Well, so much for studying for finals! I ended up writing the end of the story, which was stupid, because I really want to post it. But first, I have to continue with the middle of the story. So here is chapter 8. Enjoy, because this really will be my last post for a while.

On another note, Risi's comment got me to thinking, and she was right. I think a little more ambiguity with Snape's past makes for a better and more accurate story, so I've changed some previous chapters. Subtle changes, the basic story is still the same.

Chpt. 8- Impending Revenge

Lyric sat silent at breakfast the next morning. She was thinking about last night's dream. The idea of being pinned underneath a very persistent and excited Snape was not as repulsive as Lyric wished it to be.

"So, I was thinking about a prank," said Tristan animatedly, "how about letting loose three pixies in the school, and labeling them 1, 3, and 4. They quickly get the three we let loose, but Filch'll spend the rest of the day looking for number 2."

"Tristan, you're already on Snape's Hit List. You think it wise to push it with another prank so soon? It's only the second day of classes," Iona pleaded.

"Well, I can't go the rest of the year behaving, now can I?" Tristan argued. "I've got a reputation to uphold. Right Lyric?" he asked her, but she remained silent staring at her toast. "Yoo-hoo! Lyric?" Tristan tried to get her attention.

"Sorry, what?" she asked looking up from her plate.

"You falling in love with the toast or what?" he asked.

"No, sorry," she explained, "I'm just a bit distracted. Didn't sleep much last night."

"Was that because of your dream?" Iona asked.

"Oh, dream," Tristan squealed. "Was it a sex dream? Was it about me? Was I a fantastic shag, be honest?" he asked excitedly.

"No! It was definitely not a dream about you," Lyric defended.

"So, it was a sex dream?" he asked.

"NO!" she screamed, "Look, I don't want to talk about it anymore, can we move on to something else?"

Iona and Tristan were shocked that Lyric had snapped at them, so they quickly let the topic go. Luckily, the post had just come through. As the owls flew through the dining hall delivering the morning mail, bright green pieces of paper had started to fall from the ceiling. Lyric reached out to grab one of the pieces of paper. "Oh good, the Wart Report's here," she said.

Iona also reached out to grab a piece of paper while Tristan just rolled his eyes at the girls. "I can't believe you girls read that rubbish. Skeeter is an absolute bitch and a liar. She just goes around printing rumors about everyone in school, no wonder she hasn't got any friends."

"Tristan, it's a well-known fact that in any rumor lies some truth," Iona said matter-of-factly. "Rita always picks up on something that's true."

Again Tristan rolled his eyes. "Anything good?" he asked a few seconds later.

"Well, well, well," started Iona, "apparently your antics are about to start a full on coup by the underclassmen. They feel as though your 'Rein of Terror' needs to end."

"She's printed that same story for three years. Move off it, Rita!" he shouted towards the Ravenclaw table, knowing that she was listening.

"Look here," said Iona, "it seems that our dear headmaster and his favorite niece have had a falling out. Apparently, Lyric is so upset by her uncle's recent hiring that she refuses to talk to him."

"What were you saying about some truth in everything?" Tristan asked sarcastically. "Obviously Rita made this one up, Lyric would never stop talking to Dumbledore, would you?" he asked Lyric who had quietly been reading the paper for any mention of Snape.

"No, of course not," she said without looking up from the paper.

"Losing your edge, Skeeter!" Tristan yelled again at the Ravenclaws. Rita popped her head out of the crowd and gave Tristan a lewd hand gesture.

"That was rude," Tristan laughed.

Lyric was still reading the paper, she paused before moving on to the last section of the paper: the Love Watch. This was the one part of the paper most dreaded. It was dreaded by all, because it was notoriously accurate. There was a section for love sightings, official relationships, lovers' quarrels, and breakups. Lyric was relieved to not see her name among the listings. She didn't know why she felt so paranoid about her dream, but Lyric felt that somehow, Rita would exploit it if she ever heard about it.

