Silver Claws and Cat Tails

Abby Ebon

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Disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own X-Men.

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By-The-Grace-Of-Magic

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"I know what you are. I know you can understand me. Will you please…help me?" Hermione asked softly, knowing her life depended on its response did not make waiting any easier. Slowly the little head nodded. Hermione sealed her lips shut when dozens of little squirming spiders appeared, seemingly out of no where – all of them headed toward her.

"Hermione…!" Ron yelled from behind her, pale face making his freckles stand out bluntly. She remembered then that Ron had always been terrified of spiders, before he could think to stop her with magic she ran into the gardens that she knew led into the Forbidden Forest, hundreds – perhaps thousands – of little spiders scrambled franticly after her.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Sunlight filtered through the treetops, by some work of nature or a cruel divinity it streaked brilliantly across her cheeks and eyes. She knew better then to flick her eyes open and blind herself, even in her unconscious mind. With her lashes lowered – barely squinting to see past the golden light, all the same she felt a headache throb behind her temples. Tension, she told herself firmly even as she sat up, feeling faintly nauseous.

The spiders had gone, and she found herself somewhat relieved. She hadn't wanted them around her once they had led her into the shelter of the Forbidden Forest and shown her to a large tree that offered low slung branches which she could climb up and – with luck – avoid most of the night critters that made themselves scarce at daybreak.

Hermione could not help the odd feeling that she had been led to this particular place for a reason all the spiders own. She didn't like that thought, while the small ones would not have reason to harm her, a larger one would have every reason to do so as food was scare, even in the Forbidden Forest for such large creatures the spiders could grow to be.

She remembered vividly the stories Ron and Harry had told of their encounter, and it had been enough that Hermione was glad she hadn't been with them. Until now – those tales firmly in mind – she had made a point of avoiding this place because of the danger, and childishly – the rule breaking.

Carefully - for she had no where safe to go - and rushing out of a tree was a simple way to do harm to herself, she let her hands and feet remember the way down, her mind scrambling to think of a way to do what she needed done. Hermione had known very well what she had intended to do when she had asked aide of the little spiders. She needed to escape and to warn Harry of his danger – of the chaos the world they had loved and saved had become – and hopefully he could do something to make it less frightening.

She admitted within her own mind that this seemed a silly thing to think, but Harry had always been there for her when they were growing up, he had always been what she thought of as an ideal big brother. He kept himself withdrawn more then she liked, and he more often went along with what was going on until he decided to act.

When he acted, things happened, it was never something small that Harry changed or did when he put his mind to it. Sometimes she worried that he didn't use his magic as much as he should because of this. It struck her then that she was worrying about him while strolling about in the Forbidden Forest – if he only knew! – indeed, if he did know such a thing he'd wouldn't think twice – vow or no vow to the Ministry and its Council – he'd rush headlong into the forest to see her safe again.

Hermione chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she heard a stream of rushing water and headed in that direction. Some cool water might ease her aching head and settle her belly. She found herself crouching at the rivers edge; she took a sip, because of her magical nature she didn't fret too much of what was in the water. She'd asked a Healer once why it was that wizards and witches didn't get sick as often as she had seen a normal person do so.

The only explanation was that magic kept them well enough, either getting rid of what threatened to sicken them, or changing it into something they needed to use. She reflected as she took a sip of water that magic was like a useful parasite, it kept the wizard or witch in relative good health and their body was naturally and strangely stranger then most could manage to be, all of which was in their favor.

What wasn't was that most had to use magic every day – or more – to keep from having things happen with magic that a witch or wizard hadn't meant to happen. Magic could also change features or body structure if not used often enough, it wasn't something too noticeable – perhaps teeth were a bit larger, or nails harder to clip and faster growing, body hair could be expected, though less or more, or how fast or thick depended on the person – as could, she knew – fat, or rather lack of it.

There was a reason powerfully strong witch or wizard weren't often on the large side, magic seemed to take the nutrients off the very food they ate. Though that was rare, it was also a very real threat to the person if they weren't careful about it. It was easier to die with powerful magic taking what you needed to live then with a little magic that finicky needed use more or less from day to day. Most had power that was between that, so it wasn't so very large a threat to them, but when they were as few as there was, every bit of knowledge helped.

It was why the Council was such a threat to the people, with their demands to bring in Half Bloods and the Muggle Born; it would not take much to stir a panic and then lose more then half of their precious population, if not more.

