps to an abrupt halt. My motion, so sudden, had my classmates grumbling under their breath as they had to duck around me just so they didn't knock right into me. I apologised absentmindedly, searching out the owner of that voice.

Sure enough, I found him; Potter, looking far too pleased with himself at having caught me so off guard, sat alone at his desk with his chin propped on an open palm. He grinned when I narrowed my eyes at him, offering me a lazy wave. He opened his mouth as if to call my name again, falling silent when I shook my head. Wordlessly still, he pointedly drew out the chair next to him from under the desk.

It was only the insistent grumblings from my peers, reminding me that I was blocking the entrance into the classroom, that had me approaching Potter's desk. Rowena herself would have no explanation for why I thought it made sense to take the silent offer, especially when my usual seat sat empty.

"Where's Lupin?" I asked, in place of a greeting, as I set my bag down. Still hesitant to take a seat, I looked at the desk behind Potter, offering silent greetings to a confused-looking Pettigrew and Black who was hiding a meaningful smile behind his hand.

"Should I be offended?" Potter wondered aloud, drawing the chair out even further to make a point. "I'm sat right here waiting for you and you're asking me about my mate?"

"You can be offended if you want to be," I reasoned, rolling my eyes even as I sat down. Although, I wasn't quite sure how to angle myself - it felt strange having my back to Pettigrew and Black - almost as if they too were a part of this discussion, when they really weren't. "That's up to you, I just thought that you'd prefer to sit next to your mate."

"Nothing beats sitting next to a pretty girl," Potter said simply, his eyes shining with delight as heat flooded my features.

Uncertain and all too aware of Black's quiet chuckles, I pointedly turned my back to the two tag-alongs and faced the front. Still, I eyed Potter appraisingly, finally noticing the darkened shadows under his eyes. "You look rough."

He chuckled shortly, "You definitely have a way with your words, Lane."

"It's a fact." I shrugged simply as if that did anything to ease the sting of my words.

"It's a fact," he repeated steadily, and even then he sounded amused. "I was working on Quidditch plays all night so I didn't get much sleep."

I accepted the answer without much fuss, because really what else was I supposed to do? Turning my focus away from the Gryffindor, I did my best not to pay attention to the questioning glances I was getting from my classmates and instead started unpacking for the lesson. Potter, apparently not used to being ignored by someone, shifted in his chair; he turned his body towards me, propping his head on a closed fist as he watched me. My skin prickled under his careful gaze, but still, I did my best not to respond to it.

Only when our Professor headed towards the front of the classroom, reading to begin the class, did Potter make his next move. He had no way of knowing that my focus was set so easily on him that I catalogued each slight motion he took towards me; there was no way I'd miss the way he leaned towards me as if the notion of personal space was completely foreign to him.

Still, Potter covered his mouth with his palm the motion of his lips hidden from any eyes, as he murmured, "Any progress on the permission slip?"

I shook my head slowly, and whispered back, "No."

"I completely understand why the professors don't want to sign my permission slips" Potter began, eyeing me dubiously, "but why are they trying to keep you away, Lane?"

"Professor Flitwick knows that once I get started and something has caught my attention, I won't be able to pull myself away."

He fixed me with a lingering look, even as he teased, "You're the dedicated type, huh?"

My eyes, no longer focused on the Professor, shot to Potter, searching his gaze. Even as the heat flooded my ears, and I tried to second guess the hidden meaning -

"Don't worry," he assured me, the corner of his mouth pulling up faintly, "so am I."

"Potter-"

He cleared his throat and this time Potter was the one to turn his attention away, as if his focus was back on our teacher. "Anyway, leave it with me, Lane. All you need to do is meet me by the library after I'm done with my patrols tonight. I should have the wrapped up by 11."

"But that's after curfew?"

His smile widened even further. Potter offered me a cheeky wink, "I'm the Head Boy remember, you can entrust yourself to me."

