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When Draco noticed one of his fellow housemates acting strangely, he did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do – he followed her. Unfortunately, this required him sneaking out of History of Magic. Binns, of course, didn't notice a thing. He continued to drone on, lulling the rest of the class to near-unconsciousness. Everyone that is, except Granger, who acted like it was the most interesting subject there was and not a load of crap about something that happened a million years ago. Completely absorbed, she only lifted her nose from her notes long enough to stick it in his business. As he slipped out the door, she mouthed the words, “Fifty points from Slytherin.”

Cursing to himself, Draco crept down the corridor after Pansy. After going down several staircases, he noticed she was heading in the direction of the Hufflepuff dorms. Draco rolled his eyes. If she was just meeting some stupid Hufflepuff for a snog, he was going to be really angry she'd wasted his time and cost them House points. But instead, Pansy ducked inside an unused classroom. Before he could take a peek, Pansy's head popped back out. Pressing himself against the wall, Draco waited until she'd disappeared behind a nearby painting before making his move.

The minute he opened the door, Draco knew exactly what Pansy had been up to. She'd been baking – gingerbread. Draco licked his lips. He was notorious for having a sweet tooth. And gingerbread was his favorite holiday treat. That's probably why Pansy had been hiding this from him. Afraid he would gobble up all of her hard work. As if he didn't have any self control. Draco eyed the sugary confections, his mouth watering. Surely it wouldn't hurt to have a small taste.

He plucked a red gumdrop off the gingerbread house. Mmmm, so good. It had some icing stuck to it that practically melted in his mouth. He was about to take off part of the back wall when he noticed a gingerbread man half-covered by an empty candy bag. Draco picked it up and let out a snort. Pansy's baking skills needed some obvious work. Its head was nearly twice the size of its body. Surely Pansy wouldn't miss the blobby mess. It was obviously a reject. He would be doing her a favor.

Draco took a tentative lick of the unattractive cookie. And then another. Mmmm, sweet and spicy just like he liked it. Unable to stop himself, he nibbled at the edges of the gingerbread, savoring each bite. It was divine. Looks could definitely be deceiving. Peering closer, he noticed the cookie had a skirt. A lascivious grin crossed his face, and he did what any teenage boy would feel compelled to do – he flicked his tongue between the gingerbread woman's legs.

…................................................................................................................................................................

The goblins were having yet another uprising when Hermione felt a peculiar tickle on her neck. She scratched distractedly at it. If you didn't listen carefully, it all began to sound the same. But the ticklish feeling persisted, and she soon lost track of which goblin rebellion was being lectured on.

“Stop it, Ron,” Hermione hissed, turning around in her seat to scowl at him.

Ron woke with a start. “What'd I do?”

Making an exasperated sound, Hermione turned back around.

Ron looked at Harry, who shrugged. He was already drifting off again when Hermione let out an uncharacteristic giggle. He looked up to see her whip around, snatch the quill off his desk and angrily break it in half.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“You know what that was for,” Hermione snapped. “Keep your quill to yourself.”

“Is this about Lavender?” Ron asked dumbly.

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head. She looked back and forth between him and Lavender and then angrily sputtered, “You... you... you can take your own damn notes.”

“Well, I can't very well do that now, can I? You broke my quill.”

Unable to respond to that in any kind of coherent fashion, Hermione once again let out a huff and turned back around.

Lavender leaned across the aisle and whispered loudly, “I never touched his quill. I swear.”

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to focus. It was impossible though. The ticklish feeling, which apparently Ron had nothing to do with as he was now snoring loudly behind her, was spreading to other parts of her body. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to giggle like a loon. When she didn't think she could take it anymore, it stopped. She was just breathing a sigh of relief when suddenly her breath hitched in her throat, and she was overwhelmed by a very curious sensation between her legs. It felt almost as if... Hermione's eyes snapped open. This could not be happening.

