Catch Me You're It

Studying late at night was never her thing. She ran a delicate hand through her honey-colored hair and sighed. Her innate time sense told her it was nearing three in the morning. She looked back at the book she was reading and sighed again. Too bad no one was up this late. Not even the Marauders would stay up studying until three. She carefully set the book down and stretched languidly, her long legs uncurling from the couch.

"Damn, you're sexy when you do that," purred a voice. She started and turned. "What, you were expecting Father Christmas? He comes down chimneys, and you've still got two months to go."

"No, I wasn't expecting Father Christmas. But I wasn't expecting you three to be up now, either. Where's Peter?"

"Snoring like a pig. We didn't have the heart to wake him. Speaking of, what are you doing up at three in the morning?"

"Studying, reading, zoning, mostly. I was... daydreaming."

"Hmm, about what? Or whom?"

"Sod off, James, I believe we were having a private discussion. Go ahead."

"Right, as if I'd tell you three. You'd make my life hell with blackmail and teasing. No. Thanks but I'll pass." She turned once again to get a book from the floor. Then Sirius came and draped himself over the back of the sofa, his arms dangling off it and his back leaning on her legs. "Sirius, go away," she managed, glancing up at Lupin and Potter as if to say, Can't you control him? Sirius grinned up at her with his little boy grin and she only barely managed a straight face. A scowl would be out of the question. She picked up a book. "Get off me, or I'll hit you," she said. Lupin and Potter reached down to haul him upright.

"Come on, love. Why are you always studying? You're the smartest in the class, and that's including me and James."

"Yes, the smartest because I study. Constantly."

"Didn't look so constant to me when you were snogging with Jason in a dark corner yesterday." It was his bait, and she knew it.

"I haven't the faintest recollection as to what you are referring," she replied. "Now, if you aren't down here to give me a massage, then go away."

"You know the price."

"More than willing to pay it, if you're good, Sirius. You know that." She blushed faintly, but it went unnoticed in the light from the fire.

"All right. Ten minutes for one kiss. On the lips this time, princess." He started working on her shoulders and she dropped the book into her lap in pure bliss.

"Mmm... oh, that feels good." She leaned back against the sofa back as he worked on her shoulder muscles, loosening them and relaxing them. "By Merlin's spells, you are good!" she exclaimed, completely surprised. She'd never accepted one of his massages before, but all the girls who had told her he was the best. It had to be his long fingers, strong from Quidditch, and gentle, from being quite the lover (she'd heard).

"You know, you'd better quit making those noises," he said suddenly. His voice was definitely huskier than it had been previously. She tilted her head back to look at him, thoroughly, innocently confused.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Stop moaning! It's only a massage for Merlin's sake, Deirdre!"

"But it feels good. My shoulders have been in knots all day!" She was still confused. She glanced to Potter and Lupin for answers. But they had begun a game of wizard's chess and were devoutly studying the board. "I know I shouldn't stay up late, but I get started and I get carried away. Then I tense up."

"I know," he muttered.

"And this time is the best time to use the baths. There's no one in there this early. Or late, depending on how you look at it."

She talked. And with her head tilted the way it was, her soft hair was brushing against the sensitive skin of his forearm. He growled under his breath and further restrained himself. It wasn't bad enough that he, Sirius Black, the lady's man, couldn't have this one girl he wanted. No, she had to go and be so damned innocent that he couldn't flirt with her.

Damn her and her sexy little moans. Damn her and her dead sexy body. Her eyes were blue. And they were half-closed with both weariness and pleasure. Sirius smirked inwardly. He was good at what he did, that was the honest truth. He looked down at Deirdre's upturned face. Her face that haunted the dreams of any number of seventh years, just like him. He knew that Lupin dreamed of her. But not James. No, not James. James was stuck on Lily as firmly as glue sticks to parchment. Nothing could tear the two of them apart.

"Sirius? Hello, Hogwarts calling Sirius!" He blinked, yanked from his musings.

"Hmm?"

"You started to mutter to yourself, Siri," she said. "I didn't understand you, but you were definitely muttering."

"Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking."

"About what? Or whom?" she teased.

