Like No Other

One

"Here, kitty, kitty," Sirius grins as he passes.

"Ugh, does he ever stop?" Catherine groans to her best friend, Lily Evans.

"C'mon, Cat. Give him a chance. He's so clearly smitten with you," Lily smiles, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"No! He's the biggest player in the school, I don't need to be involved in that," she protests.

"Fairy Lights," the girls say in unison, crawling through the entrance to Gryffindor tower and dropping into their common room. Catherine jogs to the girls' dormitory and changes out of her uniform, slipping into a loose pair of ripped jeans and a white sports bra, an open Quidditch jersey, the Ballycastle Bats. She shoves her feet into a pair of checked Vans, a comfortable slide-on trainer brand she discovered while browsing a muggle shop in downtown London. "Fix your hair," Lily narrows her eyes, fluffing Cat's blonde hair.

"Stop. I'm putting it up. I don't like it down, it gets too frizzy," Cat bats her friend's hand away, pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail, a few tendrils of hair escaping to frame her face. "Ready?"

Hand in hand, they walk to Hogsmeade, giggling hysterically over something Professor Slughorn had said the previous day. "Look it," Lily giggles, pointing towards Honeydukes. Cat's eyes follow the direction of her finger, her eyes landing on the tall, lanky, mischievous boy with dark hair she tries so hard not to obsess over. "Go,"

She stumbles a bit, biting her tongue sharply, the faint metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. "Ulch," she groans, spitting into a bush, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Shaking her head, she slips under Sirius's arm, loosely slinging her arm around his waist, making a face, the bitter taste still overwhelming her.

"Hey," Sirius smiles at her distractedly before going back to his conversation with James. It takes him a minute, but he eventually realizes who exactly is holding him, and his heart begins to pound. "Kingsley," he laughs in surprise, pulling away to look at her.

"Hello, Black," she replies, pulling him back and returning her arm to his waist. "Continue," she orders, feeling her tongue with her free hand, pulling it away and grimacing at the blood on her fingers.

"Shit, are you bleeding?!" he exclaims, pulling away again and grabbing her face, pushing her lips apart to look at her mouth.

"Yeth, Black," she lisps, "I bith my thongue,"

"Oh. Are you okay?" he narrows his eyes, bending down to her height.

"Yeth, thankths," Her face turns bright red at the sound of her messed up speech.

"Wait here," he tells her, pulling away and hurrying into the sweets shop, coming out with a plastic baggie covered in a clean rag. "Open," he puts it onto her tongue, the cold of the ice immediately calming the pain. The loud sound of thunder makes her jump, bumping into his chest and shivering at the chill she feels from the approaching storm. A flash of lighting and another clap of thunder is all it takes for the heavens to open up, releasing sheets of rain, soaking them both thoroughly within seconds.

"What do we do?" she yells over the sound of the rain on the tin roofs of the buildings around them.

"Come on, I know a place," Grabbing her hand, he pulls her into an alleyway, making a turn, taking them straight to a padlocked door. "Here," he pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks it, throwing open the door and pulling her into the dark room.

"Where are we?" she asks him, looking around, shivering.

"It's an old tavern. They had to shut it down when the owner's husband passed. Madame Conrique couldn't keep up shop alone," He hurries to the corner, calling, "Incendio," flames crackling in the fireplace, warming the room. "Come here," he takes her hands and pulls her to the floor in front of the fire. "You know what, I think there might be a linens closet in the back. I'll go look for some blankets. Be right back, love," he kisses the top of her head and jogs to the back, rummaging through the closets. It's not long until he comes back, blankets and pillows piled in his arms. When he drops them, the cloud of dust makes her sneeze. "Sorry," he grimaces, pointing his wand and saying, "Scourgio," He lays the newly cleaned blankets on the floor, plopping a few pillows down and beginning to strip.