Author's Notes:
I was thrilled and honoured to be invited to take part in the 2012 D/Hr Advent. Thank you so much to my nominator!
My prompt was cinnamon and sugar. After a bit of thinking, an impish cackle issued forth from my body, and this story is the result. I hope you enjoy it, and have a very Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Sunny Solstice/Cool Yule/Kind Kwanzaa/pagan holiday of your choice!
I want to thank my betas, dormiensa and captainraychill, for all their advice, cheerleading, suggestions and praise. I love you ladies. :)
Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
It was dinnertime at Hogwarts on Christmas Eve and the crowded Great Hall was festooned with decorations. The noise was treble its usual volume, as exams were over and the much-anticipated Yule Ball was to be held the next evening. The excitement was palpable. Even the Ravenclaw table, normally the quietest of the four, was loud and merry, with the Beauxbatons students flirting madly with all the older Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors were staging a food fight with the Hufflepuffs, much to Hermione's annoyance. The Slytherins and the Durmstrang students were holding a kind of airy and aloof pure-blood court over all.
Hermione was attempting to avoid the food fight and read a book of wizard poetry while she sipped mulled apple cider through a cinnamon-stick straw. A dinner roll bounced off her forehead.
As she glared down the table to try to spot the guilty party – she suspected Fred or George Weasley – Seamus leaned over with a big grin on his face. "You know, Hermione, your straw there reminds me of a prank me cousin played on his brother last Christmas. Have any of you heard of the Cinnamon Challenge?"
The food fight in their little section of the table halted as Neville, Ron, and Dean shook their heads. Harry nodded, however. "Yeah, I have, Seamus. My cousin Dudley forced me to try it a few years ago. It's bloody awful."
Seamus laughed gaily. "Yeah 'tis, ain't it?" Seeing everyone else's blank faces, he explained, in a low voice, what the Cinnamon Challenge was. "The whole idea, ye see, is ye dare someone to swallow an entire spoonful of cinnamon without drinking any water. They have to do it in less than sixty seconds. It's hilarious to watch because the cinnamon instantly dries up all their spit, and they end up coughing, gagging, and puking all over the place."
Harry winced as Seamus spoke. "Maybe it's hilarious to watch, but it's not funny if you're the one with the mouthful of pain."
The boys all chuckled. Hermione hissed, "That sounds very dangerous! Someone could inhale all that cinnamon into their lungs. How could you think that was funny?"
Seamus looked slightly abashed, but everyone else largely ignored her and food soon started flying once again.
Why did the teachers decide to hold their staff party now? she fumed silently. Did they really think the Head Boy and Girl would keep order? She frowned at the Ravenclaw table, where the current Heads were oblivious to the chaos as they busily tried to suck one another's face off. She sighed and concentrated harder on her book.
It is widely believed that every twenty minutes, there is a lull in conversation and activity in a large gathering of people. During such a quiet moment, invariably a single person will be heard saying something that is embarrassing, revealing, salacious, or all three. True to form, one of these very lulls fell across the entire room. In that moment, a single voice could be clearly heard all around the Great Hall.
"Of course wizards are superior to witches. Everyone knows that girls are the weaker sex," a cultured voice drawled.
At this pronouncement, students all over the hall sniggered, protested, and otherwise exclaimed. Hermione whipped her head around to glare at the speaker, Draco Malfoy. He was sitting smug-as-you-please at the Slytherin table, gesturing languidly with the earthenware mug of cider he held in his hand. His other male Housemates were laughing, as were most of the Durmstrang students; even Viktor Krum was nodding in apparent agreement. Oh no, not you too, Viktor, Hermione thought in dismay.
The Slytherin girls were all scowling in Malfoy's direction, with the exception of Pansy Parkinson, who was simpering at him like a slavering fangirl.
His eyes met Hermione's and they locked gazes. After a moment of staring, Malfoy toasted her with his mug and wiggled his eyebrows at her in that infuriating way he had, making a blush of indignation creep across her cheeks. "Is that a blush I see, Granger? Brooking no argument? Admitting I'm right, are you?" he called to her.
Furious, she looked away and frowned down at the book she was holding. The poem she'd just read lay on the page before her. She recalled Seamus' story, and an idea blossomed in her mind. She smiled a wicked smile. I'll show him which is the weaker sex, she thought, marking her place.
