Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything,
A/N: Challenge fic to "The Betting Pool" posted by Jayu on Portkey.
"This is getting ridiculous! Just get together already!" McGonagall dropped her fork and looked dismally at her scrambled eggs. "I swear, if I have to teach one more class with those two making goo-goo eyes at each other, I will shove them into the nearest broom closet myself!" All of the teachers at the table turned to look at her. This was a rare occurrence; it wasn't often Minerva McGonagall invested her time into the romantic escapades of her students.
"I know how you feel, Minerva," Professor Snape said bitterly. "Every class, its always the same. I'm surprised Weasley doesn't notice."
"Notice what?" Albus asked, joining the conversation.
"How Harry and Hermione have been driving the entire faculty insane," Snape looked sullenly at his oatmeal, stirring the thick substance absently. "I agree with Minerva; shove those two into a broom closet and get it over with. It's not as if they'll admit their feelings to each other anyway."
"I think they will, eventually," Firenze broke, looking down the table from his place at the end (it had been hard to accommodate the table for a centaur, but eventually, it had been done, much to the pride of all parties). "While I do not know Ms. Granger very well, from what Harry Potter keeps seeing in his smoke signs, he is quite in love with the girl."
"Smoke signs?" Snape scoffed. "Bit hazy prediction, don't you think?"
"I will admit, when I first saw his, I was a bit baffled, and wondered if he had performed the spell wrong," Firenze said, "But time after time, the only sign he gets in his smoke is an otter."
"An otter? What's that have to with Hermione?" asked Snape incredulously.
"An otter is the form Hermione's Patronus takes, apparently," Firenze said, chewing a bit on a root of some sort; he had declined the house elves offerings of toast and eggs, preffering what could be found in the forest, "Or at least, that's what Mr. Potter said when he saw it."
"Really? Interesting….." Albus said, scratching his beard thoughtfully, with a mischievous glint in his merry blue eyes.
"What's that look for?" Minerva glanced at her colleague warily; that look was almost never a good thing.
"I think it would be wise to channel our frustrations into a more interesting outlet,' he said, much to the confusion of the teachers.
"What do you mean by 'more interesting outlet'?" Minerva asked, afraid to find out what is meant.
"Nothing bad, Professor, nothing bad. All I'm doing is starting a betting pool,"
"Albus! A betting pool? Really! Do you think that is really proper? Betting on the love lives on our students?"
"Well, we have to get our kicks in somehow," Snape said, taking out his wallet.
"I'm in," Hagrid agreed, as did many of the other teachers.
"I'm not," Minerva said firmly, despite the conjoling of the teachers. "It is not right to bet on our students."
"But didn't you say they were driving you insane?" one asked.
"Well…yes…but that still doesn't make it right," she said, though she could feel her defenses weakening. They were driving her insane, and any way to get back at Albus for beating her out of five-hundred galleons concerning another Mr. Potter was good.
"Fine, I'm in," she muttered, taking out a small bag of gold.
"Good," Albus said, writing down names and taking wagers. "Now, let's set down some rules for this betting pool." The teachers nodded in agreement.
"Under no circumstances are you to shove them into a broom closet," he said, chuckling. "Or 'help' them in any way, though slight nudging is permittable. No bet shall exceed one hundred galleons, for counting's sake. The betting will end when one teacher's theory on how the two shall be united either becomes reality, or comes really close. Is that clear?" The teachers nodded in agreement.
"Good. Let the betting begin," he said, passing the parchment around so each teacher could add their theory.