prompt: for we in our youth did these things

She stands by the window, watching the cat wind her way through the garden. She's not supposed to have visitors, the advanced flyers don't get them during their training. The watchers don't notice the cat. No one does, which is the beauty of a lover with a feline form. As if to prove she's herself, Minerva perches on the far wall, setting her against the rising moon.

Minerva's shadow falls across the garden, a great dark shape like a panther instead of the little tabby cat. Rolanda trembles, cold with anticipation. It's a cool night, crisp with autumn and she imagines the sound small paws must make in the leaves. Leaving the window open just enough, she retreats to the bed. It's a tower room, all the flyers live in the high towers, but Minerva is most clever creature she knows. If anyone can get in, it's her.

Her fingers hang over the page of her text. No history of broomsticks can hold her attention when she knows Mina is on her way. She could look, but that takes the pleasure out of waiting. It's madness of course, if they're caught, they'll both be punished. She can almost picture the disapproving look on the matron's face.

"This is not the behaviour of one of the country's best flyers, nor is this how I expect a licensed animagus to behave," she mumbles to herself, imitating the matron. What's the point of keeping flyers separate from their lovers? Being abstinent does nothing for her control. She thinks, though she has no proof, that it makes her a worse flyer because she's more reckless. The rush of the air through her hair has a different context when she's been away from her kitten.

Minerva's too proper to enjoy nicknames, and she barely tolerates Mina because she has a weakness for Muggle literature. Rolanda doesn't mind nicknames, and she'd let Mina call her anything.

The cat leaps down from the window sill, as pleased with herself as Rolanda is after a particularly good dive. It's a climb to reach the tower, and Mina takes the moment to preen, tucking a paw across her ear. She leaps towards the bed, becoming human as she goes.

When the transformation's over, Mina sits beside her, toying with the catch to her robes. "I've missed you."

Rolanda's been living the life of a airborne hermit for the last few weeks and the scent of Minerva's hair is enough to send tingles like Blast-ended Skrewts up her spine. Though her lover's far younger, it only reminds Rolanda that life is short and precious. She lives years without her and she'll be damned if she'll part with her again.

"Missed is a wee understatement," Rolanda teases. "I dream about you. I keep leaving the window open, hoping you'll sneak in on your little cat feet."

Mina raises an eyebrow as Rolanda kisses the palm of her hand. She pulls it back, playing at the cat's reflex to keep her paws to herself. "I needed to be sure you were in this room and that I could reach it. Falling from height is something I'd prefer to avoid unless you're there to catch me."

Catching a cat falling from the high tower would be a test of her skill, and she's relieved that won't be her final exam today. Reaching for the clasp of Mina's robes, she slips it free, baring pale skin and Mina's elegant collarbone. There's nothing beneath her robe but skin, and Rolanda could be knocked from her broom with a snitch.

"You're a cheeky one."

"I thought I was being expedient," she says, tilting her head and exposing her neck. Rolanda traces it down, baring her other shoulder. Minerva's robe just clings to her breasts, ready to be cast aside and forgotten.

Leaving the bed, Rolanda strips out of her plain nightgown. She's thinner than her lover and Minerva's breasts are round where hers are sloped. The moon on the wall leaves their skin silver and their nipples dark. She crawls naked up to Mina, circling her nipple with her tongue. Mina sighs, digging her fingers into Rolanda's shoulders.

Her lips fall to Rolanda's neck, kissing and working her way up to her mouth. They tumble over the duvet together, letting Minerva's robe slide away to the floor. The window's still open and the moon watches them over the gold-kissed trees. It's all silver beyond the stone window, a dream of ghosts and shadows. Beneath the duvet, they're entwined, limbs around each other.

Minerva slips away in the morning, dancing across the dewy grass as a cat. Rolanda pulls the pillow close and inhales the scent of her. She has an hour to sleep before breakfast and though she'll regret it around midday, when exhaustion hits her, for now the thrill of sex rushes through her. Love is all the warmer, the more mysterious and headlong and that's what will keep her awake.