Hermione arose from the Gryffindor table to a chorus of ooohs, shrugged off the food-encrusted, staying hands of Harry and Ron, and marched over to confront Malfoy. Arms akimbo, her book of poems clutched firmly in one hand, she stood over him where he sat. He had taken the cinnamon stick out of his mug and was chewing the end of it, the corners of his mouth threatening to break into a grin. His grey eyes glittered with malice. She impatiently shook her hair out of her eyes and said crisply, "Malfoy, I don't know where you get such preposterous ideas, but that one's patently false."
He smirked at her as he slowly stood. She found herself having to look up at him in order to maintain eye contact. He's taller than I am. When did that happen? Once standing, he mimicked her stance in an exaggerated display, with his hands on his own hips and a toss of his white-blond head.
"Is that so, Granger?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and looking down his nose at her.
"Yes," she said with a nod.
He drawled, "Do tell. I'm rather curious how you reached that conclusion. Boys have greater upper body strength and greater average height; we have stronger stomachs, we're better able to control our emotions – you girls have all sorts of emotional issues every month –"
Hermione snorted. "Please! It's a sign of strength and maturity to be able to deal with such complex emotional swings. You do realize that being able to eat practically an entire cow in one meal is nothing to be proud of? And brute strength and physical size don't mean girls are weaker in mind and spirit."
"I don't know about that," Malfoy said. "Boys and girls can have equally strong magic, I'll give you that, but we all know wizards are more ambitious. Historically, there have been more wizards in positions of power than there have been witches."
Hermione gave a derisive laugh. "That may be true in some circles, but do you really think it is a good thing that there have been more power-hungry, Dark, megalomaniacal wizards than witches over the centuries?" She pretended to smack her own forehead. "Oh wait, of course you do. I forget to whom I am speaking."
Many of the other students applauded, whistling and jeering at Malfoy. "She's got a point," called Ernie Macmillan.
Malfoy scowled. "There is nothing wrong with being ambitious and wanting to succeed." He pointed his cinnamon stick at her. "The way I see it, we boys come out on top in every way." His tablemates guffawed at his innuendo while Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Well, you're wrong. It's a fundamental fact that girls are made of much stronger stuff than boys."
"And what proof do you have of this?" he sneered, chewing the cinnamon.
Hermione lifted her book and flipped it open to the poem she'd just read. She recited it aloud.
"What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails, and puppy dogs' tails
That's what little boys are made of!
What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice
That's what little girls are made of!"
There was a smattering of applause accompanied by laughter. She ignored it, closing the book.
Malfoy stared at her and pulled the stick out of his mouth. "What sort of codswallop was that?"
"Those lines are part of a longer poem called What Folks are Made Of. This book, Wizarding Poetry for the Ages, says those two stanzas were written almost a hundred and seventy-five years ago by a poet named Robert Southey. He was a wizard and a very talented writer. He was Poet Laureate for thirty years."
Malfoy was making talking motions with the fingers and thumb of one hand as the Slytherins around him giggled. When Hermione stopped, he asked, "Are you finished boring us to death with your swottiness? So a wizard wrote a stupid poem about boys and girls. It's poppycock. It doesn't prove anything." He resumed chewing on the cinnamon straw.
"It will. We'll use it prove which sex is superior. You against me."
He stopped chewing. "Go on…" he said, dubiously.
"I challenge you, Draco Malfoy, to successfully eat the things from that poem that comprise a girl." She had to raise her voice to be heard over the whoops and catcalls of the Slytherin boys. "I, in turn, will consume the boy ingredients." She talked louder still. "We won't be allowed to wash things down. No beverages of any kind. The first one of us to become ill, vomit, or refuse to eat an item loses, proving his or her sex is weaker. Are you really so sure boys are the stronger sex?"
He barked out a short laugh. "You think I won't be able to stomach sugar and spice, Granger?"
"That's exactly what I think. Oh shut up, everyone," she scolded the room at large.
Malfoy scoffed in disbelief. "And you are going to successfully eat frogs, snails, and Fido's tail?"
"Yes. In fact, I'll have to eat one forkful of each of those things, and you'll have to eat a spoonful of sugar and, since you seem to like it so much, a spoonful of cinnamon," she said, indicating his cinnamon stick.
Draco shrugged dismissively. "No problem. Those're easy. What about the 'everything nice' bit?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
Hermione airily waved a hand. "Oh, I'll be generous and let you pick your favourite food," she said. "How about it? Do you dare accept my challenge?" She stuck out her hand for him to shake. He looked at it for a few seconds, his lips curled in disgust. Then, he shrugged and shook her hand firmly.