Before I could protest, or even say anything - not that I was sure what I was going to say to that - Black smothered his chuckles into a cough. The sound brought me startingly back to where I was, his friends - downright nosey bastards, I was sure - were likely to have heard everything, to have picked up on the things that I didn't so much as notice. Rowena, I wasn't sure I'd ever felt so out of the loop.

**********

Once the school day ended, dinner was long over and my dormmates had finally started to drift off to sleep, I slipped out of bed. Fixing my shoes onto my feet, I cast apprehensive glances around the dorm and checked that each of my dormmates were asleep. I'd always complained about being the only night owl in our dorm but tonight was one of the first times I was glad to be the only one awake. Leaving the room, I carefully shut the door behind me, making sure it made no sound. Thankfully, when I reached the common room, there were only a handful of first years sitting around a table. They paid no attention to me as I made a hasty exit.

The journey to the great hall, one I'd made over a thousand times now, took much longer than it had any other time. Although that was to be expected when I spent so much of my time searching for any sign of patrolling teachers and other students. Rowena's favour was once more firmly shining on me, and I reached the safety of the great hall without running into anyone and I was saved from having to make some form of justification for being out after curfew. I certainly couldn't tell the Professors I was set to meet the Head Boy without it sounding like I was engaging in some form of illicit rendezvous.

Tucking myself behind one of the statues by the entrance of the great hall, I made sure I stayed out of sight. Even with Rowena's favour I wouldn't be tempting fate by standing out in the open. I just hoped Potter got here soon because the school, after curfew, was decidedly terrifying. Every little creak of the suits of armous, every murmur from the portraits was amplified and there was a heightened sense of unease creeping within me. It only seemed to grow with every passing moment. Righteous Rowena I wasn't made for sneaking about like this.

A pat on my shoulder, innocuous and gentle and so completely unexpected, startled me so fiercely that I shrieked. The sound pietered off abruptly, my mouth covered by a large hand. I reared my elbow back, prepared to shove away the very strong, solid form behind me.

"Please don't," the voice, amused and easily recognised, had all the fight draining out of me. Turning quickly in Potter's arms, I met his waiting eyes - which really had no business shining the way they were - as he removed his hand from my mouth. "Sneaking around after curfew means that we need to be quiet."

"Potter!" I hissed, slapping my hand against his chest in annoyance. He didn't have the grace to even pretend to wince, tilting his chin down to watch me. "What are you doing?"

"Surprisingly you, clearly." He absentmindedly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his smile only growing when I narrowed my eyes at him. "You jumped so much I would've thought you've never been out after curfew."

When I didn't answer him, evading his eyes, Potter gave a slight chuckle. He reached out towards me, nudging my chin with his knuckle. I gave into the prompt, and looked back at him.

"You're in your seventh year and you've never been out after curfew?" He raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"Does that matter? Are we going to get a move on or what?"

Thankfully Potter didn't continue to tease me. Instead, he rendered me speechless by reaching out and grasping my hand as if it wasn't strange. He prepared to set off, stopping in confusion when I didn't follow after him. He glanced back at me and silently raised his eyebrows. I gestured towards our joined hands.

"I don't want to lose you in this castle, something tells me your friend would take my head," Potter said easily, as if it wasn't even stranger that he then decided to link our fingers together.

This time, when he set off, I could only follow Potter's lead whilst sending a silent prayer to Rowena that my hands didn't become clammy. It was bad enough that my heart had started beating so rapidly that I was sure he could hear it. The Gryffindor moved confidently through the quiet corridors, his wand outstretched ahead of him, illuminating the path ahead of us. Occasionally, when we heard footsteps, he reacted quickly, drawing me behind one of the ever convenitnly placed statues or suits of armour, pressing close to me and shielding me from sight. Each time, without fail, he would glance down at me apologetically, silently searching for reassurance. And each time, with my heart in my throat, I could only nod.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, we reached the library. I'd probably spent as much time here as I had in the common room and yet, it's stillness was still unsettling. As we walked further into the room, I was the one to lead the way, with Potter following wordlessly behind me. Of course, I had the sense to drop Potter's hand and discretely wiped my palm against my side.

