Chapter 6: When It Feels So Right No One Remembers It’s Wrongne Would Recognize Wrong if it Bit Them in the Arse

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Chapter 6: When It Feels So Right No One Remembers It's Wrong

---

Fred and George were used to being the life of the party...as far as they were concerned, the party didn't start until they had arrived with lewd smiles and bottles of the alcoholic beverage of their choosing.

So they couldn't help but mourn the fact that they were tied up, sans girls, in the trophy room while the greatest party Hogwarts had ever seen was roaring floors below them.

"Can't you reach your wand?" Fred asked, struggling in his own bonds.

George shook his head as best as he could. "No... can you manage a wandless Accio?"

"Do I look like Harry Potter to you?"

"No, you're far more handsome."

Fred would have punched his brother in the arm had his hands been free.

"What are we going to do now?"

While George pondered their options, struck by inspiration, Fred said, "If you could pick one person to be in this room, who would it be?"

"There would have to be two...one for me and one for you."

"Not even thinking about getting freed, are you?"

"No... too bloody horny for that."

A pause... then, muttered in simultaneous bursts of exasperation, "Thanks a lot, Hermione."

---

"Come on, Pansy, don't sulk. Let's go back and join the party," Millicent coaxed her friend.

Pansy still sat sulking on her bed, but finally raised her eyes to look at Millicent.

"Forget it, Millicent. They're all the same...too poor, too ugly, or taken."

"Since when has the last one stopped us? Here," said Millicent, handing her a flask, "drink up; it will make you feel better." Or at least get you in a better mood, she thought.

As Pansy gave in and took the flask, Millicent pulled her up and towards the door. Pansy reluctantly followed as she took a long, large drink from the flask.

About halfway back to the great hall, Millicent changed directions.

"Where are we going?" demanded Pansy.

"I have an idea," said Millicent as she turned into another corridor.

Pansy stopped. "What?"

"Just come on."

"I refuse to take another step until you tell me what you are up to."

"Fine. Party Pooper," said Millicent. "We're going to the trophy room."

"Why?"

"To pick out a date for you...guaranteed to be a winner."

"What?" Pansy said for the second time in the span of two minutes.

"Forget money for one second."

Pansy gave her a flat look.

"Pretend it's not that important for one second. I'll blindfold you and spin you. The first recent trophy you touch will be your date for the rest of the evening, and if you're lucky, for the rest of the night."

At Millicent's last comment, Pansy blushed. Although she and Draco had been together, it was only once (that counted, anyway) and not that great. As she thought back on it, it seemed he just liked her on his arm, not in his bed. Stupid, vain ponce. She took another swig from Millie's flask, spluttering a little. No wonder she dumped out the mead and replaced it with punch. This stuff is more potent...well, than anyone I've ever dated. Stupid Blaise and his Quidditch Pool.

They arrived at the door to the trophy room, Pansy still hesitant, but Millicent leaving little room for hesitation. Millicent took off her ample bra and transfigured it into a blindfold, tied it around Pansy's eyes, spun her, and shoved her into the room. Pansy stumbled forward, her hands feeling in front of her until she felt... something warm... not metal... that... chuckled at her... She gasped and pulled her hands back.

"It can't be that bad," Millicent said from the door of the darkened room. "Who did you get?"

Pansy lifted her blindfold and stuttered, "A...a Weasley."

"At least they're purebloods... Oh, crap...is it Percy? Tell me it isn't Percy."

"Um, no, it's one of the twins."

"One of them? Can't you read the name? I suppose it really doesn't matter with them, anyway." Millicent entered the room. Shock quickly gave way to leering speculation on her face. "Oh, you literally meant one of the twins."

---

Luna walked a little ahead of Neville in the dark, her face tilted towards the night sky. They crossed the grounds towards greenhouse three, giggling and joking about random things as they went.

"Neville?" she asked, turning to face him more seriously in the midst of their banter.

"Yeah, Luna?" For some reason he felt like he could do almost anything. It was as if his nerves had disappeared.

"Do you think that Harry likes Draco?"

Neville thought that he was used to Luna's apparent randomness, but that floored him. Where did that come from? "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean, Luna. I mean... they've never really gotten along, have they?" He meant it to be a rhetorical question, but the look on Luna's face nudged his voice upwards into an actual interrogative at the end of it

"It seems like that, doesn't it?" With that cryptic comment, she shrugged and changed the subject again. "Lets get to the greenhouse; it's nice in there. Herbology is one of my favourite subjects, you know...."

