A/N: Once again, a thousand apologies for the delay, it's a busy time for me. I'm not promising to update very soon, I have to figure out what exactly is going to happen in the next chapter; I don't want things to move too fast. Ah well, enjoy chapter four!
Chapter 4 – The Big Fat Messy Book Monster
Hermione woke the next morning to find a big pair of yellow eyes staring back at her, and groaned. When was Crookshanks going to grow out of this staring phase? She hoped it would be soon. She pushed the ginger cat off her chest and got out of bed. She spent ten minutes getting dressed, and then another twenty fighting with her hair to get it in a stupid bun. She was aware of the fact that she also needed high-heels; she'd get a pair on the way to work. There were tons of shops near the library; one of them was bound to sell shoes. Hermione reached out for the now lovely glasses that had once been big, chunky and the ugliest shade of brown she had ever seen. She had spent an hour transfiguring them, after waking up at two in the morning. The spectacles now bore blue frames; no longer thick and heavy, but simple and sophisticated. Hermione put them on, quite anxious to see the look on Morella's face when she'd walk into the library. If she was going to have to follow such stupid rules, she was going to follow them her way. She had a quick breakfast and took care of Crookshanks before petting him on the head and darting out the door; she had to hurry up if she was going to buy a pair of shoes on the way to work.
After practically speeding through the isles in the shop, Hermione finally found a decent pair of shoes to wear. She tried them on. They hurt her feet, but figured she could fix that with a simple charm during lunch break. She paid for her shoes, almost throwing her money at the poor clerk and bolting out the door leaving a poor old man with her change. Reading his mind, Hermione shouted over her shoulder, "It's okay, keep the chaaaange!" She was running now and didn't stop until she got to the library, in a total mess from the wind. The Corpse was not impressed.
"Granger, I thought we talked about your hair – and WHAT are you wearing on your face??" Morella, visibly horrified, pointed to Hermione's glasses. Good. This was just the kind of reaction she was hoping for.
Take that, you old bat.
"Like them?" Hermione asked innocently. Morella glared.
"Like them! I – I – I – just get out of my face, Granger!" Hag-face turned and walked away, apparently mourning the loss of her ugly glasses. Hermione watched her, beaming. She then went to the ever-present pile of books at the back table, with the echo of her high heels clicking on the floor following close by. Her feet were already hurting; she made a mental note to fix that as soon as possible.
She must have spent just about all day picking up books for the back table's occupant. Every time she put away the pile of books, there was always another one waiting for her, and there never seemed to be any sign of someone actually reading them. Hermione never really spent time looking at the books; they were old and thick and, quite frankly, they smelled awful. She wondered who in the world would want to read these. She had always considered herself open-minded to books appearances – like the good old muggle saying: "Don't judge a book by its cover" – but these books seemed to be an exception. There was something particular about them. She was just about to take a peek inside the top volume when…
"Granger! … GRANGER!" God, she hated that shrill voice. She hated the way she pronounced her last name. Granger… she made it sound like she was an object. Hermione felt her blood bubbling. She wasn't usually this hateful towards people, but Morella James was quite a different story, thank you. She continued grumbling to herself as she put her pile of stinky books back on the table and approached the source of the sound of a drowning cat whose whiskers were being pulled one by one. She was then greeted by the face that could have been carved by demons; lucky for her this was a good day. Morella signalled her to come into her office. Hermione obeyed, curious to see what she was going to nag her for this time. She wondered, while she made her way up the stairs to the restricted section, how come Hog-face was allowed to screech her name out but when she so even as stubbed her toe on something, she was reprimanded for disturbing the "silent atmosphere". Then again, it was Morella she was thinking about here….
Figures
They reached the top of the stairs and Hermione paused to take in the great view of the library from the very highest level of the building. She saw rows upon rows of books and knew now why she stayed here, even with the Hairy Mole always picking on her. This was her world. Ah yes! Such a great blessing literature was… is… will always be! Hermione shot another loving glance towards this empire of written masterpieces (yes, even the stinky ones) before following Morella through a frosted door that read Mrs. M. James and into a small room barely big enough for both women.
The room would have been quite ordinary and somewhat pleasant, had it not been for the fact that the furniture in the room reminded Hermione of a child that had long outgrown a pair of trousers and refused to throw them out, regardless of the tearing seams. Hermione awkwardly squeezed in between the front of the desk and the chair. When she finally sat down in front of her employer, she already felt her knees beginning to bruise from bumping them so many times on the desk. Nonetheless, she rested her folded hands in her lap as she waited for the old woman to speak up. About a minute later, she did.
"There has been a rumour going around that someone has been sneaking about town for information on something very important…information that only we have." Hermione raised an eyebrow. She had better not start accusing me of anything or else… "We have no way of knowing just yet what it is this …person…is looking for, but I was informed that the information could be lethal if it got into the wrong hands. Therefore, I was instructed to keep a close eye on each of my employees just in case they were in on it" Hermione rolled her eyes. "And since you're my only employee, Granger, I'll be keeping a very close eye on you…" She ended her sentence and thought fit to stare at Hermione for a moment, a meagre attempt at a dramatic pause perhaps, before waving her hand at her, as if lazily shooing a fly. "Go now. I have things to do."
