The Burning Pen

Through the Looking Glass
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 10

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 10 ~ Hermione's First Day

Swinging her healing bag, a happy Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, leaving a very pleased and satisfied Snape behind. Her blowjob was indeed very nasty and very wet, involving saliva and lots of deep throating and gagging, once she realized that turned Snape on even more. She even did teabagging, which the dark wizard enjoyed immensely.

He gave her the potions, Bezoar and a little unassuming pouch to keep them in under her robes as well as a pass to get her back to Gryffindor Tower in case she ran into Filch, which she did. After setting his coattails on fire once she realized the crotchety old bastard was a squib, she returned to the tower without incident. Of course, she might have earned a detention or two for setting Filch ablaze, but he'd been asking for it, and his stupid cat raked at her robes.

Big mistake. She was going to try and claim self-defense when they came down on her, but didn't think she'd get away with it. Oh well. If they wanted to protect their staff here, they really should think about torture.

It was a better deterrent.

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Hermione stood before a silent and narrow-eyed group of Slytherins in the Common Room, Harry and Ron among them. They had heard the story of how she came to be here and how she was a Gryffindor in the other world. She had done a fair job of making herself up like the other Hermione, but felt a bit self-conscious about it, so the aura she gave off was one of nervousness.

Slytherins picked up on nervousness like sharks did blood, unfortunately. Unlike the Gryffindors, these students didn't have a single question for Hermione. Slytherins were taught to listen carefully the first time, so they didn't have to ask questions and clue someone else in who might not have been listening as well. It could give them an advantage later on.

Minerva looked at her silent charges knowingly.

"I want to impress upon you that if anything happens to this Hermione, we will not be able to get ours back," she said to them. "So it's important she remain in . . . good health."

This got some reaction. A couple of "aws," which Hermione didn't like at all.

Hermione took a silent head count. There was Harry and Ron of course, Ginny, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Parvati Patil, Colin Creevy, Romilda Vane, Dennis Creevy, Natalie Macdonald, Jimmy Peakes and Euan Abercrombie. A few others stood in the back that she couldn't quite make out, but they were all definitely Gryffindors in her universe.

But, there was something off about them. You could practically feel their high opinions of themselves radiating off of them, as well as their disdain. There was an aura of . . . well . . . cunning, almost wickedness, the same glint in every eye. These students were the cream of Hogwarts and knew it, even if no one else did. And they were dark and ambitious as well. Each one of them would willingly step on the head of the next one to get a leg up, although they worked together out of necessity. There was none of the sense of closeness that one felt in Gryffindor house, more like a sense of tolerance here. Even the Slytherins in Hermione's universe didn't give off vibes as bad as this. There was some friendship and closeness in that house. Not so here.

"All right. Off to breakfast with all of you," Minerva said, departing without a further word to Hermione. The Slytherins all broke out, only Ron and Harry lingering for a quick moment.

"You should have told us," Harry hissed at her.

"You still a virgin?" Ron inquired, his blue eyes raking over her.

"I didn't know how to tell you, and I wasn't thinking with both of you naked like that and ready to have sex with each other. And yes, I'm a virgin . . . and plan to stay that way," Hermione told them.

Harry shook his head in disgust and walked off without another word.

Ron stared at Hermione.

"You look just like her. If you know what's good for you, you'll act like her too. I'll be glad when she gets back," he told Hermione, then he too exited the Common Room on the way to breakfast.

Hermione was left all alone in the Common Room. They were giving her the cold shoulder. Well, it was better than being beset upon at any rate. Luckily for Hermione, she was rather solitary anyway, unless dealing with Harry and Ron, and she wouldn't be dealing with these versions of them at any rate.

Hermione picked up her backpack of books and slung it over her shoulder. On the visible part of it was very small writing that stated:

"If you can read this and you're not a Slytherin, you're too fucking close!"

It was her counterpart's bag of course. She headed out of the Slytherin Common Room and to breakfast in the Great Hall.

She got there without incident, her eyes wide as she looked at the Gryffindor table and saw Draco Malfoy eyeing her. Well, it was Draco, but he didn't have the same bearing as Draco. He was rather wholesome looking, with none of the attitude of the Draco of her world. He nudged Goyle who looked up at her too, frowning. She quickly looked away and sat down at the table.