Greenhouse three was locked; Luna drew her wand to deal with it, but Neville intervened.

'Please, let me," he said, feeling a surge of chivalry that, to his happy amazement, wasn't quashed by even a hint of self-consciousness. Well, you did avenge your parents after all, an inner voice reminded him staunchly. You've every right to expect that you can talk to a girl without stammering, and...to get the bloody door to open...

BANG!

"That was... forceful." Had anyone else addressed Neville like that, he would have assumed they were trying to be tactful about his latest gaffe. Luna's lack of affinity for tact convinced him it was a compliment, and he impulsively took her arm, intending to swing her gracefully over the low threshold.

Evidently, not all the occupants of the greenhouse were as admiring of his door opening technique.

"Waank! Honk! Honk! Annkk! Honnkk!" The blaring cacophony of the offended honking daffodils startled him so badly he accidentally knocked Luna into the flower bed, setting the rest of the blooms off in every possible pitch, timbre, and volume imaginable.

Neville stared aghast at Luna sprawled amidst the potting soil and overturned daffodils, dirt and plant smears streaked across her uniform. He reached down to help her, but his grace had apparently been left behind on the dance floor. As he pulled her to her feet, he overbalanced himself and both fell backwards across the path. Neville caromed into a patch of mumbling Mimbulus mimbletonia, Luna sprawled indelicately across atop him. The disturbed Mimbletonia immediately sprayed them down with a foul-smelling sulphurous liquid that stuck to their clothing. He could feel the stubby spines digging uncomfortably into his arse. They scrambled to their feet with Neville brushing ineffectually at her befouled blouse and muttering abject apologies.

"Honk!" the daffodils cried, and "&*%$&$&**%#@," the Mimbletonia mumbled, seeming to agree with them.

"Oh bugger!" Neville swore, red-faced with embarrassment. "Now they'll be at it all night! Luna, I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay...before your Mimbletonia got to know me, I learned a really good spell to get rid of Stinksap." She spelled them both clean, then took his hand and led him to one of the low potting tables that were used during lessons.

Taking seats next to one another, they sat in silence (except for the complaining plants) for a moment before starting to speak at the same time.

"Luna, I–"

"Neville, did you–"

They both stopped, smiling at one another. "You first," Neville said.

"Well, I was just going to ask what plant that was," she said, pointing.

"A Palmquist...it's a new one. Professor Sprout just had it delivered from America. She says it's apparently a top plant over there right now."

"What does it do?"

"Well, it's a bit snappish actually, and when old enough, its roots allow it to walk in a funny way. It has a habit of walking back and forth in front of anything that moves, almost like stalking its prey. Not much else to tell really." Neville shrugged and turned to look at Luna. She was lovely in the moonlight streaming in from the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, and he found himself edging closer to her. The Daffodils had finally stopped complaining, and the Mimbletonias subsided into slightly disgruntled snores.

"Sort of a plant version of a cat, I suppose, stalking its prey. Or a lawyer in court; that would work, too." Luna said with a laugh.

"Luna," Neville began, "can I... can I ask you why we came here?"

"Well, to get away from the noise, but also so we could kiss. I think that would be nice, don't you?"

Yes! This was even better than Neville had hoped. He really liked Luna; she might be a bit dreamy, but she was also straightforward. He leaned across, feeling bold, and kissed her on the cheek.

She turned to him, eyes wide. "That was nice, but I think I'd like it better here," she said, leaning over and kissing him on the mouth. Slowly he relaxed into the kiss, although he still didn't quite know what to do with his hands. Well, he knew where he wanted to put them, but didn't know if she would approve.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she pulled back from the kiss and grasped his hand lightly, putting it on her waist. "You can touch me; I won't bite," she whispered.

He smiled, grasping her waist more firmly. He pulled her closer and kissed her again, more intensely than before.

After a few minutes, and far too soon for Neville's liking, she pulled back, giggling. "I liked that, did you?" She was a little breathless and Neville found he was too.

"Yes," he said, smiling. "Very much."

"I feel a little like my brain has a Wrackspurt in it; you know, it's all fuzzy. But that's a good thing."