Merlin, doesn't she know what that smile does to my hormones!? Obviously, she didn't because she kept on smiling. He kept working on her neck, gently enticing the muscles to relax completely. And then, finally, but all too soon, he was done.

"You're done," he choked out. She smiled again and looked up.

"I suppose you'll be wanting payment now?" she asked sweetly. He tried to nod, but nothing happened. He opened his mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. The only thing in the room was the buzzing in his ears and the blue of her eyes. She watched him. "Sirius?"

"That'd be...ahem, that will be just fine." Innocently, she lifted her face to him. He leaned down and brushed his lips once against hers. Then he pulled back, hating himself for being driven to cowardice, hating her for driving him to cowardice. She then stretched out on the sofa and curled up around a throw pillow with her book.

Remus looked up and goggled, which caused James to turn as well. His jaw dropped. Deirdre had finished 'paying' Sirius for the massage and was now curled up on the sofa. Her camisole straps were sliding down off her shoulders and her skirt had slid up to bare a shapely, tanned slice of perfect thigh. Even James couldn't help staring. And the little innocent was oblivious to it. All three boys swallowed hard.

Deirdre blinked and the words continued to swim on the page. She had to face it, she was just too relaxed after her massage to read anything. She marked the page, closed it and set it aside. Paying absolutely no attention to the three boys still in the room, she turned her face towards the fire. She brought one leg up farther, unwittingly baring another healthy portion of her legs to the three boys.

She recalled her earlier visions. She wouldn't really call them visions; they were more like dreams. The fire painted pictures for her. She had flown in the fire once. She had seen her dead parents, her dead grandparents. She had seen her friends. She saw lots of things in the endlessly changing flames. She had seen the results of her Apparating license test before she'd been given the test. She had seen something else, something darker that she couldn't quite identify.

She blinked again and had come back to the room. The fire had died down and the three Marauders had fallen asleep in the common room. James and Sirius were using each other as pillows next to the couch. Remus was using Sirius's legs for a pillow, with his feet stretched towards the fire. She couldn't get off the couch without waking them.

"By Merlin's beard, I'm tired! What time is it?" The sun was coming in through the windows, and she saw that blocks of it fell across their faces. They'd be awake soon. She climbed over the back of the couch and hit the floor silently. Catlike, she padded up to her dormitory and grabbed her clothes for the day. Silent as she could be, she tiptoed to the bathroom.

Inside, she turned on the taps and filled the huge tub with thick foam that smelled of apple. Undressing, she slid in, leaving her towels and clothes near enough the pool that she could get them without much trouble but far enough so that she didn't accidentally splash them.

She swam around for a bit, washing her hair. Then she reached for her towel and climbed out, wrapping it around herself. The second one was used for her hair. She had just wrapped it around her head and picked up her clothes when they stumbled in, yawning and rubbing their eyes. She disappeared behind the partition that led to the girls' side of the baths.

"Good thing I didn't have another one of these dreams last night," Sirius said to James and Remus as they soaked.

"Which ones? The ones where you wake up saying her name, or the ones where you scream it and wake us all up?" retorted James sleepily.

"Either," Sirius yawned. His eyes widened as she appeared, dried and dressed, her hair styled naturally, the way it fell.

"Morning," she said cheerfully.

"Deirdre!" James chided playfully. "We're naked."

"Half-naked," she corrected. For the boys, like the girls, were required to wear either bathing suits or undergarments into the baths. "Besides, that foam is so thick I couldn't see through it if I tried." She flushed. "Not that I'd try, mind you." Without another word, she left.

"So... that was different."

"Do you think she's ready for Catch Me?" Remus stared at him.

"You wouldn't!" he exclaimed. Then he blinked and hung his head. "What am I saying? You would. By Merlin, man, can't you just leave one of them well enough alone?" Remus was frustrated as Sirius with the failure that met his attempts to court Deirdre. But he never would, nor could seduce a virgin to satisfy his own boy hormones. His enhanced sense picked up a trail of her own scent, jasmine and a hint of the apple scent in the foam. He loved the way she smelled. He shook his head to clear it and hoisted himself out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist and retreating into the boy's half of the baths.

