Thank you for all the reviews! I have more written than what is here, but it just made the most sense to break for the chapter now. Hopefully, that means a faster update for the next one.

The Harry, Ron, and Hermione lines (when they interact together) are taken from HBP.

Chapter 9

The Bet

When Hermione arrived for brewing the next night, she found the door to the tiny laboratory open. Professor Snape was sitting perched on a stool at the back of the closet, back to the wall. It was such a position that there was no way she could avoid meeting his eyes directly as she came inside.

"Shut the door."

Hermione complied quietly, her heart pounding. Her eyes darted around the room, easier than meeting his heated gaze. There were no ingredients or cutting boards out, only the cauldron in stasis over the flame.

"The brewing is complete; I finished this afternoon during a free period. There are vials on the table with which you can bottle and label the antivenin." Snape was smirking at her, clearly relishing one-upping her by completing the task without her.

She scowled outwardly, so he could see her displeasure, and she moved to do as he said, but inwardly she was smirking to herself.

She had seen the labeled antivenin before, of course, when she had administered it to the dying man in the Shrieking Shack. It didn't matter who brewed it, as long as the label was in her handwriting.

There was very little potion in the cauldron, but it ended up producing three full vials of antivenin. She labeled each "N. Antivenin", just as she had seen before. Then she turned back to Professor Snape, relieving some of the tension in her straining muscles she had been feeling as he watched her. It was simultaneously wonderful and terrifying to face him.

"What is the shelf life of the antivenin, sir?"

"Frozen, years. Room temperature… probably a few months."

Hermione thought about it carefully. "Is there a way to put a permanent freezing charm on the vial itself, so it can be transported safely?"

"You are thinking of having it ready for emergency usage." Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Freezing charms wear off with time, but I will research a permanent method for freezing the vials. For now, a simple freezing charm will keep the antivenin safe." He paused before adding, "It should go along with an extension charm if you want to create… a mobile first-aid kit, if you will. Better make it undetectable, as the Ministry regulates extension charms heavily."

Hermione nodded, her mind absorbing the information eagerly. Write this down in the leatherbound journal tonight when you get back. Need to make sure the antivenin is frozen to keep safe for transport. Find out how to make freezing charms permanent or how often they need to be renewed. Also, research undetectable extension charm.

"These two vials should go to Professor Dumbledore. I'm assuming he would know about the permanent freezing charm or how to find it?" Hermione asked.

Snape nodded.

"Then, sir, you should have the last vial." She set it apart from the others for him and looked at him for approval.

"Why?"

"You are the Order member in the presence of the snake more than anyone else, sir. I think you should keep some on hand. With your own extension charm?" She smiled gently at him.

His eyes softened and his lips twitched slightly.

What I wouldn't give to see an actual smile out of that man. I've seen it once before, when he laughed in the future. I want a smile that's sincere- nothing cunning or duplicitous. He is always so tightly wound!

He needs a way to relax, let off steam. No, nothing dirty, Hermione! Just like a bath or a massage to ease his muscles... What would Severus like to do in his spare time? I'm sure he has enough books to read, but does he actually read for enjoyment and not just for research? Does he even have any-

Snape's low baritone jolted her out of her thoughts.

"Now, Miss Granger, we have the entire evening ahead of us. What do you suggest we do with the time?" His face was unreadable, but his eyes had become darker, the black waves of his irises seeming to crash upon the deeper fathoms of his pupils.

At his question, her mind had immediately wandered down the path it had just been on, imagining a relaxing evening together. She was curled up in Severus' lap on an armchair in front of a roaring fire with a book held between them. His lips would whisper in her ear his thoughts on the subject as he held her back against his chest, his hands encircling her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. Hermione tried to stop herself from visibly gulping.

"We could… we could talk, sir." Why is my mouth so dry?

"Talk."

"You seem like you have something to say… sir."

He made his familiar grimace with the corner of his mouth jerking up in secret amusement. Hermione daren't show she understood the expression.

Gods, he must be thinking about what he saw last night. I have been too…

"A wager, Miss Granger. I propose a friendly wager on the outcome of tomorrow's Quidditch match. It is Slytherin versus Gryffindor, after all."

"I don't know much about Quidditch; I'd rather not."

He smirked at her. "You haven't heard my terms."

"I haven't agreed yet, but let's hear it." She bit her lip before even hearing his answer.

"If I win, we will have a number of question-and-answer sessions," he said smoothly, this conversation clearly rehearsed ahead of time. "In which I will question you and you will answer my questions…whatever they may be about. Questions about your life, your upbringing, your habits, your likes and dislikes, your hopes, your dreams, your nightmares. Questions about your last assignment for the Order, about what you have learned of Potter's lessons with the Headmaster, and even…" His voice was deep and silky, at this point. "…If I so wish it, even questions about what I viewed in your mind last night."