"Fine. This will be an excellent laugh, Granger. I thought you were the smart one," he said, as the other students cheered, particularly those at the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. "When shall we do this?"
"Meet me in the kitchens in half an hour." She paused. Viktor looked grumpy, but Hermione ignored him. "Bring a few people with you. We'll need witnesses." Malfoy gave a curt nod of agreement, finally releasing her hand, at which point the members of his table began vying with one another to be one of his chosen attendees. Hermione turned and walked away, brushing past Viktor without a glance.
Before returning to her seat, she had a quick, whispered word with both Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan and Ravenclaw Padma Patil. Each of them agreed to accompany her. After asking the same of Ron, Harry, and Ginny, she bade her goodbyes and left the Hall.
Hermione ducked down a side corridor once she was out of sight of the entrance to the Great Hall. She looked around to be sure she was alone and then called out in a hoarse whisper, "Dobby!"
There was a sharp KRACK, and Dobby the house-elf appeared before her. He was wearing what appeared to be a tea cozy on his head. It was covered with lots of colourful badges and his ears stuck out comically from underneath it. He wore a pair of child-sized football shorts, no shirt, and a tie with Christmas trees all over it. On each leg he wore three or four socks, none of which matched the others.
"Hello, Miss Granger! Dobby is happy to sees you! But where is Harry Potter? And his Wheezy?"
"Hi, Dobby! Happy Christmas. Harry and Ron are fine. They're still eating dinner."
Dobby beamed. "Dobby is wishing you all a very happy Christmas, too."
"Thank you, Dobby. Um, would you be able help me with something?"
Dobby clapped his hands in excitement. "Yes, I is helping you, Miss Granger! Anything!"
Hermione took a deep breath. "All right. Listen very carefully to what I need you to do. In about twenty minutes, I'm coming down to the kitchens to win a contest against Draco Malfoy."
At hearing the name, Dobby grabbed his ears and moaned, rolling his eyes. "Young Master Draco? He is almost as mean as his father, he is!"
Hermione nodded and stopped him from tearing his ears off. "Yes, I agree. He's arrogant and horrible." And clever and tall… "He thinks boys are better than girls, but I want to prove him wrong. Will you help me?"
Dobby straightened up and nodded once. "Dobby helps you, Miss Granger, however Dobby can!"
"All right. He and I are going to have an eating contest, Dobby. For him, we'll need a small bowl of sugar and another of cinnamon, each with large spoons. He'll also be asking for whatever his favourite food is. For me, I'll need you to prepare these foods: escargot in garlic butter – use lots of garlic and butter, please! – a separate dish of caramelized frog legs, and finally," Hermione paused and looked around again before leaning close and whispering in Dobby's ear, "finally, I'll need you to whip up some toad-in-the-hole, Dobby, but I need the sausages to look like puppies' tails. They must be convincingly tail-like, that is essential. I can't explain just now, but please, can you do all that for me?"
Dobby looked at her with a puzzled expression. "Of course Dobby can does all that, Miss! Dobby goes now, and will have all ready when you come. Dobby is glad you is going to stick it to… to… to him!" With a KRACK, he Disapparated.
Hermione released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, looked around one more time, and hurried off to find her friends.
The kitchens were warm with the residual heat of the preparation of their Christmas Eve dinner. The place was spotless, with every pan and pot neatly put away, but a small table had been laid for two, with tablecloth, cutlery, and several dishes set at each place. A metal bucket sat on the floor beside each chair.
Malfoy sat on one side of the table, facing Hermione. Ten other students were crowded around the two of them, eagerly waiting to see what would happen.
Hermione scoffed. Of course, he brought all his cronies. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott for muscle, Pansy – she's such an affront to feminism – for ego-stroking, and Viktor. She gave a sad little sigh. I just can't believe Viktor thinks the same way Malfoy does.
Mistaking her sigh for nerves, Ernie gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You'll do splendidly, Hermione," he said, bracingly. She looked up at him and smiled. He and Padma had come, just as they'd said they would, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny were there for her, too. She felt a bit smug at what a nicely blended group of supporters she had: boys and girls, different years, every house but Slytherin, and a mix of pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns (she counted as a supporter, after all).
Malfoy cleared his throat impatiently, demanding her attention. "I haven't got all night, Granger," he said. "Let's get this thing started so I can declare victory."
"What's your hurry, Malfoy? Afraid you won't get enough beauty sleep before the Yule Ball?" she snarked back.
