Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 33 ~ Life on the Other Side . . .

In the days that followed her return to her world, Hermione set about half-heartedly making up her extra credit with her professors. Her lack of enthusiasm was a topic of some concern in the staff room as the teachers enjoyed their tea and cakes.

”I really don’t know what’s the matter with her,” Minerva complained to Flitwick, who nodded in understanding. “When we engaged, it was as if . . . as if she no longer liked the taste of me. As you know, Filius, I consume large amounts of fruit in an effort to keep my flavor pleasant. Miss Granger made me feel as if I were . . . a chore.”

Filius swallowed down a bite of cake, then smacked his lips in agreement.

”I know what you mean, Minerva. Miss Granger is usually quite appreciative of my oral abilities. It’s all we do, you know, and I am quite familiar with her responses. I couldn’t make her orgasm. Very unsettling. She didn’t make the points she usually did.”

”Her striptease was atrocious,” professor Binns wheezed as he bobbed mid-air, drinking ghost tea. “No enthusiasm whatsoever.” He sounded a bit like a vacuum cleaner when he spoke. His voice had an airy, droning timbre, guaranteed to put student to sleep in mere minutes.

Professors Sprout, Sinistra and Vector had similar complaints.

”Sounds to me as if Miss Granger could stand a little visit to the Medical Ward for a thorough examination,” Poppy said, blowing on a cup of some steaming crimson liquid before taking a sip of it. “She could have picked something nasty up from that world that is interfering with her libido. I’d get to the bottom of it.”

The other teachers looked at the medi-witch with wide eyes. The problem was, if Poppy got to Hermione, more than likely there’d be no bottom left to get to. Luckily, Poppy couldn’t arbitrarily make appointments for students, or there wouldn’t be any.

Snape sat listening to the complaints, sipping his tea quietly for several minutes before he spoke up.

”If I might interject an observation about Miss Granger?” he ventured.

Groans of “Must you?” and “What do you know?” met his request. But the wizard continued.

”Have any of you given the least consideration as to Miss Granger’s position?” he asked them, setting his cup down on a nearby table and frowning at his fellow staff members.

”Who do you think we are, Severus? You?” Minerva sniffed. “You’re the one who worries about students’ feelings and personal situations, not us. We have better things to do than worry over them like brooding hens.”

”And that is your problem, Minerva. You all descended on the witch like one randy entity, all demanding she make up her marks. You have to realize Miss Granger has never had to do extra credit work with ALL her teachers at one time . . .”

”Not all,” Flitwick interjected rather nastily as the other staff members chuckled.

”That’s beside the point,” Snape replied tightly. “But can’t you see your demands on her is what made her less than enthusiastic? She felt forced to engage you.”

”Severus, every student at this school has a responsibility to keep up their marks. We are not asking Miss Granger to do anything that no other student has to do,” Professor Sinistra said, her eyes narrowed. “We aren’t taking advantage of the girl, just conducting business as usual. We have an obligation as teachers to insure she makes the very best marks possible. That’s our job. For you to imply that we are doing her a disservice by requiring her to follow protocol is . . . insulting to say the least!”

The other staff members grumbled agreement. Snape just sighed. They were unable or unwilling to see what pressure they had put on the Slytherin.

”Fine, then,” the Transfiguration teacher said, rising. “I won’t say anything more about it other than this. You can be sure you will continue to have lackadaisical encounters with Miss Granger from this moment on if you don’t cut her some slack and at least stagger your appointments with her. Even give her some time off.”

”At least we have encounters with her, Severus. For all of your ‘good intentions,’ she’s never considered lowering herself to dally with you. She’d rather take barely passing grades. You haven’t even had the balls to fail her after all these years. If a student treated me in such a manner, they’d fail my class year after year,” Minerva said flatly.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

”Class work and test grades account for something and I take them into consideration when I give marks. Miss Granger does the all the required assignments in a proper manner and does well on her exams, so she isn’t failing. Despite the way we issue out extra credit, it is still a matter of choice for the student. Or should be. You’ve all seemed to have forgotten that little fact,” he hissed. “You make it seem ‘mandatory,’ and fail a student if he or she doesn’t engage you. If that isn’t taking advantage of your charges and abusing your authority, I don’t know what is.”