"A number of sessions? How many exactly?"

He cocked his head appraisingly at her. "As many as it takes to satisfy my… feverish curiosity."

Hermione flushed. Well, that's not going to happen. I've already promised Dumbledore not to say anything to Severus about the mission to the future.

"And if I win, sir?"

"Why, Miss Granger, anything you like that would incentivize you to agree to the bet."

She thought about it for a moment.

"If I were to agree, which I haven't yet, then I would ask for the same, sir. Only that you would answer my questions also about your life, your upbringing, your habits, likes, and dislikes, your hopes… and my questions about… how you are doing with the meetings you attend frequently. Questions about what happened to Katie Bell and what you know about the necklace… and questions about the assignment Professor Dumbledore will give me later, the one when I… when I use the Time-Turner to go back." One year, I think, but he'll know for sure.

She was sure to meet his eyes fearlessly this time. "I don't know anything else about it, just that I go back, but I suspect you know something about it, sir."

She had deliberately left off the bit about dreams and nightmares from her terms, but she hoped he would eventually tell her those willingly.

Snape stared back at her, stony-faced, revealing nothing.

"Very well, Granger. If we are agreed-"

"No. I said, I haven't agreed yet. There's one more thing."

Hermione felt exceedingly guilty now, but she had a hunch she was making the right move. Katie Bell was still at St. Mungo's and Dean Thomas had replaced her as Chaser. That meant that Dean was playing as Chaser alongside Ginny, which was sure to be a distraction as the pair was dating and Dean had only been flying with the team for less than a week. Not to mention, Ron had been very surly and withdrawn lately, which she assumed was partly due to the upcoming match, and perhaps partly due to Ginny's snogging incident. She knew that Ron had been performing abysmally during practices, despite reassurances she had been hearing from her two friends. Without her interference, he wouldn't have made the team at all, as McLaggen had outperformed him at the tryouts.

In addition, Hermione now knew that Harry had seen Ginny and Dean snogging the other night, and she knew her dark-haired friend well. He fancied Ginny and he finally realized it for himself, Hermione was sure of it. That means Harry was the team Captain over Dean and Ginny and the Seeker for the team; he was sure to be finding himself struggling with jealousy and possibly with shame over the desire to abuse his position of authority and mistreat Dean. Plus, Ginny had thrown her recent snogging session with Dean in Ron's face, so seeing Ginny and Dean flying together might distract Ron as well.

Distraction, you see. The Gryffindor Seeker and Keeper both distracted from the game was a sure recipe for a Gryffindor loss, and she had seen a loss happen before, even with Harry as seeker.

"I'll agree to it, but my wager is that Slytherin wins," she said.

"Indeed." His eyebrows were raised in surprise. He said nothing in return.

"I understand if you don't want to go through with it now. After all, I'm sure you could never root for Gryffindor."

"You are correct, I would never root for Gryffindor. The idea of the wager, however, intrigues me." He appeared to think about it for a bit longer. "Luckily for you, Granger, the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing for me. I will agree to wager that… Slytherin does not win the match. While you wager that they do." He smirked. "The fact that you are to be wearing red and gold and secretly hoping for the Snakes to come through is an added incentive to the bet."

Hermione grinned back at him. "Well, sir, I think you have a deal." She held out her hand for him to shake.

He took her hand in his. She held herself together instead of blushing and shivering at his touch. His touch.

She glanced up at him, realizing he was holding on longer than normal for a handshake. Swiftly, he withdrew his hand and gave her a brief nod.

Ron had been snapping at Hermione and glowering at her over the last few days, so she had come late to breakfast the next morning of the match. Tentatively, she asked how Harry and Ron were feeling before the big game.

"Fine," said Harry, handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. Just as Ron raised it to his lips, Hermione intervened.

"Don't drink that, Ron!" She looked at Harry in shock.

The boys looked up at her. "Why not?"

This can NOT be happening right now. Of all days for Harry to go and do this!

"You just put something in that drink." Harry's protests were cut off swiftly. "You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

Harry protested again and stowed the bottle in his pocket.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said, alarmed.

Ron picked the juice up and drained it quickly. "Stop bossing me around, Hermione," Ron said petulantly.

Hermione seethed with fury as she realized what had just happened.

She was going to lose her bet to Snape because Harry was going to rig the game with his ill-gotten bottle of Felix Felicis! He shouldn't even have the bottle to begin with! That Half-Blood Prince is helping him cheat in Potions and now he's cheating at Quidditch!

"You should be expelled for that." Hermione hissed. "I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"

"Hark who's talking," Harry whispered. "Confunded anyone lately?"