"You have strayed into our forests, you are not welcome here." Hermione jerked out of her thoughts, was startled and found herself – though she was not quite sure how it had happened – on her bottom, nicely velvet purple robes with silver trimmings sprawled in disorder about her. She did not want to think of the feel of grim upon her skin or how her hair must look. There was something very dignified and aloof about a centaur that gave most a feeling of lesser worth. It was something Hermione suspected they did on purpose.

"I am sorry…I was held against my will, without freedoms. A fact that most who are not pure blooded in magic are faced with, I fear." There was a bitter sharpness to her tone that surprised her, and she had clearly startled the centaur that blinked at her as if perplexed by her words and at a loss to what to do with her.

It was then Hermione finally took the time to really look at the centaur, she saw then that he was younger then she had thought, certainly not even having reached being half grown. His hair was cut short, though it could have been his preference it looked to have been something put upon him rather then his own choice, most centaurs she had seen heard of wore their hair long.

He still had baby fat in his face, giving his face a smoothed look, his torso while muscled and in good shape and slender showed also that he had not lost the fat that smoothed the skin between muscles. Then there was the shiny look to his hide, it didn't look as if he was about in the sun or weather overmuch. The last bit of proof was the knees of his forelegs; they were knobby and not quite grown into.

A burst of motherly sympathy filled her, and she smiled at him sympathetically, bashfully she saw him smile back a bit timid.

"I'm Hermione; do you know where I could speak to the leader of your people?" She asked voice softer now; he nodded quickly, and took a horn from the bit of leather looped around his waist alike a belt. He blew two long bursts on it and a final third shorter then he rest.

"I'm Rilliaun." He announced proudly, she smiled once more, and they waited, though not long. Hermione had just enough time to set herself to rights once more, standing up and bushing bits the of undergrowth off herself.

Rilliaun had a chance to ask her childishly curious questions…

"Were you born with all that on?"

"No, my people like to dress like this, though I suppose it looks a bit odd."

"Just a bit. Your nice though, do you sing or play music?"

"No, I'm not very good at it I'm afraid, though there are others who are very good indeed."

"Really? None at all? I play the flute and horn, Father says I should make an effort to learn all of them that I can, but there are so many! What is your favorite instrument?"

"I favor the piano, it can be very beautiful or haunting when it is played properly."

"I've not heard of that one, what does it look like?"

"Well, it's a bit odd to explain unless you've seen one. You sit before it, and it is large enough so that you need both hands to play, your fingers hit the keys and that is how you learn by ear, I'd guess."

"It sounds very strange, but I will learn it so you can come back and hear me play!"

"I would like that very much, Rilliaun…"

She could not help but be amused by him, rather then insulted, as others who thought more of themselves then they should. It was after that that she saw three grown centaurs appear silently slip form the surrounding forest like shadows, and it became clear to her that they weren't at all pleased to see her.

"What are you doing here?" One of them, fair haired and dark eyed, demanded of her, Rilliaun bristled visibly upset, which seemed to startle some manners into them if only for his sake. At least it was true that they cared deeply for their young and would let them have their way if it could be so.

"I came to ask a favor of you, if you were to tell me the name of a youth, he would be of my kind with dark hair, vivid green, with a scar of lighting on his brow." It was a challenge, Hermione knew they had knew of Harry when they showed surprised and their demeanor shifted to something a bit friendlier, though they kept their air of aloofness.

"He would be called The-Boy-Who-Lived among your kind, though truly named Harry; among us he is kin-brother called Mars for trouble seemed to follow him in life from what we read in the stars. Did he send you to us with a message?" This one, with hair as dark as Hermione's own, looked eager at the chance for such a word, she was almost sorry to disappoint him.

"No, I'm afraid I have not seen him for a while, he was self exiled, though if he knew how things had fallen he might have changed his mind. I need to speak with those who taught him the Arts of Conflict; I do not know how to find them – merely that he told me you do, and if there was a need to seek you and yours, as you would know." Hermione told them, and thought for a moment that they did not believe her, but they looked among each other and the dark haired one nodded his acceptance of her words as he spoke

"You seek the Winged Ones and the Riddlers? Mars must be needed greatly for you to dare such a thing. Come with us to our people, you can give us your news once and we will send for them afterwards." Hermione felt relief flood her, as she followed them it seemed to her that she was weightless – they would help her – though they slowed to accommodate her two feet with their four, she found later that they had made good time.

