Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 31 ~ Meeting with Snape

Draco awoke the next morning, thirsty as all hell. A cold glass of pumpkin juice rested on his night stand, a straw sticking out of it. A bowl of rather thin porridge also rested there, a spoon beside it. Apparently, the house elves knew what he’d need for breakfast. Draco sat up on the edge of the bed and thirstily sipped the pumpkin juice, then picked up the spoon and attempted to eat his porridge.

After several tries, he sipped down the rest of his pumpkin juice, then used the straw to suck up the porridge. It was a large bowl at least, so he felt full, though he would have preferred a heartier breakfast. The wizard sighed to himself, then went and showered, ready for his day. It wouldn’t be a usual day however.

He put on his boxers, socks, shirt, trousers and boots, leaving his Slytherin tie in the chest of drawers. He wouldn’t need it today. He eyed the set of bright red robes Snape had provided him with, sighed inwardly again and resolutely put them on. He sat down on his bed, waiting for his housemates to go to breakfast. Hopefully, no one would see him. If they did, they’d ask him questions, questions he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to.

After about half an hour, Draco exited his private rooms, moving down the corridor carefully. If he had his wand, he would have Disillusioned himself, but Snape had confiscated it for the day. He wouldn’t be able to use magic.

No one was in the common room. Good. He didn’t want to be seen in the flaming red robes. They were known as the Robes of Shame, and were rarely brought out. A Slytherin wearing bright red robes signified he had done something grievous against house traditions without revealing exactly what. Rarely was the crime ever revealed, unless the guilty party shared it. Most did not. Draco wasn’t about to make a bad situation worse.

He exited the Slytherin common room and quickly ran up the corridor. He stopped in front of Dungeon five and tried the door. It wouldn’t open. Draco grimaced as he remembered what Snape told him about the room. Feeling stupid, Draco addressed the door, his voice badly garbled, asking it to open for him.

The door remained stubbornly closed. At Hogwarts, there were doors that wouldn’t open unless politely asked to, or were tickled in the proper place. Actually, there were doors that weren’t even doors, just solid walls pretending to be doors. And they constantly moved about. Hogwarts castle was quite the anomaly. But the door to Dungeon five was a real one, and had to be persuaded to open.

”Peeese, opern,” Draco said, “Peese.”

Finally the door clicked and opened and Draco entered the room, only to find Snape waiting for him there. The Potions master had been there the entire time, listening to the Pureblood trying to get in. He had a small, nasty smirk on his pale face as Draco entered, eyeing the bright red robes.

The room was bare stone and empty except for a few mounted torches, a small table with a huge box of chalk on it, a step ladder and a large blackboard that wrapped around the room. Draco looked at his Head of House sullenly.

”You will be spending the day here, Mr. Malfoy and will make up your missed class work on your own time,” Snape told him. “As you can tell, you will spend the day writing lines.”

Draco looked at the huge expanse of blackboard before him and hung his head for a moment.

”You are to write ‘I will respect my house’s traditions’ two thousand times,” Snape said, gesturing toward the box of chalk as Draco’s eyebrows lifted.

“You will use this chalk to accomplish that. You can call on the house-elves to provide you with suitable food and drink,” the wizard continued dryly, “and you may use the bathroom facilities in Slytherin if you need to, although I doubt you want anyone to see your robes. After you complete the lines, you may seek me out for your wand. Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, unable to articulate an answer.

Snape curled his lip at him.

”Quite the effective little potion, eh, Mr. Malfoy? It works in a manner similar to alum, tightening the mouth into a pucker, the amount of pucker depending on how much is applied to the lips. I used just enough so you cannot easily communicate, but you can take in nourishment . . . through a straw. Hopefully, this will teach you to stop and think before you speak. Now, pick up the chalk and start your first line. At the top of the board, please. I expect each board in this room to be filled. I suggest you watch the length of your sentences as I want neat, legible columns.”

Draco picked up a long piece of chalk from the box, grabbed the stepladder and walked to the board directly in front of him, moving to the far left corner. He positioned the stepladder and climbed on it. It shook a little.

Snape watched with narrowed eyes as Draco wrote the first line with no problem. Then a second, then a third. But when he got to the fourth line, the chalk broke. He frowned at it and tried to use the half he had left. He got mid-way through the sentence, when that too, broke. He looked at the chalk then at Snape, who gave him a rather nasty smile that looked as if he were showing his teeth at him.

”That particular chalk requires even pressure at all times, Mr. Malfoy. If your arm gets tired, or the pressure fluctuates, it will break. I’ve had it for a while, just sitting about. Some fault in processing I suppose, but . . . I hate to have anything go to waste,” Snape purred. “It has been paid for by the school, after all. It’s good it will have some use.”

Draco felt like cursing the wizard, although he’d never do it, even if he could speak. Defeated, he climbed off the stool and retrieved another piece of chalk as Snape headed for the exited.

