Chapter Text
Quirrel walked down the hallway with a tall stack of books in his hands. He was on his way to deliver them to Madam Monomon herself. She always chided Quirrel for being so formal and polite even after all this time they’ve known each other. How long had it been now? years? at least. a decade? more? a lifetime for sure.
When did they meet? So long has passed, or at least it feels that way. He still remembers the way she looked when he first lay his eyes on her. He was younger then and a much less experienced academic. Quirrel, along with many other students and researchers, had arrived at the archives for an annual summoning. Once a year Monomon would host a gathering to archive and document findings and new research on varied topics.
He had heard so much about the teacher herself, her magnificence, intelligence, wit, and grand stature. But what he was most curious was about how her lifespan was close to that of pale beings, much like himself. A blessing and a curse that they both shared, one that has allowed them to meet many interesting souls but also outlive them.
What was he thinking about again? Oh right, the first time they had met. He and his group were directed into a main hall where the lady herself was waiting. As they all shuffled together, murmurs and nervous gossip began spreading through the crowds. Quirrel picked up on scattered comments, questions, and theories different scholars had about the process, the studies, if there would be presentations, and all kinds of inquiries. He was going to add to the conversation with his many theories of what the day would bring until his attention was directed elsewhere.
The hall they were walking through had large mosaics. Through the shining lights of the fog canyon, they littered the floor with beautiful colors and shapes. Depictions of flowers and symbols that represented the many areas of Hollownest. What caught his the most was a single metallic bench in front of a large window overlooking the archives themselves. It was most peculiar for it did not face the beautiful greenery but rather looked in the building itself, as if to allow its users to observe the archives from afar. Perhaps someone in the facility took a liking to watching the many bugs with their comings and going.
Eventually the group stopped walking as they reached the end of the corridor. They stood patiently waiting in front of a large door, all in silence and anticipation. Perhaps 4 or 5 seconds passed, but the tension made it feel like an eternity. And when it did pass, the doors gave way to a beautiful and large room. The ceiling was high and spacious, which was a good contrast to how the walls were covered in book shelfs and furniture stacked with scrolls, books, and all kinds of notebooks and writing supplies. And in the middle of the most wonderful place he had ever been in was Monomon the teacher.
The rumors were, as they usually are, only somewhat correct in their statements. For Madame Monomon was so much more than anyone could have ever put into words. She was of tall stature, with long flowing hair that stopped below her waist, and her skin was a warm golden color. Her face was lovely, bright and beautiful. Her eyes shone so brightly with cleverness and wit. With grace she extended her arms and addressed them.
Her voice was melodic and gentle but strong and commanding. “Welcome fellow scholars, researchers, academics, and students. I am most pleased to host you all for the annual meeting of Hollownest’s finest minds. It is a pleasure to meet you all today.”
She ended her greeting with an elegant bow. Everyone bowed back, some with the same level of elegance and poise and she, whilst others like Quirrel himself stumbled through it. His clumsiness came not out of feeling out of place but because never in his life had he met someone like madame Monomon. He felt as if his heart was beating out of his chest.
“As many of you already know, this event will last a week. Through it, we will archive and record your findings, theories, and other studies. Today I will assess each one of you and redirect you to different faculty members and assistants of mine that will guide you through the process and protocols. We will begin at noon after you find your temporary residence and rest up, for I am sure you must all be exhausted from your trip here. My assistant here will guide you to your dorms. With that, I must excuse myself, for there is much to get done. It has been a pleasure, my fellow students.”
With another bow, she turned and left the room through an exit behind her. Before anyone had any time to react, the assistant began giving instructions on where to go and what to do. They are to find their dorms and prepare their interview with Madame Monomon. They each will have 10 minutes to present their findings and further comments and ideas, and depending on her ladyship, they will be directed with their next steps.
Quirrel has few memories outside of finding his dorm and preparing for the interview. What he can recall the most is how nervous but mainly how awestruck he was. He expected to feel small and insignificant but all he could focus on was how beautiful and enchanting Monomon was. And how he panicked when he was escorted by a staff member to the room where the interviews were being held.