But happening it was. She was about to have her very first orgasm. Smack dab in the middle of History of Magic. Not wanting to bring any unwanted attention to herself, she stared hard at her notes in an effort to gain control of herself. All she wanted to do was get through class without making a spectacle. Squirming in her seat, she willed it to stop. But delicious things were happening to her body and her eyes soon began to glaze over. A moan escaped her lips.

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Harry asked in concern.

“Mmhmm.” Hermione nodded, as she was unable to speak properly.

“Are you sure?” asked Harry. “You sound like you may be in pain or something.”

“No... ohhhh. I'm fi... fiiiiiine.”

“Ron,” said Harry, trying to shake him awake. When that didn't work, Harry knocked Ron's arm out from under him, causing his head to bang on the desk.

Ron's head shot up. Looking around flustered, he shouted, “Bodrod the Bearded!” His ears turned red when the class giggled.

“Oh, ohh, ohhh!”

“Of course, she knows the answer,” grumbled Ron. “What did you have to go and wake me for, Harry? I was dreaming about pie.”

“I think there's something wrong with Hermione.”

“Oh, ohh, ohhhhhh!”

“Sounds normal to me,” said Ron, rolling his eyes. “Bloody know-it-all.”

“Her hand isn't raised though. Something's not right.”

“She does look kind of funny,” admitted Ron. “I've never seen that expression on her face before.”

“It's unlikely you'll ever see that expression on any girl's face,” quipped Blaise.

The other Slytherins laughed. Crabbe and Goyle let out huge guffaws but then looked a little confused as though they didn't quite get the joke.

Ron stood up and pointed his wand at Blaise. “What did you do to her?”

“I didn't do anything to her, but believe me, I've seen this loads of times.” He winked at a girl sitting next to him who, blushed and let out a giggle.

“What are you going on about?” asked Harry.

Smirking, Blaise said, “Looks like she's getting an 'O' in History of Magic.”

“Of course she's getting an 'O'!” Ron snapped. “She's the smartest witch of her age.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “I meant 'O' as in orgasm.”

“Hermione wouldn't do that,” Ron proclaimed.

“Not with you.” Blaise laughed.

Lavender sighed. “I wish I could get an 'O' in History of Magic.”

Parvati nodded in agreement.

“Please!” Hermione begged loudly.

“Did you need something, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Binns.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Hermione shouted, pounding her fist on the desk. With all eyes on her, Hermione threw her head back and let out an ear-piercing scream.

…................................................................................................................................................................

“What are you doing!”

Draco looked up at Pansy, a guilty expression on his gingerbread-stuffed face. “Noffing,” he mumbled, spitting out telltale bits of cookie.

Pansy's eyes widened as she scanned the table. “You ate Granger!” she shrieked.

Draco swallowed. “I told you those rumors weren't true.”

“No, you REALLY ate Granger!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Draco, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Did you or did you not just eat that cookie lying on the table?”

“I don't know what you're so upset about. It was just a blobby reject.”

“That blobby reject was Granger. I made a voodoo cookie of her.”

“Oh, my God. I ate Granger!”

“I know!”

“I've killed the Head Girl, one-third of the golden trio.”

“I know!”

“They're going to send me to Azkaban!”

“I know!”

“Would you stop saying that!”

“Let's just calm down,” said Pansy, taking a deep breath. She picked up a book on voodoo and started flipping through the pages. “Maybe she's not even dead. Let's see what the book says.”

“Well?” asked Draco impatiently. “What does it say?”

“Nothing.” Pansy sighed. “The spell was actually for making a voodoo doll. I suppose no one has ever eaten one of those.”

“I feel sick,” groaned Draco. “I don't think Granger is sitting very well.”

“Ooh, maybe you can puke her up. I think I have some of those Puking Pastilles around here somewhere,” said Pansy, rummaging through her satchel. “Hmm, I guess I used them all up during last week's Charms final. Mint?”

“Why couldn't you just make a voodoo doll like a normal person?” Draco complained.

“Because I don't know how to sew,” Pansy huffed. “I only know how to bake. Besides, I thought it would be festive, what with the holidays and all.”