I led Potter right into the back of the library and approached the rope that separated the restricted section from the rest of the books. Potter, coming to a stop beside me, gestured for me to take the lead.

"Ladies first," he insisted, holding a hand out towards me.

"Thanks," I said, taking the extended offer, and letting him help me over the rope. Once I was on the other side, he was quick to follow me.

Now that we were here, I needed to be quick.

Reaching for my wand, I cast a quiet lumos and made my way slowly down each of the aisles, scanning each book title as I went. When I found one, with a vague title that might have been related to animagi, I drew it out from the shelf. Resting my back lightly against the shelf, I opened the book to the index page and began my search. I struggled at first, to juggle both the thick tome and my wand, but Potter - ever the saviour - stepped closer to me and the light from his lumos was enough. Extinguishing my light, I tucked my wand away and focused completely on the book.

I reached the end of the first page of the index and moved to turn the page when I felt the steady, barely there, brush of Potter's chest against my shoulder. Startled by the contact, my head snapped up and I found him standing a lot closer to me than I had anticipated. The Gryffindor, standing with his head bowed towards mine, a hand resting on the shelf by my head, almost looked like he - well, like he wanted to kiss me.

Hurriedly I averted my eyes back to the book. Potter, damn him, called me on it. "You look nervous, Lane."

"I'm in the restricted section, after curfew. Why wouldn't I be nervous?" I evaded.

"Well, let's calm your nerves then," he said quietly. "Let's get to know each other."

His suggestion, so left field, effortlessly captured my attention again. I started warningly, "You better not ask me a cliche question like what's my favourite colour."

There was a short pause before he conceded whilst sounding put out, "Fine. Something else then."

My eyes lingered on the downturned pout on his lips and I couldn't help but laugh faintly. Even Potter - extraverted and confident Potter - relied on benign questions. His pout didn't last long, if anything, Potter looked far too pleased with himself.

**********

Following my first venture out after curfew, our investigations had been strictly designated for the hours were the castle became quiet. In between lessons and homework and spending time with my friends, little progress was made. But the evenings, when curfew arrived and most of the students were safely within their respective common rooms, were more often than not reserved for Potter. The Gryffindor, who I had fully expected to grow annoyed at each respective investigation, didn't; he really was the dedicated type.

Even today, as I made my way out of the common room and stepped into the quiet corridor, my eyes instantly settled on Potter who stood waiting for me. The moment the door to the common room shut behind me, he gestured me over to his side.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" I asked curiously, closing the space between us.

"I'm hardly going to let you walk through the castle on your own after curfew," he said as if it was an obvious answer. Except, it wasn't. I had moved around the castle after curfew over a dozen times now, becoming more confident with each successive venture. Of course, Potter had been by my side each time, but I wasn't so hopeless that I needed a guardian shadow. As if he knew my train of thought, Potter said, "I'll protect you."

Scoffing under my breath as we started walking in the direction of the great hall, I shot him a look, "What exactly do I need protecting from? This is Hogwarts."

"Exactly - it's Hogwarts" Catching my disbelieving look, Potter shot back, "You needed protecting not that long ago in the forest. You would've made a tasty meal if you hadn't been protected."

I almost staggered in my steps, my head snapped towards Potter; no one knew about what happened in the Forbidden Forest. I had kept the tale of my stupidity firmly to myself, so how did Potter know? Only - I had spoken of it, only once though. I had conceded and told the matron after she didn't buy the original story I'd given her for why I had so many injuries. The older witch knew of the werewolf I had escaped from and had been firm in her disapproval. There had to have been someone listening in the Hospital Wing and they must have spread the news. If the tale had spread to Potter, it wouldn't be long before people started to harass me in person.

