Vector's Challenge

Letters, Tests, and Appointments

Severus Snape glared at his fiancée that Monday at the noon meal in the Great Hall. She hadn't been at breakfast. And now she was sucking on another raw lemon. What does she need to do that for? We didn't do anything all that wrong. I didn't get that many of her clothes off, and we didn't have intercourse. So what does she have to feel guilty about? He glared at her. She dipped her head, and her face started to turn red. And she's blushing, the hypocritical wench. She was happy enough yesterday with what we were doing....Ravenclaws. Absolutely no sense of discretion. This is never going to work. If she were a Slytherin, she'd know that if you can't be good you should at least be discreet.

And now she was eating colcannon and a hot fudge sundae, for the sixth time in the last two weeks, by his count. Is she pregnant? And if so, why hasn't she told me about it yet? Does she not trust me to do the right thing? Does she think I'll poison her, or rid her of the child?

An owl and a tern flew into the Great Hall, and both headed for Snape. They dropped their letters in front of him. Emmy's eyebrows went up as she saw the handwriting on one. She picked it up. "Severus, what is my mother doing writing to you?"

Snape frowned as he regarded the other letter, with his mother's handwriting on it. "I presume that your father wishes to meet with me about our engagement, and he had your mother write the invitation." He took the letter from her hand, and opened it.

The letter read, "Dear Mr. Snape: We request the pleasure of your company for tea at half-past four on Thursday afternoon, the seventeenth of September. Sincerely yours, Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Vector."

He set it down. "Do you have other commitments at four-thirty this Thursday, Emmy?"

She nodded. "Who's the other letter from, Severus?"

"My mother."

"Oh. And where does she live?"

"She resides in the hinterlands of Peru, exploring pre-Inca magical remains."

"Very interesting."

"She has always been fascinated with the pre-Inca cultures; she left England immediately after my father died to pursue her research."

"I see. When was this?"

"Nineteen-seventy-eight." Snape crushed the letter from his mother in his hand, and stuffed it into a pocket somewhere in his robes. He took the letter from her parents and carefully placed it into his pocket.

At the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang stole a glance at Draco Malfoy. It was a pity that he was from a Dark family. And that he was such an annoying prat. He was cute. Not as manly as Cedric had been, but he had that touch of veela about him. And his father was attractive, in a thoroughly evil way. If Draco grew up to look like his father, he would be quite easy on the eyes. And Draco was intelligent, and had a wicked sense of humor. Cho's mouth twitched at the memory of the badges he had made last year. What am I doing, thinking of him in that way? I'm being unfaithful to Cedric. But Cedric is dead and buried. If only Draco wasn't a Malfoy. If only he would turn to the Light. She sighed, and turned her attention back to her lunch and her friend Marietta.

Draco had gone through a most frustrating tutoring session with Cho that morning. Not only was she beautiful and older than he was, she was also quite capable of mopping the floor with him in terms of finding every single last mistake in his Arithmancy work. He glared at her as she sat and ate her lunch. Stuck-up Ravenclaw wench. Thinks she's too good and too intelligent for the Malfoys? I'd love to show her a thing or two. She can follow in Vector's footsteps. We can be just like Professor Snape and Vector. He sat at the Slytherin table, and watched her at the Ravenclaw table. She'd look so sexy in a little black, green, or red leather outfit, and carrying a buggy whip. Hah. I should draw her like that.

His fingers itched to get at his pencils again. It was a deep, dark secret, not to be known outside a few select members of Slytherin House, but he loved drawing and painting. He sometimes wished that he had gone to France or Italy for school, but his mother had been firm. And his father would not have permitted his only son and heir to go study art. "That's for queers, Draco. You have to be a man." Father is wrong about that. Male artists can get plenty of female groupies if they choose, and it's a wonderful excuse to look at naked women.

Once classes were over, the Slytherins were studying in their house common room. Draco watched Millie working on something, and smiling gently while she wrote. Must be either Arithmancy or a letter to that Auror Vector. She looks almost passable when she thinks about either of them.

He shook his head. Poor Bulstrode. I can almost feel sorry for her. Her family will never push for her to marry, and they'll never let her marry Michael Vector. Although I suppose I should feel grateful that the Bulstrodes aren't pushing for her to marry. I'd be a prime candidate, along with Crabbe and Goyle. But then again, everyone's pushing Pansy Parkinson at me, and she's not the type of girl I want to marry. I want somebody prettier and classier, and never mind how much her family supports the Dark Lord.

Draco finished his essay, and looked around. Pansy was nowhere to be seen. Excellent. I can get some sketching in for a change. Draco took a scrap of parchment out, and started working on a sketch of Cho, in a tight black costume, holding a whip in her right hand, her wand at her left side.