He sneered. "If anyone needs beauty sleep here, it's you, you buck-toothed, bushy-haired—"
"Enough!" Harry bellowed. Everyone looked at him. "Shut up, will you? Hermione, we all have better things to do tonight than hang around Malfoy and his gang."
"I'm sorry, Harry. You're right." Hermione said and turned to glare across the table. "Listen up, Malfoy. Here's how this is going to go. No magic allowed during the challenge. That's why we've all put our wands on the counter over there. We won't be able to change the foods that appear in front of us. What the elves make is what we must eat."
"All right, but you have to go first, Granger. You challenged me, after all," he replied.
"Of course," she said. "So, let's get started, shall we? What will be your 'everything nice' food?"
Malfoy smirked. "I choose crème brûlée." Everyone murmured appreciatively as the decadent dessert appeared at his place. Then, the other dishes on the table filled with food: a bowl of sugar and another of cinnamon for him. For Hermione, there were some surprisingly tasty-looking caramelized frog legs and buttery, garlicky escargot, and finally, something that looked for all the world like a stubby, tapering puppy dog's tail. It was surrounded by a golden brown, flaky Yorkshire pudding.
At its appearance, the Slytherins all laughed. Draco spoke loudly over the din, "Bon appétit, Granger! I wouldn't expect a… person of your upbringing to appreciate the finer qualities of French cuisine, but perhaps you'll find that doggy 'Tail-in-the-Hole' to be to your liking!"
To Hermione's surprise, Viktor spoke up. "Shut up, Malfoy. Herm—Miss Granger has been to France with parents many times. She has told me this. And anyway, frog legs look prepared Asian style, not French. I come with you to watch and learn, and I haff learned you are not so smart. Good luck with sugar and spice." He moved to stand next to Harry, showing his support for Hermione.
Hermione beamed at him, happiness rushing through her entire body. Ron looked disgusted, but she didn't care. Turning around, she faced a pouting Malfoy, picked up one of the frog legs, and took a large bite.
It was delicious. She'd always liked this dish. Her mother was a cook who liked to experiment, and this had been a family favourite for years. Dobby had come through for her on this one, right enough.
Swallowing, she said, "These are almost as good as my mother's. Would you like one, Malfoy?" She took another bite. Her supporters hooted and clapped as Malfoy gave the dish an involuntary, horrified glance, which he quickly hid with a sneer. She smiled at him as she tossed the small leg bones into her bucket.
"No way, Granger," he said, carefully avoiding her eyes. "Malfoys don't eat invertebrates."
"Frogs are vertebrates, you pillock," Hermione said, laughing. He scowled as his remaining companions muttered.
"I know that," he snapped. "I was overcome with momentary disgust and simply mixed up my words. I meant amphibians, of course. Such a low life form has no place on a Malfoy's table."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right, Malfoy." She gestured to the bowl of sugar. "It's your turn. Is sugar acceptable enough for the Malfoy palate?"
Her friends were all sniggering. Angrily, Malfoy snatched up the bowl and dug out a heaping spoonful of sugar. The white crystals cascaded onto the table and his school robes as he brought the spoon swiftly to his mouth and stuffed the entire load inside. His eyelids fluttered with bliss at the explosion of sweetness. Jaw working, he made happy little grunts and moans as he consumed the sugar, milking his friends' applause for all he could. Finally he finished, sticking out his pink, glistening tongue at her before leaning back in his chair.
Hermione realized her mouth was open and she closed it hurriedly. She felt her cheeks grow warm. She'd been watching his display of gastronomic ecstasy much more intently than she'd meant to. She gave him a nod. "Most impressive. I didn't think your mouth could open that wide."
"That's because your jaw is usually wagging up and down as you play teacher's pet," he quipped. "You can't see anything beyond your own flapping tongue."
There were a few warning growls from Ron, Harry, and Viktor, but Hermione waved them off.
"Whatever, Malfoy. It's my turn again," she chirped and turned her attention to the escargot in front of her. Viktor was right: she had been to France many times with her parents and she'd had this particular dish several times. While snails were not as much of a favourite as the frog legs, she still enjoyed their garlicky, buttery goodness.
Using a pair of escargot tongs and a snail fork, she expertly plucked a snail from its shell and popped it into her mouth. The butter and garlic washed over her taste buds and she gave a happy little sigh as she chewed. Dobby had done it again. She ignored the sounds of gagging and scoffing from the people around her, focusing only on Malfoy's face as she enjoyed her treat. He was sweating a bit, staring fixedly at her lips. He was concentrating so hard, she began to shift uncomfortably, a bit worried about what she might look like when eating.