Then the wizard turned and headed for the exit. He opened the door to leave and was hit in the ass by a stinger spell. Snape yelped as he was ejected through the exit, the door slamming behind him. All the teachers dissolved into laughter.

”Good shot, Minerva,” Professor Vector cackled as the Potions mistress blew on the tip of her wand as if to cool it.

”I’ve had plenty of practice,” she replied. “Besides, I can’t stand his ‘holier than thou” attitude, the sanctimonious twit. He needs to get with the program.”

Outside the door, Snape fumed, his hands flexing into fists. He couldn’t go back in there. They’d gang up on him and he didn’t know who actually fired the hex, although he suspected Minerva.

He sighed and pulled his robes around to examine them. Yes, there was a singed spot on the fabric where the spell had hit him in the buttocks. He’d have to have it repaired.

Snape transformed into cat form so no one would see his ruined robes and hurried to his private quarters to change before his next class.

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Minerva was on her way down to the dungeons, when she gripped her left forearm and grimaced. Damn, she was being summoned on a weekday. Well, she’d leave a note on the door that Potions was cancelled for the rest of the day. She had to answer the summons or she’d get it from both Tom and Bedaub Mules.

She hurriedly entered her office, scrawled a note and hastily walked down the corridor and magically attached it to her door. No doubt her students would be overjoyed, until she gave them double assignments at their next meeting. Then she hurried back to her office, warded it and entered her private quarters. She quickly donned the white robes of an Order member and Disapparated.

Minerva reappeared in a large, rather hot, barren, circular throne room lit by torches ensconced on the bare stone walls. Small bonfires burned in various places to provide heat for the one who resided there, the wizard who sat on a throne of bones, his piercing blue eyes fixed on his servant from beneath bushy white eyebrows set on a scaly, reptilian face. He was noseless, lipless, sported a long white beard and wore scarlet robes, with a matching pointed hat. Long white hair flowed from beneath it over his shoulders.

His snake Nagina, was coiled at the base of the throne. She lifted a third of her bulk and hissed at the witch as she dropped to one knee.

”I am your loyal servant, my Lord,” Minerva intoned. “Ask of me what you will.”

Dumbledore stared down at the witch with undisguised disgust.

”It seems no matter what I ask of you, Minerva, you are unable to provide it, you worthless sow,” the Dark Lord hissed. “Stand up and face me, you poor excuse for a spy.”

Trembling, Minerva rose, facing Albus Dumbledore, better known as Lord Bedaubs Mules.

”My humble apologies, my Lord,” Minerva simpered.

”I don’t want your apologies, Minerva. I want information! Crucio!”

Minerva screamed as the painful curse hit her. It was a short blast however, the wizard only wishing to make his point. He ended it quickly.

As Minerva stood shuddering before him, he demanded she give him news concerning Tom Riddle and his plans. Minerva didn’t have any. Unlike the Dumbledore of the alternate world, Tom didn’t give her anything to take to Bedaub Mules. He only expected her to bring him word of the despot’s plans. So what if she was tortured? She placed herself in this position. She had to deal with it, bloody Pureblood.

Unlike Snape, who was pressed into service, Minerva had been discovered to be an Order member by Tom. She was a Pureblood after all, and had suffered the unfairness her kind was subjected too. Rather than turn her over to the Ministry for torture and execution for being a practicing member of the Order of the Serpent, Tom made her into a spy. But she had none of the support that Snape did. Tom could turn her over to the Ministry at any time and that knowledge kept her doing his bidding. But he considered her as inept as Dumbledore did.

Minerva desperately searched her memory for anything that she could tell the dark wizard to keep from being tortured. Unlike Voldemort, Dumbledore didn’t whip his spying Potions mistress. He didn’t like to leave scars. It would make him look abusive to the Purebloods who served him. He wanted to seem benevolent. His tortures left no visible marks, only psychological ones.

”My Lord, I don’t have any information on Tom Riddle or the Death Eaters, but I can recount to you a very interesting occurrence that happened on the grounds of Hogwarts An alternate universe was accidentally accessed, one in which you serve as the Headmaster of Hogwarts and are deemed a great hero. There are some differences that you will find distasteful, however. Your counterpart favors Muggle-Borns and protects them as much as possible. And Harry Potter is under his wing as well.”

