Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 6 ~ Meeting Minerva

Snape leaned back on the desk, his eyes locked to the witch before him. The only difference Albus could see when he entered his office, was Snape's wand was more relaxed and not pointed directly at the witch. Well, that was some progress anyway. When he left, he was worried he'd come back to find a pile of ash in the chair where he left this altered Miss Granger. Obviously, they'd come to some kind of understanding.

Albus didn't notice the mortified portraits on the wall, some red and blushing, others looking a tad lustful, and one or two wizards jerking oddly in the unseen portion of their frames, lips pursed.

Neither Snape nor Hermione had thought about the sentient paintings when they "sealed" their deal. It was more action than the portraits had seen in centuries.

Minerva entered behind Albus, looking a bit drawn as she walked up to Hermione, who stared back at her.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" she asked Hermione, who frowned at her.

Minerva's hair was graying and pulled back into a severe bun behind her head. She wore a touch of makeup, but nothing bold and black and provocative. Her robes were blue, voluminous and unassuming. A pointed witch's cap rested on her head, a rather crumpled one at that and there was no aura of danger or sexuality about her at all. It was as if someone had sucked all the personality of the witch out of her, leaving this bland shell behind.

"You look nothing like my Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, her eyes sweeping over her. "I mean the facial features are the same, but you're not sexy at all."

Minerva's and Albus' eyes widened at this statement. Snape's lip quirked as the Transfiguration teacher swelled in indignation.

"Miss Granger. I'm a teacher. I don't need to be 'sexy,' Minerva spluttered.

"Well, you've managed to pull that off, let me tell you," Hermione replied. "If you were to call me to your office for a little tongue 'n fun, I'd tell you to hop the next broom to Hogsmeade."

"A little WHAT?" Minerva cried, drawing back from the witch.

"Tongue 'n Fun. You know . . . " Hermione replied, slowly flicking her tongue at her in an unmistakable way.

"My word," Albus breathed, walking behind his desk and falling into his seat. "Miss Granger, do you mean to tell me . . . you and the Professor McGonagall in your world are on . . . intimate terms?"

"If by intimate terms you're asking if we fuck, the answer is yes," Hermione replied.

Talking in such a manner at her Hogwarts was normal. Not so here, however.

Minerva turned scarlet and dropped down into another chair. Snape's mouth was still quirked but he didn't say anything. Still, by the way his dark eyes were glittering, he was enjoying Minerva's discomfiture.

"Well, such acts are not . . .aren't performed here by our students or our teachers. Professor McGonagall will not be summoning you to her office for such engagements," Albus said, his face red.

Hermione's brown eyes drifted over Minerva, then she asked, "Do you promise?"

"Indubitably," Minerva replied, waving her hat near her face and rocking. Her and Miss Granger performing cunnilingus on each other? What kind of world was it that this witch came from?

"So, if the Professor won't be summoning me to her office, how will I earn my extra credit in her class?" Hermione asked Albus.

"Why, by doing extra work assignments, of course," Albus responded.

"Is that the only option? More written work? That's time consuming, not to mention boring," Hermione said.

"Well, you could do some duties for your professors," Albus said, "but it would probably consist of sorting papers, cleaning and the like."

"Oh good Grindewald," Hermione muttered as everyone's eyebrows rose. "I want to go home yesterday. This place sucks the big one. And I mean the big one."

One of the wizard's portraits grunted, its eyes rolling up into its head as it grimaced.

"Headmaster Dippet, are you all right?" Albus called up to it.

After a few seconds, the panting painting answered him.

"Fine now, Headmaster," it sighed.

Minerva stared at it in amazement. Snape shook his head slightly but that was his only reaction.

"I'm afraid you're going to be here for a couple of days at least. We are going to place you in Gryffindor house . . ."

"What? Gryffindor house? But I'm a Slytherin. I don't belong there!" Hermione cried. "If this world is the mirror world of my own, then Draco Malfoy and the rest of those bleeding heart idiots will be there. I can't stand any of them! The house is full of BloodBums!"

Snape arched an eyebrow at this designation.

"BloodBums?" Albus repeated in askance.

"Purebloods," Hermione replied, her face screwed up in distaste. "Inbred wizards and witches."

Minerva's face went dark.

"I'll have you know, young lady, that I am a Pureblood, and I am certainly not 'inbred.' My mother and father were not related," she said darkly.

Hermione gave her a withering look.

"Not by bloodline, but by magic. It's a fact that magical ability lessens in those that have no infusion of Muggle or partial Muggle blood. That's why so many squibs are being born. Magical inbreeding. It's atrocious. Purebloods are considered the lowest form of magical human there is."

Minerva stared at her.

"Our worlds are definitely in opposition, Miss Granger," Albus informed her. "Here, Purebloods are considered the cream of society, and, I'm sad to say . . . it is Muggle-Borns who are not given due consideration, although it isn't openly. Voldemort tries to exterminate them at every turn as well as anyone who defends their right to exist."

"That's . . . that's insane!" Hermione spat.

"I agree, but that is how it is, Miss Granger. But you need not worry about Mr. Malfoy. He is in Slytherin house," Albus told her.

"Slytherin? A Malfoy in Slytherin? Oh gods, I'm going to be sick," Hermione said, holding her stomach for emphasis.

"And in this world, our Miss Granger does not get along with him, or any of the Slytherins. So, you understand why you cannot be placed in that house," Albus told her.

"So, tell me this, are Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in Gryffindor?" she asked him.

"Yes," Minerva replied, "and our Miss Granger has a very close relationship with them."

Hermione smirked.

"At least that much is the same," she replied. "But . . . Gryffindors? Are they . . . all namby-pamby?"

"Namby-pamby? What do you mean, Miss Granger?" Minerva asked her.

