HOLY. FREAKIN. HELL. I haven't updated in…let's see… A million years. And I'm soooooo sorry for that. I've had a whirlwind of things that all came up at the same time, and I couldn't really write. And then my computer (which has been diagnosed mentally retarded by my father) shut down. I unfortunately lost all I had. So I kind of gave up on this story for a while (please don't kill me) and read Glee fan fiction for a while (it's my new favorite obsession). And, now, I'm totally a Kurt/Blaine shipper. But I still love CATS the most, and I see that I need to improve this story. So, here I go. Thanks for still staying with me, if you're reading this.

His eyes. His smile. His laugh. That's all Hermione could think about. Sure, she was breathing and all, but that's all that was on her mind. So it really didn't surprise her when she ran into someone.

"Watch it!" a smooth, yet feminine voice hissed.

"Dammit, I'm sorry!" Hermione said, turning around. She froze. She had ran into Bombalurina.

Bomba looked her up and down. "You're the chick the old guy came with, aren't ya? What was your name….Herman?"

Hermione frowned, then giggled. "Hermione. My name's Hermione."

Bomba smiled. "You're the kid Misto's with, too. Hi, I'm Bombalurina, but I insist on being Bomba."

Hermione smiled. "So, kid, do you have any plans today?"

As much as it confused her, Hermione shook her head. "No, I just have my last training class tonight, but that's it. May I ask why?"

Bomba sat down on a old chair thrown into the junkyard last week. Hermione followed suit. "Let me guess, you aren't very popular at school, are you?"

Hermione frowned. She wasn't sure if she liked where Bomba was going with this.

***~~~~Cats~~~~~***

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron had a predicament. Dumbledore was sick.

NOOOOO! I can't look at Dumbledore in a robe, that'll scar me for life! Harry thought.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Double-shit. WHERE THE HELL IS HERMIONE WHEN YOU NEED HER? Ron thought.

The big problem was that Dumbledore was very bossy and had a very snotty attitude (no pun intended) when he was sick. His fever was making him a bit loopy too.

Harry and Ron were currently following him around, nervously, as Dumbledore sifted through their shared room.

Dumbledore picked up a big pile of Ron's laundry that 'accidentally' didn't make it to the hamper.

"Put these away," He ordered.

Ron frowned. "But sir-"

"NO BUTS! I believe everything has its place. Muggles have their place, wizards have their place, and so do your dirty clothes! Namely, a dresser!" Dumbledore roared.

Ron and Harry looked at each other… it was going to be a long day.

***~~~~Cats~~~~***

"So…why do you want to make me popular?" Hermione asked.

Bomba cleared her throat and stood up, pushing Hermione down by her head when she tried to stand up too.

Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I

(And let's face it, who isn't less fortunate than I?)

My tender heart tends to start to bleed.

And when someone needs a makeover,

I simply have to take over

I know-

Hermione was about to open her mouth but Bomba put her index finger to her lips and resumed.

I know exactly what they need.

And even in your case-

Bomba stopped and looked disdainfully at Hermione's persona.

Though it's the toughest case I've yet to face.

Don't worry, I'm determined to succeed

Follow my lead, and yes indeed

You. Will. Be.

"Bomba, stop! I'm gracious for your effort, but I don't think that's really me," Hermione said, blushing furiously.

Bomba frowned, but then smirked. "Okay, then. Run along, before I get the kittens to persuade you."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, though!" and she ran along to her classroom-alcove-thing, reminding herself of what she was originally going to do.

Bomba sighed. That kid had so much potential. Oh well. She sang softly to herself.

And though you protest your disinterest,

I know clandestinely

You're gunna grin and bear it,

Your new-found popularity, HA!

La, la, la-la-la

You'll be popular

Bomba grinned and belted out the last part.

Just not quite as popular as MEEE!

***~~~Cats~~~***

"Get me some Nasonex, you swines!" Dumbledore bellowed.

Harry and Ron groaned. They had been going through this for hours. Harry looked at Ron.

"Your turn," he said, referring to the deal they made that stated that they would take turns being personal slaves to the sickly deranged Dumbledore.

Ron groaned. "No it isn't"

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is!"

"Nu-huh."

"Ya-huh!"

"I know," Ron finally admitted.

Harry growled. "Dammit, Ron, why couldn't you have said that in the first place?"

"Maybe because I didn't want to go? I could be killed up there for all I know!"

The boys had been hiding in the basement, playing the X-box Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer has suspiciously procured. ("It wa' left ou'si'e I swear!")

"Where the Hell is Hermione. I called her and she said she was going to be here in an hour….and that was FOUR HOURS AGO!"

Harry just shook his head. He got up and found some Nasonex in the medicine cabinet (probably another 'finding' of the Twins'.)

"I'm gonna go and give this to Dumbledore, and then I'll beat your ass in Call Of Duty."

"Bring it on!"

Harry grinned and trudged up the steps. He looked at the couch where Dumbledore had been sitting. He wasn't there.

"Hey, Dumbledore, I have the nasal stuff!" Harry said, walking from room to room.

Then he froze, realization dawning upon him. Dumbledore wasn't here.

He ran back into the living room, but then stopped. There was a paw print made out of mud on the carpet.

Macavity had been here.

Dammit.

A/N: You will all get a cookie if you tell me what the dialogue from angry!Dumbledore is a reference from. I will love you all.

Please stay with this story, and tell me if it's worth it to go through with it.

Ps…GLEE'S ON TONIGH!

~Liv