“Because torture should be festive,” said Draco dryly.

“I wasn't going to hurt her,” said Pansy defensively. “Just make her uncomfortable. You know, poke her with a fork. That kind of thing. I certainly wasn't going to eat her.”

“Well, if I knew it was Granger, I wouldn't have eaten her either,” insisted Draco, unconsciously licking off some of the crumbs and icing still stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Pansy's eyes widened. “You enjoyed eating her, didn't you?” she said accusingly.

“I did not,” Draco protested. “I.... Oh, alright. I did. I liked eating Granger! She was the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. Are you happy?”

“No, I'm not happy! The whole reason I did this was to keep Granger away from you. I knew she'd find a way to sink her teeth into you.”

“Technically, I sank my teeth into her,” Draco pointed out.

“Don't remind me,” Pansy huffed.

“She tasted like honey,” said Draco longingly, licking his fingers.

“Would you shut up about it?” Pansy snapped. “I don't want to know how she tasted. It's disgusting. You're disgusting.”

“I can't help it. She was just so good and now she's gone.” He picked a crumb off his shirt and popped it into his mouth.

Pansy gritted her teeth. “This is a complete nightmare.”

“It was your brilliant idea,” muttered Draco.

“It was a brilliant idea,” Pansy huffed. “Until you ATE it. Perhaps you just need a little longer to digest it,” she added snidely.

“Oh, ha ha. I'm glad you can find this amusing.”

“I don't find anything about this amusing. This was supposed to bring us closer together. I thought if I got Granger out of the way, you would feel differently about me. That we could be more than just friends.”

“Well, congratulations. You got your wish. Now we are more than just friends. We're partners in crime. Perhaps we can even be cell mates,” said Draco sarcastically.

“I can't believe I went to all of this trouble for you, and you are being an ungrateful git!”

“You didn't do this for me,” Draco argued. “You did this because you were jealous of Granger. You are so selfish, Pans.”

“I didn't do it just for me,” Pansy sulked. “It was going to be a Christmas present. But seeing as you mucked it all up, and we'll probably be spending the holidays in Azkaban, I may as well give it to you now.” She shoved two cookies at him. One had carrot shavings for hair and the other had licorice rope glasses and a lemon zest lightning bolt.

“Are you insane? What if I had accidentally eaten Potter? Or Weasley?” He let out a shudder.

“Oh, so it's okay as long as it's Granger,” she spat jealously. “Perfect, honey-tasting Granger.”

“With a hint of cinnamon,” Draco couldn't help adding.

Pansy glared.

“I can't help it. I can still taste her.”

“You want that mint now?”

“No, I don't want a stupid mint. I want this nightmare to be over.”

“I just wanted to spend time with you,” Pansy pouted. “I thought this was something we could do together. I thought it would be fun.”

“Fun? What is wrong with you? There is nothing fun about this.”

“Want to bet?” She waved a fork temptingly in his face.

Skeptically, Draco took a stab at it. Right in the lemon zest lightning bolt.

“Feel better?”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”

…................................................................................................................................................................

“What happened?” asked Harry, the moment the door closed behind them.

“I don't know,” cried Hermione, pacing the floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. “I just... and then I... and... oh, my God, what is wrong with me! I can't believe I just did that. In the middle of History of Magic. Please tell me you took good notes, Harry. It is the only thing that will make me feel better.”

Harry looked at her guiltily. “I may have been a little distracted.”

“My quill was broken,” Ron pointed out.

Hermione let her head bang on one of the stalls. “What am I going to do? This is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.”

“What about the time your teeth grew humungous? Or when you turned yourself into a cat?” asked Ron.

“You are not helping,” Hermione snapped.

“I think what Ron is trying to say,” Harry intervened, shooting Ron an annoyed look, “is that while this might be embarrassing now, people will eventually forget. Just like they did those other humiliating incidences.”

“You mean like Ron's forgotten?” Hermione scowled.