Eventually, when we reached the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, I forcefully swallowed down the pleas that wanted to spill out of my mouth. I wanted, more than anything, to tell Potter that I wanted to turn back, that I changed my mind, that there was no way I was going into that forest to become a werewolf's meal - even if it wasn't a full moon tonight. But, I couldn't do that. If I wanted to get to the bottom of this - I had to continue forward.

Letting out a shaking breath, I summoned whatever fleeting courage I had, and took a step into the dense covering of the forest. Not that Potter let me go far. He matched his paces with mine to begin with, before he crept just a bit further ahead, shielding me slightly behind his broad shoulders. He outstretched his free hand behind him and without needing an explanation, I slipped my hand into his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before we set off together. I was infinitely grateful for his presence, both for the silent strength he provided me and for the lumos he cast right alongside mine.

"What are we even looking for?" Potter asked.

"Clues," I said simply.

He shot me a look from over his shoulder, "You're not exactly going to find a box labelled 'clues' out here Lane, I need a bit more information than that."

"Let's look for foottracks," I suggested, looking to the floor in time to step over a large protruding tree root. "Keep an eye out for tracks that change mid-way."

Potter stopped so abruptly that I almost crashed right into him. He turned to face me, arching an eyebrow as he asked, "Change?"

"From shoe prints to hoof prints, I'd assume."

I glanced expectantly at Potter who kept his silence, shoulders tense as he turned around once more. He searched the space around us but said nothing, he didn't even move forward. Eventually, when Potter still made no move, I nudged him with my shoulder.

"Are we going to spend the entire night out here?" I asked.

"A night under the stars, sounds romantic, doesn't it?" Potter asked, although his question lacked his usual ease.

"Maybe you can bring your next conquest out here," I suggested absentmindedly, searching the forest floors. Potter gave a scoff in response but said nothing.

We continued our search and the further we got into the expansive forest, the more I was questioning my original plan. Did it make sense to return to the forest where I'd first encountered the animagus? Yes. But, I hadn't accounted for the sheer size of the forest. How in Rowena's name had I expected this to be done in a single night?

Just as I went to ask Potter if he had any thoughts about how we could mark off parts of the forest that we'd already searched, we came to an abrupt halt. In the eery quiet of the forest, the only sounds that kept us company were the faint sounds of animals, our footsteps and the occasional words we spoke to one another. And now, in the not-so-distance, was the sound of heavy footsteps drawing ever closer. Before I had even processed what the sound was, Potter was before me in a heartbeat, his want outstretched before him. Startled by the sudden gesture, I could only look at Potter in shock; Quidditch players certainly had outstanding reflexes.

Potter, whose shoulders had tensed harshly, spine straightened as he took slow, measured breaths, didn't react even when I reached out to touch his back, to try to get him to soften. It was only when the footsteps continued, growing faint as they walked away from us, that he let out a long breath.

Turning quickly to face me, he said firmly, "That's it, we're done for the night. Come on, I'm getting you back to the common room."

When I didn't protest and just nodded in agreement, he tilted his head a little and considered me. I already knew what he was seeing, what I was letting him see. No doubt Potter caught the wonderstruck way I was looking at him, because what else could I do when the Gryffindor had thrown himself in front of me as a shield from who knows what? How could you not wonder at that bravery?

"Who could know that it would just take saving you for you to look at me like that Lane?" he teased.

Those words were enough. Averting my eyes, I carefully tucked away any and all appreciation I had of him and shielded it from his eyes. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable with my appraisals.

Scoffing, I nudged his shoulder, "Get a move on Potter."

He conceded, taking my hand once more as he carefully led us back down the path we had taken into the forest. Potter clearly hadn't been paying much attention to me at all if he thought tonight was the first time I'd been wonderstruck by him.