When they arrived, the staff member knocked on the door and announced Quirrell’s name and promptly left. From inside, Monomon’s voice answered, “Come in!" With trembling hands Quirrel opened the door, trying his best to at least not look as nervous as he felt. He was hit by multiple fragrances, mainly the smell of old parchment and something more subtle… a mix of coffee and roses. He almost got lost in it before Monomon rose from her desk to greet him.
With lively enthusiasm masked by professionalism and curtesy, she extended her hand and spoke. “Hello dear Quirrel, a pleasure to meet you.”
Up close Quirrel could see how she was much taller than him. It wasn’t an uncomfortable height difference; thankfully, he didn’t need to strain his neck too much. The feeling was new to Quirrel; it is not as if he were a short man; if anything, his height is overall average for his lands. It was Monomon who was the anomaly, the most beautiful anomaly he had ever seen, may he add. He abruptly stopped himself from spacing out again; he needed to be present and be professional! He clasped her extended hand with both of his.
“Hello Madame Monomon, the pleasure is mine.” Quirrel did his best not to stumble through his words, but he wasn’t as successful as he would have liked.
With soft laughter Monomon answered. “Oh please, just Monomon. As of right now we are equals sharing theories and ideas, I urge you to drop the formality for a short time.”
Her smile was genuine and playful. Quirrel couldn’t bring himself to imagine being an equal to her. Not to Monomon, the teacher, the architect, the researcher, the academic; he could never be equal to her many, many titles. He could smell roses and coffee much more now that he was in proximity to her. As he studied her, he could see how her eyes crinkled in amusement. That’s when he realized he was still holding her hand for much longer than was adequate. He quickly retrieved his hands with embarrassment.
Monomon giggled softly. Quirrel couldn’t help but ask himself if she was always like this, so playful. Surely she must have a good sense of humor, a total contrast to other serious academics who couldn’t fathom such lightheartedness. Or… could it be that he has had such an effect on her? Nonsense, there is no reason to believe that. He chided himself for such thoughts.
“Come, sit with me.” Monomon sat down on a large desk littered with notebooks and writing supplies and beckoned Quirrel to do the same.
“So, I’ve reviewed your paper on the evolution of life forms of Hollwnest and their changes since the pale beings came to these lands, and I must say I am thoroughly impressed. I did not expect anyone to pick up on this until years to come.” Her voice was excited and carried a hint of awe in it.
Quirrel was completely taken aback by her comments. He had expected to sit down and try to pitch his findings to Monomon. In no world did he think that she would be the one to review it personally and praise him for it. Despite himself, it went straight to his pride and heart.
“I—thank you, Madame. I was not aware that you read the papers yourself, much less take an active interest in them.”
“Why of course my dear fellow researcher. One must know firsthand what is being stored and filed in the archives; it wouldn’t be very smart of me to leave all the learning to other faculty members now, would it?”
“Oh I apologize, I did not mean such disrespect. I only meant I assumed that your position wouldn’t allow time to check every paper so thoroughly”
Again, Monomon answered with hints of laughter in her voice. “Ah, such are the actions of other head researchers. But my dear Quirrel, don’t you agree that all knowledge is equal? It matters not if the title of who wrote it is esteemed or not. All information is vital.”
All of Quirrel’s fears and insecurities were replaced by curiosity. It was no wonder Monomon had come this far; she was the brightest mind he had ever met. And not only that, they shared the same kind of logic. To him that was more intimate than anyone he had ever tried to know. Since that moment, his walls came crashing down, and he no longer feared being in her presence.
Excited, he continued. "Yes, I completely agree! Sadly not enough people think the same way.”
Despite himself and his initial fears, Quirrel felt confident and excited to talk to Monomon. The seconds passed into minutes, and the supposedly ten minutes they were supposed to have had turned into a whole hour of them ping-ponging ideas, theories, comments, and anything they could possibly think of. Quirrel didn’t know it at the time, but he was not the only one who had never felt so understood in his entire life. Monomon was right there next to him just as excited to have met him.