She stormed away from them, furiously wringing her hands all the way down to the Quidditch pitch as the Gryffindor and Slytherin players headed to the changing rooms and the stadium seats began to fill up. The frosty grass crunched under her feet and she wrapped her gold and red scarf around her neck tightly.

Hermione picked a seat between Neville and Luna when she arrived at the stands. Luna was cheerily supporting Gryffindor, sporting her large lion's head hat that day. Hermione really wished she weren't. Normally, sitting directly next to Luna's roaring hat was a bit annoying and embarrassing, even if not intentional on Luna's part. Sitting next to the towering lion while Hermione was secretly betting for the Slytherin team to be victorious in the match, however, was downright ironic.

Of all the rotten luck for me. I hope Snape is enjoying this.

She searched him out across the stadium, finally spotting him in the teacher's box. He was wearing his typical black robes, even adding a black knit wool hat to his usual outfit, ostensibly to keep his head and ears warm in the November chill. He was sporting a green and silver Slytherin scarf. She didn't need her binoculars to know that he was probably smirking. Her heart lurched in her chest at the thought of his triumphant smirk-turned-grin, and she scowled in return at the feeling. Did she even want to win the wager, or did she prefer to see Severus pleased with the outcome?

"Oh look, Hermione, this is great!" Neville exclaimed from beside her, jerking her out of her traitorous thoughts. "The Slytherin lineup has changed!"

"What?" She cried, watching the players walk onto the pitch as the crowd roared.

"See, there, the Chaser is different. Normally it's Nicholas Vaisey, but I guess he's been replaced. Oh yes! Malfoy's gone too!" Luna's lion head roared in approval along with the cheers from the Gryffindor side.

Hermione groaned. Could this get any worse? That Felix Felicis was really doing a number on her chances today. She was absolutely going to kill Harry for this.

Thirty minutes into the game, Hermione Granger felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. Not only had she privately bet against her own house and friends, but they were doing spectacularly well. Ron had saved all shots on goal against him, some even by the tips of his fingers, and Ginny had scored many of Gryffindor's goals, clearly not distracted by her boyfriend.

Hermione slunk further into her seat with each passing minute, hoping Snape hadn't been watching her across the way, even though she was sure that he had been.

Gryffindor continued to perform well, and she feigned needing to use the loo so she didn't have to watch the rest of Slytherin's downfall. Sure enough, as she was coming up from the outhouses behind the stadium, she heard deafening applause, Luna's familiar hat roaring, and a whistle indicating the end of the match.

Gritting her teeth, she headed straight for the changing rooms, tearing her scarf off. It took a bit of time to reach the changing rooms through the pushing of the crowds, happily discussing the Gryffindor win. Harry and Ron were the only ones left when Hermione entered, twisting the scarf in her hands, red-faced and upset.

She rounded on Harry. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" Ron demanded.

Harry feigned ignorance again and turned away, which further infuriated Hermione.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about! You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!" She said shrilly.

And then, Hermione was proven the fool yet again today. Harry grinned, pulled the bottle out from inside his jacket pocket and showed both her and Ron that the bottle was full of golden potion and the cork was still sealed with wax.

Hermione stood there gaping, and even Ron was surprised to hear he had actually performed that well on his own merit. That is, before he turned to Hermione angrily and berated her for not believing in him. Ron stormed out, Harry looked sheepishly at Hermione, and Hermione blinked back tears of shame and fury. She turned and left the changing rooms, heading up to the castle on her own, still mad at Harry and triply mad at her own idiocy in placing a bet on sports.

She hadn't even noticed who was walking up beside her until it was too late.

"Miss Granger."

She groaned inwardly but straightened her spine. She had no desire to show him her discomfort.

"Professor Snape." She refused to look over at him as they walked side by side, lingering behind the remaining stragglers returning to the castle. "I suppose you're pleased with yourself."

"I don't know what you mean, Miss Granger. I hate seeing Slytherin lose a match."

"Yes, well-" She tried to think of a witty comeback, but she had a niggling thought that was bothering her at the moment, so she was silent.

They walked a few more paces before it clicked into place and she froze, realizing. Snape had walked a few paces ahead of her before figuring out she had stopped, and he turned his head slightly.

"You knew! You had insider information!" Hermione's eyes were wide with anger, almost bug-eyed, and her wild hair billowed around her head. "Don't tell me you had no idea by last night that Vaisey and Malfoy couldn't play today, as Head of Slytherin House!"

Snape turned fully around to face her, smirking. His hands were in the pockets of his black cloak, and he looked less formal with the knitted hat on. He appeared smooth, relaxed. She couldn't help but conjure up a parallel muggle image of him in her mind, wearing a black leather jacket, smoking a cigarette and leaning back against a motorcycle, like the cool, seductive asshole that he was.

