Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 34 ~ Planting the Seed

The next day after Transfiguration class, Hermione lingered in the classroom, pretending to be absorbed in her reading. Ron poked her in the shoulder.

”Hey, Hermione, class is over,” he told her.

She looked up at him in irritation, then over at professor Snape’s desk. Apparently, what the other Hermione had told Draco about loyalty to his Head of House made its rounds, and a number of Gryffindors were making appointments for extra credit. Snape had been surprised by this. Normally his charges laid low when he was in “disgrace,” trying to fit in with the other students who shunned him. This was an interesting development. Had his teachings finally begun to sink in?

It seemed so.

Hermione looked back at Ron.

”I’ll be along in a bit, Ron. You go ahead,” she said to him.

Harry stood by the door, scowling at the witch. Hermione had been acting strangely lately, making herself inaccessible, and this kept him in a bad mood. He had Ginny for comfort. But Ginny wasn’t Hermione. Hermione was his friend as well as his lover and he missed her in a number of ways. He wouldn’t tell her that of course. She’d laugh at him for being an oversensitive git.

”Maybe we should move you into Gryffindor, you whiney baby,” she’d say to him.

Ron stood there stubbornly and Hermione reached into her pocket and put her wand on the table pointedly, not looking at him. He got the message and left.

Hermione waited for the last student to clear out, then walked up to Snape’s desk. He was shifting through several parchments when he felt her presence and looked up.

”Yes, Miss Granger?” he said pleasantly.

He was always so pleasant. Hermione scowled reflexively.

”I want to talk to you, professor . . . about . . . about my marks,” the witch said. “I want to make an appointment to do it. Not an extra credit appointment, just a conference.”

Snape nodded.

”Of course, not extra credit, Miss Granger,” he replied, looking a bit curious, “but I’ve already told you your marks are in excellent standing. What more would you like to know?”

Hermione colored. Damn it.

”I . . . I just need to talk about them some more,” she said tightly. “Will you give me an appointment as soon as you can? It’s . . . it’s rather important.”

Snape suspected this was about more than marks. He could tell the young woman was troubled about something, more than likely her extra credit work, and was turning to him because she needed a sympathetic ear. Miss Hermione Granger was discovering the world didn’t revolve around her, and she wasn’t as in control of her life as she thought she was. She was getting a taste of reality, and it wasn’t going down easy.

”I can see you after supper, in my office,” Snape replied. He didn’t write it down, however.

Hermione stood there a moment, then stiffly said, “Thank you,” and walked away.

Snape blinked after her. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever thanked him for anything before. Civility was definitely something new. He wondered what other changes he’d see when he spoke to her later. One thing was certain, he intended on doing more than listening. He had plenty to say to her that she really needed to hear. This might be his chance to get through to her, to finally influence a Slytherin around to his way of thinking.

He wasn’t about to waste it.

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After supper, Hermione arrived at professor Snape’s office. He had taken his supper there, and had just finished when she knocked. A surly house-elf appeared and cleared his dishes, ears flattened and looking murderous. It winked out.

Snape let the witch in and offered her a seat in front of his desk, then sat down and folded his hands, studying her.

Hermione looked extremely put out, which was also something new. He was used to arrogance from the witch. She was even twisting her hands in her lap, showing outward signs of nervousness. That wasn’t good at Hogwarts. It was like a signal to attack.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, then Snape addressed her.

”I don’t believe you’re here to discuss your marks, Miss Granger,” he said to her softly.

Hermione looked at him sharply.

”What? Of course I’m here to discuss my marks!” she snapped.

”Then, why aren’t you discussing them?” Snape inquired with a slight smirk.

”I’m . . . I’m thinking,” she retorted angrily.

Now Snape smiled a bit.

”Yes. I believe you are, and I believe that’s why you’re here. I’m very aware of your situation, Miss Granger,” the wizard said.

”What situation? I’m not in any situation,” the witch lied.

”Your extra credit work hasn’t been up to par lately,” he said quietly. “And your marks are suffering because of it.”

”What? How do you . . . what are you talking about?” Hermione gasped, shaken that he knew about this.

”It is a matter of much concern among the other teachers. They feel you’ve lost your ‘fire.’”

”What? They . . . they discuss me among themselves?” Hermione asked, feeling exposed now. “And . . . and in front of you?”

”In front of whoever is present, Miss Granger, and in great detail,” Snape responded.