Then it had not mattered; only that her call for the 'Winged Ones' and the 'Riddlers' (though of course she had been taught they had another name, though they called themselves even a different one from those she and the centaurs knew) had did not go unanswered, like it or not, she knew Harry needed to be found. She was not to be disappointed, for before the week was gone – both of the asked of beings arrived, and Hermione had never stood so still and speechless before in her life to see the likes of them. Luckily, they had been amused by her had had not taken offence. Once they heard her out, they readily agreed to move swiftly to find Harry. Now she had only to wait.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Sabertooth seemed to delight in their expressions of mixed fear and disbelief. The "obstacle course" was a jumble of metal bits – hanging bars, "slides", and pits of something held in tin – climbing walls.

There were also blocks of metal that moved in more ways then side to side and up and down (though Harry didn't know if he should be glad or worried to see the bits of metal which might have been meant for them to hang onto if they fell or were meant to teach them a lesson as they fell) there was also something like a "block" staircase, though it moved up like a elevator, there were no sides and Harry knew that was a trick of balance all on its own.

"Magneto was delighted to set up this little jungle gym for you. Hop to it, children, Chesire," Sabertooth sneered slightly at Harry as he spoke, "Fred, and Mortimer you're a team; Lance, Remy, and Wanda next up, with Quicksilver, Pyro, and Rogue following it up last." Cat-like reflexes or not, this, Harry knew, was going to be a challenge.

The pit of mud at the bottom of the floating "playground" only served to remind them of where they ranked in the score of things.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Feeling the press of eyes upon him, Harry stepped forward to the rising metal stair. He knew Sabertooth was being wholly unfair to put all the "newbie" together like this. Maybe somewhere they would have called it "measuring up standards" or "assessing skill", but he knew Sabertooth did it simply to be mean spirited.

Left with so little choice, after looking unsurely between each other and to the others, Fred and then Mortimer clambered up behind him, perhaps by design there were three such metal stairs. No matter how thin, they held Fred securely (this reassured him somewhat to the stability of the metal put into flight before them), though the large boy looked very unsure of how to go about continuing. Harry realized as the two looked to him, that he would have to step in as leader or it was with no doubt he thought they'd have the worst time of the groups Sabertooth had set up.

"We'll have to work together." Harry warned them, knowing that until this moment they hadn't really had a chance to work together or seemed to like each other very much. They didn't look between each other, but it was somewhat amusing that they seemed to nod in time to one another.

"Get a move on!" Sabertooth growled at them from bellow, looking down at him from above, even Mortimer seemed eager too let go of his former grudge.

"What do we do?" Fred hissed, eyeing the next "step" it was moving side to side in a way that – if they judged wrong or with a misstep – would ensure they stepped into the mud at the first thing that challenged them. Harry felt a fierce anger at this – he wouldn't let that happen.

"It'll only fit Fred and I at the same time, you'll need to get up," before Harry had finished his thought, Mortimer had perched himself on one of Fred's shoulders, he was smirking, "then at the count of three we move." Harry finished, as if he had meant for Mortimer to do what he had.

Harry watched the "step" appear, and without warning snarled out "three", Fred moved easily forward, not hesitating as he trusted Harry to lead them. Harry felt a thrill of power, as if in battle where his magic had offered itself up like a bubbling spring and tensed, imagining plugging a sink to stop the feeling of magic ready to be used tightening his skin.

"Three." Harry said again when one of the "blocks" came within stepping distance. It had been moving smoothly upward, so Harry was unprepared for it rolling under their weight, Harry – as the lightest – would have fallen into the mud pit if he had not clung tightly to one of the metal "spikes" that jutted out. Mentally he was glad for them, and marked every one of the "spiked tumblers" as something to be wary of moving beneath his feet unexpectedly.

"Cat, are you alright? We're almost to the top." Mortimer asked nervously of him, perhaps worried he had fallen, though they would have heard it if it had been true. Harry took a breath, finding it harder while holding to the spikes, perhaps it was the oncoming adrenalin, or he really was out of shape since the war. Harry didn't like that and didn't dwell on what his trainers would have said about such.

"Yeah, fine. Once you get to the top, move, I'll be right behind you." Harry told them, trying for reassuring. He felt it when their weight lifted off the block and he lurched forward, unsteadily he felt the "spiked tumbler" roll with his weight – he could have slipped and fallen, if not for Mortimer.

