A/N: I own nothing - I merely enjoy tormenting JK Rowling's characters.


Minerva McGonagall stalked along the corridor daring anyone to comment on her presence. Of course, she could hardly grant detention in her current state, but woe betide any foolhardy student once she regained her more accustomed form. In the meantime, she could always content herself with scratching their eyes out…

It was humiliating enough for a witch of her calibre to have gotten stuck like this, but what was far more galling was that, since she doubted the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office would construe a purr as the correct password, she was unable to approach Albus for help and would have to resort to the only other person in the castle whose competence she trusted sufficiently to allow him to perform such complicated spellwork on her. Severus would never allow her to live it down.

Slinking through the crack of Severus’ door, which had been left ajar, she sprang onto his desk, neatly landing in the middle of the parchment that the Potion’s Master was attempting to mark.

“What the–?” he spluttered in irritation. “Minerva?”

She sat down on his desk, front paws planted on the edge, and nodded curtly in very unfeline fashion.

A small smile quirked at the corners of Severus’ lips, which looked distinctly unaccustomed to such an action.

“You wouldn’t be unable to transform, would you? How unfortunate! I suppose you’ve come for my assistance?” There was faint mockery in his carefully bland tone and Minerva merely glared at him with a look that would have made a student stutter in fear of a year of detention. Severus, though, had not been her student for many years, and his amusement was not so easily quelled. She hissed and arched her back in obvious threat.

“Is that really the way to treat someone whose help you require?” Severus taunted her, raising his wand and making a series of complex motions interspersed with snippets of incantation.

Suddenly, Minerva found herself once more human, but still perched on Severus’ desk, now in a distinctly undignified position.

“A hand, Minerva?” Severus offered as she attempted to climb down.

“One word, Severus, one word, and I swear…” she snapped, ignoring the proffered hand.

“Of course not,” he replied with a roll of his eyes that made Minerva realise she was being quite ungrateful.

“Thank you,” she muttered grudgingly as she turned to leave, unaware of the other professor’s slight smile at her retreating back as he wondered just how long it would take her to notice the whiskers.