”Oh gods,” Hermione murmured. “How can they do that? Talk about me like that?”

”They consider it comparing notes, Miss Granger. Teachers do discuss students from time to time,” Snape answered her. “Would you like to know what they said about you today? I can give you a Pensieve of the discussion if you like.”

Snape had no qualms about letting the witch see for herself how callous her professors were. It was part of his plan.

Hermione hesitated. Yes. Yes, she wanted to know what they said about her.

”Yes, I want to see,” the witch replied.

She watched as Snape walked over to his file cabinet and opened the lowest drawer, taking out a small blue Pensieve. He closed the drawer back and placed it on his desk, pulling out his wand. Using the tip of it, he carefully withdrew several silvery strands and deposited them into the bowl, making sure to include his own part in the conversation.

He put his wand back into his robes pocket, sat down and slid the Pensieve toward her.

”Go ahead, Miss Granger,” he said, his dark eyes resting on the witch.

Hermione looked apprehensive as she slid the chair closer to his desk and looked down into the bowl. She froze in place as she entered the Pensieve.

Snape watched her for several minutes, looking thoughtful. Finally, she shifted, then looked up at him.

”You’re right, you know,” she said softly. “I feel so pressured, Professor. I’ve never felt like that before. And not one of them seems to care.”

Snape nodded.

“It’s business as usual, Miss Granger,” he replied.

Hermione stared at him.

”But you . . . you stood up for me, tried to defend me. After the way I’ve treated you all these years . . . why?” she asked him. “I’ve never been nice to you.”

”Miss Granger, this isn’t just about you,” Snape replied, “your situation allowed me to reopen a dialogue I’ve been trying to have for years with my fellow teachers concerning our students. As you saw, no one wants to hear what I have to say. They prefer the status quo. The truth is, Miss Granger, you are now experiencing what many of our students experience. The loss of choice. The pressure of performing sexual acts in order to graduate from this school. Extra credit is not mandatory, but all the teachers here have arbitrarily made it so in order to benefit from having a number of young students to indulge themselves with. Do you think Flitwick would be able to attract an attractive young witch on his own?”

”No,” Hermione said softly.

”Do you think any of these teachers would enjoy the variety they do without requiring students to meet with them?” he asked her.

”I’m not sure,” Hermione said, feeling sick to her stomach.

”Most wouldn’t, believe me,” Snape said. “What makes it worse is that not only are these extra credit sessions made mandatory, they aren’t regulated. A teacher can give the amount of points they wish on any particular day, regardless of what transpired. I imagine you’ve received lower points lately, although you’ve received higher ones before for the same act.”

Hermione nodded.

”Yes, that’s true,” she replied in a low voice.

”As you’ve seen, I have a list that allows a student to decide what they will and will not do, with a point system. They know exactly how much credit they will receive when they choose to engage me. I’ve tried to have that list introduced into Hogwarts’ rules and regulations to protect the students, but the Headmaster and staff are unwilling to change the status quo. They care nothing for the rights of students. I’m voted down every year.”

Snape looked furious, and Hermione studied him in wonder. Did he really care this much about them? She had always thought Snape to be a bleeding heart, a wuss, a kind of . . . Save the World nutcase. But he was really trying to fight for something, and not to benefit himself.

She was finally starting to see the wizard as the man he was. And he wasn’t weak or namby-pamby. He was driven, and rather courageous to stand up to his co-workers year after year, knowing they wouldn’t take him seriously, knowing that they would refuse to change anything about the way they operated. No wonder they didn’t like him.

”I didn’t know that, Professor,” Hermione said.

Snape looked at her with a wry expression.

”And why would you know, Miss Granger? As far as you and your housemates are concerned, I’m just someone to snub, ridicule and attack when my back is turned. It isn’t your fault completely. The staff has much to do with it. Children learn what they see and hear. If the adults around them display disdain for an individual, so will those children. But they have to do it, Miss Granger, or else I might get through to all of you, and the changes they don’t want, will be instituted because none of you will stand for the mistreatment another day longer.”

Snape paused, drawing in a breath, trying to calm himself. After a moment, he continued.

”No one but my Gryffindors listen to me, and as you know, Gryffindor house is a house of primarily Purebloods, so they aren’t taken into great consideration. They are considered ‘inbred’ ‘lowborn’ ‘the least of witches and wizards’ although they exhibit just as much magical ability as anyone else. Strength varies, but that’s across the board. Still, my students aren’t looked up to, aren’t considered ‘leaders’ like those in the House of Slytherin. Like . . . you, Miss Granger. A Muggle-Born. One of the ‘Chosen Ones.’”