"I got you, Cat!" The younger boy had called out before acting. It proved to be Harry's only warning. With as soft slithery sound Mortimer had opened his mouth, tongue darting out to wrap about Harry's wrist, Harry fought his surprise and jumped before the spiked tumbling cube could leave the edge.

"Thanks." Harry had time to say before he saw Sabertooth smirk and knew something nasty was just waiting to surprise them. He looked for what it could be and saw the spiked tumbling cube "jumping" trembling at the edge of the ledge that led to a claiming wall. It was as if the cube was trying to come after them…Harry remembered with sudden clarity the sharpness of the spikes along the cube and how easily it could have hurt him if he had not grabbed hold.

"Oh, shit – move, climb, now, now, now!" Harry shrieked, practically mewling at them, he had been right to rush them, though it seemed to take forever for Fred to climb up, always taking one careful but sure bit of holding before moving onward, it was at least a pace Harry could work with. Harry refused to leave Fred behind, and Mortimer seemed to feel the same way as he could have taken the quick way and leapt to the top – but he hadn't. It said a lot about a person that Harry thought he seriously misjudged based on a first impression.

Harry didn't dare look to see how close the spiked tumbler cube was, he heard it, those horrible metal spikes driving into and scratching at the metal climbing wall – he held his breath and let it out shakily. It was a very good thing the wall was short, they were only a bit farther from the top then Harry would have liked despite Fred's pace.

"Cat…" Mortimer was pasty and his voice very weak, though Harry was glad to see some green about the edges. 'He's looked, he knows, it has to have crept up to us close to have him this worried'. Harry thought, swallowing but he did not turn to look – Mortimer was moving quicker then before – though still with the group – he was at the fringes clearly close giving in to his fear and bolting for the top.

"Go on without me guys – I'll be fine." Fred sounded quite confident in this, Harry realized then that he had no idea what Fred's ability was. His answer and Mortimer's was the same though.

"No way man, it's the notion of the thing, 'sides, when the thing catches up you can cover us and we'll all be fine." Mortimer reassured, brave for a guy who was trembling as he climbed, shaken by how close the cube was obviously getting. Fred only barked out a laugh while continuing onward steady and sure, clearly intending to get to the top cube-of-death-by-spikes or no cube-of-death-by-spikes.

They were very lucky so far that the cube was so slow, though Harry felt this was somehow done more to terrify them then to mean them any real threat they couldn't get out of the way of. It was bad enough climbing without safely of any kind save hand and foot holds, and then to know that they had something metal not terribly upset with the idea of shredding them to bits was by far worse.

When they reached the top, Harry was content to see something easy – a slide, that it led to a murky mud bit held in a tin pool was a mere annoyance. This time neither of his teammates needed his encouragement to go forward. Harry wondered how much time had passed, and then let it slip from his mind as he slid down after his team. They'd take as long as they needed to, they were doing this for the first time and it was unfair that Sabertooth had bullied them into doing it after their long ride to the camp.

It turned out that there were traps in the mud – luckily, Fred was the first to trigger one. A nasty looking metal spear flung itself from the tin wall and Harry half expected it to gut Fred then and there, but no – what he saw next was incredible. Amazing. The spear clanked when it hit him, an ugly noise as it dented, and seemed to rip itself in two from the force of finding a solider mass then itself. It was as if it had hit a wall rather then flesh. Harry knew he was gawking, and Mortimer was smirking, while Fred started to belly laugh at the cat-boys expression of surprise.

"So that's what you can do!" Harry explained, pleased that it had finally been shown to him. He felt a bit of fear and sympathy for the magical world, they had been right to worry – he shoved it aside – and merely smiled, for Fred seemed so proud of himself. He had a right to be, not even magic could have saved him it had happened so quickly.

"Yap, that's what I can do." Fred echoed, still seeming amused with Harry's reaction. It was then Harry had a thought, and though it was a horrible one it might save them some of the danger this mud-trap presented. Harry was learning swiftly that nothing in this floating metal jungle gym was what it appeared. The slid, he thought as he snuck a look back at it, had been used to set them at ease.

"I had to sound sacrificial, but – uh – would you…" Harry started to say, and then paused feeling acutely the grime of dirt on his fur, which wasn't at all far away from feeling as he did as slim for asking what he almost had.

