A/N: I usually try to avoid Potions discussions because I find them hard to write, however, it was unavoidable in this story so I hope it is believable and if it isn't, well, bear with me. As always J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and please remember to tell me what you think at the end!

The Bet

He noticed that her hand was raised again. He contemplated ignoring it, testing both her patience and muscle endurance, but then changed his mind; he knew both were limitless. And even though she no longer waved her arm in that irritating manner of her first year, he knew that she wouldn't put it down until he acknowledged it.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked. He scowled at her in his normal manner, knowing that this too would be disregarded. He dreaded that moment when a student's fear of him dissipated into disrespect. It usually occurred sometime in their last two years but unluckily for him Hermione Granger was advanced in that regard as well; she had stopped fearing him in her third year at Hogwart's.

"It's just that what you've written about acquiring bicorn powder, well it's…" she trailed off.

"What Miss Granger?" he asked sharply. He began mentally calculating how many points he could deduct without suffering the wrath of Minerva McGonagall.

The girl looked chagrined and whispered something inaudible. His patience thinning, he stalked towards the desk she shared with Weasley and stared down at her.

"Please, share with the rest of class. We are all awaiting your infinite wisdom," he said, his voice no longer angry but silkily sweet in its taunting. She appeared to be affronted by his condescending tone and with dismay he noticed that instead of deflating her like he had intended, it had instead bolstered her confidence.

'Damn those Gryffindors and their courage,' he thought as she lifted her head slightly and looked him in the eye.

"It's wrong, sir. You wrote on the blackboard that bicorns could be found in Britain, but they are only in Russia and Peru. Its one reason why bicorn powder is such an expensive Potions ingredient" she said.

He stared at her in surprise and then his blood began to boil. Instinctually, he reached for his wand before he remembered that hexing a student was looked down upon.

"Of all the arrogant and impertinent…Just because I occasionally accuse you of being an insufferable know-it-all does not mean I actually believe you know everything," he snarled. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your serious lack of respect and failure to read the text that I assigned."

"But, sir," she protested.

"And detention tonight," he added for good measure. "Back to work, everyone!"

Every head in the room reluctantly turned back to their cauldrons as he marched past the rows of desks. He could hear Malfoy and his friends snickering at her humiliation and he could see Weasley attempting to console the girl. He noticed that her face was red and two small tears made their way down her face, dropping into her potion.

"Get back to work, Weasley," he barked, coming to stop in front of their desk once more.

"Your sniveling is both unattractive and immature, Miss Granger. You will ruin your potion if you continue to cry into it, and I would hate to see you fail today's assignment in addition to what you have already achieved this period," he said quietly but harshly. She didn't return his penetrating gaze, but defiantly wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her robes.

He straightened and returned to his desk feeling triumphant. He had put Granger in her place and with another ten points from Gryffindor, Slytherin could pull ahead. He seemed certain he could find another ten points somewhere. Today might just be a good day after all.


He spent the rest of the day coming up with things for Miss Granger to do for detention. He had contemplated making her do something menial like scrubbing cauldrons without magic or cleaning the trophy room but in the end he decided that if she was ever to learn her lesson then she needed to forced to confront her behavior.

"You will write an essay six feet long on the dangers of arrogant pride. You will define it, analyze it, and provide examples, including your own today in class. That is what you will do during detention. You will write another essay, twenty feet long on the properties of bicorn powder and hand it in to me on Thursday," he told her that night.

"But, Professor Snape the N.E.W.T.s are coming up and I need to revise!" she protested.

"They aren't for another three weeks! And you should have thought of that before your little performance today in class."

"I stand by what I said, sir."

Her continued defiance astounded him. He had sneered, snarled, and humiliated her in front of her classmates. He had deducted points, assigned detention, and yet she continued in her belief that she was right and he was wrong.

"I have been teaching Potions since before you were born, you insolent girl," he spat, "Do you truly think you somehow have gained an upper hand when it comes to knowledge of ingredients?"

"No sir," she answered.

"Good." He turned to leave her to her work, sighing audibly when he heard her speak again.

"But I do think your source material is outdated." He turned quickly on her, his robes swishing around him.

"Are you calling me old?" he demanded.

"No…I didn't mean that…I…," she struggled to answer. Her stammering calmed him somewhat and suddenly he had an idea.

"I propose a bet, Miss Granger," he said smoothly. She looked at him in astonishment at his sudden change of demeanor.

"A bet, sir?"

"Yes, if you can prove to me that you are right and I am wrong then you win the bet. If, however, you cannot, then I win," he explained.

"But what will I win?"

"So certain you will?" he asked in awe at her continued conceit.

"I wouldn't agree to it if I didn't, Professor."