Hermione was a bit taken aback by the sarcasm and derision in the wizard’s voice. But she could tell it wasn’t directed at her, but at the situation in general. Snape certainly was passionate about what he believed in. Hermione had never seen such passion in anyone.

Snape sighed.

”And how can they be leaders when they aren’t respected as people, Miss Granger? Whatever good they wish to do is inconsequential when they’re treated like lepers. They aren’t lepers, Miss Granger. They are people, and every one of them just as good, just as worthy as those spoiled, arrogant, pampered students that reside in your house. Maybe even more so, because they live in the real world. A world you’re now discovering. And you don’t like that world, do you, Miss Granger?”

Snape’s eyes were narrowed now, and he was full of the fire of truth as he spoke to the witch, letting his frustration out at the same time. He wasn’t saying Purebloods should be treated as equals, he claimed they were equals.

”No. No, I don’t like it, Professor. I can’t help not liking being pressured. And instead of understanding, my teachers are treating me like . . . like . . .”

”A Pureblood, Miss Granger?” Snape said, his face contorted.

Hermione hung her head.

”Yes,” she said softly, then added, “but what can I do about it, Professor? Just . . . just fail? If I refuse to do the extra credit, I won’t graduate.”

Snape considered her.

”Do you really want to know what to do, Miss Granger, or are you just wallowing in self-pity?” he asked her, a slight sneer on his face. It reminded her of the other Snape just a bit.

”No. I’d . . . I’d like to do something about it. To take control of what’s happening to me. To have a choice . . . “

”Then, do something about it, Miss Granger,” Snape said. “Don’t accept what you know is wrong!”

”But that’s not going to do any good! They’ll still fail me!” she hissed at him.

”You have to realize, Miss Granger, that you are not alone in this world. This isn’t just about how you feel and what you want. There are students in this school that feel just the way you do, but aren’t voicing it. They’re afraid to do so because, like you, they feel there is nothing they can do . . . they are just one person. But they aren’t one person, Miss Granger. They’re . . . an army.”

“What?” Hermione breathed.

Snape stood up and leaned forward, willing her to understand what he was saying to her.

”You have an army, Miss Granger. There are students in your own house who are engaging teachers they don’t want to engage out of fear of failing. If they had a choice, they wouldn’t do it. They only need someone to make them believe they have a voice, that what they want matters. If you can get them to admit they are less than happy with the way things are, get them on the same page as you are . . . you will no longer be alone.”

”What are you saying, Professor?” Hermione asked him, a feeling of unaccustomed fear boiling up in her belly.

Snape looked at her soberly.

”Boycott, Miss Granger. Refuse to do mandatory extra credit. Get everyone to refuse. The entire school. I’m talking about rebellion, Miss Granger. I’m talking about war. The staff can’t fail all of you, or they will appear inept and there will be cries for their removal from this school. They value their jobs, Miss Granger. So you see . . . you do have power. All of you do. All you have to do is exercise it. The tables will be turned.”

Hermione stared at the wizard, whose chest was rising and falling rapidly as he sowed the seeds of dissension and rebellion in the witch.

Hermione was so angry and frustrated with the status quo, that those seeds fell on fertile ground. Suddenly, she was filled with an urgency she’d never felt before as she looked back at the wizard. It was something strong, powerful, pushing her in a direction she had never taken, never needed to take. It seemed to well up from her very soul.

If she could have put a name to it at that moment, that name would be . . . Purpose.

Snape recognized that fire as it filled her brown eyes, and for the first time in a long time, hope filled his own heart. The witch sat up straighter, all signs of nervousness and helplessness gone.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger had a cause.

”I’ll do it,” she breathed. “We’ll do it.”

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A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. You know, when I write stories that have exploitation in them, a part of me always wants that exploitation resolved. I don’t always do it, because there is unfairness in the world and sometimes you just have to reflect that in a story. There can’t always be clean, happy endings with everything wrong resolved. But, I felt that some changes were needed in the alternate universe, and that Slytherin Hermione was the perfect catalyst to promote that change, with the idealistic Snape’s prompting, of course. I hope it reads as well as it sounded in my head. Thanks for reading. ***