The Boy in the Attic

Chapter 5:

Monday morning dawned to find Hermione already awake and moving frantically around her home. It took four cups of tea and a hot shower for her to be calm enough to get ready for work, and even then her hands shook so badly that she dropped her toothbrush twice while trying to brush her teeth. “Too much tea,” She said to herself as she stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles in her robes. “Too much tea, too much caffeine in the tea… That fourth cup was definitely a bad idea… Oh goodness I need to pee.”

Her movements were jittery, her thumb and index finger on her right hand tapping against each other relentlessly as she finished her morning routine. By the time she came down the stairs to floo to work her hair was escaping from its knot at the base of her neck, her eyes were rimmed with red from stress and lack of sleep and she was limping slightly from banging her hip against the side table one too many times. Despite all her attempts at making herself look presentable, Hermione Granger looked a mess.

As she reached for the pot of floo powder, by the fireplace, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging above the mantle; and winced. “It’s okay Hermione, you can do this,” She said aloud as she attempted to fix her hair. The words felt heavy on her tongue and she had to struggle to get them out, “It’s going to be okay.” A quick freshening charm lifted some of the strain from her face if not from her heart and she reached for the floo powder once more.

“I faced Voldemort, this won’t be even half of bad as that… all I have to do is go to work. No Death Eaters today, only Miss Richards and the staff… and the library patrons… and probably a few reporters, no big deal.” Hermione let out a short, sharp laugh that died out almost as soon as past her lips, smothered by the oppressive air of the otherwise empty room.

“Look at me, talking to myself like a crazy person. Standing around here won’t fix anything and I have to go to work… Come on Hermione… This will be a cakewalk compared to Voldemort…Come on… Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!”

With that cry, her grip on the floo powder loosened and the small grains flew into the fire. The flames flared up green and before she could second-guess herself, Hermione stepped into the fireplace, called out her destination, and disappeared.

~~~
Outside Hermione’s window a raven was perched atop the branch of a birch tree. Its head was cocked to the side, its beady eyes fixed to the spot that she had just vacated; a scroll was tied securely to its right leg. Hermione’s ramblings had drowned out the sound of the bird tapping on her window and now the creature was quite put out.

His master had instructed him to give the letter to Hermione and no one else. Now that she was gone he would have to wait for her to return before he could fly home and he wasn’t very happy about it. It was cold outside, and the branches of the tree were slippery with ice and snow, making it a little more difficult to grasp. He certainly hoped that she wouldn’t be gone long and if she was… well, then he would just have to get in a good peck at her fingers when he finally delivered the letter.

~~~
Eight hours later Hermione re-emerged from her floo, covered in dust and convinced that her brain would leak out of her nose if she didn’t stop sneezing soon. She was absolutely exhausted and she only just managed to make it to the couch before she collapsed. Her morning had not improved after she left the house. There had been a few more reporters than she expected when she arrived at work, cameras clicking and flash bulbs going off in her face the moment she stepped out of the floo.

Miss Ida Richards, the head librarian, had been quite upset with the ruckus the reporters were making, and therefore decided that Hermione could not work at her normal station, assigning her to stockroom duty instead. The stockroom was the least desirable place to work in the entire library; no magic was allowed within the room and there was ten years worth of grime covering everything. While sorting through the books Hermione thought she would surely suffocate from the amount of dust hanging in the air and her arms protested with every heavy book she had to lift.

Hermione sneezed again, hitting her head against the back of the couch with the force of it. “I should just quit… I wouldn’t have any money coming in but at least I wouldn’t have to deal with this shite. I wouldn’t be so tired.” She muttered to herself as she settled back farther into the cushions. “That’s it I’ll just quit.” She said; Her words followed closely by another sneeze.

“Does the Miss need a hankie?” Moppy asked from the kitchen doorway, holding a fresh white handkerchief in her hands.

Hermione looked up from her place on the couch and smiled. “Oh, no thank you Moppy, I’m fine. I’m just really tired.” She yawned as if to prove her point, and settled further back into the cushions. “Did you have any problems while I was gone?”

“There was one Miss. I was taking the letters like you wanted, Miss, keeping some and throwing the others away, but Moppy could not get the letter from one bird. Moppy tried, but the bird pecked at Moppy’s hands.”

“Oh dear, is the bird still here?” Hermione asked.

“Yes Miss, it is in the tree outside.”

Moppy pointed toward the living room window before returning to the kitchen, as Hermione hurried to the window. There, sitting high up in the bare branches of the birch tree was a raven. Its dark feathers stood out in stark contrast to the winter white surroundings, and despite the distance Hermione could feel its beady eyes staring at her. “That bird can only belong to one man,” she said to herself as she opened the window. When the bird didn’t move she put her hands on her hips and sighed impatiently. “Well come on then,” she called to the bird, “I’ve had a very bad day and I don’t need you adding to it.”

The raven ruffled its feathers and flew down from the branch and onto the windowsill. It looked at her for a moment before holding out its leg to her, offering the message tied to it. Hermione took the message, quickly remembering what Moppy had said about the bird trying to peck, but the bird still managed to get in a good peck at her knuckles before she could move her hand away. “You are definitely Snape’s bird.” She muttered.

If birds could smirk, Hermione imagined that is just what the raven would be doing. It followed her over to the couch, perching on the arm as she sat in the middle and looked at her with its head cocked to the side. “You were told to wait for a reply weren’t you?” The bird bobbed its head. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

She leaned back against the cushions and opened the letter, “Well here it goes… it can’t be too bad right?”

