Vector's Challenge

The situation in the sixth-year Ravenclaw-Slytherin Potions class later on that week was a bit more chaotic. It was amazing how much havoc you could wreak in the Potions classroom if you really set your mind to it: incompatible ingredients, the wrong sequence, exploding the cauldrons, et cetera. The sixth-year Slytherins had used ice cubes, knowingly mixed up ingredients, and destroyed three of the Ravenclaws' cauldrons during class earlier that week. Some of them had even done business with the Weasley twins, and in total, seven of the Ravenclaws had gone to the infirmary that Tuesday.

Thus, on that Thursday, the Ravenclaws walked in hell-bent on revenge. Cho Chang had spent a great deal of her infirmary time freezing carbon dioxide with some charms. Roger Davies had conjured up a golfball-sized chunk of sodium, and had cut it into fourths.

Chang started off the prank war that morning. She pulled out a large chunk of dry ice the instant Snape turned his back, and threw it into the closest Slytherin's cauldron. It sublimated in the hot potion instantly, and let off a great deal of fog in the process.

Snape turned around. "Miss Chang! What is going on here?"

Cho attempted to look innocent. Montague, the Slytherin, said, "I dumped something really cold into my own cauldron, sir."

"Unauthorized experiments on your own cauldron are not allowed, Mr. Montague. Five points from Slytherin."

On the other side of the classroom, Davies threw a piece of sodium into Corentyn Warrington's cauldron. It reacted with the potion to create even more smoke. Then the cauldron exploded. Pieces of metal flew everywhere.

Chang disposed of all her dry ice, and Davies of all his sodium. Snape had to send Adrian Pucey running for Madam Pomfrey. The entire class wound up in the infirmary with injuries from the cauldron shards or reactions to breathing in the potion vapors. Everyone's skin had turned fuchsia with chartreuse scales, and their noses had turned into pig snouts.

"I think that you should have kept quiet about your bet, and not dragged the students into it," Pomfrey tartly said to Snape after she had taken care of the rest of the injured. "I've had to do more patching up this week from your Potions classes than I normally do in the whole fall term."

"Even with Potter and his crew around?" Snape replied.

"At least with Potter it's only a few problems to deal with," Pomfrey said. "This bet is exciting three out of the four Houses."

"At least it's getting them interested in Potions," Snape replied. "They had to study to do all this damage."

"Humph."

"It'll be over in a week," Snape replied. "I think that things should settle back down to normal after that."

Pomfrey sniffed. "They had better," she replied. "Otherwise, I'm going to speak to the Headmaster about it."

"Do you really think the Headmaster will put a stop to this?" Snape asked her.

Pomfrey paused for a moment. "Well, he ought to."

"That wasn't what I asked," Snape replied.

"Humph. You should speak with Vector and call it off."

"Why quit when I'm so close?" Snape retorted.

But on that Friday, with the first-year Slytherin-Ravenclaw class, Snape wished that he had called the bet off early. He was in an absolutely foul mood that morning. He had been having dreams that he found quite troubling, dreams about Emmy Vector. I see her dressed as a dancer, and then in nothing at all. Oh Merlin. That crazy damn fool woman and her stupid bet are going to drive me absolutely insane.

He knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with the woman. Even if her brother didn't kill him, there was no way that she would even look at him, let alone stay with him when she found out what he'd done in the past. She's so innocent, so pure and honorable. What chance do I have of convincing a woman like that to put up with a man like me? The instant she found out that I was a Death Eater in the past, never mind finding out what I actually did, she'd run.

He had watched her all through breakfast that morning. She was so serene and calm. She had a face that could have been found in an Egyptian tomb painting, only paler, a sketch in white and brown rather than olive and black. She was wearing navy blue robes that morning. Why didn't the woman ever wear bright colors during the week? It was always navy or brown with her. He wanted to see her in yellow or green, a nice light green for a change. Like in your dreams last night, Snape?

I will never get to kiss her, never get to see her smile in love at me, never make her moan with passion in the night. I lost that chance when I first got this damnable Mark put onto my arm. All I can do now is skulk in the shadows, watch her, and dream of her at night. The fool woman doesn't even see me as a man, just as a target to tease and play games with. I should play games with her. Drag her down to my dungeons one night, strip her naked, and play games with her until she's begging for mercy. Or at least until one of us is begging for mercy.

Merlin! What have I become? Even when I was with the Death Eaters, I never went in for rape. I thought that was because I had some moral standards left, but I see now it was only because I never saw a woman I liked that much. And I don't really want to rape her, not really. But how else would I ever get into bed with her? Even my subconscious knows that I have no chance with her.

He knew he would never do anything to harm her, though. Between incurring Dumbledore's and Michael Vector's wrath, it would be tantamount to committing suicide.

Maybe I should start invoking this St. Jude that she'll look at me favorably for just one night. After all, her being interested in me would be an impossible and lost cause, never mind staying with me.

And then he had to go deal with first-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins, instead of going back to bed and skipping the sadistic parts of his dreams without meaning to, going straight to the good bits. He found it very disturbing that instead of screaming "Stop, please don't," in his dreams, she was moaning, "please don't stop." It was enough to drive a man to drink.

The students were doing everything possible to get on his last nerve. One of the first-year Ravenclaws, Eleanor Cornfoot, had figured out in advance that the potion for that day's class was fairly acidic. She had then conjured up a solution of sodium sulfide in class while his back was turned, poured it into her own cauldron, and essentially gassed the class out with the foul rotten-egg stench of hydrogen sulfide. To add insult to injury, she then attempted to place the blame on one of the more particularly stupid and anti-Muggle Slytherins. At least there had been a bright side to the entire mess. He had gotten to take points off the Ravenclaws for causing the trouble as well as for the Slytherins for attempting to take the credit. After all, the terms of the bet were that he would be fair, not blind.