Finishing her snail, she asked, "What is it now, Malfoy? Escargot not on your menu at home, either?" She snapped her fingers. "Oh right, you already said. No amphibians and no invertebrates. Pity. You and your family are missing out on some elegant, tasty dishes."
Malfoy bristled. "As it so happens, my parents like escargot and eat them frequently." He cleared his throat. "I'm just not partial to them, myself."
"Ah," she said, knowingly. He flushed pink.
"You may be good at eating filter feeders and toads, Granger, but I'm sure you won't be able to stomach Rover's Rear-End over there." He pointed at the Toad-in-the-Hole. "What with your bleeding-heart sympathies for pathetic animals. Let's just see how cheeky you'll be after you take a bite out of him, shall we?" He pulled the dish of cinnamon close to him. "I will eat this oh-so-scary cinnamon and look forward to enjoying my crème brûlée." He picked up a soup spoon and scooped up a large helping of the spice. "Try not to vomit all over the place, will you, Granger? I would hate to be unable to enjoy my pudding because you've been sick on it." He quickly shoved the spoonful of cinnamon into his mouth.
Later, as she looked back on the moment with fondness, Hermione did give Malfoy credit. For several seconds he just stared at her, eyes bulging and filling with tears, as he worked his jaw a few times in an attempt to wet the cinnamon enough to swallow it. However, it was painfully obvious to everyone around him that his mouth had become as dry as the Sahara Desert. The cinnamon had absorbed all the moisture in his mouth, and he was absolutely unable to get it down.
Malfoy finally lost control and coughed, spraying cinnamon all over the table and Hermione's robes; then he gagged, tried to swallow, and gagged again. He spit copious amounts of the spice onto the bowls in front of him, coating everything in a sticky, gross, brownish-red paste. His crème brûlée was ruined. Goyle began to pound on his back, which only served to make the coughing worse.
Hermione had been eyeballing Malfoy and knew what was going to happen next, a split second after he did. He leaned over in his seat and grabbed the metal bucket next to the chair. Everyone leapt out of the way as he proceeded to heave up the entire contents of his stomach, noisily gagging and retching.
All the Slytherins exclaimed in dismay. Pansy screamed and ran to the sink to collect a glass of water. He gulped the cooling liquid down, spitting and coughing, while Pansy glared daggers at Hermione.
She stood up, triumphant. Ron was roaring with laughter, Harry and Ginny were grinning, and Ernie clapped her on the back while saying, "Jolly good show, Granger!" Padma looked a bit chagrined but also pleased. Viktor was quietly nodding, a small smile on his face.
"Well, Malfoy," Hermione said as she picked up a fork and the dish of Toad-in-the-Hole. Dobby had done the other two entrees correctly. Why should she doubt him now? "Now we know which is the weaker sex, don't we?" She stabbed into the disguised sausage and lifted a large clump up to her mouth. Malfoy watched her do this, eyes streaming, and he bent over to vomit once more into the bucket when her lips closed around the fork. With a great moan of pleasure, Hermione thoroughly enjoyed her victory bite of what he'd dubbed "Tail-in-the-Hole". Then, she grabbed her wand, cleaned the cinnamon spittle from her robes, and, with the dish of toad-in-the-hole still held firmly in her hands, swept victoriously out of the kitchen with her chattering, incredulous companions in tow.
The Yule Ball was the most elegant event Hermione had ever attended. She felt truly beautiful for the first time in her life, and as she walked in on Viktor's arm, the knowledge that everyone was watching her made her eyes sparkle and shine. Her smile was stunning, with her straight, white,small teeth glinting in the festive lighting. She smiled harder and mentally thanked Draco Malfoy for his Densaugeohex, which had ultimately led to her new-and-improved dental work.
Having just been thinking of him, she blushed when she caught Malfoy's eye. He seemed to be fully recovered from the previous evening's cinnamon challenge and looked very smart in his stylish, black dress robes. He was staring at her wordlessly, heedless of Pansy's attempts to distract him. His lips were slightly parted. She cringed inwardly as she walked past him, bracing for any insult he might hurl her way. But none came, not from him or any other Slytherin, and the lack of any cutting remarks buoyed her confidence still higher. She walked to the dance floor as if on air. As she stepped into Viktor's arms, Hermione glowed with happiness, pleasure, and pride.