“Oh! Oh no, we got too carried away. This has been so far for ten minutes!”
With dread Quirrel began apologizing. “I am so sorry Madame it was not my intention to take so much of your time, I’ll leave right away.”
Again with her soft laughter. “Wait my dear scholar this is not a bad thing at all! It has been so long since I’ve enjoyed a project overview, I am most thankful for it.”
Slowly he relaxed, taking her words in. “Really? I mean I am the one to thank you Madame Monomon. It has been truly an honor to be able to talk to you today.”
She shot up and grabbed Quirrel’s hands clasping them in hers. Before Quirrel could understand or make an kind of reaction Monomon excitedly said. “Why don’t you stay?”
“…what?”
“Well, you’ve mentioned you did this research primarily on your own, so it is totally up to you. But I think your work and you as a researcher have immense potential, and I would be delighted to accommodate you here in the archives. And I don’t say this publicly, but I am always on the lookout for new minds to keep for myself in the archives. Please join my team.”
Quirrel was blank. What had just happened? Had Monomon the teacher asked him to be in her team? The Monomon? Was he dreaming? He knew his worth as an academic and researcher but never in his dreams could he had been able to come up with such a thing. And not only was this a dream but the best opportunity he had ever received in his life.
Before he could answer, she began. “I apologize if I startled you; that was not my intention. I understand this is a major life decision, and for me to ask you out of the blue is rather unprofessional—"
“I’ll do it”. Quirrel blurted his answer before he even knew what he was saying. “I mean it’s an honor Madame Monomon, I would be most fortunate to accept this offer.”
The rest of Quirrel’s memories are a blur. How he went back to his dorm grinning ear to ear, and that as the week passed it was less about him preparing his findings and more about setting everything up for an indefinite stay. He can barely remember discussing the technical details of his supposed yearly stay, which then turned into two, then three or four. Eventually Monomon offered him a stable position as her assistant, which bled into being the head of research next to Monomon. And so it went.
-------
A soft giggle snapped him back to reality. Looking up he cheerfully greeted the woman in question. “Oh, hello madame!”
“Hello, my dear Quirrel. What brings you to this side of the archives as of this moment?” Her voice was melodic, grounding, and breathtaking all at once. She put her usual coffee cup down as she addressed him.
Despite the many times he has seen her with more casual attire and completely relaxed when working on something, his heart always felt like it was going to fail. Trying hard to ignore this, Quirrel answered, “I’ve brought the tomes you asked for, Madame."
With a smile and a scoff, Monomon answered, “Please, Quirrel, for the last time, I beg of you to drop the 'madam' title.”
She beckoned him to leave the books next to her on her desk and took another sip of her coffee. As he approached her and did as she asked, Quirrel laughed and said. "Never, Madame. Unless someone is lucky enough to be yours, I believe no one deserves to drop the titl…e.”
Monomon almost spit her coffee in response. Quirrel stopped himself as he turned bright red. Why did he say that?! What came over him? Why would he say such bold things to the madame herself? He was getting way too comfortable with her. Oh gods, he was going to get fired for sure. Why would he be so unprofessional? But before he could continue freaking out Monomon began laughing loudly. She threw her head back and held her stomach as she did.
Mortified Quirrel began. “I am sooo sorry, Madame. I do not know what came over me; I’ll excuse myself right away.”
Her eyes were bright and clearly pleased by the situation. Before Quirrel could leave, she grabbed his wrist and said. “Nono, please, Quirrel, it was funny; do not leave. I still need your assistance on some matters here. Please sit.”
He could never say no to his madame. Softly he answered. “Of course. What can I help you with?”
Quirrel sat down next to her and faced her. Now Monomon was the one who looked uncomfortable. Whenever she was anxious or stressed, she would begin playing with her hair; this is how Quirrel knew it was something serious. “Well…” she began. “what did you think of me when we first met?”
“Oh! I was just thinking about that actually.”