“Well, I suppose you could always Obliviate everyone,” Harry suggested offhandedly. “That seemed to work for Lockhart. Until it didn't, and he ended up in St. Mungo's.”

“I can't Obliviate the whole school, Harry,” said Hermione hopelessly. “Can I?” She looked thoughtful for a moment but then shook her head. “No, not with N.E.W.T.s coming up. Speaking of N.E.W.T.s, have the two of you had a chance to look over those study schedules I made you?”

“Do you ever think about anything besides studying?” complained Ron. “It's unnatural to get so excited about a boring old class.”

“History of Magic is not boring,” protested Hermione. “It's very–”

“Stimulating?” supplied Ron sarcastically.

Hermione scowled. “Yes.”

“Don't you mean, 'yes, yes, yes!'”

Hermione's wand was already out when Harry stepped between them. “Lay off her, Ron,” said Harry exasperatedly. “She's probably studied half the spells in the Restricted Section by now.”

“Try three-quarters,” Hermione seethed.

“I only meant you should get out more,” said Ron defensively. “All you ever think about is school. There's something wrong when History of Magic gives you an orgasm.”

“I wasn't thinking about History of Magic. I was... Oh, never mind.” She didn't want to say what she was really thinking about. Or who. “I don't know what happened.”

“Do you think someone might have slipped a Lust Potion in your pumpkin juice this morning?” asked Harry.

Hermione shook her head. “I skipped breakfast to finish up my end-of-the-year project for Arithmancy. It did feel kind of magical, though.”

Ron snorted.

Hermione was about to send a Stinging Hex his way when Harry suddenly cried out and grabbed his head.

“Are you alright, Harry?”

“It's my scar. It's hurting again.”

“Do you think You Know Who is back?” asked Ron in a hushed voice.

“I don't know,” said Harry worriedly.

“Maybe he had something to do with what happened to Hermione,” suggested Ron.

“Are you insinuating that Voldemort gave me an orgasm?” Hermione hissed.

“No?” gulped Ron.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” said Harry quickly.

“I don't know, Harry,” said Hermione, glaring at Ron. “Maybe Voldemort has come back from the dead just to get me off.”

“We should probably get to Potions,” said Harry wearily.

“I can't go to Potions!” Hermione cried.

Moaning Myrtle floated up above the stall near Hermione. “Well, you can't stay here,” she said with her hands on her hips. “There's only room for one Moaning Myrtle in this U-bend.”

“Now I'm going to be known as Moaning Hermione,” Hermione moaned.

“Don't be ridiculous,” said Ron. “It'll probably be something like Howling Hermione. Or Hormone.” He snorted, thinking himself awfully clever.

Hermione scowled.

“Come on, Hermione. Do you really want to risk your grade with N.E.W.T.s coming up?” Harry asked slyly. “You know Snape is just looking for a reason not to give you an 'O'.”

“She doesn't need Snape to give her an 'O',” joked Ron. “She can do that all by herself.”

Harry punched Ron in the arm.

Glaring, Hermione said, “Oh, let's just get it over with.”

….................................................................................................................................................................

“Did you hear about Granger?” asked Blaise, catching up to Draco on the way to Potions.

Draco blanched. “Is she... dead?”

“What? No,” Blaise scoffed and then smiled. “She probably wishes she was though. She had an orgasm right in the middle of Binns' class.”

“She what!” gasped Draco.

“Must have dozed off and had a wet dream. Lucky bint. The most I ever got out of that class was a little drool on my chin.”

“Granger had... an orgasm?” Draco repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah. You should have seen it. Oh, ohh... ohhhhh!” Blaise moaned, reenacting the scene for Draco. “She's a screamer, that one. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. She always seems so uptight. Just goes to show you, it's always the ones you least expect.”

“Yeah,” agreed Draco, deep in thought. “I guess it is.”

….................................................................................................................................................................

“Today we are brewing a N.E.W.T.-level Memory Potion.”

The whole class groaned including Hermione, who very much wished they were brewing a Forgetfulness Potion instead, even if it was just a First-Year potion.