Moments later, he emerged, dry and dressed, as Deirdre had been. He waved to his friends and went out to see if he could salvage any of his unfinished homework from the night before.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes attracted to and held by the slim figure curled up, asleep on the sofa. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes curled on her cheeks. She had one hand under her cheek to cushion it. He swallowed several times and approached, silent. He could smell her so strongly he could almost taste her. His hormones started firing, but he restrained himself with all the self-control he possessed.

He knelt down until his face was inches from hers. Their breaths mingled. He willed her to wake up. Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyes opened. She stared straight into his soft amber eyes. And then she smiled.

It was all he could do to restrain himself. "Good morning," he whispered, keeping his voice low to hide his struggles. Her smile widened and she leaned a little closer.

"Good morning." Shyly, she pressed her lips to his. Just as he was overcoming his initial shock, she jerked back, her face flaming. He smiled shyly. "I am so sorry!" she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "I wasn't thinking. I-I can't believe I just did that!"

"No, Deirdre, it's all right! Calm down, love, it's fine!" Her face slowly cooled. He brushed a hand over her cheek. "Are you all right?"

"I guess so. I didn't realize what I was doing. It won't happen again." She got up and left him sitting on the floor, wishing she'd have remained out of her mind. Deirdre Sullivan had just kissed him.

Deirdre was one of the first to arrive at breakfast. She still had that dreamlike quality to her expression, and she was obviously focused on things less mundane than the world she was in. Which was, perhaps, why Severus Snape found himself sitting next to the prettiest seventh year girl in Hogwarts, the girl he and all his friends dreamed about at night.

She didn't seem to realize her mistake. She spooned oatmeal into the bowl in front of her and then poured milk and honey on it. Stirring the whole thing, she began to eat, still dreamily focused far away. It wasn't until she turned to him to ask that he pass the juice that she realized she was in the wrong place.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, glancing from him to her bowl and across the hall to the Gryffindor table that she'd missed by a mile. "Oh, goodness! Excuse me!" She got up, leaving her spoon in the bowl. She braced herself on his shoulder as she lifted her legs over the bench. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!" And she hurried away. Chance lost.

She dropped onto the bench and picked up an apple. And set it down again. She picked up a pastry. It made it halfway to her lips before she discarded that too and set it down. Then the boys came in, the flashy Marauders. Snape glared.

No sooner, however, had they sat down, than Deirdre got up. She hesitated when Sirius said something. At that moment, Snape's attention was diverted by the arrival of pompous, stuck-up Lucius Malfoy. He sat down and eyed the bowl still filled with oatmeal. "Who the hell does that belong to?" he asked.

"Deirdre Sullivan," replied Snape and several other boys in chorus. Lucius' eyes bugged. And bugged some more when she suddenly appeared and reached for the bowl.

"Pardon," she said softly. "Forgot my cereal." She picked it up and they all stared. She carried the bowl back to the Gryffindor table and set it down between Lupin and Peter. Across from her sat Lily Evans, between Potter and Black.

Remus was tingling all over from his contact with Deirdre. Peter was shoveling food into his mouth. And Sirius was glaring jealousy barbs across the table at Remus. Lily blinked sleepily and did double-take. "Princess, did you cast a glamour this morning?" Lily blurted, using the nickname that the boys used.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," she replied plaintively. "My mother used to call me that." Immediately, several faces appeared deeply sorry. "If you must use a nickname, call me something else."

"Good idea!" James said, forced cheerfulness grating on their nerves. "We all have nicknames, except for Lily, of course."

"I hate nicknames, for me. I call my sister Petty, though, and it drives her crazy." Lily smiled. "Sorry, back to you. What kind of nickname can you get from Deirdre?"

"My middle name is Kathryn," she said slowly, not realizing why she felt the sudden need to have a nickname.

"Kate? Katie?"

"My cousins always called my Kitty. Their cats always loved when I'd come to visit."

"Kitty?"

"I always liked it, a bit."

"All right, then Kitty it is! Hey, did you study for Charms last night? I never managed to get to it." Lily glanced sideways at her boyfriend as he snickered into his cereal. "What?"

"I was up all night, studying. They caught me at about three this morning."

"I was wondering why your bed was perfectly made this morning."