Granger,
I have read the Prophet article you were referring to, and I am surprised that anyone would take it seriously. As I was your Professor for six miserable years I know what you are capable of, and human experimentation is not on your list of skills. You, Granger, never experimented with anything as far as I can remember. You rely on your books for your knowledge and ideas; every word that sprouted from your mouth in my classroom was taken from a book. If you would like, I would be happy to write the Ministry and tell them so. I have a letter already written, just waiting for you to give the go ahead.

Hermione’s mouth was hanging open, as she sputtered in indignation. “What I… How dare… I experiment… The polyjuice!” her words died off however, as she continued reading.

Shut your mouth girl, it isn’t dignified, and do not try to prove me wrong by citing that polyjuice disaster. That recipe was taken directly from a book there was no experimentation involved. Was it dangerous? Yes, especially considering you proved that you are not even capable of acquiring the right hair for the potion. Was it an experiment? No, it was not.

Your lack of creativity was not just apparent in my class Granger. Never once did I hear Minerva, or Filius, or any of your other professor exclaim at how you improved a spell. You were simply the most skilled at performing the basic spells. Even when you were the best you were still mediocre, you would need to experiment to rise above that. You have never done that, and it is even more evident now when you consider your career of choice. Does shelving books for hours a day excite you Granger? I can see only one other reason why you would pick such a path.

You, Granger, are afraid.

S.S.

After reading the letter Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the riotous anger to fill her. Snape had just insulted her, had called her mediocre, and had criticised her career. Yesterday her anger would have bubbled over long before she finished the letter, but today she simply sat on the couch, her breathing calm and even as she stared down at the parchment in her hands. The past few days and the eight hours of manual labour that morning had worn her out. Her anger and frustration where gone, replaced by clear reason. After she got over her first reaction to the beginning of Snape’s letter, she could only shake her head.

Hermione looked over at the raven. It was still perched on the arm of the couch but it was poised for flight. It eyed her intently and shuffled from foot to foot as if waiting for something. “He told you that I would be angry didn’t he? Well don’t worry you silly bird, I’m not going to hex you.” Hermione said, her voice calm and soothing. She giggled when the bird slowly relaxed and scooted a bit closer to her on the couch. She reached out and ran a finger down the bird’s back, “Just give me a minute to right a reply, alright?”

~~~
Severus Snape had just completed the final stir for a batch of arthritis potion when his wards alerted him that his raven had returned. He moved the cauldron off the heat so it could cool and exited his lab, heading straight to the living room. The raven was perched on the back of his favourite armchair and let out an impatient ‘caw’ when Severus entered the room. “What took you so long?” He grumbled at the bird, holding up a finger in warning when Calum made a move to peck at his hands as he removed the letter. “If you make one more move, you winged rat, I will turn you into a feather duster.”

Calum pulled his head back quickly, clicked his beak in defiance and flew over to his perch by the window. He eyed Severus for a moment more, as if making sure his ill-tempered owner was not reaching for his wand, before turning his attention to his food dish.

“Hmm,” Severus grumbled as he seated himself in his chair before the fire, “Let’s see what the little witch has to say.”

Snape,
If you were expecting a howler I hope you won’t be too terribly disappointed, as you can see you have not receiving one, from me at least. I’m sure you’ve gotten enough of those over the years, and I really haven’t got the energy to scream that much. Perhaps you will be placated if I confide that my mouth was indeed hanging open when you told me to shut it, and the word “polyjuice” had, in fact, crossed my lips.

I’m too tired to argue with you Snape, but not quite tired enough to tell you that I was afraid. Oops, that just slipped out didn’t it? I have a terrible habit of writing what I’m thinking with no filter to stop those thoughts from appearing on the page. Oh well, there is no use hiding it now, and I’m not going to waste ink crossing it out. I do wonder how on earth you become so perceptive. Was it all those years of spying, or had that particular skill developed in the years before? I don’t suppose you’ll tell me, but I had to ask anyway.

In this short letter, I will not tell you my side of the story, but I will apologize for getting you involved yesterday. I haven’t had a chance to read this morning’s paper, and I’m sure you would have said something if you had read it, but I have a sinking feeling that you and I are featured in it; sorry about that. In order to make up for it I will stroke your ego a bit. The potion you gave me yesterday did wonders. I have looked through countless books and owled a few Potions Masters and none of the recipes I have tried did half of what your potion managed to do. It was nothing short of a miracle. You must give me the recipe; I’ll beg if I have to.

H.G.

P.S. I’m sorry about the badger.


AN: Hey guys, sorry about the wait. RL has anded me some major issues that I have to sift through, but I am still writing and I will finish this story.

Just in case anyone was confused the badger in the last line is referencing Hermione's hospital visit to Snape in chapter 3. The visit had ended with him throwing her out and bruising her pride, and with her turning his bedside table into a badger. Not a pleasant visit at all, and now he was her only way out of the angry crowd.

Also, I have a beta now! yay! NectoMortis revised this chapter (and all of the previous chapters that I will be reposting soon), and I am super grateful.

Thank you to my reviewers:
neelix, Heidi191976, VoraciousReader, catysmom, Sureves Epans, Sampdoria, Northstar, HarryGinny4eva, Megan, abbi cee, AndromedaTonks, Anon, and Nerys.
I'm sorry I kept you guys waiting for so long.