Through the Looking Glass ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 7 ~ Hermione's First Night in Slytherin.

Hermione sat on the side of her bed, safely sequestered in Slytherin house, hustled to the dungeons quickly by Professor McGonagall while the rest of the school was at supper. The had to be in the Great Hall promptly at five, at which time the doors were locked. Supper was let out at seven, and they had to be in their houses by seven-fifteen.

Attendance to supper was mandatory for students. Being late or missing it could be quite painful. A trip to Filch was in order. Heads were counted at each meal, once at the start and once at the finish, to make sure no one slipped out during the interim.

Hermione was completely appalled at the system here, unaware that some aspects of life at this Hogwarts had purposely been left out by Tom Riddle, who was always looking for ways to be amused. Hermione knew about the mandatory lock-ins, the punishments by a wizard Filch, and even to avoid Poppy, but she knew nothing about the way to get extra credit. Tom thought it would be interesting if she were left to find out on her own.

The dark professor McGonagall let Hermione look at her counterpart's marks, and the witch was quite impressed at her grades. She was "Above Outstanding" in every single class except for Transfiguration. That was her only "Barely Acceptable."

"Why are her marks so low in that class?" Hermione wondered to herself.

Her room was nice enough, everything done in silver and green. There were a number of items on the dresser that Hermione never used. Make-up, lipstick and such. In the bathroom, there were a number of flavored lotions and a bottle of shampoo and hair conditioner that were clearly brewed by hand. Was that how she kept her hair so shiny and curling looking?

When Hermione examined the wardrobe, she found regular robes, Slytherin ties, some jeans, t-shirts, a few dresses, and shoes, some with three inch heels and ankle ties. Except for the shoes, everything was pretty ordinary actually, and all in her size. She pulled out a white t-shirt and looked at it. It had writing on the front. She read it.

"I'll try being nicer if you'll try being smarter."

Hermione stared at the quote, then put the t-shirt back and took out another one. This was a red t-shirt which read:

"Your face or mine?"

"Oh my gods!" Hermione gasped. Surely her counterpart didn't wear this shirt in public.

There were a number of t-shirts in the wardrobe, and Hermione couldn't help looking at the rest of them, enthralled at the raw nerve of the Hermione that occupied this world.

"If I were you I'd have sex with me."

"Lie down. I think I love you."

"Fuck you, you fucking fuck!"

"Slippery when wet."

"DON'T PISS ME OFF! I'm running out of places to hide the bodies."

Hermione turned all kinds of colors when she pulled out a t-shirt with a picture of a cleaver embedded in a piece of meat. It wasn't the image that made her blush, but the "advertisement" over and under it.

"Hummers Smoked Meats and Sausages. All our meat is hand rubbed."

She shook her head. This Hermione was definitely her opposite. She'd NEVER wear a single one of those t-shirts. Luckily, she found a few blank ones as well. Next she checked out the dresser drawers.

It was full of nothing but thongs and bras of all types. Lace, leather, lace and leather, silk. Some of the bras had the cups cut out. There wasn't a sensible pair of underthings in the lot. Not to mention all the garters and stockings.

The next drawer held nightgowns, if you could call them that. All short and sheer, many with crotchless little knickers, and a couple of . . . were those body harnesses? Dear Merlin!

When Hermione opened the next drawer, she slammed it back closed in shock for a moment, before slowly pulling it out again, staring at the contents. There were dildos and vibrators, little flogging whips, soft ropes, blindfolds, leather cuffs, little clamps with chains, bumpy little things that looked a bit like plugs. She had no idea what those were used for.

One thing was for sure, this Hermione wasn't saving herself for marriage.

On the dresser was a picture of Slytherin Hermione standing between Ron and Harry. She was posing sexily, and they were both pressed close against her, rakish looks in their eyes as they met the camera. Hermione picked up the picture and studied this universe's versions of her closest friends.

Well, they looked like Harry and Ron, but there was something a little off about them. Something just a tad unwholesome in their eyes and the way they held their mouths. The body language was different too, kind of . . . well . . . boastful? Or maybe just really, really cool. This photo didn't move however.

Apparently they were just as close here as they were in Hermione's world. So, at least that would be familiar although she doubted they were known as "the golden trio."

There was nothing golden about Slytherins. Still, Harry was being hunted by Albus Dumbledore, or Lord Bedaub Mules here, so she imagined he'd faced a lot of danger just like in her world. More than likely, this Hermione helped him out a few times. As uncomfortable as she was with the idea that Dumbledore was evil in this world, he was still a despot and Harry still needed protecting. She'd help all she could if anything went wrong.

There were a number of books on a small bookshelf, but the class books were piled on the dresser. Hermione looked at the books and saw a number of them had library stickers on them. She decided not to take a closer look. Some of them may have come from the former Restricted Section, and she'd seen that horrible "Welcome to Hogwarts" movie.

What she wondered was who filmed it while students were getting killed? It was awful and she felt like throwing up the entire time.

Professor McGonagall made references to her "fixing her hair" and putting on her face before leaving her room in the morning if she wanted to fit in. Hermione was considered quite attractive in this world and it would be harder for her housemates to accept her if she didn't at least look the part. There would be a meeting in the morning before breakfast where she'd be introduced and her story told.

"They're most likely not going to like you being a Gryffindor, so I suggest you adopt a more suitable attitude. Niceness is not a virtue at this school, believe me. It'll get your ass blasted before anything else," McGonagall warned, looking at her with distaste. "If you feel threatened, act first. Be sure to use hexes that no one will want to be hit with. Make your first victim an example."

