Disclaimer: I own nought but the plot.
Note: There's a very, very long story behind this one, culminating in a case of mistaken identity. But this was the result, and as it's the first HP I've written in two years that I actually liked, I decided to post it.
Overdue
The mysteries of the written word will never fail to captivate Madame Pince. Books hold the key to all knowledge. Certainly, they can lie and curse and mislead as much as humans can, but half of their mystery and drama is found in the unravelling of their many secrets; of their veracities and their falsehoods. They are to be respected and admired as much as they are used as referential aides. They are not to be dropped in the bath, or used as footstools, or the cardinal sin, have their corners turned down to mark a page!
Oh, how the students maltreat the venerable tomes in her care! But that is to be expected in the circumstances, after all, they have come to Hogwarts to learn, to be taught, and Madame Pince can teach them the wonders of her books, so they too can, in time, learn to view the magnificent room and its even more magnificent horde in the same way that she does.
This room, this literary sanctuary, has seen so much, and as its mistress and protector, so Madame Pince has seen it too. She has seen eyes widen in wonder at the revelations on timeless pages. She has seen the carvings of initials appearing on the tables as romances blossom between the shelves. The library is not a dusty, dry abode, the final resting place of ancient scholars; it is full of vitality in its own unique way. She has watched the life of the school unfold from the safety of her desk, seeing students and teachers come and go, always an observer, never a participant.
Sometimes she wonders if she misses out, but she knows she never does. Occasionally she will emerge from her cocoon of parchment, so like armour-plating to her, and take her place at the top table and talk to whoever sits beside her. She can talk about anything, from potions to porpoises, and she knows that her conversation partner will respect her knowledge, guided by the hands of the masters, shaped by those mysterious books whose world she willingly and whole-heartedly immerses herself in.
The books hold the power. They always have, and always will do so, and the recognition of their merit is long overdue.