Hermione glared at Morella, infuriated that not only had she made her walk all the way up here just for that, she would even suggest that she would be "in" on such a scandal. She got up and marched out of Morella's office, which did not take long at all, given the size of the room, and made a point to slam the door behind her. She glided down the stairs with ease, fuming at the thought of what Morella had hinted. The nerve of this woman! As if she, Hermione Granger, would do such a thing! Use information, important information; restricted information! She stopped and smiled to herself for a bit quiltly. Well, she had done it before, but those days were long gone! And besides, she had done it for the right reasons. She was sure that whoever this was was nothing like her!
It took her some time to calm down, but just when she did, she came to that stupid back table that was piled high with twice as many books as there had ever been. What is wrong with this person! She thought. Even I don't read this much! This was going to end. It was bad enough, having to come to work for that stupid, lazy, no-good, old hag; she didn't need a big, fat, messy book monster to make things worse for her. That was it! She decided that she was going to pick up those books for the last time and then she was going to wait for the book monster to come back to its table with more books and then she would tear its head off!
Good thing for everyone, it took all day for Hermione to put those books away and by the time she came back to the table, there was another pile, just as big, waiting for her once more. She had missed him. And on top of that, her feet were hurting.
Damn it
Another week went by like this. Monster kept pestering her with stinky books and Salmonella Morella kept a close eye on her, just like she said she would. On the 17th day of this routine, Hermione finally sat down at the table where there lay a pile of books, as usual, and she hesitantly began examining the books around her.
"Monster, I don't know how many books we have in this library, but with the number I've put away, and with each one being different, never taken out twice, you must have read every book this library owns, or at least every stinky one, and that's saying something." Hermione wasn't quite sure why she was talking as if the person, or monster that had been using this table for the past month, was right there listening to her. She was so tired, she didn't even care. Her fingers gracefully ran along the spines of all the volumes wondering if she should take a look at what lay inside. She was just about to open the book, but something held her back. She wasn't sure why, but she suddenly felt uneasy. She then heard the echo of footsteps bounce off emanating from the granite floor and bouncing off the marble walls, coming her way.
The Book Monster!
She felt so childish, but she couldn't help it. She quickly hid behind the nearest bookshelf and took a few books out to make an improvised peephole. She watched as a tall figure sat at the very chair she had been sitting at just moments ago. After several minutes of heavy scrutinizing from the other side of the bookshelf, Hermione thought it was safe to claim that whoever was sitting at that table was a male. She wondered how old he was. From where she was, she couldn't tell. Surely quite old, however, if he's only been reading the decomposing books, she thought. Eventually, she came to realize that she had spent over half an hour staring at this person, whoever he was. Her feet still hurt, and her knees kept throbbing from sitting on them this whole time. She thought it would be best to simply get up, walk away silently and then come out from a different row as if she were somewhere else the whole time. And that's what she did, except, she hadn't expected her legs to be completely asleep. Therefore, one could imagine her surprise, when she attempted to walk, to find that the only thing she could do was topple over like a tree, followed by a loud thud, a plaintive "Owww" and yet another bruise to add to her growing collection.
Hermione then heard footsteps and doubted they would be anyone else's but Mrs. James, coming to reprimand her for her school-girlish and clumsy behaviour. Contrary to her beliefs, it was not Morella that helped her to her feet, but a great big pair of strong arms. When Hermione looked up to see who these arms belonged to, she found the most beautiful pair of brown eyes staring back at her. Not the creepy Crookshanks way of staring though, no, this was a kind, worried stare, one that Hermione wished she got more often…
"Are you alright, Miss?" asked the man.
I am now!
"Oh, yes, I'm just fine thank you… and how are you?" Hermione quickly pressed her lips in embarrassment.
"I'm fine as well. I don't think we've ever met. My name is Daric." He held out his hand so that Hermione could shake it. She accepted it gladly. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing yours?"
"Err – Hermione" She said simply. "But I really must be going now, you see, I have to clean up this huge pile of books." She wanted to stop it at that, but for some reason, her mouth just wouldn't shut. "…the Big Fat Messy Book Monster, I call him because he never picks up after himself, even after all this time he's been here, you' think he knows how things are run around here, wouldn't you?"
Daric looked at her, smiled and then laughed, showing off a beautiful white smile. "I guess so. It was very nice meeting you, Miss Hermione, and I hope to be seeing you again soon. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my table and finish studying." He gently kissed her hand and walked back to the other side of the bookshelf and sat down at the table bearing a thousand smelly books.
It seemed as thought the mystery of the Book Monster had suddenly become that much more mysterious.