"All . . . good," she said, her face twisted.

"Of course they're good. Noble, loyal, courageous. They have all the Gryffindor traits," the witch responded proudly.

"I need a bucket," Hermione said, heaving exaggeratedly before sitting up straight again. She eyed all the teachers, especially Snape, who hadn't said anything.

"Listen, I don't know if I can do this. It's too weird. No extra credit sex. No Slytherin house. Being subjugated by Purebloods . . . having to stay in Gryffindor . . . it's crazy," she said, shaking her head.

"You're going to have to do it, Miss Granger," Snape suddenly purred. "I'm sure others will help you adjust."

She looked at him and he arched an eyebrow at her meaningfully. Hermione understood. Snape didn't say anything but intended to do something. It made sense he wouldn't say anything in front of these . . . simpering do-gooders.

"Yes. Once my Gryffindors understand your situation, they will help you, Miss Granger," Minerva assured her.

"Fine, but I want a private room and that mirror put in it, the one I came through. Maybe Miss Goody-Two-Shoes will show up in it again and I'll be able to get out of here," she said.

Albus nodded.

"That is an excellent idea. If our Miss Granger thinks of this solution on the other side, then the phenomenon can be repeated and you'll be able to change places. But you will both have to be looking in the mirror at the same time, with no one else present in the room. All must be in sync," Albus told her.

"Fine, just get me the mirror. Now, do I get a healer bag?" Hermione asked.

"A what?" Albus asked her.

"A healer bag. It's a small bag of protective and curative potions. Healing potion, pain potion, a Bezoar. We carry it with us in case of a sneak attack," the witch explained.

"A sneak attack by whom?" Minerva asked, frowning.

"Teachers. Students. Whoever's got it in for you," Hermione replied.

"Teachers hex students in your world?" Minerva asked in amazement.

"If they've got any balls they do, because we hex them. Respect has to be earned. It's not just given, you know. How can someone who can't best you magically be in authority?" Hermione asked Minerva. "Our professors are constantly tested. If they can't handle it, they usually leave the school. We got rid of Quirrel that way a few years back. He was the Dark Arts teacher. Do you have a Quirrel here?"

"We did," Albus said, his eyes going a bit dark. "But no longer."

"Someone put another cover on a Dark Magic book, and when he opened it, he was sucked inside. It was great," Hermione said wistfully. "That happened my first year."

"Well, you won't be 'sucking' anyone into books here, Miss Granger. Teachers are to be given respect and any aggression on your part will be severely handled," Minerva warned her.

"What, does Filch torture students here too?" Hermione asked.

"Torture? Of course not?" Minerva hissed. "That's barbaric. You lose points and are assigned detentions!"

Hermione stared at her.

"I'm quaking in my trainers," she said, rolling her eyes.

Gods, this place sucked.

"So, okay . . . no hexing teachers. What about students?" she asked.

"Well, there are some altercations between houses on occasion, but nothing that warrants carrying a healing bag about. If you are injured, you go to Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary," Albus told her.

All the color drained out of the witch's face.

"You . . . you send students to the infirmary . . . on purpose? I thought you didn't do torture here!" she exclaimed. "No one willingly goes to the infirmary in my world. It's a butcher shop. The medi-witch doesn't even use magic on you. She uses vises, leeches, racks, knives . . . lots of knives, and needles. She experiments too. The whole ward stinks of blood."

Both Albus and Minerva blanched.

"Well, our medi-witch isn't like that at all," Albus assured her. "She uses all the modern magical healing techniques and has been here for years."

Hermione looked doubtful. She still wouldn't be going to the infirmary if she could help it. She looked toward Snape. He was the Potions master here. A blowjob or shag ought to get him to hand over a few potions and a Bezoar for her personal use. He already showed her he wasn't the least bit adverse to business as usual. Thank the gods.

The wizard looked back at her soberly.

Albus studied her, then drew in a deep breath.

"Miss Granger, our school is nothing like your own. There is no need for violence or fear here. All you must do is go to class and do your work and be relatively nice to others and you won't find it difficult here at all," he told the witch.

Hermione felt sick. Be nice? What for? The only reason she was ever "nice" was to get something, not just be that way. Being nasty was much more fun.

"Can I have my wand back?" she asked, looking at Snape pointedly.

The wizard reached into his pocket and retrieved it, leaning forward and handing it to the witch, his dark eyes glittering with warning.

Hermione took it and put it into her robes pocket.

"What hours are we allowed to move around the castle," she asked, already planning to get to Snape's office as soon as possible.

"Why, you are free to move about the castle and grounds all day until curfew, which is at nine o'clock in the evening," Albus told her.

"Really? In my world we have to stay in the Common rooms most of the day when not attending classes. We get a couple of free hours on the weekends, but that's it," she replied.

"So you see, there are some benefits in our world," Albus said with a smile.

"Not many," Hermione replied.

Minerva stood up.

"Miss Granger, you have to come with me to my office so I can give you Miss Granger's schedule. Then I will call a meeting of Gryffindor house and will introduce you to your housemates and explain your situation. I am sure you will find them helpful and accepting," the Gryffindor Head of House told her.

Hermione was sure she'd find them positively nauseating. There was nothing for it though. She was stuck here until her frizzy-headed little double managed to stick her face back in that mirror. Hopefully, she'd figure that out quickly.

"All right, I'm ready," Hermione said standing up.

"I'll see you later, Professor," she said to Snape, pursing her lips at him a little.

"Count on it," he responded shortly.

She didn't say good-bye to Albus before she left. She just sullenly followed Minerva out of the door thinking how much this whole situation sucked dragon eggs.

Rotten dragon eggs.

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A/N: lol. This came to me this morning so I had to write it out. Thanks for reading.