**********

Knowing my tendency to become so obsessive about an unanswered question, I gave myself strict rules so that I had some semblance of a life outside of chasing an unregistered animagus. It was why I did my investigating after curfew and it was why, when the next Hogsmeade weekend arrived, I made sure to spend some time with my friends. It wouldn't be long before we were no longer at school and I wouldn't have any of my dormmates sharing a room with me, listening to my incessant ramblings and sharing all of our inner thoughts with each other. I wouldn't have that for much longer, so I spent hours with my friends, searching through Hogsmeade as if it would be my last Hogsmeade trip. Not that I was far off - we didn't have many of these trips left.

Still, as 4 o'clock drew nearer, I prepared to say goodbye. Reaching for my bag, I slung it over my shoulder and stood from my chair. Each of my dormmates looked expectantly at me.

"I'll see you back in the common room," I promised with a smile. "I just need to meet up with someone."

"Potter," Quinn said instantly, narrowing her eyes at me. "Is this someone Potter?"

"And if it is?" I asked, adjusting my bag.

"Nothing." She shrugged her shoulders, leaning back in her chair and watching me with a knowing smile. When I rolled my eyes, it grew even further.

Greta, stirring some sugar into her cup of tea, didn't bother to fight her smile. Her tone was meaningful. "This is the same Potter that you've been spending a lot of time with, isn't it?"

"Stop it," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's nothing, but I really need to go, so I'll see you later?"

"We'll want answers," Greta called out behind me as I made my way out of the tea room.

And I certainly didn't doubt it. It was any wonder that I'd been able to evade and dodge all of their questions about Potter so far. I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it for much longer. I just needed to sit and think about what I would tell them; would I confide in them about an animagus? Or would that only open me up to a telling-off from Quinn?

I could think about that later. For now, I made my way quickly through the village streets and ducked into the Three Broomsticks. The pub, busy as it always was, was full of guests who hindered my surveillance of the room. Rising onto my toes, I continued to look around until I eventually found Potter, sitting at a table as if he was waiting for me. The moment his eyes met mine, his face was alight with that damned butterfly-inducing smile as he waved me over.

Hurrying over to Potter, I swerved between the other customers, thankfully dodging a group of rowdy students who were on the verge of spilling their drinks on the person nearest to them. Settling into the chair across from Potter, I offered him an apologetic smile.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting for long," I said.

"Not at all," he assured me steadily. "Besides, it's not torture to wait for a pretty girl."

Surprised and thankful that I could blame my heated cheeks on how hot the room was, all I could say was "Potter."

He grinned cheekily. "Let me go get the drinks. What're you having?"

"Just a lemonade, please? Thanks Potter, the next round's on me."

Potter let out a short chuckle as he stood, and said with a roll of his eyes, "Sure"

I watched Potter as he easily navigated through the throngs of people, making his way to the bar and propping himself up on it. He waited patiently to be served and I forcefully cut myself off from admiring the handsome figure he cut outside of his school robes. Turning my attention back to my abandoned back, I rifled through it. By the time Potter had returned to the table, carrying both drinks, I had retrieved a familiar stack of papers and spread them out across the tabletop.

Putting my lemonade down next to me, Potter tilted his head to read the parchment as he took his seat. Sitting down with a heavy sigh, the Gryffindor's eyebrows drew together in a scowl. When I glanced questioningly at him, Potter took a long sip of his butterbeer.

"We're meeting to discuss the investigation?" Potter asked incredulously.

When he scoffed, I considered him carefully. Reaching for my lemonade, I curled my palm around the cold glass. "Yes? What else did you think would happen when I asked to meet you during the Hogsmeade trip?"

Potter didn't answer me right away. Rather, he continued to consider me, leaning back against his chair and nursing his butterbeer. The silence lengthened, bordering on uncomfortable. When I went to say something, Potter let out an abrupt sigh and sat up straight. He propped his crossed arms on the table, leaning towards me.

"I'm going to be blunt here," he warned me. His eyes, hidden behind his glasses, searched mine. "That okay, Lane?"

