Work Text:
Graves woke up with a mouthful of hair.
That in and of itself wasn't strange. Mashed into Credence's lovely hair was one of his face's favorite places to be, especially in the mornings. A noseful of the smell of it made waking up worthwhile, even more than coffee did.
The strange thing was the hair's texture: fluffy and short. Not the long, twisty curls he'd grown used to over the past months. More like fur than hair. Graves nuzzled and felt more fur, also fluffy. He heard a small, bewildered mew.
Graves' eyes flew open. Credence crouched by the pillow beside him, whiskers quivering, eyes wide.
Lurching upright, Graves found his hands weren't hands at all, but broad, black paws. His claws sank into the mattress. The sheet slipped from his furred haunches to bare his long, black tail. The tail lashed once, as if of its own accord, then went still.
Credence sat up on his neat white paws, looking worried. Graves rumbled in his throat to reassure. He'd never pulled off the Animagus transformation in his sleep before, let alone somehow dragged Credence with him--Side-Along Transfiguration?--but there was a first time for everything. Must've been some dream, he thought. Gathering his magic, he cast the counter-spell to change back.
Nothing happened.
He flicked an ear. He tried again: same deal. Still a panther. A handsome panther, mind you--he had that on good authority--but Graves preferred pantherhood as a temporary state.
He peered at Credence, hoping to communicate the question with his stare: can you transform?
Credence shook his fluffy head.
Tail lashing, Graves huffed, and with a loud thud leaped down from the bed.
*
Wandless magic came in handy when you had no hands. Graves managed to get both himself and Credence halfway decent, in shirts and ties and vests. The alterations necessary to accommodate a tail proved beyond him, so they had to do without pants.
They left the bedroom and stalked down the hall. In the living room they heard a tapping, followed by the flutter of wings: a pigeon at the window glass. Graves reared up on his hind legs to open the window, and before the bird could fly off in a panic, caught it with a swipe of his paw. A strip of paper dropped from its leg to unfurl.
It wasn't easy to read as a panther, but Graves could manage if he squinted. He and Credence stared at the message where it lay on the floor.
***OOPS, YOU'VE BEEN CURSED***
Why can't I transform?
All Animagi in New York are now under a ransom curse. You will be unable to transform back to human until you or your proxy deposit 300 dragots in Bethesda Fountain in Central Park. The curse will lift after payment is received in full. You have 3 days to submit payment before price doubles. Payment is accepted in dragots only. Thank you, have a nice day.
Graves crumpled the message under his paw and snarled.
*
Another pigeon came with a mass message from MACUSA, urging calm and advising recipients not to pay. The Goldsteins showed up within half an hour, Tina and Queenie both. Graves approved of the quick thinking, though even in animal shape it took an effort to open his mind enough for Queenie to hear. There was some loss of fidelity in the transmission--it was, you might say, a little fuzzy.
Tina had known Graves was an Animagus: that was common if unofficial knowledge around the department. It was the sight of Credence that made her press her hand to her cheek.
"Credence, too? When did you learn the spell?"
"Just a few weeks ago, he says," Queenie chirped.
Tina shook her head, smile growing misty. "Is there anything you can't do?"
No, there's not, and never mind that, roared Graves in his head. Queenie winced. Who's on the case?
"Everyone, sir," said Tina quickly, after Queenie relayed. "Everyone in Major Investigations, every expert on counter-curses we've got. Who's not also stuck in animal shape. The President's declared it top priority." She paused. "I never knew there were so many of you."
Everybody wants to be a cat, thought Graves coolly. And it damn well better be top priority. I'm not paying three hundred dragots to some low-life money-grubbing scum who've got the nerve to slap their dirty curse on me, and neither is anyone else.
"He's, um, glad to hear it?" Queenie said. Graves' eyes thinned to slits.
Don't you edit me, Miss Goldstein.
"Sorry, Mr. Graves!"
He gave another whiskery huff. Tell me we've got people on the damned fountain. And the registry office.
"Yes sir," said Tina. "Don't worry, Mr. Graves. You too, Credence. We'll take care of this one. I'll send updates as soon as we have them."
Queenie offered a reassuring smile. "Maybe I could bring you boys a tuna sandwich?"
Graves escorted the sisters to the door and watched them Disapparate. He prowled back to the living room to find Credence crouched beside the curse notice, tail curled around him, looking very small. He blinked up woefully at Graves.
Graves padded to him swiftly. Sweetheart, it's okay. It'll be okay. He settled down with Credence between his forepaws, nudging their cheeks together. Acting on sheer instinct, he swiped his tongue over the top of Credence's head. Tina won't rest until she cracks this, he thought, wishing Credence could hear him. Wishing they could speak. Neither of them was a natural Legilimens, but maybe they ought to beef up the skill.
Mew, said Credence. He bumped his head against Graves' chin, kneading one black forepaw with his small white feet. A soft purr thrummed from his throat. Then he glanced toward the kitchen.
Speaking of beef, thought Graves, they hadn't had their breakfast yet.
*
They were sharing a slab of cold roast between them--Credence perched on the kitchen table, Graves with his hindquarters on a chair--when the curse broke.
A wave of magic rushed over them, somehow sweeping through the house's wards. It left them sitting in human shape, both bare-assed, Graves with a chunk of meat dangling from his teeth. He chewed and swallowed.
"Well, that was quick." Kudos to the counter-curse team, he thought. He'd better make sure they got their Christmas bonuses.
Credence scrambled from the tabletop and covered himself with a napkin, flushing.
"Now, it's nothing I haven't seen before," said Graves mildly, wiping his mouth. Nothing he hadn't seen recently, at close quarters, with great appreciation.
"Not on the table," blurted Credence. It gave Graves pause. He started to grin. If he'd still had his tail, it would've twitched.
"Now that you mention it--"
Credence was already hightailing it to the bedroom. "I'm going to finish getting dressed," he said. "Before Miss Goldstein comes back with tuna."