"Missing your old house?" Parvati asked her nastily, sliding away from her a bit. Lavender, who was on the other side, did likewise, both acting as if she would contaminate them.

Draco's sharp gray eyes noticed immediately.

"Why do you think they're giving Granger the cold shoulder? And why is she taking it? She normally dresses people down instantly," the blonde pureblood said to Crabbe, who shrugged.

"Maybe she farted," he suggested.

Hm.

Draco continued to stare a hole in the witch's back. The way she had looked at them . . . as if she'd never seen them before. Normally, if she made eye contact with them, she'd throw an obscene gesture their way. But this morning, nothing.

Ron and Harry were sitting directly across from Hermione, eating their food rather sullenly. Suddenly, there was a loud, tinging noise and Hermione looked up to see Tom Riddle standing up, tapping a fork to a glass to get everyone's attention. All the Slytherins, drew their plates in close to them, except for Hermione, who listened to the Headmaster attentively.

She didn't see Parvati flick something into her food. But Ron and Harry did, shaking their heads. The witch wasn't going to last here long at all. It was common knowledge that Parvati hated Hermione, because she kicked her ass last year when they argued over who Ron was going to spend the night with after he played his best Quidditch game of the year. She did it without magic too, which added insult to injury.

So, Parvati didn't care if the bitch never came back.

Tom told of a new torture method being introduced in the next week. Humiliation. It involved being collared and leashed by Filch and led around the school on all fours for an hour in nothing but underwear. This was for lesser offenses, such as lateness.

Hermione blinked as Tom sat back down, shaking her head.

This world was insane. But she'd be sure to be on time for everything.

She spooned some of her porridge into her mouth and immediately turned pale and mottled, her throat closing up on her, unable to speak as she clutched her throat.

Ron sighed as she succumbed to the poison, then calmly reached into his healing bag, took out his Bezoar, stood up, leaned and grabbed Hermione by the nose so her mouth opened, then shoved the shriveled stone into her mouth, clamping it shut with his hand so she wouldn't spit it out. After about thirty seconds she could breathe again. Ron held out a paper napkin.

"Spit," he said, and Hermione spit out the Bezoar.

"Someone tried to poison me!" she gasped as Parvati calmly ate her food with a little smirk.

"Someone did poison you. Watch your food," Harry told her. "We want our Hermione back, so don't go getting yourself killed. And put a repelling spell around yourself to protect you from hexes when you're moving through the castle. Stupid Gryffindor."

Ron wiped off his Bezoar and returned it to his pouch, sitting down and returning to his meal as Hermione pushed hers away, no longer hungry. She stood up.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed at her.

"Leaving. I'm not hungry any more," she told him.

"Sit down, you idiot. You can't leave until eight-forty-five. We all leave at the same time," he told her, frowning at her blackly. "Then we have fifteen minutes to get to class."

Hermione looked up at the dais where both professor McGonagall and Tom Riddle were scowling at her, not to mention Filch. She slowly sat back down.

Only professor Snape didn't look condemning as he thoughtfully ate his breakfast. He saw Weasley give her the Bezoar. Obviously, someone in Slytherin house meant to get back a little of their own. Whether it was because they knew she belonged in Gryffindor house, or because they wanted to keep the original Hermione Granger from returning, he didn't know.

"Damn," Draco said, "Parvati tried to poison Granger and almost did it. She's off her game, that's for sure."

Crabbe shrugged.

"Who cares?" he said, biting into a doughnut. "Granger's a bitch. We'd be better off without her."

"It's still strange," Draco responded.

Goyle snorted and shook his head.

"Draco, you need to stop getting wood over Granger. She's not going to shag a Pureblood who's not a teacher. You don't have anything to offer her. Besides, she hates you," he told him.

"I don't have wood over Granger," Draco lied, scowling as he dug viciously into his eggs. "I just noticed her acting differently."

"Proof you do have wood. Why else would you even notice?" Goyle said, piling more bacon on his plate.

Apparently, in this universe, Goyle had higher thought processes. He was actually smart and observant.

Only in another world.

Draco fell silent. Well, they shared classes together. He'd keep an eye out.

He was certain something was going on. He could feel it.

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Hermione's first class was potions, and apparently they were going to do some brewing. The classroom looked just like the one in her universe, large enough for a double class, with the same stone gargoyle in the corner with water running out of its mouth. What was different however was that the cauldrons were very widely spaced and Professor McGonagall sealed the students into their workspaces with a powerful containment spell.