Millie, meanwhile, was rereading a letter from Michael Vector. Dear Miss Bulstrode, the letter said. Thank you very much for your letter and your kind wishes about my speedy recovery. It was a pleasure to see you at Mass today. I think you startled my sister and your Catholic classmates quite a bit, but I think that you, Mr. Blaise Zabini, and Professor Snape probably enjoyed that aspect of it. I hope that you are doing well, and that you are recovered from the trauma of seeing a Dementor on school grounds. I am still most impressed by your skill in conjuring a Patronus, your courage in staying during the attack to assist me if you could, and your judgment in not making matters worse for me during the attack. There are many individuals in the Ministry whom I could not say the same for.

To answer your questions about the qualifications to be an Auror: Defense is essential, as is Advanced Potions. Arithmancy is quite useful, even though not required, as it allows improvisation of spells in the field, and careful analysis of data at the office. Although if what my sister says about your skills at Arithmancy is true, I would give you a recommendation to the Unspeakables. You might also want to consider corresponding with my father, Edmund Vector, who is a professor of mathematics at a university in Ireland. He was Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, 1937, and has been employed both in the wizarding and the Muggle world. I can introduce you to him if you would like it.

I hope that the cloak I conjured for you with Duplicatus is still in good shape and keeping you warm on these crisp November mornings. I know it doesn't exactly fall within the standard uniform, but I hope that you preserve it and wear it when you can. I thought you looked quite beautiful in it. Don't worry about your idiot male classmates; if they're worthy of you, they'll see your true beauty in time, as I do now. And if they never do, do you want to be with fool boys like those?

Yours, Michael Vector.

Millie sighed, more with sorrow than romantic delight. My parents will never approve of him. An Auror? Somebody that can kill a Dementor? And so much older than me? Ah well, I can save all these letters for when I'm old and alone, to remind myself that somebody loved me once.

She looked around. Parkinson wasn't around, Zabini wouldn't take the letter from her, and Malfoy was working on something of his own. Maybe a sketch, although he had such little skill at drawing that she couldn't tell what it was. She started writing back: Dear Auror Vector, please call me Millie. I think that we should be on first-name terms; after all, I owe you a wizard's debt. Thank you very much for the information about the requirements to be an Auror. I would be delighted to meet your father. The cloak is in excellent condition and keeps me very warm indeed. Yours, Millie. She paused, and reread the letter. Not too forward, and not too cold. I think. She sealed up the letter, and left for the Owlry.

Meanwhile, Snape was sitting in his quarters, reading the letter from his mother. It said:

Dear Severus: I have been informed by reliable sources that you are engaged to be married. Is this true? Think carefully before you answer. As I understand it, you have gotten yourself engaged to one Emmy Vector Donovan, who is a colleague of yours at Hogwarts. I have been told that she is human, female, a widow, and a Ravenclaw. From what I understand, she is also half-Irish, a Roman Catholic, childless, at least one-quarter Muggle, and a relation of that awful Michael Vector who was in your year and a Beater on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. However, I have also been informed that there are rumors of criminal charges against her in America. Narcissa Malfoy tells me that she has met Professor Donovan, or Vector as she refers to her, and thinks that she might do for you. I can usually trust Narcissa's judgment, but I hear from Mrs. Wilkes that there has been a spot of trouble between Professor Donovan and Lucius Malfoy. Sincerely yours, Your Mother.

Snape hissed with irritation. "Narcissa, did you have to tell my mother that I was engaged? And Mrs. Wilkes knows about this as well? Why do we even bother having newspapers, when the wizarding world is so small?" He picked up a piece of parchment, and started writing back:

Dear Mother: The information that I am engaged to be married is correct. So is the information about my fiancée's gender, species, marital status, House affiliation, and lack of children. She goes by her maiden name professionally and personally. None of this is secret. Answering this does not require careful thought on my part, as it is all public knowledge. We have not set a date yet. When we do, of course you will be invited to the ceremony, and in fact, you are welcome to meet her when the two of you are on the same continent. I wish I had equally good information about your current activities, but I only know what you see fit to enlighten me with. I am glad my forthcoming marriage has aroused your interest. Very sincerely, your son, Severus Snape.

He sealed the letter, and handed it to the tern, which had followed him down from the Great Hall.

On that Tuesday, Emmy Vector took in a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. She took out a plain silver ring, and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. The rings that Brendon had given her were currently at the bottom of the Chicago River, or at least that was where she had thrown them after sorting through some of his personal effects after his death, and finding certain letters and pictures. She put her engagement ring back on, and smiled at the effect. Much better than that awful gold-and-diamond monstrosity of a set the Cheating Bastard gave to me.

She checked her to-do list once again. Off-campus: stop by Boots, pick up test. She had "forgotten" to do it twice already since her talk with McGonagall. And at least this way, she wouldn't be too embarrassed by buying a pregnancy test if she looked married. Not that anyone would care, as she was planning on Apparating to Manchester and buying it there, and she didn't know a soul in Manchester, but with her luck, somebody would run into her. Fortunately, she was lucky for a change, and saw only strange Muggles at the chemist's.