Classes went on as normal, but Lyric began to draw nervous as Potions drew near. When she walked into Snape's classroom, she avoided him like the plague. She sat down next to Iona, and buried her nose in a book.

"Okay, what's the deal Lyric?" Iona finally asked, "You've been acting strange all day, and you even snapped at me and Tristan this morning, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, okay, I'm just tired," Lyric said glumly. She knew she couldn't hide it from her best friend forever; Iona would soon beat it out of her. Tristan entered the classroom and gave Snape the biggest smile he could muster.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape. I hope you're well," Tristan said in a rather sincere voice.

"Just dandy, Mr. Merton. I trust you served your detention well yesterday?" Snape asked.

"Of course, sir," Tristan had cooked up a brown-noser voice that was relatively annoying.

"Good, now take your seat. I suggest that you inform your two friends that there was no damage done to your nipples, they seemed quite concerned about the issue in class, yesterday," Snape said without any humor in his voice. The class laughed at the mention of nipples until Snape glared at them all.

A look of confusion spread across Tristan's face, but he then turned to face the class and lifted up his shirt. "They appear to be doing okay this morning," he said as he touched a finger to his left nipple. The students were unsure whether or not they could laugh.

"Take your seat, Mr. Merton," Snape commanded, upset that he had not managed to embarrass Tristan. "I would like to begin class by asking if anyone knows the magical properties of molë?" Snape looked around the room at blank faces. Lyric knew the answer, but she didn't dare raise her hand. Snape paced in front of the classroom, before calling out "Ms. Dumbledore, would you enlighten us?"

Lyric felt her face grow flame-red, she slowly looked up from her book at her Potions master. "The magical properties of the molë root is still unknown to man, as it is impossible for the root to be pulled out of the ground by humans," she said quietly.

"Go on," Snape stared at her.

"The only creature that can pull the root from the earth is the catoblepas, but the creature will consume the root immediately, and no wizard has ever succeeded trying to wrestle the root from the catoblepas," Lyric was dying to shut up and bury her face back in her book.

"Anything else," he asked with amusement. Lyric glared at her professor as he continued to smile like a young boy pulling the wings off of a fly.

"The ancient Greeks believe the root was only available to the Gods, which gave us the phrase 'holy moly.' Currently, the belief is that the molë root would be the key ingredient in an immortality potion, though there is no evidence to support that theory."

"Good, it would seem as though you took that description straight from a textbook, though. Ten points from Gryffindor for plagiarism," he smiled briefly before continuing on with his lecture. "Immortality potions are nothing more that mere legend. There is currently no potion that offers such protection. However, there are several potions that can temporarily sustain life. The first of which is the Atheneen Potion."

As Snape continued with his lecture, Lyric felt anger swelling up inside of her. He had egged her on when she didn't want to talk to him, then punished her for obeying. Twice more he asked Lyric questions. She refused to answer both times and Snape took points away for that as well.

Iona exploded the minute they left class. "That greasy old git takes points away for knowing the answer, and then he takes them away if you didn't know it. Why does he act like such a rat bastard all the time?" Iona raved on loudly.

"He did it to humiliate me," Lyric raved much quieter than Iona, "that bastard does it all to upset me."

"Why would he want to upset you?" Tristan asked.

"Hell if I know," Lyric said raising her voice. "Probably just likes to see students squirm. He picks on me because I'm the headmaster's niece," Lyric felt her eyes welling up with tears, though she tried to stop them.

"Hon, what's wrong?" Iona asked gently. "Please don't tell me you're crying because of that asshole."

"No, it's just," sadness subsided as full fledged rage filled Lyric was a new-found hatred for the professor. "Tristan, I need you're help."

"What is it love?" he asked.

"I want, no, need to get back at that disgusting man. You need to help me pull off a prank. Something that'll but that bat in his place," Lyric was defiant now.

For a minute, Tristan looked like he was going to cry. "I," he began tearfully, "am so proud of you. Come on, well start planning tonight."