She later found out that was to contain explosions, so only the brewer would be injured. Of course, the spell had to be removed for anyone to get to the injured party, which cost precious seconds. If they were Slytherins, Minerva treated them as best she could with healing and pain potions, but if they were of other houses, she gave them only nominal aid, and contacted the Heads of House. She gave them five minutes to retrieve their injured students, or else, she transported them to Poppy, where they had to be rescued by Filch, if he was inclined.

The best thing was to be a good, attentive student and brew properly. Hermione was impressed however. Not a single student blew up a cauldron and it was a rather difficult brew they were making. In this universe, impending death or being shipped to Poppy was quite the study aid.

Charms was a bit shocking. Flitwick still looked like Flitwick, but his white hair was styled into a rather devilish looking curl on both sides, like devil horns, parted in the middle. He had a decidedly sinister mien about him, and when he talked to students, he was very touchy feely, rubbing thighs and backs and occasionally pinching. Everyone accepted this though. And the "charms" he taught were really nasty hexes.

Here, you couldn't have enough of them.

It was a good thing Hermione followed her fellow students to the Herbology area. There were wild, vicious plants everywhere and a tiny path one had to follow in order to get by them without being strangled, crushed or even eaten. She stared at a fifty-foot high Venus fly-trap that turned to follow her as she passed. The flower was large enough to swallow two of her whole.

The Dark Arts class was taught by professor Slughorn just as in her world, but he was nowhere near as ingratiating and he put down students worse than Snape did in her own world, calling them idiots, inbred and a number of rather obscene names. He definitely didn't like Gryffindors. Here, Dark Arts were taught, not the defense against them. Hermione was appalled at some of the spells listed on the syllabus. They were horrible.

Only professor Snape's class seemed relatively normal and familiar. The Slytherins looked bored to tears and passed notes behind his back as he wrote notes on the board. But they did listen and take notes. None of them were interested in getting "extra credit" from the Gryffindor Head of House so they had to make their marks the old-fashioned way, by working. It was clear that students of other Houses did indulge however. When class was let out, Hermione joined a little line in front of his desk after he announced students could make appointments for extra credit.

Hermione thought it a bit odd that appointments had to be made. Maybe he watched them work to make sure they didn't cheat at it. That was entirely possible in this world. She didn't notice the narrow-eyed looks her housemates gave her when she got in line.

But no one said anything.

As the student in front of her departed, Hermione looked down at Snape, who was busily writing a name into a schedule he had spread on his desk.

"Name?" he said, without looking up.

"Ah, Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.

He looked up sharply, very surprised.

"Miss Granger?" he said in shock.

"Yes. I want to do some extra credit. I see my counterpart has a Barely Acceptable mark in this class, while she has Above Outstanding in all the others. I thought since I was here, I'd up her grade a bit," the witch explained, seeing his surprised look.

Snape continued to look at her.

"That's all right, isn't it?" she asked him.

"Ah, yes. Yes it is, Miss Granger," he replied, erasing a student's name and putting hers in. "Nine o'clock tonight?"

Hermione frowned slightly.

"That's at curfew," she said.

"Extra credit can be assigned at any hour of the day or night, when most convenient. Would you like to make it earlier or later?" he asked her, still looking at her oddly.

"Well, maybe a little earlier. After supper would be good," she responded. "How long will it take?"

Snape studied her.

"Well, that depends on what you're willing to do. It can be as little as five minutes or as long as an hour, depending on how high a mark you want," he replied.

"Oh. An hour sounds good," she said.

Snape blinked at her for a moment, then erased another name, and put hers in.

"Seven-thirty. That'll give you a little time for your food to digest," he told her.

Hermione wondered what food digestion had to do with anything, but didn't comment on it.

"Seven-thirty is fine. I'll see you then, Professor," she said, turning and leaving the classroom, Snape looking after her, rather surprised she was willing to do extra credit. She seemed so . . . so innocent.

"Hm. For some reason, I didn't think she'd take to this so well," he thought to himself as he rescheduled the two students whose names he had erased.

"I guess I was mistaken."

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A/N: Poor Hermione. lolol. Notice Snape putting her in immediately? ROFL. This ought to be interesting.

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