"Viktor, please, I've got to stop for a moment," Hermione said sometime later with a gasp and a laugh, pulling him away from the dance floor.
He smiled down at her. "You are already tired, Herm-own-ninny? The evening has barely started."
"It isn't that," she said. "I just need a moment to, um, to… you know…" she gestured towards the Great Hall's decorated doors. Viktor frowned, looking unsure. She waved a hand at the refreshments table and its resident punch bowl. "Oh, you know… I've had a little too much punch and need to, um, powder my nose." She finished, a bit lamely.
Realization dawned on Viktor's face. "Oh, I see. But what does nose powder haff to do with visiting girls' room?" he asked. Hermione started to explain but caught the twinkle in his eye and smacked him on the shoulder. He was teasing her.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she promised and hurried out the door to the nearest lavatory.
On her way back to the ball after freshening up, Hermione passed several darkened corners from which giggling and other noises were emanating. She felt as though she were intruding and didn't dare glance into any of the alcoves. Staring straight ahead, she intended to return directly to Viktor, but the moon beckoned to her from a miraculously-empty window niche nearby. She stopped to admire the night.
She felt giddy. She was awash with emotions and feelings she hadn't really encountered before. She had been so annoyed with Ron for failing to ask her to the ball, yet she was having a marvelous time with Viktor, who seemed truly taken with her. She gave an anticipatory shiver. Would he try to kiss her at some point that night? Did she want him to?
The moon passed behind a cloud at that moment, and she felt two warm, masculine hands on her shoulders. She turned, stomach fluttering, but before she could make eye contact, the boy had bent down and touched his lips to hers.
It was her first kiss, and thus she was shy and awkward, but he was so persistent and sweet that her knees went weak and she melted against him, softly kissing and tasting his lips with her own. Her hands slid up to his shoulders and he pulled her close. His arms were wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her up easily as he leisurely explored her mouth, teasing her lower lip with what she realized was the tip of his tongue. She tentatively touched it with her own tongue and found he tasted of cocoa and peppermint.
Cocoa and peppermint? But Viktor had been drinking the fruity party punch all evening. Who was kissing her? She gave a small gasp of surprise and broke the embrace, looking up at the tall boy in puzzled wonderment.
None other than Draco Malfoy was gazing down at her, his eyes burning intensely. She backed away in horror, one hand over her mouth. He licked his lips and smirked at her expression.
"Why?" she whispered.
He said nothing but raised an eyebrow and pointed upward. When she looked she saw a large sprig of mistletoe hanging overhead.
She returned her gaze to Malfoy's face. He still hadn't said anything.
"Why?" she asked again.
He crossed his arms. "Why? That's what you're supposed to do when you see someone under the mistletoe. I walked by, saw you standing under the mistletoe, and kissed you." He scoffed. "What's happened to that great Mu... um, Muggle-born brain of yours, Granger? I guess my prowess at snogging has rendered it useless, hmm?"
She glared at him, hands on hips. "I know what happens under the mistletoe, Malfoy! I just, I just…" She stopped, suddenly lost for words as she watched the pink tip of his tongue dart out. He licked his lips again, slowly. She felt a shiver of excitement.
She licked her bottom lip, letting her tongue glide over it and tasting the faint peppermint. She tilted her head. "Peppermint, Malfoy? No cinnamon?"
He shrugged. "I'm taking a holiday from cinnamon." He paused. "It's a much stronger seasoning than I'd realized. I want to give it a second chance, but slowly, so I can savour it." He gave her a small, nervous smile.
Her brown eyes crinkled as a smile of her own spread across her cheeks. Without another word, she lifted her face to his, and they leaned towards each other, their lips meeting once more in a sweet, lingering kiss. Hermione felt her knees quiver with the intensity of the potential behind it, and she grudgingly allowed that there were some things that boys, and this boy in particular, could do marvelously well.
THE END
PICTURES OF THE CHALLENGE FOODS
If the links below don't work for you, try searching the web for each item.
Toad-in-the-Hole: wiki/ File:Toad_in_the_hole .jpg
Caramelized Frog Legs: allrecipes recipe/ caramelized-frog-legs/
Escargot: recipes/ Escargot/ title
Crème brûlée: recipes/ 2745/ ultimate-crme-brle-
THE CINNAMON CHALLENGE (video clip from the TV show, Mythbusters)
www .youtube watch ?v=UXkGtJUP0WE