Love Never Dies
When they had been young, they had been best friends. Inseparable, almost joint at the hip. They had grown up together, gone to school together, laughed, cried, loved and lost together. But she had never known that he loved her.
That didn't stop it from being true though, as he had, with all his heart. But he knew he could never tell her. He had seen friends of his, close friends, fall in and out of love, and he had seen what it did to them. And he knew that he could never risk loosing her as a friend just so they may spend a couple of weeks as lovers.
And so they had become adults, with her not having a clue that every time he saw her, his heart ached to the extent that it became hard to bare. And she had gotten married, which was only natural, as she was a beautiful woman.
But times were hard, and Voldemort was at the height of his reign. Slowly, all their old friends had been killed off, and he knew it was only a matter of time until he came for them.
He went for her first. He had caught her and her husband unaware and had attacked, intending to kill both with one curse. But there was something Voldemort hadn't known: since the age of nineteen, his hearts desire had been able to transform into a cat at will. So when Voldemort had shouted the words that had finished off her husband, she had transformed, and leapt.
But she didn't escape the curse completely. She was caught in the blast, and something had gone terribly wrong. She was unable to transform back.
People presumed her dead as well as her husband, but when a stray cat turned up on his doorstep, he was wise enough to put two and two together and realise what had happened. He had tried everything he could, but his powers were limited, and it soon became apparent that, whilst she may be the same on the inside, the woman he had once loved, and still did, was to spend her life trapped inside the body of a cat.
People, not knowing what had really happened (he let them think she was gone, if they knew the truth, he was sure they would take her away from him and experiment on her) just assumed that he had purchased a cat out of loneliness and named it after his former best friend.
And that cat was like him in many ways. Just as bitter and cynical, and angry, not with anyone or anything, but with life in general. If only they knew Argus Filch's true story.