DISCLAIMER: I don't own HP!
Severus Snape glowered furiously around the staff lounge, never quite looking any one in the eye. If you looked closely enough you could see a pout.
"Really, Severus, I can't believe what a chance you missed!" Professor Flitwick chuckled to himself as he dealt some cards. Professor Sprouts smiled behind her hand of cards.
It was another dull Friday night, so the teachers had took it onto themselves to create a more relaxed atmosphere in the lounge in effort to match up to the wild parties that the Gryffindor House was currently entertaining themselves with since they had just won the Quidditch House Cup. Sadly, they were failing.
Dumbledore, with his usual twinkle in his eyes, slid his cards over and looked them over. He looked at Professor Trelawney, who was currently staring at him inquisitively.
She raised her heavily draped arm up to the heavens and in a dramatic, smoky voice: "Do you have a seven?" Her voice was very ominous and spiritual.
Dumbledore glanced at his cards and back at her. "Go Fish," He simply said.
Professor Trelawney looked shocked. "Foul play! That is not possible; the spirits are telling me you have a seven! They instructed me to ask—so, really, I should get a seven," She insisted.
"Well, they have the wrong instruction manual then," Professor McGonagall snapped.
"And you can't have a foul play in Go Fish," Madam Hooch added.
"How would you know?" Trelawney asked primly.
"I used to play this game with my half-blood friends during Quidditch breaks," Madam Hooch said smugly.
"Why don't you just draw a card Sibyll? Perhaps the spirits couldn't concentrate well with all of your unearthly, spiritual vibrations surrounding you—it hypnotized them!" Professor Sprout offered brightly. Professor McGonagall silently mouthed thank you across the table to her. Pomona smiled back.
"So, who's winning?" Snape glumly returned to the game.
"Well, currently," Professor Vector consulted her complicated looking score sheet. "Albus has won five rounds of Go Fish, Minerva has won one, and Hooch has won two out eight rounds!"
Professor Trelawney suddenly dumped her cards onto the table and pushed back on her chair with an 'hmph!' With her arms crossed against her chest, this action had the dignity of a three year old that lost at Snakes-and-Ladders. "I don't see the point of playing if I'm just going to lose," She grumbled. Yep, definitely the dignity of a three-year-old.
"Well, at least you got some money!" Snape angrily said. "I was so sure that Granger and Potter would never get together."
Flitwick, Trelawney, Dumbledore, oh screw it, all the teachers besides Binns and Sinatra stared at him.
"Severus, old man, are you mad?" Flitwick proceeded carefully. "Have you seen the way the two look at each other in class?"
Severus sniffed. "I thought, I thought . . . Oh, screw it! You're right!" He groaned and leaned back in his chair while tipping back a pint of wine.
"He's drunk." Flitwick announced. Albus looked amused at the statement and proceeded to shuffle the deck to play Go Fish with Minerva.
"No, I am not! I just didn't think that after so many years when we started the bet that they would get together after six bloody years!" Snape burst, his eyes frantic.
"Tough luck, Severus," Flitwick commented absentmindedly thinking of all the things he would do from all the money that Sinatra owed him.
"Stop smirking Minerva," Hooch laughed at Minerva's self-satisfied look. She betted the highest—against Snape, I might add--and she won . . . so, yay her! Too bad for Snape—poor him.
"I'm not! I-I'm just getting some more champagne." To prove her point, Minerva stood up and reached across the table for the bottle in the center of the wooden table. She poured it into her goblet all the while secretively glancing at her cards while looking at Albus.
"So, who won?" Severus slurred.
"Minerva?" Flitwick glanced at the drunken professor beside him, slightly in fear.
"No, I meant goldfiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish!" Suddenly, Snape's world faded into black.
"Severus? Severus, are you okay?" Madam Pomfrey stood over him, her face concerned.
"Yeees," Snape drawled, he grasped Dumbledore's hand and hauled himself up. "Perhaps, I should be retiring," He said knowing that he's really out of it.
"Here, you might want to have this." Dumbledore's face swayed in front of him. Snape picked up the glass of murky green-ish liquid.
"What is it?"
"An anti-hangover and pep potion," Dumbledore handed it to him.
Snape was confused. "Why a pep potion?"
"When you wake up the next morning and realized you lost thousands of galleons to Minerva," Dumbledore gently said, stifling a laugh at Snape's face.
"Right," Snape groggily said and made for the door.
"Oh, and Severus?" Snape turned back around. "I won Goldfish, I mean, Go Fish," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. If Snape wasn't a smooth, calm, collected guy he would've flushed because he's so drank that he called Go Fish, Goldfish. Brilliant going suave, he berated himself.
Then he hurried out feeling rather sick, or maybe it was Trelawney's necklaces that she had layered on his neck that weighed a ton. Yes, she had said something about them reducing nausea.
How did I lose to such an imbecile of a fortune teller? Snape wailed to himself as he locked himself in his room. He dreamt that night about big, golden hubcap-like things.
THE END