”Have a productive day, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said as he left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Draco climbed back up the stepladder, mentally calling Snape everything but a son of the gods before he started the lines again.

And again, the chalk broke.

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Hermione was very quiet at supper. Draco didn’t attend, however and she was rather glad about that. She didn’t want to see him. Professor Snape arrived very late, just before Hermione finished eating. She was aggravated because Ron kept pressuring her to tell him what was wrong.

”Hermione, it’s easy to see something’s bothering you. Why won’t you tell us what it is? We’re your friends,” the redhead pressed. “There’s something you’re not telling us, Hermione, something I think we should know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, although he agreed with Ron. Hermione was hiding something important, and he felt kind of shut out.

But what was Hermione to tell her best friends that wouldn’t make the both of them explode like a cauldron where the wrong ingredient was added to the wrong base? That she had a hex on her that could possibly take her life if Tom Riddle himself didn’t remove it? Or that she had sex with Snape in the other world?

Neither secret was an option.

Maybe if Harry and Ron were girls it would be easier to confide in them, but they weren’t. They were opinionated, pig-headed and reactionary young males. They would take the news about the hex badly, raging that they were left out of the loop concerning something so serious before they started worrying and trying to figure out other solutions to stop her demise.

And the Snape situation? Hermione was sure the horror and disgust that they’d feel concerning her willingly shagging a Snape of any world would have no bounds.

Ron would probably expire. It wouldn’t matter if he was an “attractive” Snape and a Gryffindor. In Ronald Weasley’s world, a Snape was a Snape, and all Snapes were to be avoided as much as humanly possible.

No. She couldn’t tell them anything. She simply left the Great Hall as soon as she could, planning on losing herself in study for the next hour or so before meeting with professor Snape.

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Hermione’s innards were twisted like the vines of the Devil’s Snare plant as the time approached. At ten minutes to seven she left Gryffindor tower, unaware that she was being followed by a rather odd-looking half shimmer.

It was Harry and Ron, covered in the Invisibility Cloak and Disillusioned beneath it. They were too tall for the cloak to cover them completely, so they adapted. Hermione was so distracted that she didn’t notice them. They followed her down the shifting stairwell, having some difficulty getting on the moving landings, Ron nearly falling twice, Harry grabbing him by the back of his shirt desperately. He would have gone down with him, wrapped in the cloak the way he was. After a hairy ride, the two wizards made it to the first floor landing, watching Hermione descend the marble stairwell and turn into the dungeon area, taking the short narrow stairs down into its depths.

”She’s heading for the dungeons, Harry. That can only mean one thing. She must be going to see Snape. But why?” Ron said in a low voice as they followed.

”I don’t know, but she was gone a week. Knowing Hermione she’s doing extra credit work or something,” Harry responded quietly, having no idea what the connotations of that statement would have meant to Hermione only days before.

”Wouldn’t she tell us that, though?” Ron whispered. “I mean, what’s the big secret?”

Harry shrugged as they navigated the narrow stairwell, Hermione walking ahead of them. They paused as she stopped in front of the Potions office and knocked.

The door opened and Hermione walked inside. Harry and Ron were about to ease forward when Snape suddenly stuck his head out of the office, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the corridor. Harry and Ron both held their breaths and flattened themselves against the wall, hoping the wizard wouldn’t see them.

Snape continued to glare down the hallway for several moments, then retreated into the office, closing the door behind him.

”I think he saw us,” Harry breathed to Ron, who gasped for air.

”No, if he saw us, he’d have come for us,” Ron replied. “Think we should try to listen at the door?”

A frightening image of Snape waiting poised on the other side of the door crossed Harry’s mind. The Potions master was crouched, almost coiled, looking predatory . . . ready to rip the door open and strike at them like a serpent.

”Ah, no,” Harry said. “I really believe he knows we’re out here, Ron. We could get in a lot of trouble.”

”Gods, Harry. You’ve got bloody Voldemort after you. How much more trouble can you get in?” Ron said. He really wanted to know what was going on.

”That’s outside the school, Ron. I’d like to stay out of trouble in school, if you don’t mind. Let’s head back. Hermione probably is doing extra credit or something. If she were slinking around the castle or slipping out to the grounds, then I’d be worried. Snape’s her teacher. As snarky as he is, he wouldn’t actually do anything to her. Let’s go,” Harry said, tugging on the cloak a bit as Ron stubbornly stood there, looking toward the office door. Finally, he gave in.

”All right, but I want to know what’s going on, Harry,” he breathed as they walked up the corridor.

”So do I, Ron, but we’re going to have to wait until Hermione tells us, if she ever does,” he replied.

”Well, I don’t like it. Maybe I should try to use Legilimency on her when her back’s turned. I’d find out for sure then,” Ron mused.

