The Boy in the Attic

The Boy in the Attic:

Working in a library seemed like the perfect job for a bookworm know-it-all like Hermione Granger. It was why, after seeing an advertisement for an opening at the magical division of the London Library in the Daily Prophet, Harry and Ron had suggested that she take the job. It was also why, after a few days of consideration, Hermione had taken the position.

She could have said no; she could have taken one of the many other offers she constantly received, one of the of the better paying ones (the ones that Harry and Ron didn’t know about), but she chose the library job. After all, what bookworm wouldn’t want access to thousands of books with limited interruptions? It was the perfect job because it was what she was expected to do. They expected her to take a boring research job, they expected her to be, or claim to be, too busy to go out on the weekends; and they expected her to date Ron. If she did what they expected her to do, people didn’t ask questions, and that suited her just fine.

So, three years after she had taken the job, towards the end of another shift at the library, Hermione Granger had no reason to suspect that people would be asking her a lot of questions very soon.

She pushed the cart of old books, the ones that were too fragile or too volatile to use magic on, toward the back shelves and began sorting them. “‘Destruction of the Old Magic’ by Agustus Snipperson goes next to ‘The Fine Art of Hexing’ by Horrace Snonikoff. Fine art? Ten Galleons Mr. Snonikoff would have been a Death Eater if he hadn’t died 200 years before Riddle came around.” She muttered to herself as she picked up the next book.

It wasn’t until she reached the end of the pile that she paused. “‘Maladies of the Mind’ by Edward Nefronsen,” She read; reaching up to put it back in its place on the shelf, she stopped at the last second and put it back on her cart.

“All done Miss Granger?” asked a voice from behind her.

She spun around, startled, and let out an exasperated sigh when she saw who had spoken. “Darrel, you promised you wouldn’t be sneaking up on me any more. It’s bad for my heart.” She admonished.

“Sorry Miss Granger,” Darrel grumbled, blushing and fiddling with the large badge on his chest that proclaimed he was a member of the security team in bold letters. “It’s just, we’re about to close and Miss Richards has been very clear that we are supposed to have everyone out of the building by closing time. You know, with the Christmas Season coming up so quick and all, everyone wants to get home early.”

Hermione smiled at him kindly, grabbed the library cart and began pushing it toward the front desk. “Yes Darrel, thank you. I’m just going to check out this book and then I’m done.”

“Alright Miss, have a nice night.”

“You too,” Hermione replied as Darrel turned to continue on his rounds. True to her word Hermione finished up quickly. She checked out the book, stashed it in her bag and flooed home.

As she stepped into the living room of the small cottage she had purchased shortly after the war she stopped dead in her tracks. Something was wrong, and it didn’t take her long to figure out what it was. Ron’s cloak was draped over the corner of the loveseat and his boots were by the front door, a puddle already forming around them from the snow. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He and Harry were on a case for the Ministry and they weren’t supposed to be back for another week. She dropped her bag and did a quick search of the ground and first floors. Ron was nowhere to be found, and as she ascended the stairs to the attic she felt fear wrap around her stomach in a vice like grip.

She found him standing in the doorway at the top of the attic stairs, right where she had known he would be. They had quarrelled about the room often enough. He had wanted to know what it contained, and she had always refused to answer. She had tried to tell him once; not the whole truth, but most of it, and he hadn’t believed her. So, she had given up. When he asked again a few days later, and the time after that, she just shook her head and smiled sadly. “It’s none of your business Ron,” she would say.

“You’re my girlfriend,” he would reply, “Your business is my business. You shouldn’t be hiding things from me.”

Oh yes, they had quarrelled about that room quite a bit, but he hadn’t said anything in a while so she had thought he had abandoned it. As she came up behind him she could practically feel the tension and the anger, and another emotion she couldn’t define, vibrating off him. “Ron…”

“How long have you had a house-elf Hermione?” He demanded without turning to look at her. “I came here to surprise you and I found it cleaning the kitchen. It disappeared as soon as it saw me, and then I knew. I knew I had to find out what was up here; if you were hiding a bloody house-elf from me what else were you hiding?”

“Ron, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh it’s not, is it? So you haven’t been hiding this thing… this monster up here? You haven’t been hiding this from me?”

“He’s not a monster! Ron if you would just let me explain,” she pleaded, reaching out to grab his arm.

He jerked away from her as soon as he felt her fingertips graze his shirt. “Is this one of your little experiments, Hermione? That… I don’t even know what that is! How could you keep something that disgusting with you?”

“He is not disgusting Ronald, he is a human being. A human being! And this, this right here is why I didn’t tell you. You won’t listen, Ron, you won’t understand.” She shouted at him.

“You actually expect me to believe that thing is human? That is a monster, Hermione!”

“No Ron, he is not!”

“Get out of my way,” he growled turning suddenly and grabbing both her arms in a strong grip. With little effort he pushed her out of his way, slamming her against the wall in the process, and was halfway down the stairs before she had a chance to recover. “I’m reporting you to the Ministry. You are a liar, and you disgust me.”

Hermione slid down the wall, and sat on the stairs as she listened to Ron storm out of her house. Her head hurt, from where she had hit it on the wall, but the rest of her body felt numb. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when she heard the front door slam that she noticed the small house elf that stood shivering by her knee. “Moppy is sorry Miss, Moppy is sorry. Moppy tried to make him leave but he would not. He would not.”

“No Moppy, this is not your fault; it’s mine. I should have known this would happen eventually.” She dropped her head into her hands, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to will the tears away. “I should have known.”

“The master is crying Miss.” Moppy said softly.

Hermione lifted her head, nodded, and slowly rose. Without another word she finished the short climb to the attic room. There, huddling in the corner next to an overlarge stuffed rabbit, a small boy sat, covering his face with misshapen hands. “Norton,” Hermione called softly as she hurried to his side.

He flinched for a moment when she wrapped him in her arms, but he soon relaxed into her. “Bad man. Bad, mean man.” He sobbed.

“Shhh, the bad man is gone, and he can’t hurt you now.” Hermione cooed in his ear, “You’re safe.” But, even as she spoke the words her heart broke, for she knew she couldn’t promise him that anymore.


A.N: Norton will be described and explained in the next couple of chapters, and Snape will make is grand entrance soon.
And if some of you think Ron's reaction was a little extreme, he did just find out a big secret about his girlfriend and he feels a bit betrayed.
Please Review! It feeds my muse and lights the fire under my ass. :)