A/N: My sister had asked me for Simon and Baz fics way back when Fangirl came out, but I never got to it. Now that there's a novel, well...these two just came to live in my head, and they won't leave until I write about them.

These are all written from prompts from a tumblr meme that I liked. There's also a reference to Fangirl and one to Doctor Who, because I can't help myself (see if you can spot them :) ). Please read and review, I love hearing from you!

I do not own these characters, all rights belong to Rainbow Rowell and St. Martin's/Macmillan.

Simon Snow searched his desk drawers and found a silver torch, but no batteries. He looked under his bed and found a half-eaten packet of crisps (which he ate), and a biscuit tin full of interesting rocks he'd collected during his third year, but no batteries. He briefly considered searching Baz's desk, but Baz was so good at fire magic, he'd probably never even used a torch in his life. Besides, Simon was fairly certain Baz had set up lock protections, and he didn't fancy being found in the morning with his hand magickally glued to his roommate's desk.

There was no help for it. He'd have to wake Baz.

He scooted across the floor to Baz's bed and poked the mattress with the end of the torch. There was no reply from the heap of blankets above him.

"Baz?" he whispered loudly. The blankets groaned and rolled farther away. "Baz, are you awake?"

"How could I possibly be asleep when you keep rattling tins of rocks and crashing about?" Baz emerged from his blanket cocoon and glared down at Simon. "Crowley, Snow, this better be good."

"I need your, um... your help. You can see in the dark. Right? I mean, can't you?"

"Can't find the loo again?"

"No! I mean, yes, yes I can; no, that's not why I need you." Simon rucked his hands through his hair in frustration and accidentally smacked himself in the face with the empty torch. Baz snarled and disappeared back into the bed.

Simon stood up and shook his shoulder through the blankets. "No, no no no, come back. I need your help. Truly, The school depends on it."

"I have yet to hear a compelling reason why I should get out of bed, Snow."

Simon glanced out the window onto the lawn. Still dark and empty, but for how long? "I'll... um. I'll owe you?" His voice squeaked at the end and he cleared his throat to try and cover it up, but Baz still rolled over and stared at him.

"Really."

"Yes?"

Baz considered for a moment, then stood up in one graceful movement and swung his dressing gown over his shoulders. "Put on a shirt and then tell me what's so important that you'll risk owing your sworn enemy."

"You're not my—and, no. I'm hot."

Baz tripped over the slipper he was trying to put on and sat down on the edge of his bed with a thump. "Some of us," he said, enunciating carefully, " aren't perpetually two shakes away from lighting ourselves on fire. It's 7 bloody Celsius in here when you leave the window open. Put on a fucking shirt; you're making me cold."

He threw a sweatshirt at Simon, who obediently put it on. He sat down across from Baz on his own bed, twisting the torch in his hands.

"I need to go to the Wood."

Baz dropped his head in his hands. "Stars and garters, Snow, can't you leave the poor Wood alone?"

"Listen! There's a—a creature, there. It got in. And it hunts magicians by their magic use, but as long as no one's using magic, it can't see them. So I—we-have to go now, before the rest of the school wakes up. And that's why I—need you? Unless you have batteries?" He waved the torch. "Because I—we, um, can't use magic light."

"And how did you find out about this special new friend of yours, exactly?" Baz asked, his face still hidden in his hands.

"The Mage told me."

"Why can't your precious Mage take care of it, instead of sending his protege?"

"He is, I mean, he's trying. He's out there with it. He sent a bird to tell me."

"Is that what that sound was? I thought that was you." Baz stood up. "Won't the magic use have alerted this 'creature' to the Mage?"

"Yes. That's why we need to get going, he might need help."

"Oh, you all need help. Serious, serious help." Baz opened their room door and headed down the stairs. "Well, come on then, Snow. Can't have you wandering around killing yourself in the dark willy-nilly. That's my job."

Simon fought a ridiculous urge to hold Baz's hand as they crossed the lawn in the dark, heading for the Wood. But just so that he didn't get too far ahead. The Mage, alone and practically defenseless in the Wood, would probably be too much of a temptation for Baz; who knew what he would try and do if he was left alone.