He smiled. Luna's random comments made some people laugh, but he thought they were sort of sweet. Feeling a little braver, he pulled her to him for another kiss.

The Honking Daffodils, silent until they noted the increasingly heated snog, let out a chorus of wolf-whistles.

---

Although his thinking was a little clearer, Severus was still feeling the effect of the alcohol coursing through his blood as he stumbled along under the weight of the young woman across his shoulder. After her muffled complaint as he bumped her head on the banister a second time, he put her back on her feet. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along in his wake. They quickly navigated the steps down to his chambers, and Severus sighed in relief as he saw...and heard...a distinct absence of Weasley and the Patil twins.

He pulled up short outside his rooms. With the fading effect of the wit clearing charm and the cool air of the dungeons working on him, he had a moment of uncertainty. "Miss Granger... last chance. I know what I want... If it's not what you want, if you have any concerns over what you or your friends will think afterwards, leave now so I can keep on drinking, drink myself into oblivion and..."

"As I told those de-debauchees upstairs, it's none of their business. As for me..." she said before pulling herself up and kissing him firmly. He hardly noticed that her towel slipped from her hips, but his hands encountered nothing but bare flesh as he held her tightly. She only stammered once; her reasoning couldn't be totally impaired if she was using three syllable vocabulary, he reasoned to himself as he pushed open the door.

Hermione was obviously intrigued by the contents of the shelves, but her eyes fixed on Severus as he stood looking at her guardedly. "Nice collection, but the books can wait; I have someone –ahem– something else I'd much rather be doing at the moment." Severus had put an encouraging arm around her and led her to the bedroom, thinking about how quickly his luck seemed to have changed. "Miss Granger..."

"Call me Hermione, or we'll never be able to do this."

"And call me Severus. Seriously, Miss... Hermione, I don't know what you have in mind..."

"Oh, good!" she interrupted. Hermione had spotted the ensuite and dragged Severus towards it. She started to unbutton his cuffs and shirt, running her fingers through his hair, eliciting a moan from Severus. "Too many fucking buttons," he heard her whimper in frustration as the last buttons defied her ministrations. Mustering a little cohesive thought, he flicked his fingers, and they popped one by one. She pulled off the cloak and the shirt and then peeled off his trews.

"Why are we here?" Severus asked, suddenly realising where they were. He was beginning to wonder if Hermione had some kind of bathroom fetish...not that he was complaining if she had.

"Wouldn't you like to try some of the fun I was having in the bath when you found me?" she asked over her shoulder as she leaned over his tub to turn on the water, exposing her naked backside to him as she did so.

'Never thought I'd want to be a fun guy,' was all he could think as both the returning effects of the alcohol and the view robbed him of all higher thought process.

---

Pansy froze when Millicent spelled the candles in the trophy room to light. It was bad enough that she had agreed to go to the room in the first place, but groping a Weasley twin whilst blindfolded?

"If you're going to keep your hand there–"

"You might as well help my brother out and move it up a bit."

Pansy quickly took her hand away from the inner thigh of the twin she had grabbed. "I would never–"

"What my friend meant to say was..." Millicent stepped next to Pansy and in front of the other twin, "that she would never take advantage of you this way. Right, Pansy?" Millicent threw Pansy a sharp look.

"Er... right," Pansy agreed. What is this girl getting at? Is she really going to try to... Pansy's eyes widened without her permission. Seduce them?

"You would have to... agree to it first." Millicent raised a hand to Weasley's shirt and began to rub against his chest.

"Millicent!" Pansy hissed. Couldn't the girl ask if she agreed to it first?

"Yes, Pansy, dear?" Millicent was already undoing the front of the twin's trousers.

"Can't we at least figure out their names first?"

"Fred," the one with his trousers around his ankles said.

"George," the other affirmed.

"That settles it then." Millicent lowered her head and kissed Fred with no intention of rising for air.

Pansy just watched the couple in shock as Millicent extended her hands to stroke the ropes that tied Fred's wrists and yank them toward her.

Fred made a keening noise, and Millicent pulled away to sneer at him.

"Like pain, I see."

Fred's eyes had a glint in them that Pansy could see from where he stood. "And you like your men tied up."

Millicent stepped forward again, placing her palm flat against Fred's abdomen. "I'll make it worth your while."

"How so?"