“Please refrain from getting too excited, we wouldn't want another... episode,” Snape drawled, letting his eyes linger on Hermione. A few Slytherins snickered.

“Start brewing now.”

Hermione busied herself with her potion and did her best to ignore the stares and whispering. Fortunately, under Snape's stern gaze, the rest of the class soon settled down and focused on brewing a potion hopefully good enough not to be immediately pronounced “vile” upon first sight. Hermione was grateful for the complexity of the potion; it kept her mind off... things. While the rest of the class was preoccupied with their potion being the wrong color or the unfortunate consistency of sludge, Hermione quietly slipped into the supply cupboard in search of the final ingredient to make her potion perfect.

The Jabberknoll feathers were of course in a most inconvenient spot, tucked way in the back behind jars of insect legs and pickled eyeballs. Hermione was elbow deep in disgusting things when she felt an all-too-familiar feeling on the back of her neck. Dread filled her as she worried it might be happening again. But when she turned around, she saw Malfoy. Standing way too close. Figured, he'd make her skin crawl.

Ignoring him, she reached back in for the feathers, and felt it again. Whipping around, she confronted him. “Did you just... lick me?”

“What? Nooo,” Draco scoffed. “Did you want me to?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Oh. I just thought you might.”

“Well, I don't.”

“So you said,” Draco snapped.

Hermione gave him a funny look. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I don't know what I'm feeling.” Draco sighed. “I think I just need to get you out of my system. Kiss me.”

“What!”

“Kiss me. I need to know if what I'm feeling is real.”

“Have you gone insane?”

“It was me,” Draco blurted.

“What was you?” asked Hermione exasperatedly. He was going to ruin her perfect potion if he kept her much longer. Maybe that was his evil plan.

“I gave you that orgasm.”

“What!” exclaimed Hermione, her cheeks turning pink.

“I didn't do it on purpose. I swear. It's a long story, but there was a magical orgasm-inducing mishap, and now I can't stop thinking about you.”

“You have gone insane.”

“Probably. Just kiss me and put me out of my misery.”

“I really don't think–”

She was cut off by Draco's lips on hers. Before she even knew what she was doing, her arms were wrapped around his neck, and she was returning his kiss very enthusiastically.

After a very thorough snog, Draco finally pulled away and looked longingly into her eyes. “Did you feel it?” he murmured.

Hermione looked down in embarrassment. “Um, yeah, I felt it.”

“No, not that,” said Draco exasperatedly. “Did you feel the connection between us?”

If anything, Hermione looked more embarrassed.

“Never mind,” said Draco, turning away.

“Malfoy?” When he turned around, she asked, “Was it really you? Who... you know.”

Draco nodded and before he could say anything else, Hermione pounced.

…................................................................................................................................................................

“Where's Hermione?” asked Harry.

Ron shrugged. “Maybe she went somewhere to take a nap. That's what I'd do. That or have a sandwich.”

“That doesn't sound like Hermione. She hasn't even finished her potion. And it's starting to curdle.”

“Guess she's not getting an 'O' in this class,” joked Ron.

“She'd better not,” said Pansy, butting in. “She's in the supply cupboard with Draco, who's practically my boyfriend.”

“A one-sided love affair with a ferret?” Ron laughed. “Can you get anymore pathetic?”

“Yeah, it could be with a weasel,” sneered Pansy. “Fortunately, I'm not that desperate.”

“Well, I'm not that desperate either,” sputtered Ron. “And neither is Hermione. She's not interested in your stupid ferret.”

“That's not what I heard. Or should I say, what everyone heard.”

“Was he the one who–” began Harry.

“I'll kill him. I'll make him puke slugs and then I'll kill him.”

Just as Ron stood up, the aforementioned slug-puking spell already on the tip of his tongue, a loud, crashing sound came from the supply cupboard.

…................................................................................................................................................................