"And if I did?" He raised an eyebrow at her. She was exceedingly angry with him and that delectable look he gave her enflamed her fury all the more. "That is no indication that Slytherin would lose."

"Yes, but I'm sure that you thought they would! If we bet as normal, along House rivalries, you would have lost… And furthermore, you- you tricked me into betting against my own House!" This was the greatest sin in her book, even though Ron had been a right toerag to her over the last few days, and even though she had been angrily plucking Ron butterflies out of her chest with every step away from the Quidditch pitch. Whatever she did or didn't feel for Ron, he was her friend and she bet against him.

"Hardly a trick, Granger." He drawled. "You can hardly decry my foreknowledge when you were clearly working off inside information yourself." She snarled and flushed at that, knowing he was right. She had relied on petty teenage drama to dictate the outcome of a sporting event and it had backfired spectacularly.

He stepped closer to her, bringing him a comfortable distance to her, but not inappropriate. "Don't tell me you're going back on our deal."

Hermione glared up at him, meeting his black eyes which were flashing down at her.

He smirked.

He is trying to rile me up!

"I don't think it's fair under the circumstances to stick to the original terms."

"Don't tell me you can't be trusted. After all, Granger, we shook on it."

He quickly reached out his right hand and grasped hers, squeezing it tightly, as she gasped in surprise. He used their joined hands to pull her closer before he leaned in. Her throat caught as she smelled the musty smell of ancient books, sandalwood, and mahogany coming from him. She could feel the heat emanating off of him, engulfing her with warmth and the smells of a library, and she belatedly realized they were completely alone on the grounds.

"Let me teach you something about Slytherins," he breathed quietly down into her ear as her heart pounded frantically in her chest. She longed both to flee quickly and to jump into his arms, the clasped hands simply not enough to ease the tension building within her. His black hair hung out the sides of his hat, down beside her cheek, obstructing his eyes from view. "We are prepared for all possible outcomes, however," he hissed gently. "We never place bets we cannot win."

Snape released her hand with a soft push, placing her back at a safe distance from him again. "I will let you know the time of our first… session."

Then he turned and stalked off towards the castle.

Hermione shrieked inwardly in frustration and set off herself, sure to give Snape plenty of space. What does that even mean?! Did he influence me to bet against Gryffindor? Did he look in my head and know I was going to do it? How the bloody hell did he know? I barely knew! If I hadn't been so recklessly impulsive!

She shook her scarf in annoyance, giving it a quick drying charm as she entered the castle and headed up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

As she traipsed up the stairs, she remembered his wording from the night before, as well as what he had just told her.

…the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing…

He had been about to bet on Slytherin to win before I changed the terms, I'm sure of it.

…the prize of winning outweighs the risks of losing…

She could have smacked her hand over her face.

We never place bets we cannot win.

Snape didn't care. He hadn't needed to win. He wouldn't place a bet if there was even a chance he would lose.

He didn't care if he won or lost once he heard what my stipulations were, which means he would have been fine with losing and answering at least some of my questions…he knew I would probably answer a few of his in turn… He just had to go about this in an utterly infuriating way because he's just so bloody difficult.

But how could he have known exactly what I would have asked for? How would he have known I would reciprocate to asking questions? What if I'd asked him for a snogging session, would he have agreed to that?

Argh! You're overthinking things, Hermione. Either way, whether he knew how I would wager or not, he could have literally just asked me to come to tea with him some afternoon and we could have talked and asked each other questions then. Instead, he just had to be a cheeky, insufferable git and absolutely humiliate me for no reason.

As angry as she was, she knew part of the reason she was flushed was with a secret, heated pleasure. Severus had hurt her pride, yes, but he'd done so in order to surreptitiously ask her questions and find out more about her.

As she climbed through the portrait hole, the sounds of revelry flooded her ears. Gryffindor House was exuberantly celebrating its victory.

And right smack in the middle of the common room, unobscured from any angle, Ron and Lavender Brown were kissing each other ferociously.

Hermione immediately turned back around and exited the room, turning in the corridor to a nearby empty classroom. She sat on a desk there and roughly grasped the last remaining butterflies in her chest that fluttered for Ronald Weasley, squashing them between her ribs.

Butterflies don't sting or hurt. What flutters like a butterfly but causes damage? I know, birds…

She conjured the birds around her, tears of anger streaming down her face.

The birds were ready to attack when Harry found her, but she directed her army towards the disheveled Ron and Lavender when they stumbled into the classroom, looking for some new place yet untainted by their slobbering.

Hermione was only too happy to set her butterfly-birds a flight. The flock of golden bullets attacked Ron's face as he covered it with his hands and yelped helplessly.

Hermione choked back a sob as she ran from the room.