"Go first?" Despite – or because of Harry's pause – Fred had finished his words for him. There was an expression Harry hadn't seen on his face before, one of almost a fierce joy. It took a moment for it to sink into Harry's skull that Fred looked as if he wanted to do this.

"Yeah…" Harry murmured, glancing to Mortimer who seemed to be happy for his friend. They didn't seem to be disturbed Harry had asked for something akin to cannon fonder.

'It's the one thing Fred been led to think he can do well.' Harry thought, feeling sick at heart that the larger boy could think such a thing of himself, however much his next words proved the thought true.

"I'd be honored." Fred was smiling, though it wasn't a joke to him. Harry kept his face carefully blank as he gestured for Fred to move on head, Mortimer moving carefully behind him letting Harry come up last.

The rest passed in a blur for Harry, having gained some confidence Mortimer and Fred easily took to the next tumbling spiked cube which shifted beneath their weight. The trick was that at the last moment they had to grip the spikes and swing onto the last obstacle, the floating bars – that led in a gentle slop downward suspended midair. When Harry hit the ground to look across the mud pit at his cheering friends (and the sulking Sabertooth) it hit home what he had done and he found himself laughing, hugging, and patting the others on the back caught up in it just like the others.

"You took twenty minutes – I expect better then they had from you, Lance." It seemed somehow easier having done it to watch Lance, Remy, and Wanda go through. They hit a few snags…Wanda was afraid of heights and moved perhaps as slow as Fred had much to her teams distress the cube actually did catch up to them – making things worse was that Remy accidently "charged" the cube, after that they had vaulted up the wall, safely away from the exploding mass just in time, only to discover the traps where Lance used the very mud to form earthen walls around them as protection.

Sabertooth said fifteen, though it had felt quicker. Last were Quicksilver, Pyro, and Rogue – the sky was getting noticeably darker and to sped things up for the first time Harry witnessed Rogue's ability to absorb powers as she took in Pietro's speed. It seemed they would be the quickest, as they didn't run into trouble until the spiked cube near the bars.

Harry watched in a sick slowness as Pyro slipped his grip on the bar, Harry found himself acting without thinking his fingers hooked into a "grip" and he shoved with his magic to let Pyro have a second chance at getting a grip on a bar. Even to the others it looked suspicious, Pyro visibly jerking upward midair.

When they got safely of their own ability to the ground Pyro was viably disturbed by what had happened, though Sabertooth did give them the fastest time of ten – and that was with speed on their side, though they hadn't been as careful as Harry felt they should have been.

"What happened up there, Pyro?" Lance asked as they made their way to the cabin that would hold them. The others seemed to hold their breath to hear his answer, though Harry rubbed his fingers together nervously, as if he could still free his power in them.

"I don't know, man. It felt – no – I swear, something lifted me up so I'd get another chance at the bars." Pyro told them uneasily, unsure how his answer to the strange happening would be taken. No one said much after that, all of a sudden they became withdrawn and worried. It could be a new power – or interference – or something else.

'Maybe you've got an angel watching out for ya." Rogue murmured softly, her words caused Harry's lips to twitch in amusement, though no one spoke as they settled into sleep. Harry's last thought was something about angels not having cat looks.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

'Angels don't leave bruises.' Pyro thought sarcastically as he looked into the mirror. It was still dark out, but the pain in his back had kept him awake. Now that he saw the physical sign of it, he felt anger stir, someone had helped him and they hadn't said anything.

It could have been Wanda; she had that freaky magic-like power that seemed to have limit. Then again, Wanda was the type to take credit for her doings. No one else could have done this. Not that he knew of.

This meant…they had an unknown power stirring among them, it was rare to have two powers, but not unheard of, in the end it meant one of them could project their will – and some of their physical power – into saving another from afar. It could also be used to hurt someone who'd never see it, that he knew was what the others were thinking and worrying over.

He'd have to make sure Mystique and Magneto knew about this – saw it with their own eyes, even – Sabertooth wasn't always good at telling everything he knew. He left chucks out, and if you didn't wise up to it, he'd never say so until too late to do any good. Reluctantly, though stubbornly, Pyro dragged himself from the cabin to where he thought Mystique and Magneto would be, before he reached the door he heard a whisper that caught his attention.