"Go for it," I said quietly. Even as my heartbeat picked up, even as my hands were growing clammy, everything inside of me was screaming out that this was important, that this wasn't something I should back away from.

"I thought you were asking me out, Lane."

"Wait?" the word was faint.

"I thought you were asking me out," he repeated steadily. "I see the way you look at me - especially when you think I'm not paying any attention. And you have to have noticed the way I look at you - all the time, every day. Surely you've noticed it."

I stilled and repeated hesitantly, "The way you look at me."

"Come on now." He leaned even closer towards me, voice lowering as he prompted, "Use that big overthinking brain of yours."

"Did you - did you want this to be a date?"

"Obviously." He flashed me a cheeky smile which faded slightly. Potter drew back just a little, drawing the corner of his mouth between his teeth for just a second before he released it. "Do - do you?"

Did I? Did I want this to be a date? It felt like it was both a simple and a complicated question to answer. And yet, I already knew my response to that. I just needed to have the strength to give him that answer. It felt easier to run away, to pretend this never happened, but he continued to watch me with those earnest eyes of his. So what else could I do but nod, just once?

"Great." He grinned with a relieved breath. Potter reached for the papers, gathering them into a haphazard pile which he shoved towards me, "Now, you put all of this stuff away and let's start this properly."

"Properly, huh?" I asked quietly, fighting my smile. Tucking the papers away into my bag, I watched Potter-James as he reached for my hand. He instantly wound our fingers together.

"Properly." He nodded. "What's your favourite colour?"

I laughed quietly, shaking my head as I watched him. Whatever colour his eyes were - that was quickly becoming my favourite colour.

**********

In the weeks that followed my, well my date, with James - our first, he insisted, we skirted around whatever it was that we were doing. It wasn't as if we were in a relationship, and we weren't exactly the friends that we had previously been - not that I was sure we'd been friends before I unintentionally asked him to go on a date with me. If I asked James, and I very pointedly didn't ask James, he would easily say that I was the only one who was doing the skirting, who wasn't yet willing to contemplate whatever label was best suited to be applied to what we were. James rather fancied having the label of boyfriend, as he'd already informed me multiple times.

"James," I hissed at him from the corner of my mouth, trying and failing to focus on the lesson. He was being far too distracting and I had long since given up attempting to take notes on the lesson. How could I when he was doing every possible thing he could do to try to distract me? "Would you stop it already? You're distracting me."

"I love distracting you," he confessed as if I didn't know it. Leaning towards me, he nudged my shoulder with his. He briefly propped his chin on my shoulder, "Why won't you let me distract you?"

"Because I actually want to do well on my exams," I shot back.

He conceded, finally straightening up and looking towards the front of the classroom again. Picking up my quill, I attempted to scribble down whatever I thought was important, only for his incessant tapping to distract me again. I gave up with a sigh; I'd just have to borrow someone's notes. Again.

He gave a soft call of my name, and there was something in his tone that had the annoyance fading. I glanced curiously towards him, arching an eyebrow when he said nothing.

"James?" I prompted. A brief smile flirted with the corner of his mouth; he'd already told me that he loved hearing me say his name. "What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking about the investigation," James whispered, "we've been trying for over a month now and we're nowhere near any form of conclusion. I think you should give it up now, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" I repeated faintly, smiling softly. "That's new."

"And it's sticking. So? What do you think about stopping? People could get in trouble."

"You're right," I agreed with a sigh. "I know I might never get an answer, but I'm too far gone now, James. I won't be able to sleep properly if I don't figure this out before I leave Hogwarts."

"You'll spend the rest of your final year chasing an unregistered animagus?" he checked, searching my eyes. When I nodded, he sighed heavily. "Alright, sweetheart, alright. Just - will you sneak out with me after curfew tonight?"

"Of course, I will."

"Look at you," he teased, "to think you'd gone so many years without being out after curfew and now you're out every other night with your boyfriend."

"Not my boyfriend," I said just as steadily as our Professor called for us to pay attention.