Hermione took this in, inwardly horrified that she was expected to hurt other students. Well, she wouldn't do it. She'd bind them or Stupefy them if she had to, but she wouldn't do any damage. But she'd be sure to keep her healing bag with her.

"And watch your food. Sometimes a student will add a little something unpleasant if you look away," Minerva warned, before locking her in and going to attend to other business with Tom.

Now Hermione sat on the bed. Her stomach growled. She was so hungry.

Suddenly, a house elf winked in, holding a plate with a sandwich on it in one clawed hand, and a glass of pumpkin juice in the other. It looked down at the floor as it offered her the food.

Hermione stared at it, because it was wear clothing. A gray shirt and gray short pants, both with the Hogwarts symbol printed on them. On its wrists were two thick metal bracelets.

Hermione took the food from the elf.

"Thank you," she said.

The elf looked up at her with such malice and hatred, Hermione recoiled, then . . . the bracelets suddenly shocked it, little sparks running up its limbs, the creature shuddering with pain then winking out without a word.

Hermione couldn't say for sure, but it seemed the house elves here weren't the least bit happy with their servitude. They were true slaves and by the look the house elf gave her, angry ones. Hermione looked at her sandwich. Should she eat anything given to her by a creature that so obviously despised her and all her kind?

Her stomach growled again.

Well, the food was probably safe. More than likely those bracelets kept the elves from doing anything harmful to the humans they served. Hermione bit into it. It was a ham sandwich made just the way she liked, with sweet pickles, lettuce, tomatoes and mustard. She and the other Hermione either shared the same taste in food or the house elves were attuned to her likes and dislikes. Either way, the sandwich was delicious.

After she ate, she placed the empty plate and glass on the nightstand by the bed, selected on of the less bawdy nighties in the drawer, a short white one, transfigured a pair of thongs into comfortable knickers, and entered the shower to get ready for bed. It was a bit early, but she was tired.

She used the shampoo and conditioner available, and found that it made her bushy, frizzy hair soft and curling. It really looked quite nice, as if professionally styled. That was handy stuff. She'd have to find out what was in it and take the recipe back with her

She dressed for bed and climbed in, totally exhausted. She turned down the torches with her wand, slipped it under her pillow and fell asleep almost immediately.

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Hermione suddenly awoke, and found herself pressed between two warm bodies. Someone was nuzzling her neck, and the other . . . oh Merlin!

"Hey!" Hermione screamed, the bodies pulling away as she grabbed her wand and turned up the torches. On either side of the bed stood Harry and Ron, both naked, looking down at her as if she were crazy.

"What the hell are you doing, Hermione?" Ron demanded as she trained her wand on first one, then the other, horrified.

"What are you doing in here?" she said, trying to avert her eyes, while keeping her wand on them.

"You told us to come tonight," Harry said, his green eyes washing over her. "You said you felt like making a serpent sandwich."

"Yeah," Ron said, frowning at her. "What gives, Hermione?"

"I . . . I changed my mind," she said tremulously.

Both Ron and Harry looked very disappointed.

"But it's been a week since I had any quality pussy, 'Mione. And I had to bugger Sprout's fat bum earlier, and I'm still squicked. Just give me a little to wipe the memory out of my mind. I wish she'd lose some weight. It's like being caught between two huge, jiggly pillows made of meat," Ron complained as Harry smirked at him.

Hermione stared at Ron openly now. He had a nice body and his cock was rather long and pink, surrounded by a bush of red hair. He had buggered Professor Sprout? The Herbology professor? Dear gods. If he had, why was he complaining? She couldn't have made him do it, could she? He could report her and have her dismissed.

Harry stared down at her, then slowly approached the bed. He had quite a nice body as well, very taut, with a six-pack, but was completely hairless. His cock was shorter than Ron's but of bigger girth. He must shave or something. Both of them were circumcised.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You know you'll love it once we get started," Harry said to her with a little growl. Hermione turned her wand on him.

"Both of you get out of here! I said no, and I mean it!" she hissed at him.

Ron's blue eyes flicked to Harry, and a wicked little grin formed on his face.

"Maybe she'll warm up if she watches us for a bit, Harry," he suggested, "You know how that turns her on. Tell you what, I'll wrestle you for top position . . . "

He began walking around the bed warily, heading for his friend, and apparently, lover.

Harry took a defensive stance, flexing his curled fingers at Ron in challenge, his erection swinging slightly.

"All right," he said with a wicked smile of his own, his green eyes hot.

"NO!" Hermione cried, unable to believe this. "Both of you get out of here now!"

Both Harry and Ron stopped menacing each other and frowned at her.

"Hermione, why are you being such a cockblocker?" Harry asked her.

"I . . . I just don't feel good. You two get out of here," she said to them again.

"Fine," Ron said, walking over to a chair and picking up his boxers and sliding them on, Hermione looking at his tight buttocks and flexing back. He had a few freckles. Harry did likewise, then they retrieved their wands from her dresser, both of them turning and scowling at her.

"Next time, tell us when you're getting your period," Harry snarked bad-naturedly as they exited her room.

"Yeah, we could've had our own sausage party," Ron added, closing the door.

Hermione just stared at the closed door in horrified amazement. Ron and Harry shagged each other? And her? What kind of fucking warped, insane world was this?

She sat there, with the torches raised to full, wondering what other surprises were waiting for her.

She hoped no more like this.

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A/N: Lol. I had to do it. :) Thanks for reading. ***