Once she got the test home to her flat, she, of course, had to take it. What a messy and inconvenient procedure. Muggles. But I don't remember the spell for the pregnancy test, and Ma's never really trusted magical tests all that much anyway. Says that witches don't take account of certain things, says they take too much for granted, and that the Muggle knowledge is more reliable, as it's gained through hard work and logic. She watched the clock as she waited. Only one line. Negative. No baby. She let out a faint chuckle. "Did you really expect anything else, Emmy Vector?" she said to herself. She cleared away the testing equipment, and washed her hands.

She looked at her reflection in the silent mirror. Crying at the drop of a hat, a bit knackered, occasional queasiness, breasts sore, running to the washroom every hour. But I did have my courses, and the test results say I'm not pregnant. So what could it possibly be? Flu? Cancer? Hysterical pregnancy?

She started crying. "I'm going nutters, I really am. A hysterical pregnancy, of all things. I should be relieved that I'm not pregnant out of wedlock, instead of worrying about whether I'm infertile. And Severus doesn't want children anyway..." She kept crying until there were no more tears left.

On that Wednesday, Emmy was at Hogwarts, thinking that she must be going absolutely insane. The symptoms had continued. If it's a hysterical pregnancy, it's supposed to stop when I figure out that it's all in my head, isn't it? So what in Mother Mary's name is it? Cancer? Flu? Prophetic symptoms of a pregnancy years in the future? Standard Arithmancer madness, or a variation on such? She didn't dare ask any of her colleagues. She wanted to let them suspect that something had happened, rather than confirm their suspicions and get herself fired for violating the morals clause. And all her female first cousins were closer to her mother's age than hers.

That evening, Snape stopped by her quarters. She let him into her sitting room. He closed the door behind him, and sat down on her sofa. He asked her, "Emmy, er, are you - er, er, -- Have you taken a pregnancy test yet?"

She nodded at him, her face lit by candlelight. She said, "I did, and it came back negative."

Snape snorted. "Well, you should have revised more."

"Severus!" She brought her hands to her hips. "It is not funny." She started to pace, and to sniffle.

He watched her, and started remembering Father Sorin's advice. Severus cleared his throat. "Emmy, I have neglected an important matter. There is something I need to ask you."

"What is it, Severus?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes, Severus."

Severus let out a relieved breath. "Good. Now all I have to do is secure your father's permission to marry you."

She spluttered, "Severus! Is that really necessary?"

"Father Sorin and the Baron seemed to think so."

"Severus, it's the twentieth century. What say do you think my family has in this?

He said, "If they agree to it, they will put pressure on you to marry me. If they do not, you will probably elope with me to spite them. So it is a win-win situation for me. And I imagine they'll have plenty to say about you marrying me."

She sighed. "Severus, I am a thirty-year-old widow who's eloped once before with a Muggle. Why do you think my family will have anything to say about our marriage? What about your family?"

"Your brother seems to have plenty to say," Severus retorted.

Emmy rolled her eyes. "My brother is an idiot, a complete Gryffindork despite his House. One of my father's sisters was in Slytherin, for heaven's sake!"

"And your father was in which House?"

"Ravenclaw, and my mother is a Squib."

Severus sighed. "Both my parents were Slytherin, and so were their parents. Trust me, Emmy my dear, both my family and yours will have quite a great deal to say. And if they don't I'm sure we can help them along."

Emmy laughed at this. She then asked, "But wouldn't conversion to Catholicism put a crimp in your Death Eater cover?"

Snape said, "Absolutely not. Look at the Borgia popes, and the American and Irish sex scandals. My only problem is explaining why I'm getting married instead of joining the priesthood."

"Tell them that you didn't want to be called Father-What-A-Waste."

Snape asked, "Waist? Have I gained weight?"

She replied, "No, it's w-a-s-t-e."

"Could you clarify that?"

Emmy grinned and said, "That it would be a waste for you to be celibate." She embraced him and kissed him on the cheek.

Snape's arms went around her, and he muttered, "Bad eyesight or insanity on your part. It has to be one of those two. Whatever it is, I hope they never find a cure."

Emmy smiled. She said to herself, "I'll have to make lists of my relatives to keep you away from; one of the easily scandalized relatives & one of the relatives who tell worse jokes than you. Aunt Dorothy will get a category all to herself."

Snape frowned. "Well, holding that in reserve, what can you tell me about your mother and father?"

Emmy replied, "He's very English. She isn't."

Snape said, "Expand on that, if you please."

Emmy said, "My brother takes after my mother."

Snape dropped his arms, let her go, and said, "Oh ye gods."

Emmy went on, "My father is quieter."

Snape said, "That doesn't tell me very much."

"Well, if my father had attacked the Dementor, it wouldn't have known it was under attack until it turned around and its head fell off."

"Wonderful. My future mother-in-law is a berserker, and my future father-in-law is the Grim Reaper."

Emmy replied, "He seldom gets angry."

Snape did not find this terribly reassuring. She had not denied the characterization. He said, "But I assume he does have strong feelings about you and your well-being."

Emmy replied, "Of course, Severus."

Snape sighed and said, "Well, we have that in common." He drew himself up to his full height. "Emmy, I will see you on Friday, I presume?"

She nodded. "Yes, Severus. And say hello to my parents for me. Best of luck."