Once curfew fell, I made my way out of the common room, half expecting to find James waiting for me as he usually was. But he wasn't there - he'd already told me that he wouldn't be there, that I would find him waiting on the outskirts of the forbidden forest. Some part of me had hoped he'd been lying, because Rowena knew I'd never been out in this castle after curfew by myself, and I certainly didn't want to start now.

"Lane?" the sound of my name had me startled slightly.

"Black?" I asked incredulously, watching the Gryffindor who walked towards me, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm supposed to be your escort," Black said, gesturing for me to lead the way. I eyed him dubiously but set off anyway, I didn't want James waiting in the forest for me. "Did you really think Prongs would let his girlfriend walk around alone?"

"I'm not his girlfriend," I protested.

"Sure," Black said disbelievingly.

We walked in a companionable silence onto the school grounds and headed straight for the forest. When we reached the edge of the treeline, Black took his leave, despite my quiet protests. He just assured me that James would be here shortly. Somehow it didn't reassure me.

Clutching my wand in a tight grasp, I let out a fortifying breath as I waited. Merlin's balls, where was James? It wasn't like him to keep me waiting and -

The snap of a branch breaking behind me had me whirling around suddenly, my heart hammering in my chest as I found myself standing face-to-face with a stag. A stag who watched me with far too intelligent eyes and what I would've thought was an amused tilt of its head. I had been searching this out for months and yet here the animagus was, right in front of me.

It turned to head further into the trees and I briefly contemplated waiting for James, but I couldn't risk losing it. I hurried after it.

"Wait, please," I said, following the stag.

It stopped abruptly, turning to face me again. The stag watched me with steady eyes, maintaining its position when I took slow steps towards it, not wanting to scare it away. My hand was outstretched soothingly as I drew closer -

There was no chance of me getting any closer. Not when, before my very eyes, the creature transformed into a very familiar boy. I came to an abrupt halt, standing before a sheepish-looking James who offered me a hesitant smile. When I said nothing, when I did nothing, James gave a hesitant call of my name.

I let out a sharp breath and murmured, "I think I'm going to faint."

He darted forward, easily closing the space between us and wrapping his arms around me. Drawing me towards him, James cradled me against his chest, keeping me upright when my legs lost all of their strength. He gave yet another tentative call of my name.

"You let me put so much effort into this," I complained, swatting feebly at his chest. Once the initial shock wore off, I would hex him. Definitely hex him. Peering up into his face, I demanded, "You let me run around, looking completely stupid the entire time when you already knew the answer-"

Before I could continue my tirade, James lowered his head and silenced me with a kiss. Surprised but obliging, I returned it. Distantly, I thought that it was rather romantic that our first kiss was beneath the stars. Rowena, I needed to get a grip on myself. I pressed a hand to James's chest and he drew back.

He met my lowered eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"I'm sure I'll eventually be able to rationalise it," I started faintly, "once the shock has worn off."

"Alright, sweetheart," he said softly, leaning down to brush his nose against mine.

"Thank you for telling me your secret."

"You and me, we guard each other's secrets," he said faintly, searchingly. I nodded in agreement.

"But, you also need to help me find a better story now."

James brushed his nose against mine again, before ducking down for yet another quick kiss. He spoke against my mouth, "Deal."

**********

3 YEARS LATER

My love for journalism had always stemmed from a desire to share knowledge, to make people aware of things they previously wouldn't have been aware of. I'd had extremely high expectations of what life in journalism would entail, what working at the Daily Prophet would be like. Each of those expectations hadn't been met, not by a long mile.

It had taken almost a year of working as an intern before my stories were even considered worthy of being considered to run in the paper. And only then, when I had proven that I was capable of writing an article, was I allowed to work on stories. Not that I was interested in any of the stories I was given. No, I was strictly to write about the 'society' stories, about the new additions to illustrious pureblood families, the blooming relationships between notable figures, and the catastrophic breakups of the most loved couples. Each story was just as boring as the one before it.