But he didn't. Hold Baz's hand. Because that would be weird. So he settled for walking very close beside him, so close their sleeves kept brushing, Baz walking with confidence in the almost complete darkness, Simon stumbling along beside him. Occasionally Baz would glance over at him. Probably in irritation. It was too dark to tell.

As they entered the wood, Simon began to be able to pick out details more clearly. He was excited, thinking his eyes were finally adjusting, before he realized there was a dull glow coming from up ahead, and that's why he could see. A dull glow. Like flames. Simon ran forward.

Baz yanked him back, right before he could crash into a tree. "You really do have a death wish, don't you?" he hissed. "We approach burning things carefully, Snow. Not like we're happy to see them. Although in your case..."

"Can't you stop snarking for one bloody minute?" Simon snapped, wrestling out of Baz's surprisingly strong grasp. "The Mage is in danger."

"I can snark and sneak at the same time." Baz let go of his shirt, only to grab his upper arm and drag him forward with him at a more cautious pace.

There was a clearing ahead. Simon recognized it as a place he'd followed Baz to during fifth year. There was a natural log bench off to the side. Baz had liked to sit there. Across the clearing there was a tangle of berry bushes where Simon had hidden and watched him. (The berries didn't taste very good.)

Now, the Mage sat on the log bench, and Simon's view of the berry bushes was obscured by a glowing, flaming ball of purplish-blue fluff that hovered at knee height in the center of the clearing. It pulsed softly, and the air suddenly smelled like burning hair.

Simon shrugged off Baz and dropped to his knees in front of the Mage, shaking him, waving and snapping his fingers in front of his face, but to no avail. The Mage simply stared straight ahead, in some sort of thrall before the fluffy ball. He turned around in time to see Baz leaning into the ball's light. Simon jumped up.

"Flammable!" he shouted, and rushed at Baz, who neatly sidestepped him and smirked as he had to flail remain upright.

"Why, Snow, I didn't know you cared. Besides, I'm not as stupid as you look; I know better than to touch strange things I find on the ground." He gestured at the fluff ball. "We are obviously dealing with a MagiCat."

"How is it obvious?" Simon asked, fed up with Baz always knowing things.

"You've obviously never had a cat." He shrugged out of his dressing gown, seemed to calculate for a moment, then tossed the garment over the fluff ball.

"Wait!" said Simon, too late. "Is it magic?"

"Is my dressing gown magic? No, Snow, not last I checked." The ball bounced gently, but otherwise did not move. Baz's face, as he smiled triumphantly at Simon, was lit from below in a maroon glow as the ball's light shown through the fabric. "This is a Seeker; the Cat coughs it up, and it goes forth to find mages. When it does, it holds them until the Cat can arrive." Baz shook his head. "I'm surprised Bunce has stuck with you so long if she has to explain everything to you. No doubt it makes her feel important. Do you have a bin bag? I'm not walking back clutching cat yak."

Simon gaped, then gestured at himself. "Pockets?"

"Useless as usual, Snow."

"I could carry it. But what are we going to do with-"

"You're leaking enough magic all over the place, it's a wonder it hasn't trapped you yet. Suppose I'll have to fix everything again." And he snapped his fingers and said firmly, "Don't get mad, get Glad!"

Simon had time to make an inarticulate noise, and Baz had the grace to look chagrined, before the ball pulsed and incinerated the dressing gown, freezing Baz into position. A single black bin bag fluttered to the ground out of his grasp.

The underbrush at the side of the clearing rustled, then rustled again, and Simon saw, over the pulsing hairball, that the berry bushes were swaying. There was no time to lose. He glanced between Baz and the Mage. His magic was useless, and he was worse than useless without even that. You can't intimidate a hairball, let alone a cat. Baz was so much better at this kind of thing, at any kind of thing, really-

The bushes rustled again, and in the fluff ball's light, he saw the glint of eyes through the leaves. Without thinking, Simon snatched up the bin bag, rustled it open, slammed it over the glowing ball, and ran from the clearing.