Dumbledore sat behind his desk looking at the motley crew before him. Draco was covered in Jabberknoll feathers. Hermione had an assortment of pickled eyeballs peeking out from her hair. Harry's glasses were askew. Ron had slugs down the front of his robes and a smudge of something revolting on his nose. Pansy looked as though she had tasted some really bad medicine. And they were all, including Professor Snape, splattered with a slimy green goop that gave off a rather pungent smell.

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore Vanished the mess. He then cast an air freshener spell for good measure. Holiday spice. “Ah, that's better. So, may I ask what brings you here?”

They all began shouting at once.

“They were snogging!”

“She put a Hurling Hex on me!”

“He reversed my slug-puking spell!”

“They destroyed my supply cupboard!”

“She tasted like honey.”

“He misused my baked goods!”

Dumbledore held up his hand. “One at a time, please. What's this about baked goods?”

“You see, sir, it all started with a voodoo cookie I made of Granger,” began Pansy.

“A voodoo doll in cookie form, I presume.”

Pansy nodded.

“Very inventive,” said Dumbledore, impressed. At the sound of Snape clearing his throat, he added, “But highly inappropriate.”

“Yes, sir,” said Pansy, sounding contrite. “I didn't mean any harm though. Well, I suppose I meant a little harm but nothing serious. Just a poke here and there. Draco was the one who ate her.”

“He what!” gasped Hermione.

Draco shrugged in embarrassment. “I have a sweet tooth.”

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth myself.”

“So that's why... that's why...” sputtered Hermione, unable to finish her sentence.

“Yes, it appears you enjoyed it,” Pansy spat.

“Has all of the evidence been disposed of, then?” asked Dumbledore, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Not exactly,” admitted Pansy. She took a small box out of her satchel and placed it on Dumbledore's desk. Tapping it with her wand, she enlarged it and then Vanished the box. An elaborate gingerbread house appeared.

“Ah, Gryffindor House,” said Dumbledore, admiring the red and gold, gumdrop-covered house. “May I?” he asked before breaking off a piece of the roof and nibbling on it. He broke off another piece and offered it to Snape.

“No, thank you,” replied Snape, curling his lip in disgust.

“Very delicious, Miss Parkinson. A nice bold flavor. Did you make any more gingerbread people?”

Nodding, Pansy opened the door to the house and pulled out several more gingerbread people. “I made Potter and Weasley, and I started on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Snape picked up one of the Quidditch players to examine it.

Slyly Pansy said, “I only wanted to help us win the House Cup, sir. It's been so long since there have been Slytherin colors at the end-of-the-year feast.”

Snape squeezed the gingerbread Quidditch player so tightly, it crumbled through his fingers. However, he said, “Something that is wrong does not magically turn into something right, no matter what your intentions.”

“Is this supposed to be me?” Ron interrupted, picking up the ginger-haired gingerbread man. “It doesn't look anything like me.”

“Carrot hair, blank expression on its face. Who else could it be?” sneered Draco.

“I don't see the resemblance,” Ron insisted stubbornly.

Pansy snatched the cookie away and gave it a hard pinch, causing Ron to yelp. “I'd say it's close enough.

“Very interesting,” said Dumbledore. “So, Mr. Malfoy, you say you ate Miss Granger's cookie?

Draco nodded. “Every last bite.” He licked his lips, causing Hermione to blush again.

Dumbledore looked at Draco curiously over his spectacles. “May I ask what your feelings for Miss Granger are?”

“I love her,” he blurted.

Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione. “And do you share similar feelings for Mr. Malfoy?”

Hermione squirmed in her seat and refused to look at Harry and Ron. “He's not horrible, I guess.”

“Did you hear that?” asked Draco, smacking Pansy in the arm. “She doesn't think I'm horrible.”

Pansy glared at him.

Draco beamed at Hermione. “I'm going to write you a poem.”

Hermione smiled back. “What?” she asked when Harry and Ron both gaped at her. “It's sweet.”

“I see,” said Dumbledore, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “It all makes perfect sense now. Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are bonded.”