Deirdre yawned. She ate another spoonful of oatmeal, then sighed, and yawned again. "I'll see you all later, then," she said, getting up. She walked slowly out of the Hall, turning heads as she went. She walked up the many stairs to Gryffindor Tower, and sleepily gave the password to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open and she stumbled in. She sat on the sofa to gather her things together.

The Marauders and Lily walked in three hours later, after their double Potions with the Slytherins, all worried about Deirdre's mysterious absence from class. She was stretched out on the sofa, the Charms text on her stomach. One hand rested on top of it, the other was curled next to her cheek. She was out cold.

The boys watched her sleep for a minute. Lily went to get her books for the next class. When she came back, Deirdre had been covered by a blanket and the boys had neatened her pile of books. James placed a finger to his lips and they left the common room. Once the portrait hole had closed behind them, he turned to the Fat Lady.

"I have changed the password to Gryffindor Tower," he said. And he could, too; the Head Boy badge on his robes said as much.

"What is it?" the portrait asked.

"I'll tell you later."

"But, the other students!"

"Tell them I said to stuff it, they can wait." Without further commentary, they turned and walked away.

It was nearly midnight when she finally sat up, rubbing her eyes. She noticed that there were things strewn all over the common room, and she felt well-rested. Maybe she was ready to pull another all-nighter. She stretched and in her mind, heard Sirius's words from the night before: Damn, you're sexy when you do that. She smiled and stretched some more.

She swung her feet to the floor and something crackled. She pulled a piece of parchment out from under her foot. It was addressed to her, as Kitty. She unfolded it and read it. The message was simple: Catch Me, You're It.

She tilted her head to the side and padded barefoot over to the portrait hole, draping her robe over the back of a chair on her way. "Excuse me," she whispered. "Did Sirius Black or James Potter go out tonight?"

"James Potter and that filthy dog of his. They left about ten minutes ago, along with their friend Lupin."

"Thank you." She set down the note and prepared to play. She'd heard of this game. She remembered the rules. Her mother had taught her how to hunt. Her senses were sharpened, and she had a natural cat's grace. She waved her hand lazily and the glamour she'd cast for the first time seven years ago faded. Her ears were sharply pointed; her eyes were blue, with a cat's slit pupils. Her nose was somewhat flared and her senses were sharpened a hundredfold.

She was a Felanoid, half human, half changeling. She detected their scents and began to follow them. She knew what people saw her as. She was able to scent changes in body chemistry, which meant hormone shifts, emotional shifts... she knew the level of self-control both the werewolf and the Animagus had to exert over themselves to keep themselves from just taking advantage of her "innocence."

She held back the full change, which happened once a month, regularly. She could hold it off relatively easy during the first three weeks. After that, the struggle grew more intense. It was starting to eat at her now, in her fourth week before the change.

Their scents were intermingled, and they were pretty regular. She followed them, ears pricked slightly. She felt every current of air on her oversensitive skin. She shivered; one of the reasons she hated the Change was that it meant she had to wear less clothing, just in case. Tonight, she was wearing a sating/elastic halter and a short skirt. Her shoes were gone, as was her robe.

She reached an intersection and the three scents spit up. The handwriting on the note had been Sirius' and James wasn't really playing; he was a distraction. But Remus... ah, now there was a puzzle. He was a werewolf, the sworn enemy of her kind, and she wanted him the most. She followed his scent. It led her through a maze of rooms and hallways. Twice, she had to backtrack. Once, she almost lost it completely.

She came to a dead end hall and tilted her head, relying on her ears now, more than her nose. There! The wall was a panel. She pushed through it and continued on. She could smell him so strongly now, she was getting dizzy. He was sweating lightly. But his scent was mostly the unique werewolf musk mixed with the smell of old books and cinnamon toast that was purely Remus. Then there was his heightened level of awareness coupled with his surges of adrenalin. He was excited, having trouble keeping his hormones in check, much more trouble than he'd had that morning.

She was getting close. Very close. She sniffed delicately again and caught where he was. She made a big show of wandering past him, shuffling her feet. Cat-quiet, she crept back to his hiding place and slowly, silently crawled in until she was sitting right in front of him.

"Looking for me?" she purred. Their hands were less than millimeters apart.