“Really? How come?” Monomon leaned closer to him, a recurring habit of hers that Quirrel also knew how to read. He could make a list of what each one of them meant, why they were caused, and what would happen afterwards. Her leaning towards someone meant the conversation had Monomon totally present and was trying to gather as much information as she could. Her mind racing, gears turning, ready to connect the dots of whatever she had going on in her head.
“I haven’t the slightest clue; perhaps it’s because it was in this very same room where we had our first actual meeting. But the main things I remember were being somewhat afraid because of all the rumors and how highly praised you were. I was so afraid of making mistakes and acting like a fool.” Monomon chuckled. “But then we began talking, and I realized how similarly we think. I remember truly feeling seen for the first time in my life. Why do you want to know if I may ask?”
She looked hesitant to answer at first, but after a deep inhale, she began. “Well… this may sound random, but I’m afraid of how I come off in first impressions. We met under academic circumstances so it wasn’t as “realistic” as what I am looking for.”
Quirrel shifted in his seat. “Where are you going with this, Madame...?"
With a sigh she continued. "Well, Lurien has invited me to a gala that he hosts every eight years."
“Oh yes, I remember; you were invited last time, but you said it was a waste of time and you were too busy studying the fungal wastes.”
Laughing Monomon continued. “And I’d do it again. However, this year I believe I would like to attend.”
Quirrel looked completely taken aback, to which Monomon pretended offense. “Do not stare at me like so, my dear student; how rude of you to assume I have no interest in such activities.”
She only called him her student these days when she joked or when they were in the presence of other academics so as to try to not show her obvious favoritism for him. Regaining his composure, Quirrel playfully quipped back. “Oh nonono, you are correct, Madame. How dare I assume the mushrooms would always take priority over your oh-so-always-full social life?"
Scoffing, Monomon weakly placed her hand to his chest, pretending to push him away. “You wound me, Quirrel.”
Smiling coyly, he took her hand. “And yet you give me the daggers willingly my dear, Monomon.”
Floored Monomon stared with her mouth agape. Before Quirrel could lose his edge he continued. “And what does this gala have to do with first impressions?”
Always quick, she regained her composure in no time. “Well, there are some nobles there that may benefit our causes. One of the lords attending has lands near the crystal peak, which, if you can recall, is an off-limits area…” She began grumbling. "Even though it shouldn’t even be private land in the first place," making Quirrel laugh. “And in order to study a specific crystalline structure, we need his blessing of sorts.”
Without skipping a beat Quirrel remarked. "Ah, so you already tried going there yourself and got banned, so now you need to do it legally.”
Monomon looked guilty. Bingo.
Smiling softly, he asked, “How can I help?”
“You would have to come with me to the gala and help me make acquaintances with him there.”
Quirrel choked in response. “Me? To the gala? Madame, I know you do not care for social differences, but are you not trying to win a nobleman's hand? Wouldn’t it be unwise for me to go with you?”
Monomon looked annoyed. "Well, as much as I hate those ideals, I think you are right, my dear Quirrel… but what if you went with me formally as my assistant? Everyone knows your position in the archives already, and I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to question my judgment in this.”
“You make excellent arguments, Madame, but we should still have a plan of action. I fear you will lose your temper if anyone makes a comment about bringing your lab assistant to a formal gathering.”
She looked hopeful at Quirrel. “So you will go then?”
“I’ll do anything you ask Madame Monomon.” He replied with all the honesty and softness in his being.
She threw arms around him, almost knocking the both of them off his chair. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Quirrel! I couldn’t have done this on my own. I must run now and get the mail man before he leaves to confirm my assistance.”
And just like that, she left the room, leaving Quirrel glued to his seat. His mind couldn’t stop racing. How does she always manage to surprise him like this? Every time he thinks he has her pinned down, she manages to surprise him. Also, why is she running off? Aren’t there like at least ten other staff members who could assist her? But the worst part of all this is how fast his heart is beating and how badly he is blushing.
“A gala with Monomon…”