Harry didn’t think this was a good idea at all. He’d experienced Ron’s talents of Legilimency first hand. His technique was a lot like having your head invaded by a horde of heavy-footed trolls. Hermione would know immediately.

”I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Ron,” Harry said as they walked up the hall.

Ron scowled.

”Of course it is, Harry. I’ve gotten better at it,” the wizard said. “You can hardly feel me. And Hermione’s really distracted. I bet I could slip into her mind with no trouble at all.”

No trouble? Ron was insane. There’d be plenty of trouble once Hermione found out what he was up to.

”Do me a favor, Ron,” Harry said, pulling off the cloak and removing the Disillusionment charm as they walked up the stairs that led to the Entrance Hall. Ron removed his charm as well.

”What, Harry?” he asked.

”Let me know when you’re going to do this. I don’t want to be anywhere near you when Hermione blasts you off your feet. It might ricochet,” Harry responded, folding up the cloak into a very small bundle and putting it in his pocket.

Filch walked by, looking at them suspiciously before continuing on his arthritic way, Mrs. Norris in tow.

”I swear, Harry. Sometimes it’s like you have no faith in me at all,” Ron said, looking hurt as they ascended the marble staircase.

Harry gave him a small smirk.

”I have faith in you, Ron. But faith isn’t enough to get past Hermione,” he replied. “To pull off what you want to do, you’re going to need a bloody miracle.”

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Hermione watched as professor Snape closed, locked, then warded the door to his office, then cast a Silencing spell over it for good measure. Hermione’s heart was pounding. Why was he taking such pains?

He turned to the witch, noting that she looked pale as a ghost.

”You were followed, Miss Granger. Probably by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. I saw their shimmers pressed against the wall, although it was rather strange. I could only see a bit of shimmer near the floor, apparently from the knees down.

Hermione was stunned. Harry and Ron had followed her? Damn them. She told them to leave her alone. She should have known they wouldn’t’ do it. But why hadn’t Snape just gone out there and exposed them. He answered her question as he sat down behind his desk and gestured for her to take a seat in the chair before him. He had made the rickety bit of furniture more comfortable than usual for the witch, adding a small, flat cushion and strengthening the legs so they didn’t wobble.

”I assume you’re wondering why I didn’t take the opportunity to expose them and take points from Gryffindor. I felt it wasn’t as important as my conversation with you. I’m sure I’ll find them doing something worth taking points for in the near future. They aren’t the brightest brooms in the shed,” he said, his eyes resting on her. She was nervously twisting her hands in her lap.

He had two topics to discuss with her, thanks to Draco. The wizard decided to give her a choice in what would be addressed first.

”Miss Granger,” Snape began. “I need to talk to you about two important matters. I want you to be aware I consider you an adult, and will speak to you as an adult. The first matter concerns measures I wish to take to insure that Tom Riddle will indeed remove the hex if he is successful, and what I will do if he is unable or unwilling to do so. The second matter . . . “

The wizard paused, his silken voice becoming softer and silkier when he spoke again.

” . . . concerns what Draco Malfoy said to you in the corridor this afternoon. I heard him and feel you have a right to know if what he told you is true or not. I’m giving you a choice as to which matter you wish to address first.”

Hermione stared at him.

If she chose to hear about Tom Riddle, then the final discussion would be about Snape’s dealings with her counterpart. Hermione didn’t know if he had shagged her or not. If it wasn’t true, then the conversation would be short and she wouldn’t have it on her mind when she returned to Gryffindor tower. But . . . if it were true . . . then it would be an awkward conversation to close their meeting on.

”I think I would like to know if what Draco said is true, first, Professor,” she replied in a small voice.

Snape nodded.

”Very well, Miss Granger. Yes. It is true. I did engage your counterpart while she was here at Hogwarts,” he replied.

Hermione began to blink very rapidly.

”It’s . . . it’s true?” she asked him again for verification.

”At the risk of repeating myself, yes, it is true, Miss Granger. Your counterpart made me several offers I found difficult to resist,” he replied. “She was quite . . . compelling.”

”What kind of offer could she have possibly made that you couldn’t resist, Professor? You’re one of the most disciplined wizards I know,” Hermione replied.

”Discipline is highly overrated, Miss Granger,” the wizard purred. “I’m only human after all, although among many that seems to be a matter of debate.”

Hermione stared at him.

”I want to know what happened between you two, Professor. You know about me. I think I have a right to know what happened between you and my counterpart.

Snape frowned at her slightly.

”You should be careful what you ask for, Miss Granger. Curiosity killed the cat, and your representative house animal is a lion. That doesn’t bode well,” he said silkily, leaning back in his chair now.

”I have a right to know,” Hermione said with more force now.

”Very well. But I will give you the edited version,” the wizard replied, his dark eyes glittering.

”Listen closely, Miss Granger.”

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A/N: Thanks for reading