Millicent's hand went lower. "Sex is sex for me," she said, fingering the waistband of Fred's boxers. "But tied up?"

She kneeled and gripped the backs of his thighs. "It's mind-blowing."

Fred snapped his hips forward. "Yes."

Pansy stared open-mouthed as Millicent proceeded to pull down Fred's boxers and make good on her promise.

"He'll have the worst rope burns after that."

Pansy faced George, who seemed unaffected while watching his twin brother getting sucked a few feet away. Then she saw the erection in his trousers and thought differently.

"I thought you didn't like Weasleys," he said, meeting her eyes once she tore them away from the impressively sized bulge.

"I never said that," Pansy said. They were a respectable Pureblood family; if it weren't for their dismal Gringotts accounts...

"So then, you wouldn't mind..." George pointed downward with his chin.

Pansy wrinkled her nose. "Of all the cheek!..."

George blushed, even as a wide grin spread across his face. "No... I mean, could you untie me?"

Pansy blushed and resisted fidgeting. "How can I trust you not to take advantage of me once you're freed?" Would that be such a dreadful fate, part of her mind asked plaintively, especially since you haven't been so much as kissed since Draco last decided to listlessly go through the motions... sometime last term?

"I may look just like my brother, but..."

Fred took the opportunity to let out a string of curses as Millicent's hand wandered behind him.

"Not that I wouldn't mind, of course."

George's smile remained, and Pansy thought of how easy it would be to unbutton his shirt and reveal the same expanse of freckled skin Fred was displaying. Maybe getting out of here...now...would be a good idea.

"Er... Millicent?"

"In... a... minute," she said during gasps for air. Millicent pulled away from Fred, and rucked up his shirt.

"George... what a lovely chest you have."

"Fred," he moaned.

"Didn't know you liked your brother that way." Millicent smirked, planted a kiss at his tip, and stood.

"How's progress coming along?" Fred called out to his brother.

"How's the cold air treating you?" George retorted.

"Pansy, why aren't you joining the fun? Poor Fred over there is still dressed."

"George," the twin corrected.

"Six of one, half dozen of the other," Millicent said dismissively. "But you, love, need to loosen up."

"Love? Since when are you–"

"Shh." Millicent sauntered over to Pansy and placed a finger to her lips, using her other hand to cup Pansy's chin and lift it. When Pansy nervously met her eyes, she saw that Millicent's eyes were determined. "Play along, or else," Millicent said in a subtle murmur and less-than-subtle body language.

"These men are young and gorgeous," Millicent murmured into Pansy's ear, her lips brushing against the lobe. Pansy shivered and closed her eyes.

She felt hands holding her breasts gently as only another girl could, kneading them until her nipples hardened. She felt those hands unbuttoning her shirt, stroking her skin and unhooking her bra.

"No..."

"No clothes? Not a problem." Millicent bestowed a kiss upon Pansy's neck and continued stripping her until she had nothing but her knickers on.

"But..." Pansy opened her eyes when the cold air hit her back and she should not be here and why did it all feel so good?

Millicent stood and kissed Pansy's lips slowly, pulling away to whisper one last thing in Pansy's ear.

"They're loaded. Rich. Successful. Set for life."

Pansy groaned, kissed Millicent back, and broke away to wrap her arms around George.

---

Pomona left the poker game early enough so that she wasn't stumbling out of the pub – it was more like an ambling walk that was a little closer to the floor than she would've liked.

Waving goodbye to Poppy and Rolanda at the door of the Three Broomsticks, Pomona leaned back against the pub's wall, taking in deep breaths of air. It still smelled of fireworks and liquor, but it was cool and helped reacquaint herself with her senses.

But... maybe getting a little intoxicated wasn't such a bad idea after all. In the haze created by those lovely fruity drinks...she must get the recipe from Ros... good Merlin, what was her name, anyway?...she was able to strip out of her robes and cambric shirt without much trepidation, and now she could see Aberforth without tripping over her feet. Much.

As if she had Summoned him, Aberforth emerged from the crowds and stepped up to her.

"Aberforth."

He didn't say anything, opting instead to place his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head, the beginning of his beard inches away from her lips.

"I've been waiting too long for talking, Pomona," he said gruffly, tipping her head back for a kiss.

"Oh," she gasped when they parted.