"Then you agree?"

"Yes, but what will the stakes be?"

"I suppose I could give you back the points you lost today, if and only if, you can prove that you were right." He made sure to phrase it so that 'I' and 'wrong' weren't together. He despised admitting that he was wrong; however, in this case he was certain he wouldn't have to. He would take great pleasure in humiliating Miss Granger.

"That's not necessary. I won back those points later in Charms," she told him.

So that explained why even after taking another fifteen points from a third year Gryffindor that Slytherin had lagged behind in the House points at dinner. It seemed despite all his efforts his house would lose the house cup for the seventh year in a row.

"I suggest something worth more than just house points, sir."

"Such as?"

"Since you seem so bent on teaching me about arrogant pride, I think that we should start there."

"I'm listening," he said, motioning his hand for her to continue. This might be better than he thought. If he won this little bet he could ensure that she never raised her hand in his class again.

"If you win, then I will declare in front of everyone in the Great Hall that you are the best teacher that Hogwart's has ever seen."

He liked that idea. He imagined the looks on people's faces, especially McGonagall's and Vector's faces when she admitted that her favorite professor was the greasy Potions Master.

"And if you win?" he asked.

"Then you announce to everyone at dinner that I am the best student you have ever had."

That didn't seem so appealing. He didn't really like any of his students. A couple of the Ravenclaws weren't so bad, but even his own Slytherin students tried his patience on a daily basis. He certainly didn't want to declare in public that a Gryffindor was the best student that he had ever had.

"I accept, but I have one thing to add. If I win then you will never raise your hand or ask another question in my class again." He watched as her face contorted in anger.

"I hardly think…."

"Just think of it as insurance that you will never get yourself into another situation like this again, Miss Granger," he said interrupting her.

"Fine," she huffed, "but if I win then you have to promise to call on me when my hand is raised. My arm really starts to hurt sometimes."

"You could always put it down," he pointed out. She didn't respond but just glared at him.

"So it's a deal then?" he asked, offering her his hand. She looked at it for a moment and then up at him before finally taking his hand and shaking it.

"It's a deal, Professor." They stood there staring at each other for a few awkward moments, both unsure of what to do next.

"Well get to work," he said finally, "I want that six feet done tonight."

"What?!" she asked indignantly. "I still have detention! But I thought…"

"Thought what? That our little bet would get you out of your punishment? I don't think so. Even if you are right, you still decided to point out the mistake in front of my entire 7th year N.E.W.T. class. It was disrespectful and shows a certain disregard for my personal feelings to which I take offense. Now get to work!"

While she wrote furiously, he sat at his desk and thumbed through his potions books. Finally finding what he wanted, he casually strolled over to where Miss Granger sat writing her essay. He looked over her shoulder. True to form, she had written past the requirement but seemed to be finishing up. He did notice, however, that only a short paragraph mentioned the incident in class.

"Here," she said, shoving it into his hands, "I'm done."

"And it's only…," he checked the clock on the wall, "midnight. I hope you don't have too much other homework."

"May I go?"

He found her forced politeness irritating and he wished for nothing more than for her to leave, but not before she had seen his book.

"Not yet," he said, placing the book before her. "Turn to page 687 and read the second line of the third paragraph." She eyed him suspiciously but did as she was told.

"Unlike unicorns, bicorns are rarer but there are small populations in the south of Wales, Siberia, and in the Andes mountains of South America," she read aloud.

"So you see Miss Granger, you are the one that's wrong."

"But, I know I read somewhere that…" she said more to herself than to him. "Can I borrow this book, Professor?"

"Two days, Miss Granger, you have two days and then I expect your announcement in the Great Hall."


He didn't think she left the library for the next two days. Between her advanced classes, the twenty foot essay he had set, and her desperate attempt to prove him wrong, she was drowning in parchment and dusty tomes.

With great anticipation, he looked forward to dinner on Thursday night.

"Why you're almost smiling, Severus," Minerva cooed at him in her normal irritating manner as he took his seat at the high table, then suddenly she turned serious. "How many points did you take this time?"

"None, you hag," he sneered. That wasn't true. He had taken 36 points from Gryffindor today—not his personal best but not bad either. But he couldn't tell her the real reason behind his cheerful mood. She might tell Albus and she would definitely try and put a stop to it.

"You aren't this happy after a day of classes for no reason," she accused him, returning his glare with one of her own. A loud clanging interrupted their staring contest.

"Ummmm, excuse me," he heard Granger say as she tapped the edge of her glass with her spoon. Even now she remained overconfident, her voice never losing that bossy know-it-all quality. Sitting on the edge of his seat, he waited.