He stumbled through the dark wood, only barely able to see by a dull grayish light emanating from the bag. The fluff ball was hot, so very hot; he could feel it radiating outwards, singing his arm, pants leg, hands, whenever it bounced against him as he ran. He hoped it wouldn't melt the bag altogether, or he didn't know what he'd do. He didn't know what he was doing as it was. He could hear Penny berating him in his head for rushing off once again with no plan at all.

He crashed out of the Wood and fell to his knees on the lawn, scrambling up again heavily. He was leaking magic; Baz was right. (Again. Always.) He was always leaking magic. The fluff ball was pulling on him, weighing him down, he could feel his legs starting to cramp with the effort of resisting it's attempts to freeze him. Simon looked back, almost falling as he did ("Don't run backwards, you great numpty!" Penny-in-his-head shouted), to make sure the Cat was following.

It was. It certainly was. A glowing cat form slinked out of the Wood, orange and bright in the night. It was large. Very, very large. Like a house cat, but the size of a small horse.

Simon turned back around and ran the rest of the way to the moat. He swung the bag out and tossed it with all his might into the water.

It floated for a moment, glowing and lighting up the side of the wall. The bin bag floated away from around it, and the fluff ball bobbed, suspended in the water for a moment before it utterly disintegrated and its light flamed out.

Simon rested his hands on his knees, bending over to catch his breath. There was silence from behind him. He slowly turned around.

The MagiCat sat placidly, a yard away, watching him with intent, glowing eyes, its tail flicking back and forth in front of its paws, back and forth, back and forth. He backed up, remembering just in time that the moat was directly behind him. He edged to the side. The cat unfolded itself and followed.

There was a figure on duty at the main gate. One of the Mage's Men, it looked like. Simon ran closer. Premal! Penny's brother. He called out to him.

Premal turned and raised his lantern to see what—who-was running at him.

"Don't use any magic!" Simon shouted in warning, unsure what would happen now that the Seeker ball was gone.

Premal frowned and looked past him. "Great Merlin, Simon, where did you get a MagiCat?"

Does everyone know what these things are except me? "In the Wood!" Simon called aloud. "I need to trap it! Do you—do you have a box, or something?"

Premal gave him a Look, very similar to one of Penny's. Then he handed the lantern to Simon and made a 'stay here' gesture. He sidled past the MagiCat and ran off in the direction of the drawbridge.

Simon clutched the lantern and leaned back against the main gates, panting, staring at the cat. It sat down again, tail twitching as before. It was almost hypnotic to watch. Back and forth, back and forth, back...and...forth...back...

Other sounds...there were other sounds, out beyond the circle of light cast by the lantern and the cat...but they didn't mean anything...simply noise...shouty noises...beyond...beyond what was important..which was...nothing was important...nothing at all...not even breathing...

He felt the lantern slip from his grasp, but it didn't even register. He felt himself, slipping down the bars of the gate to the ground, the cold, damp ground. Shoutiness. Cardboard-y noises. A loud "mrrrp!' and hissing, and then a sharp slap across his face that he did feel, most certainly.

"Fuck!"

"Get up, Snow, you're making the ground steam." Baz stood in front of him, wearing his pajamas and a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Beyond him, Simon saw Premal, poking holes in a large cardboard box lid while the Mage stood over the box and cast a binding spell.

Simon hung onto the gate and hauled himself upright. He reached down and conscientiously set the lantern up, then raked back his disordered hair and looked again at Baz. He was still standing in front of him, and the look on his face was unreadable in the flickering light.

"Thank you," said Simon, meaning it.

"Don't mention it. Please. Let's not make this awkward, Snow."

"I—I owe you."

"I think I'd rather you didn't, all things considered. A debt paid from you might very well kill me. But you can do me a favor."

"Oh? Yes?"

"Next time you need help with something, don't wake me up." And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the dorm, not even stopping when the Mage called his name.