But they were a start.

And now, amid a war, they were my weapon. I was hardly talented at duelling the way James was - I was able to keep myself safe, yes, but I was no weapon like other members of the order. But this, my stories were my daggers. Each story, innocuous and unsuspecting, contained a cypher that could only be cracked by fellow order members, that would alert them to the details of the next meeting.

With careful eyes, I read over the final draft of my next story - documenting the heartbreaking love story of the matriarch of one of the blasted 'sacred 28' - and checked that I'd made no mistake on my cypher. I hadn't, my detail-driven eye wouldn't let me, but there was no harm in double-checking, especially given how frequently I had to change the cyphers to ensure it wasn't hacked.

Gathering my belongings, I shrugged into my coat and prepared to leave for the day. Returning to my desk, I collated the article in a single pile and carried it with me on my way to the editor's office. Adding it to the growing pile of submitted articles, I was certain that it was ready for publishing and would grace tomorrow's edition of the Prophet.

Leaving the office, I said my goodbyes to the few colleagues who remained and who would likely remain long into the darkened hours of the night. They were all so passionate, if extremely drained as they tried to bring the final drafts together, and I couldn't help but envy that they still had that drive. But, as I reached the bottom of the steps and headed out into the street, I was certain that the man waiting for me was the reason I was envied by so many of my colleagues.

James, who had always been handsome, had gotten more so since we'd left school. He had somehow grown even taller, his shoulders becoming even stronger and even broader in the past years. Somehow, James became more and more handsome every day. He looked especially handsome when his smile lit up his face at just the sight of me. Righteous Rowena had really given me the most of her favour by bestowing me with James.

"Sweetheart," he called out with a smile that had me melting. He outstretched his arms, beckoning me into them.

"Well, if it isn't my unemployed boyfriend, here to pick me up," I teased with a wide smile. I folded myself all too easily into his open arms, burrowing my nose against his shoulder.

"Your unemployed rich boyfriend," James grumbled into my hair. He pressed one, then two lingering kisses to my temple, "Your boyfriend who would look after you if you just let him."

Scoffing, I swatted his back with little strength, even as I continued to hold onto him. If anything, I wrapped my arms even tighter around him and clung. Not that James would protest, he loved it when I became a clinger. "You know I won't let you do that. My brain would go stir crazy if I did nothing."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" James agreed as he finally pulled back from me.

Taking James's extended hand, I let him lead me towards the nearest apparition point. If I leaned a little heavily against him, he said nothing and just bore my weight as we walked. He filled the short journey with chatter, telling me about whatever mischief he'd gotten up to with his friends. Even now, despite the years we had spent together, their escapades continued to surprise me. Every so often they did something that rendered me speechless and poor Remus was still trying to chase after his eyebrows which had run off of his face following their most recent "war". Apparently, James was helping Remus plan his retribution.

James didn't comment on my silence, he just tightened his hold on my hand as we walked. We lived in uncertain times, our friends were very much fighting for their lives, for the lives of their young sons and I had every reason to be spiralling, to barricade myself into my home and refuse to leave it. I should have been living my every moment in fear, it certainly made sense. And yet, I wasn't. And it was all down to James, to his hand in mind that kept me steady and afloat.

We reached the apparition point and James came to a halt, bringing me to a still beside him. He turned his searching eyes onto mine, reading far too easily into my silence. His gaze lingered as if he knew exactly what I was thinking - I didn't doubt that he could. James had the most unnerving knack of knowing me far too well.

He leaned down steadily, without a word, and not needing an explanation and kissed my forehead, right where the overthinking rested. I closed my eyes, letting out a deep breath. It worked, just as steadfastly as it always had. 

____________________

Let me know what you thought ~

I can't make any promises about when the next one shot will be out.  All I can promise is that it will be about someone who:

* Was on the house quidditch team

* Was sorted into Slytherin 

* We don't know too much about them