“Like in marriage!” exclaimed Ron.

“No, no, of course not,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “Marriage is a bond through a piece of parchment. Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger are bonded by their souls.”

“They're... soul mates!” exclaimed Pansy angrily. “Just because he ate a stupid cookie!”

Dumbledore shrugged. “Voodoo is a tricky form of magic. Particularly in cookie form.”

“But... but...” sputtered Pansy. “Draco was supposed to be my boyfriend.”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. “Well, as they say, that's the way the cookie crumbles.”

“Can't we give him a bezoar, Professor?” asked Harry hopefully.

“I volunteer to shove it down his throat,” offered Ron.

“Excellent idea, Harry, and very kind of you, Mr. Weasley, but I'm afraid that won't work with this sort of magic.”

“I can't believe this is happening,” said Hermione in shock. “We hated each other yesterday.”

“I've always secretly liked you,” confided Draco, giving her a wink.

“The act of eating Miss Granger may have uncovered feelings you have both been harboring deep, deep, deep down inside. Who really knows for sure? What you two need to do is get to know each other better,” suggested Dumbledore. “Could they use your office, Severus?”

“No.”

“Ah, well. There are always broom cupboards, aren't there?” Dumbledore said, smiling. “Off with you, now. You too, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley.

Pansy also got up to leave.

“You stay here,” said Dumbledore, pointing at her chair.

“Yes, sir,” answered Pansy glumly.

“May I have a word with you outside?” Snape asked Dumbledore.

…................................................................................................................................................................

“So you think we have to be friends with the slimy git now?” asked Ron as they headed down to the Great Hall for lunch.

Harry shrugged. “I suppose.”

“What about Crabbe and Goyle? Do we have to be friends with them too?”

“Nah. Maybe just non-hostile acquaintances,” Harry replied. “I can tell you one person I'm not going to be friends with though. Pansy Parkinson. This whole thing is her fault. Her and her stupid cookies.”

“Cookies,” repeated Ron, stopping suddenly, a funny expression coming over his face.

“You alright, Ron?”

“Yeah, I just realized there's something I need to take care of. I'll meet up with you later,” Ron said, trotting off in the opposite direction. “Save me a sandwich, will you?”

…................................................................................................................................................................

“What's with the sour expression, Severus? Have you been into my lemon drops again?” Dumbledore teased.

“You weren't exactly honest just now,” said Snape disapprovingly.

“Miss Granger is a part of him,” declared Dumbledore. “They are bonded.”

“Yes, she is a part of him. Until he takes a crap and the spell is broken.”

“Details, shmetails,” said Dumbledore, shrugging.

Snape's eyes narrowed. “You're manipulating people again.”

“Oh, stop looking at me like that, Severus. You can't blame an old man for wanting to play matchmaker.”

“You are deceiving them.”

“You never were much of a romantic.” Dumbledore sniffed. “What's wrong with wanting a happy ending?”

“What of Miss Parkinson? Does she not deserve a happy ending?”

“I have a feeling Miss Parkinson will get exactly what she deserves,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. “But I think Draco needs Miss Granger right now. We wouldn't want him going down the wrong path like another young man we both know once did, would we?”

Snape pursed his lips. “No, we would not.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Another lemon drop, Severus?”

….................................................................................................................................................................

Dejectedly, Pansy took a bite of cookie. There was always something so comforting about gingerbread. After all, gingerbread men were the only men who never let you down. Stupid Draco Malfoy. Granger could have him. What had he ever done for her anyway? He certainly never gave her an orgasm like he did Granger. Taking another bite, she sighed at the gingery goodness. It was certainly delicious, addictive almost, but there was something off about it.

It seemed denser than normal and had a sweeter, milder flavor. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but it reminded her of something. As she languidly sucked on a limb of the gingerbread man, lapping up the sweetness, it finally came to her. It tasted surprisingly similar to... carrot cake. Looking down at the half-eaten gingerbread man in her hand, she let out a scream. “Oh, my God. I ate Weasley!”