The wizard’s face contorted.

”I ask for information and you bring me fairytales? Crucio!” Dumbledore screamed, hitting her with the curse again, Minerva screaming in agony for about ten seconds before he released her and she fell to her hands and knees.

”It . . . it is no fairytale my Lord, I swear it!” she gasped desperately. “It involves the Mirror of Noisreva. A witch passed through it into our world, and her counterpart passed into hers. We gleaned much information about the alternate world. Tom Riddle is despised there, and promotes the Pureblood cause just as you do! Please allow me to explain this to you, my Lord!”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes rested on her, his face sober as Nagina slithered forward, hissing at the fallen witch. Minerva quickly crawled back, cringing.

”Back, Nagina,” Dumbledore hissed.

The snake turned upon itself and returned to the base of the throne. Dumbledore’s cold blue eyes rested on the trembling witch.

”Very well, Minerva. Tell me this story,” he said, tapping his wand on the arm of the throne. “For your sake, it had better be a good one.”

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Hermione sat alone in her room, working on her homework assignments, her door closed and warded with her signature so Harry and Ron wouldn’t barrel in on her, demanding a shag. Both were rather angry with her. Four days had passed and she hadn’t given either of them as much as a hand job. They didn’t understand what she was going through with her teachers, or the rough bout of sex she’d had with the Snape of the other world before she returned. He’d been enough to put her off sex for months.

She’d forced herself to attend to getting her marks up the past few days, engaging her professors. For the first time, she felt dirty and used as they accessed her body and vice-versa. She received no pleasure from the acts she performed, but tried her best to hide how she felt.

She wasn’t successful, because all of her professors were familiar with her in intimate situations. In fact, Hermione was a great favorite among them because she was normally so open and enthusiastic, so her change in demeanor was immediately noticed. As a result of her reticence, her extra credit marks weren’t as high as usual. Points were deducted for “lack of enthusiasm.”

”What did they do to you in that world?” a very frustrated Minerva complained at the end of their session.

”Nothing,” Hermione had answered sullenly, refusing to offer anything more. Minerva angrily gave her a minimum of points and told her she needed to straighten up.

Hermione stopped writing and stared down at her parchment. It was an essay for Transfiguration class. Snape was the only teacher who didn’t seem to be on her back. Because of her poor performance in private, all of her teachers were being rather harsh to her in class. They browbeat her in front of the other students for laxness, criticized her assignments and generally acted like bitches and bastards to her. Something else she had never experienced before. Before this, other people were targeted. Not Hermione Granger.

She did hex professor Flitwick, however, taking the opportunity when he was heading for Hufflepuff house with his back turned. She got him from the top of the marble staircase, hitting him with an Expelliarmus charm that ripped his wand away and sent him tumbling headfirst down the narrow stairwell he had been about to enter. Teachers usually walked through the castle with their wands out for protection against students. It hadn’t helped Flitwick a bit, the little bugger.

She’d get the rest of them later. Even Minerva.

Hermione felt alone and ostracized. There was no one she associated with who understood what she’d gone through in the other world, no one who had engaged someone with a different set of rules and values . . . no one she could really talk to about it. Talking about “feelings” was considered a weakness in this world. But she had never needed to talk about her feelings. Before, it was as if she had none.

The situation had changed. In fact, there was only one person that believed in talking about "feelings." It just so happened that he was the only person she knew of that had also engaged someone from another world. Her counterpart in fact.

Hermione shuddered.

That person was Professor Snape, her Transfiguration teacher. She had no doubt he’d welcome her in to “talk.” He lived for that kind of thing.

Hermione felt nauseous just thinking about it, but if she didn’t talk to someone she felt as if she’d go mad.

”Damn it,” Hermione hissed as she made her decision to talk to the wizard.

Life just wasn’t fair sometimes.

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A/N: Wow. Albus is a real bastard isn’t he? And poor Snape, getting hit in the ass with a stinger spell. Lololol. I couldn’t resist it. The name Nagina is written that way on purpose, indicating a slight difference from Nagini. Tom Riddle’s “Fawkes” has darker coloring and black eyes, thus differing from Albus’ “Fawkes.” With the snakes I used the names to indicate differences. Anyway, thanks for reading.