"Oh, Tikki, why is this so hard?" Marinette moaned, collapsing the upper half of her body onto her spell book, her arms curled beneath her head. A soft paw brushed against her hand, a comforting purr vibrating the tiny black body attached to it. She peeked out of the safety of her arms to see her (least) favorite cat, Chat Noir. The tiny cat sat back on his haunches upon realizing he had her attention, his chest puffing proudly as he licked the very paw he'd nudged her with. He'd shown up at her door weeks ago, filthy and half-starved, and she'd immediately taken pity on the poor alley cat. At first, she'd worried whether she'd have to hide him from her parents, but her mother had caught sight of him the very night she'd brought him in, and surprisingly had approved of the idea of Marinette having a familiar—something about it bolstering her magic?

Whatever the case, the kitty was both a blessing and a curse, as any black cat was thought to be. He was a mischievous thing, always knocking things off her desk, clawing her drapes, and just when she considered sacrificing him to her patron deity Tikki, he'd smooth things over with a soft nuzzle and big, pleading green eyes. Then he'd teasingly remind her that her mother had strictly told her that he was her responsibility, and "every witch should treat their familiar better than themselves!"

She hated this stupid talking cat sometimes, but admittedly tonight was not one of them. In fact, she was rather glad for his comfort as she failed once more to cast the simplest of illumination spells. Her mother never quite knew how to make her feel better, not like her kitty, who still had yet to cease his purring. Sitting up properly, Marinette opened her arms to Chat, and for once, he more than happily curled himself in her arms. His green eyes closed in pleasure as she scratched his chin, smiling wearily as his purring intensified.

"Thanks, kitty." She murmured, burying her face in the soft fur of his neck.

"Anything for my Princess~" the sly kitty mewled, tail brushing her arm teasingly. The moment ruined, Marinette scoffed and pushed him out of her lap, causing him to yowl in anger as he flopped onto the floor unceremoniously.

"I thought cats landed on all fours?" She taunted, grinning at the look of displeasure he threw her way. His tail flicked angrily, eyes narrowed as he huffed and put his back to her, grooming his now ruffled fur meticulously. Marinette giggled, pushing out of her desk chair to join her familiar on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her and reaching out to smooth the sleek fur on Chat's back, her fingers cautious (in case he decided to claw at her) but loving. He didn't often swipe at her, but when he did, it drew blood—and led to immense guilt in her kitty. On the rare occasion that he clawed her, he'd snuggle up to her for hours, ears drooping and tiny pink tongue licking at her barely-noticeable wound.

Luckily, this was not one of these times, and although he threw her an irritable look, Chat relaxed his stance and stretched his spine upwards on instinct, purring once more at her gentle strokes.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Chat…" Marinette sighed, mind moving back to her previous predicament. "Maman said my magic should be strengthened by having a familiar, but I honestly haven't noticed much difference… I'm more likely to cause a block-wide black out than light a candle or lamp at will!"

Chat yawned lazily. "Maybe the problem isn't in your magic, but in yourself?" he suggested idly, licking his paw. Marinette flushed, flicking his ear and withdrawing sharply when his claws flashed towards her, barely missing her flesh. He hissed at her, ears flat against his skull, but when realizing his actions, he quickly drew back in shame.

"I didn't mean it like that, Princess! It's just that your magic is unstable because your emotions are running amok; you need to have more confidence in your abilities, and only then will your spells succeed!" he yipped, dancing back to avoid another flick at his ears.

Marinette scowled, opening her mouth to yell at him for being rude, when she paused. How did Chat know this? Familiars weren't supposed to know this much about magic, right? She asked him as much, taking note of the indignant look he gained and the way he puffed himself up.

"I wasn't always a cat, you know!" he huffed, seeming offended that she would ever think otherwise. Rolling her eyes, Marinette leaned forward and braced her arms on her knees, nose-to-nose with the feline.

"So what exactly were you before, hmm? A boggart? Maybe a newt?" she teased, relishing in the way his tail flicked with frustration, although his ears drooped when he realized she wasn't taking him seriously.

"No… don't you think it's strange that I'm the only familiar that can actually, physically talk?" he hinted. He wanted more than anything to be able to just tell her the truth, but the very same curse that changed his form into that of a black cat kept him from being able to speak of his origins directly. He knew Marinette was frustrated with his constant riddles and vague half-truths, but there was no other way to tell her about the curse that bound him. If he couldn't just tell her that he was, in fact, her former classmate Adrien Agreste due to the curse, and if his fae blood prevented him from outright lying, the best he could hope for was that she'd be sharp enough to catch on. However, after weeks spent dropping hints and leaving clues, Chat (or Adrien) was beginning to lose hope he'd ever return to his true form. Within the first twenty minutes of being in Marinette's care, Chat had discovered her crush on his other form, and despite being slightly embarrassed (and not to mention baffled), he had hoped that it would only help her to figure out his identity. It didn't take long for that hope to be dashed, and so he came to the conclusion that rather than helping her, her infatuation blinded her in being able to see the boy trapped in the body of a cat.

This sucks, he thought with a sigh, watching as Marinette pondered his words. Even if I could tell her the truth, she'd never believe me. Still, he could see she was at least considering the possibility that he really wasn't a familiar, and he knew she was smart enough to notice something off about him. Was there hope yet?

"Chat…" Marinette began slowly, fingers tapping her chin. "If you really aren't a familiar, then what are you?"

"I'm a trickster, of sorts, from the highest of courts;

you'd know me quite well, but my name I can't tell.

If it's the truth you might seek, you need only peek;

every street has my face; you need only find the place!"

He rhymed cheekily, internally cringing at the forced riddle that slipped past his lips. Every time he tried to clue her in on his identity, this happened. Honestly, he wasn't sure anymore whether it was from the curse or his fae nature. Either way, he hated it almost as much as Marinette.

Said witch groaned in exasperation, covering her face with her hands at his lame attempt at a limerick. "Why can't you just tell me?" she grumbled, and if not for his feline-enhanced hearing, he might not have caught the muffled words. He shrugged his shoulders and sauntered away, pointedly ignoring the kitty bed she'd purchased weeks ago and making a dive for her own warm, sugar cookie-scented mattress. She absolutely hated it when he made himself comfortable there, so it was with a not-so-secret glee that he curled up on her favorite pillow and got ready for a nap.

Nevertheless, Marinette left him to his own devices, riddles be damned, and hurriedly went about getting ready for school. Every witch needed an education, after all! …. Even if she couldn't cast a simple spell to save her life.