"This is proof then, that boy has magic." Pyro paused, not moving but not announcing his presence either that had been Magneto in response to something Sabertooth's gruff voice had rumbled. He got the feeling he had stumbled into something – but who had "magic"? Was it what it sounded like? Or something else, something sinister that Magneto had put into one of them without their knowing…

"Yes, he's seemed far too accepting of all he has seen. He hasn't questioned anything. He watches and it gives me the creeps." Mystique admitted softly, there was a huff of amusement from Sabertooth – then a pained grunt – Pyro winced, guessing that Mystique hadn't been pleased at having found her discomfort amusing. Still, the answers to his "help" were here, his gut told him so.

"So, the question remains, what do we do with him?" Magneto asked them, though Pyro thought it was so they could all be on the same level then any sharing or splitting of leadership on his part. Magneto did not strike him as someone who'd care what those who kept allegiance to him would thing so long as they understood his goal and had the same. Pyro swallowed, could they be plotting on getting rid of one of the Brotherhood? Pyro wouldn't let them split the group, he'd tell the others and they'd get out…somehow…

"Keep him." Sabertooth grunted, having recovered swifter then Pyro would have thought. Pyro let himself relaxed, but his breath caught in alarm and he felt the hair at the back of his neck raise at Mystique's next words…

"Yes, a wizard known is a wizard kept…if he has issues with the magical world he'll be grateful even more so for taking him in, even knowing as we do what he is if we chose to let him know before he tells us so himself. Otherwise, he'll wait until there isn't a chance of escaping the unanswerable questions about him – or until someone needs him – like Pyro did today - or his temper flares like it did with you, Sabertooth. Such is the fate of wizards, they help their natures." Mystique sounded as if she knew this from a personal experience – but, Pyro wondered – how could she?

"Still, the stench of magic on him is damned powerful – he'd be a deadly enemy." Sabertooth's voice grated on Pyro, if only he knew who they were talking about….

"I don't intend to keep him if he desires to go elsewhere; I would be a fool to do so, even to a wizard as young as our 'Chesire Cat', a Trickster indeed." Pyro felt his heart flutter wildly in his chest, like a trapped bird aching to be free. He took a halting step back from the door, then another – then he fled.

"Still, its proof of his youth that he's been trapped in the form he wares now." Magneto continued, unaware that they had been overheard by anyone, Mystique frowned thoughtfully, tapping her nail to her chin, and then she smiled pleased with the answer she had come up with.

"I'll try to help him along with that, I don't know how it came about the magical change, but shape changing, however its done, is alike my own talents. I will offer my assistance to him, in the guise of "humanizing" his features." Mystique told them, Magneto nodded thoughtfully, waving a hand – a clear indication for her to take her leave.

"You may attempt to teach him during the nights." Magneto then told her before she opened the door; Mystique nodded thoughtfully then went on to where the Brotherhood cabin was, and entered not pausing until she reached Harry's bedside and shook at his shoulder urgently until he dazedly awoke.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Mystique…?" Harry murmured, squinting up at her in the darkness of the cabin. The second time of being woken up by her was no more pleasant then the last, Harry saw then that her eyes gleamed amber as she glanced about in the darkness. She seemed uneasy, and Harry became curious to what could cause her to be so.

"Yes; I have something I want to speak to you about. Follow me." For all that it was not a request, having been woken in the middle of the night made Harry oddly compliant to go along with it. Whatever it was, the quicker he went about doing as asked, the swifter he could crawl back to bed. It was also safer then waking one of the Brotherhood up.

"What is it?" Harry asked her, watching with wary eyes as she shut the "café" door behind her. Harry felt as if this was a trap, though he glanced upward only once – the lights had been replaced. Mystique finally turned to him, her gaze unsettlingly sympathetic as she took in his features.

"I know how it can be troubling to look so different then the others." Mystique told him gently, though she did not reach out to pat him or hug him, Harry felt as uncomfortable as if she had.

"I…" Harry started to say, but Mystique raised her hand for his silence – he gave it to her, though he wasn't sure even later what he would have said to her words. What could he say when faced with Mystique? She baffled him, up till now she had been purposely distant if not outright unfriendly.

"I can help you there." Mystique said after a moment, lowering her hand, she seemed to have kept the silence in that little while to have made sure he wouldn't interrupt her while she made the offer. This was important to her.

"How?" Harry asked then, making an effort to keep his doubt from showing in his tone. Mystique seemed to know this, and her lips curled into something that was not quite a smile - for it held more then kindness – but seemed to be as close as she could come to one.