"I just wanted everyone to know that today is Teacher Appreciation Day here at Hogwart's and I think it's high time that we appreciate Professor Snape—the best teacher Hogwart's has ever seen."

Everyone in the room turned and stared at the girl. Spoons dropped to the floor, their loud clanking the only sound in the otherwise silent hall. She had accomplished a miracle that he had only ever seen done by the headmaster—she had inspired an entire room of rowdy and hungry teenagers to be quiet.

"Right, yes…," she stammered, losing her confidence, "Well…next month there will be another Teacher Appreciation Day, so please bring me your nominations before the 30th. Uh…thank you." She sat down quickly.

The room erupted into a cacophony of noise; the students picking up conversations where they had been interrupted and chattering about Hermione's announcement.

"What a nice idea!" he heard Flitwick exclaim to Minerva.

"Yes, but I'm curious as to why Severus was the first nominee," she said bitterly. He smiled secretly to himself. She was jealous, just as he had hoped she would be.

"I think that should be obvious. I am obviously underappreciated," he said with a scowl. "It's about time someone realized my worth around here, pity it had to come from the likes of Granger."

He finished his food quickly and left in a swirl of robes. Not until he was in his office, alone and grading papers, did he allow himself to smile at the evening's events. And he could look forward to three weeks of a question free Granger. Too bad really that he hadn't thought of this before, he might not have had to put up with her irritating inquiries every five minutes for years. Well, he would be sure to enjoy it while it lasted. His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in!" he barked. The door swung open to reveal the object of his thoughts.

"Ah, Miss Granger I'd like to thank you for the honor of being Hogwart's first nominee of your Teacher Appreciation Day. That was quite creative of you."

"You're welcome, Professor," she replied icily, "That's actually why I'm here."

He looked at her confused.

"The bet is over. I won and you lost. I was right and you were wrong. What else is there?" he asked.

"This," she shoved a book into his hand. "Page 567, fifth line of the third paragraph."

He took the book, but didn't open it.

"What is this about, Miss Granger?"

"Just read page 567, the fifth line of the third paragraph," she said slowly.

With a scowl he turned to the page and began reading, "Bicorn populations have been declining in the last half century, making the acquisition of their horns even more difficult than before. The herd that inhabited the hills of southern Wales has completely disappeared due to the encroaching Muggle population and lack of viable food sources."

He stopped abruptly.

"I can't believe I didn't find it earlier, but I knew I had read somewhere that there were no more bicorns in Britain. I just couldn't remember where it was and then suddenly after dinner tonight it occurred to me to look in some of the books that my parents bought me for my birthday. I opened this one up and there…."

"That's quite enough," he snapped, slamming the book down on his desk.

"Yes…well, this is a fairly new book so I'm sure that's why you didn't know. It was just printed this year," she said timidly.

"Twenty points for being such an irritating know-it-all."

"But, Professor," she protested indignantly.

"I'm giving them back."

"Not necessary, sir, but thank you. I'll be looking forward to dinner tomorrow night," she said with a sly smile and before he could reply, she slid out of the room.

He could hear her whistling as she practically skipped down the hall and for a split second his wand hand twitched and images of him throwing a few hexes flashed before him. They were in the dungeons, no one would hear, and after a quick obliviate no one would be the wiser—even Miss Granger herself. No, he was a sore loser but not that sore, and more importantly he might get caught by a wandering student, ghost, or even a nosy portrait.

Sitting down slowly, he contemplated this new twist. What was he going to do? She had cleverly encased her announcement in an award but there was no such thing as a Student Appreciation Day. He summoned his bottle of Ogden's firewhiskey and tossed his marking aside. He would think of something, he always did.


But this time he didn't. He spent the better part of the day going over what he could say in the Great Hall that night and nothing came to mind until the dreaded moment arrived. He saw her watching him from her spot between Potter and Weasley. Like a prisoner being led to their death, he slowly rose to his feet.

"Listen up you bunch of dunderheads, I have an announcement to make. Miss Granger announced last night that I was to be appreciated this month. I'm here to tell you that you will do no such thing. I'm not here to garner your thanks or your admiration. Most days I just pray to survive your inept attempts at potionmaking. With that said, you could all follow Miss Granger's example, she is the least likely to kill me with a disastrous potion."

His little speech done, he quickly left the room. He didn't want to see their reactions and especially not hers.

He didn't see her again until Monday. She didn't say anything about his announcement. Technically, he hadn't fulfilled his end of the bet. Technically, he was supposed to admit she was the best student he ever had. He was wondering if she would be bold enough to point this out to him, when he noticed her hand was raised. It hadn't even been three minutes since the start of class.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked snidely. She smiled triumphantly. It was going to be a long three weeks till the end of the term.