He tilted his head, his blue eyes looking unsure for the first time. "Still worried about propriety?"

Feeling her cheeks heat and her breath quicken, she ran a finger against his lips. "Fuck propriety."

Aberforth laughed and helped her through the crowds and to his flat, an arm around her ample waist. "We shall," he said.

---

Apparating into Hogsmeade behind the Hog's Head in a small, rarely used alleyway, Dung looked about cautiously. No sign of anything so far, he thought. What made me say 'yes' to this crazy idea?

He slowly walked around to the main street, checking and double-checking as he went. After all, it was his arse on the line.

Eventually arriving on the main street, he heard noises, but they sure weren't noises of people in battle, or even of fleeing. They sounded almost... jubilant.

Well, maybe there's people in 'Ol Hog's; I'll go have a quick look see, he thought to himself. Doesn't sound like terror from here.

Dung entered the Hog's Head to find out more. As soon as he did, he found himself accosted by more than one highly inebriated person giving him drinks and telling him the 'great news'. Distracted by the free flowing alcohol and cheery atmosphere, he forgot why he'd even come to Hogsmeade in first place.

---

Draco cast a stout Warming Charm on his way to the Room of Requirement. To someone who'd just spent nearly half an hour adjusting his hair to perfection and cleaning and applying glamours to body parts most people didn't even THINK about on a daily basis, much less worry about the appearance of, gooseflesh prevention was vital. He opened the door slowly, wondering if he'd get an eyeful of Harry and Ginny...

...reading?

"Are you sure, Harry? The book recommends a different position for beginners."

"I want him to see both of us, love. With enough pillows and lu..."

The candles flickered in the draft from the door, bringing their attention to Draco's entrance. He would have liked to flatter himself that they'd spent the entire time reading and waiting for his arrival, but the scratches all over Harry's back and the bite marks (especially one right at the juncture of Ginny's neck and shoulder) said otherwise.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Hi."

Well, that was scintillating.

Draco surveyed the room. "What's in the Samovar?"

"Is that what you call that thing? It's full of hot chocolate," Harry said.

Ginny giggled. "It's no ordinary chocolate, if I guess correctly. And it's spiked."

"Ooh... Is it that really pure stuff they call cocoa de amour?" Draco headed for the table, but Harry was up and had strong arms around him in an instant.

"Later. We're not here for the drinks," Harry said, his voice muffled as his lips traced the words on the back of Draco's neck.

"I'm here for the scenery," Ginny said with a grin, her eyes dancing appreciatively over both men. "Though the view would be better if you'd drop the towel."

Harry nibbled the back of Draco's neck. Suddenly, he sucked a bit of tender flesh into his mouth firmly and worried it with his teeth. Draco yipped.

"You're going to leave marks!"

"That's the idea." Harry spoke right into the hollow behind Draco's ear, a smirk in his voice. He set about making a neat, whimper-inducing row of scarlet love-bites.

Ginny caught on and took over decorating the front of Draco's neck. "What's wrong, Draco? Don't like your 'Gryffindor necklace'?" She giggled her question into the hollow of his throat.

"You're marking me?"

"We're... sharing you," Harry said, voice soft and soothing.

Then everything was a blur of passionate kisses, through a sort of sparkly black haze (possibly related to his eyes rolling back quite emphatically), Draco was aware of Ginny collapsing on him in a pile of warm softness. Then Harry wrapped his arms around both of them; someone was trembling, or maybe it was all three of them. All Draco knew for certain was he wanted to keep doing this.

And if that meant they wanted him to wear a collar... well, he was sure he could convince them to select something that would complement his eyes.

---

Vince was singing under his breath, a cheerful baritone accompanied by Greg whistling.

"Something parboiled, something in oil, something delectable, some real food, tonight!"

It probably should have offended Greg that Draco didn't have more appreciation for their musical abilities. Draco may have come up with most of the lyrics for 'Weasley is Our King,' but it all would have been just a lot of mediocre poetry without Greg and Vince's composing skills.

"Something delicious..."

It was a catchy little number, but Greg didn't think they should get their hopes up too high for this kitchen excursion. The house-elves' usual enthusiastic shower of sweets just wouldn't satisfy tonight, and it would take them longer than Greg cared to wait to actually cook something. Oh, well, he thought as he waited for Vince to deal with the pear. At least there'll be san...

"Do you smell that?"

