A/N: Ok, this whole mess is finally being sorted out. Yes, I'm still alive, and working on this. It's all so confusing...anyway, here is the first chapter, revised.
A golden cat with slanted amber eyes crept through a Hogwarts corridor about a week after school started. Hermione loved this time, when all was still and she could close her eyes and feel herself shift into this body to pad down the hall. She somehow gained energy from the night as she roamed the school at will, thinking her own thoughts and reveling in the power of solitude. It was surprisingly liberating to be a cat, and she enjoyed the honed senses her cat form gave her.
During her stay under Madam Pomfrey's care in second year (due to the Polyjuice encounter) Hermione had been warned that although it was highly unlikely, rather...unusual side effects could occur. She had looked them up, and one of the rarest conditions was that of, as some rather idiotic wizard trying to be funny had named it, Flashback. Occasionally, the subject would revert temporarily to his or her condition.
Unfortunately, that was what Hermione had. The only way to control it was by becoming the animal you reverted to--by becoming an Animagus. Only when you spent several hours a day as the animal did the 'flashbacks' subside and in most cases disappear. As it turned out, Hermione grew to love her new form so much that she spent almost all night in it. For some reason, though, she hadn't told Harry and Ron in the four years since; she had meant to many times but shied away each time. Perhaps it's because I value the solitude so much...if they knew, they'd want to be Animagi too. Yes, I'm selfish!
Turning a corner, she sensed another animal,,,a cat? Yes, she was almost certain. Not Mrs. Norris, by any means--this one smelled young, male. What was a young tom doing in Hogwarts? She shrank into the shadows, although she knew the other had to have realized her presence. She sensed him pause, then approach steadily. She smelled purpose on him and knew that she would have to resort to her last weapon at once; she would have no chance in a fight. Hermione stepped out in front of him, arching her back and spreading silver-tipped wings. "Bad cat!" she hissed in English. "Scat!" Whatever animal she confronted would immediately run in confusion--cats did not speak, and they did not have wings. But this time, the script went wrong.
The strange cat did nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, so surprisingly that Hermione tried to arch her back even more, he spread a pair of wings like leathery shadows of the new moon and said, "No, I think you're the bad cat. Who are you?" And then, because she was obviously unable to speak for a moment he added, "You can talk, can't you? English?"
"I--yes, I can talk. How can you?"
Ignoring her question, the cat pressed on. "Are you an...Animagus?"
Hermione paused. If the cat was a professor, or even another student... "No," she said quite firmly. "Are you?"
"No," the other replied.
"Well..." Hermione said, rather at a loss. She decided to ignore the important questions, which would raise unwanted questions of their own, and fish for details. "What's your name?"
The cat standing in front of her hesitated. Hermione took the opportunity to look him over properly. He was a little larger than she, but just as wiry. His coat was the same shade as his wings, and his eyes shimmered pale gold. Finally, he spoke. "You can call me Ranger."
For a moment, Hermione stared at him, trying to read his expression.
"Well? Ranger's as good a name as any," the black cat said irritably. "Now, you have to tell me your name."
"Fine," Hermione replied. "You can call me..." She stopped. She didn't want to give the cat her real name, and she frantically tried to think of something to say. Ranger lifted a whisker in an almost human _expression, and she started to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. "Mal--a. Mala."
Ranger was speaking. "Mala...quite a pretty name. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Mala, but I really must go--it's almost daytime and there are things to do."
Pprrpt! Classes! Hermione thought to herself, then smiled as she realized she had sworn in Cat. On an impulse, she asked Ranger, "Will you be here tomorrow night, maybe an hour earlier?"
"Of course, my dear lady." And then Ranger was gone.
All day, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about Ranger. Part of her wanted him to be there, waiting for her in that hall, but part of her was afraid...of what? Hermione wasn't sure. She was so caught up with her thoughts during breakfast that Harry had to call her name several times to get her attention. "What?" she snapped.
"Whoa, Hermione, no need to get homicidal on me...I just wanted to know why you're staring at Pansy so intently."
"I am not!" Hermione gasped--and found that she was. "I--I didn't even see her, I was just looking in any old direction, I--"
"Hey, Hermione, I know, I'm just teasing you. Who'd want to look at Parkinson?"
Despite her preoccupation, Hermione giggled. "So what did you really want?"
Harry's grin faded. "Hermione, I've known you for seven years, and I know when something's wrong. What is it? Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."
She sighed; Harry was one of her best friends, and she didn't want to keep any secrets from him--or did she? A part of her screamed, "Tell him! Tell him!" but another, deeper part cautioned her...No. Not yet. You like being on your own. Maybe another day.
"Nothing," she said out loud. "I was just...just thinking."
Harry gave her a look that clearly said, I don't believe you, but I'm going to let you be. Slowly, he replied, "Okay, Hermione--but don't forget, I'll be here anytime."
She nodded, avoiding his gaze, and finished eating quickly. After classes, Hermione was letting Harry and Ron copy her History of Magic notes when Ron suddenly exclaimed, "Oi, Hermione! You stopped taking notes halfway through!" Hermione, who had been reading Hogwarts: A History, glanced up and hurried over.
In a thoughtful tone, Harry added, "Yeah, and there's a doodle...looks like a cat with wings."
Ron grinned. "Bet Trelawney would say that means Hermione's going to drown in coffee next week."
"Aw, come off it already, Ron--Trelawney's not here anymore."
Hermione, glad they were distracted, picked up the offending sheet. Sure enough, her tidy handwriting dissolved and a small sketch of...Ranger? There was his lean face, his sleek tail, his surprisingly dainty paws. She had even colored it in. Surely she hadn't got that good of a look at him! Yet she had not paid attention in Professor Binns's class, and--and--doodled. Hermione Granger did not doodle. Ever. With a start, she realized she had been staring at the picture fixedly. Glancing at Ron and Harry, who were still talking about Trelawney--Harry felt vaguely sorry for her, but Ron waxed quite eloquent about her shortcomings--she pulled out her wand and flicked it at the paper. The picture blurred and disappeared. A strange feeling of regret lingered in Hermione, for no reason at all.
That night, Hermione shape-shifted earlier than usual and hurried down the corridor to the place where she had met Ranger. It was darkly, desolately empty. Why do I care? she asked herself, furiously kicking the regret and disappointment welling up inside her into a deep corner of her soul. Forcing her chin up, she stalked away into the night.
A/N again: I hope you're all slightly less confused?