"If you meditate with me, I will teach you – but you must – at least in this, trust me." Mystique stated, glancing to the floor where Harry saw the two thin sitting mats that she must have placed there after the Brotherhood had left. She had planned this, Harry realized, whatever her intentions, she had planned to help him in her own way. In the only way she knew how.

"I will." Harry murmured, and was rewarded with a more sincere smile, pale blue lips curling to slow off white teeth. Mystique gestured for him to stand on the mat – for once he was glad his cat-like form did seem to need shoes and in fact seemed to object to them adamantly.

Standing across from him, Mystique simply shifted into the form of a pale woman with high cheekbones and slighted eyes, her dark hair fell like a waterfall down her shoulders touching a white cream shirt, her legs covered by old fashioned brown leather leggings and no shoes, she was vaguely familiar but Harry couldn't place where he had seen someone like her. For the first time he wondered just how old she was, when she could look like anyone at any age it was almost impossible to tell. Her natural form of blue hued skin and amber eyes didn't leave any hints, other then that she was surely an adult.

"Now sit upon the floor, there you are – cross your legs like so – yes, that's right, now close your eyes and try to distance yourself from what your senses tell you. Your in no rush now…" Mystique instructed and Harry let himself fall back into a pattern of obeying, though keeping his questions to himself to review later when this exercise passed.

It reminded him of how he had been trained - to relax when he had the chance – because when things happened, there was no sleeping through it if he had wanted to live. Such as with meditation he had learned that he was more open to the suggestion of sleep, and – more dangerously – he was also open to the suggestion of a voice not his own.

It reminded him keenly that it didn't matter if he was "too strong willed" when alert and aware, everyone got tired and drained when they wanted to sleep, even those who thought themselves immune to such weren't when certain things happened to them too quickly. Harry had had to be very careful all his life about Voldemort, that the Dark Lord had entered his dreams had worried his trainers, so he had had to do this three times a day until it came naturally to him. That he was willing to trust Mystique in this did not mean he was not wary of her. She had showed she wanted to help, and maybe a shape shifter would have better luck teaching him to control his appearance then he was having on his own. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try…

Harry then found it did hurt – very badly – it hurt like it had hurt with that bone burning and nerve tearing pain to change into the cat form in the first place. Harry didn't know he had cried out, he only knew his own magic seemed to be trying to tear him apart bit by bit. He heard Mystique call out to him, dragging him back to a reality where his mind wasn't on fire with pain, though sweat had broken over his brow and he shook with tension, expecting his body to hurt, though it did not.

"It didn't work." Mystique murmured softly, her yellow eyes showed her regret, and she sighed in disappointment. Harry felt odd then, as if he should do or say something to comfort her. He might have said something, if thunder had not rumbled overhead – Harry found himself cringing as rain thudded onto the tin roof atop them.

Lightning streaked over the sky, throwing the "café" into brilliant detail, etched into his memory by the sudden light. Mystique seemed to notice his awe of the storm, and smiled as she stood, he followed her graceful movement with his own which felt heavy and awkward. She stood by the window, staring out at the land as it was pelted by rain.

"But, you did try, that is honorable. If you think of yourself as one who is as powerful as this storm that has built over us," Harry tensed then, her words sounded like a accusation and he couldn't help but think that perhaps he had summoned this storm up – it had been a calm night…"even so, even the storm has lightning to ground it – if you can not learn control – then you must have someone to pull you back to the hear and now when things get to be worse." Harry did not doubt that things would get worse; he had a different sort of magic now. One that reacted to what was happening – was aware like a living thing, that was very different from when he had had to reach for the magic to use it like any ordinary wizard. Even though Mystique was speaking about storms and mutant genes, Harry felt her topic would cover his newly wild magic as well.

"I suggest you find someone to be intimate with…." Mystique finished then, walking away though she had seemed to be amused that Harry - who had cat like features – was tongue tied. Someone who wanted to be funny would say that the "cat who got his tongue" was himself. Harry shook his head, going over what she had told him as he made his way to the door – at the threshold – he paused.

'She … just told me to get laid…' Harry flushed, and as only a cat could –for all that it was raining hard – avoided the water altogether as he went back to the Brotherhood cabin and climbed into bed trying not to think of what had been suggested least he be unable to find sleep.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Note; huh, you know, I do believe in a round about way Mystique just told Harry to have sex…-snickers- foreshadowing, me? Never….-muffled giggles-