Normally, Greg didn't care for having his thoughts interrupted. Granted, they weren't necessarily the most profound thoughts, but he rather liked them. He'd forgive Vince this time, though, since the kitchen fragrance was ample interruption on its own.

"If by 'that' you mean a sort of rich, meaty smell I'd tear down a door to get to..."

"So, you do smell it."

"Cordelia, it's burning!"

"Sod it, Vi!"

No way that's a house-elf.

Greg and Vince found themselves gawping at a rosy-cheeked girl, the sleeves of her Hufflepuff jumper rolled up and her face smudged with flour. She blushed and all but hid behind the heavenly-smelling pan of glazed vegetables she'd just rescued from the oven.

"Oi! You two! Don't just stand there like a couple of dogs outside the butcher shop! If you want a taste, fetch some dishes!" Another girl, so petite she'd hardly been visible beside her shy companion, shook a spoon at them, her bossiness at odds with her Hufflepuff tie.

The lads were spared having to locate the tableware. "Young masters mustn't trouble themselves; Nipsy brings the dishes, just like the ingredients young mistresses asks for, yes! Nipsy still doesn't understand why elf cooking isn't good enough for young mistresses..."

"Your cooking is fine," the petite one said. "We just love to cook and haven't been able to in ever so long."

"You were very helpful, getting the utensils and ingredients," the shy one added, her voice reassuring. Nipsy bounced away, beaming.

"That's the best looking Coq au Vin I've ever smelled," Greg said, staring at the dish being levitated to the table.

"Don't you mean the best you've ever seen?" Vince asked, nudging him.

"Yeah. Both."

"Thanks, luv," the petite Hufflepuff said, a self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

"Aren't you two usually with Malfoy?" the other asked, still blushing a little.

Vince was used to fielding questions when Draco wasn't around and stepped in automatically. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty much how we're known around here. I'm Vincent Crabbe; this is Gregory Goyle. For Merlin's sake, call us Vince and Greg unless you want to sound like our mothers."

"Cordelia Slade and Amethyst Grayson, but she's shy so everyone calls her Violet," Cordelia said, indicating her taller companion in a gesture reminiscent of the one Vince had used to introduce Greg. Greg wondered if the shorter of any pair of people was usually the more talkative.

"Well, it is my middle name," Violet mumbled. "Would you like to join us for a proper dinner?" she asked, looking at Vince with earnest brown eyes.

Cordelia's curls bounced prettily as she looked from Vince to Violet in surprise. "That's more than she usually says to anyone but me all day," she said, elbowing Greg in the ribs to drive the point home. "Blimey, I think she fancies your mate!"

Vince must have thought so as well, for he was already pulling out a chair for Violet. Cordelia summoned Nipsy to order bread and butterbeer, then stood next to an empty chair with an expectant look in her keen blue eyes. Greg hastened to follow Vince's example, then rounded the table to take his own seat.

The lads opened the ladies' butterbeers for them, and Greg surprised himself by proposing a toast. "To the cooks," he said, and Cordelia clinked her bottle against his with gusto. That was about it for conversation as the eating began in earnest, but even through his haze of gustatory enthusiasm, Greg noticed that a lot was being said with glances and little smiles between bites.

Heaven. This is absolute heaven.

"Vince?"

"Yeah, Greg?"

He chewed and swallowed, but never took his eyes off Cordelia. "I think I'm in love."

---

Picking a winner with Millicent and Pansy courtesy of broomclosetravenclaw.

The happy foursome (and we ain't talking bridge) was taken the rest of the way by SS Lupin with material developed by broomclosetravenclaw, et. al.; the Pomona and Aberforth prelude to gettin' it on is entirely SSL's responsibility, though.

Neville and Luna in the greenhouse courtesy of lux_astraea and wolfmoonshadow, from ideas brainstormed in chat.

Shacklebolt's recurring headaches courtesy of lux_astraea.

Granger/Snape courtesy of Just_Desmond and DawnEB.

Harry/Ginny/Draco and true love in the kitchens courtesy of dracontia.

Assorted remarks within the kitchen scene courtesy of Hubby_of_Drac.

If there's something vaguely familiar about the structure of Crabbe and Goyle's song, thank Steven Sondheim...who wrote the music and lyrics for 'Comedy Tonight', the featured song in 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum'.