He was sitting stiffly and she abruptly realized why. She swore, colorful language. He'd caught her true scent, the one that a glamour could hide. She sat back on her haunches, the skirt stretching with her. She started to slide backwards when he snatched her wrist with his sharp-nailed hand.

"All this time," he rasped. "And you..." He couldn't help the way his human half was reacting to hers, nor could she. She smelled the excitement in his sweat.

"Yes. The glamour hid it from even you. Werewolf." The word didn't cause any change in his body. She licked her lips. "I knew you the moment I stepped onto that train. I smelled you, and then... for seven years, we've lived in peace, been friends, Remus. Friends. Us, with our species being mortal enemies. Just because I share their blood doesn't mean I share their ideas. Hell, you are the one I came after tonight!"

"You...you kissed me this morning. You slipped. And I was too blinded by the lust from my human half to see what you showed me," he said bitterly.

"Hey, you invited me to play this game with you."

"Traitorous feline."

"Murderous canine," she replied without missing a beat. "I came after you, werewolf. You." She touched his face and took heart when he didn't slap her hand away. She cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked her thumb up and down his smooth skin. He growled and knocked her to the side, onto the floor. Then he climbed atop her, holding her arms above her head.

He bent down until his face was centimeters from hers. "Don't do that again." He pressed his warm lips to hers. Squirming under his warm weight, she smelled passion; whether his or hers, she couldn't say. She felt his lean, languid body on top of her, pressing her back into the cold stone floor. And she kissed him. Almost angrily, he tore his lips away from hers and trailed them down the side of her neck, which she tilted to one side. He felt her as a part of him, knew where to apply pressure, where to trail teasing brushes. He felt, instinctively, how to make her want more.

"An unexplored aspect of your werewolf half?" she whispered between gasps. She struggled to hold onto coherent thought as he continued his ministrations. She tried to free her hands so she could touch him, feel his heated skin. But he held her firmly, denying her the pleasure. "Please!" she gasped as he found a spot just behind her ear and sucked gently. She was beyond gasps now, and had moved right into moans and sighs.

"You want to touch me, princess?" he asked, his eyes glittering coldly. She nodded. "Answer me."

"Yes!"

"I'm all yours." He freed her hands and planted his on either side of her head, raising up a bit to look down at her. Her honey hair was spread out underneath her head in a downy halo. Her eyes were watching his. Her mouth was bruised red from his brutal kiss. He saw the trail of love bites down the side of her neck. And then he didn't see. Her hands were touching him, in places he'd only dreamed of having touched. Unlike his year-mates, he could keep his cool, unconscious. He found enjoyment in the mental fantasy alone, rather than in physical places. He almost collapsed. She trailed kisses down his collar, separating the material of his shirt with her teeth, using her tongue with a skill that he'd never imagined. He almost screamed when her skin brushed across one of his nipples.

"Hush, my love. You'll wake the whole castle, and then where would we be?"

"Back in our rooms?" he managed. She pulled back.

"Do you want this?"

"Do you?" The tips of her ears flaming. "Have you ever..."

"No, that part you got right. This is all instinctive. Not practiced."

He couldn't help it, he began to giggle. She soon joined him, but they confined their laughter. He sat up. "Mortal enemies, hm? We can't kill each other, and we can't even manage to f-" She cut him off.

"Use a nicer word, please."

"We'll just have to wait."

"Waiting is good," she replied, standing. She straightened his shirt collar and felt her knees buckle at the sight of his chest.

"Are you all right?"

"I-I'm fine." She finished straightening his shirt collar and then turned to her own clothes. She pulled down her skirt (when had it gotten pushed up?) and she cast the glamour over herself once more. She took his hand. "Sorry, with the glamour on, my smell is a bit limited, too. Could you?" He nodded and they took off, following his trail back to the intersection. James' trail doubled back on itself. Sirius was waiting for them.

"I was wondering if you'd gotten lo-" He gaped at her clothes. "Lost. I thought you'd gotten lost."

"Lost? No, Sirius. But I did discover something."

"What?"

"You're it. Catch me." And she took off running up the corridor back to the Gryffindor common room, trying not to squeal with laughter.