Trick or Treat—Slytherin Style

A Prince Manor Halloween Tale

4/19/11 I have altered Hermione's place of residence after a discussion with Nice Huntress, who comes from Britain and pointed out to me that it made more sense for Hermione to come from Cambridgeshire rather than northern England. I bow to her greater knowledge of British culture and thank her for her helpful suggestion.

Chapter 1: Hermione's Plan

Draco looked up from his plate of fried chicken and noticed immediately that his brother was gone from the hall. He frowned, wondering where Harry could have gotten to. Then he recalled that Halloween was the anniversary of Lily's death, and assumed Harry might have gone for a walk or something to get away from all the loud music and kids screaming and giggling like insane hyenas. He turned back to his fried chicken, wondering if Hermione would like to dance later on? If the band played any decent music, that is.

Finishing his dinner, he carefully wiped his face and hands with a linen napkin, he didn't want to get grease on Hermione's lips or her dress when he held her and kissed her before or after the dance. He rose to his feet, ignoring the mutters and stares of disapproval from some of the older Slytherins, who didn't approve of snakes dating lions. Frankly, Draco could give a damn. As far as he was concerned, he could date a hippopotamus if he chose and the other snakes would have to put up or shut up.

He made his way to the Gryffindor table, where Hermione was looking over some Arithmancy notes while munching upon a carrot stick. Draco did a doubletake. Carrot sticks? Who ate carrot sticks on Halloween?

Hermione looked up when he cleared his throat. "Draco! Sorry, I was trying to solve this equation, I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I noticed. Mione, why are you eating carrot sticks? It's Halloween."

She blushed and looked down at the vegetable in her hand. "Uh, force of habit. My parents are dentists, remember? They never let me have anything really sweet on Halloween. Too much sugar rots your teeth."

"Oh. Right." He lowered his voice then whispered mischievously, "Then why haven't Dumbledore's teeth fallen out by now? He eats more sweets than anyone I know."

Hermione giggled. "Maybe he conjures them back when it happens?" she suggested.

Draco laughed. "I could see him doing that, the old coot." He held out his hand. "Why don't you come and dance with me instead of studying? Give yourself a break, bookworm."

Hermione pretended to consider his offer, then she shut her book and banished it back to her room. "All right, Mr. Malfoy. Let's see how well you can trip the light fantastic."

"Say what?"

"It's a Muggle expression. It means let's see how well you can dance." Hermione explained, taking his hand.

"Very well. I've been taking dance lessons since I was about five, I think. My mother made me."

"Me too. I had ballet and jazz, my mum thought it was good exercise for me," Hermione sighed. "But at least I won't trip over my own feet."

They began to dance to the music, which was a screaming horror of a wizard version of heavy metal—it had barely any rhythm or melody, but Draco and Hermione did their best to dance to it.

Draco grimaced. "This music is bloody awful." He had to practically yell to be heard.

Hermione nodded, but could barely hear him. They moved about the floor, staying as far away as possible from the band. The other students were trying to dance also, but most of them looked like drunken sailors on shore leave.

Draco twirled Hermione about in a half circle. He was so intent upon her that he didn't notice his father come up behind him.

Severus tapped Draco on the shoulder. "Draco, where's your brother?"

Draco looked up. "Uh, I don't know. Last I saw he was headed somewhere with Katie. Why?"

"I need to speak with him." Severus replied. "I will see you later. Try not to gorge yourself sick on sweets and don't stay up too late."

"Yes, sir," Draco rolled his eyes at the typical parental litany. Then he turned back to dancing with Hermione, who was smiling in amusement.

"What's so funny, Mione?"

"He sounds so much like my dad."

"Oh." Draco shook his head. "Guess it comes with the territory."

Hermione was getting a headache from the pounding music and suddenly she came up with a brilliant inspiration. It was totally mad, of course, and she knew Draco would say she was out of her head and probably refuse to do it, but she couldn't resist telling him about it.

"Let's go outside in the garden!" she yelled in his ear. "We can hear better there."

"All right. Why?"

"I have something to tell you."

She led him out into the rose garden, which was somewhat shielded from the thundering screeching and pounding that passed as music. Draco leaned against a pillar, his legs crossed, looking expectantly at his girlfriend.

"I just had an idea. Now, hear me out before you tell me I'm crazy, okay?"


She gazed at him appreciatively before saying, all in a rush, "That music in there is giving me a tension headache and I was thinking of all the fun I used to have when I was a kid trick-or-treating on Halloween. My friends and I used to go all over our neighborhood and get sweets and stuff and dress up in costumes and scare each other silly. It was great! And so I was thinking . . .what if we went and did that?"


"In my old neighborhood, of course. I live in Cambridgeshire, near Oxford University. We'd need to Floo partially, but once we got to Diagon Alley we could ride our brooms the rest of the way. We could wear costumes and everything. It could be your chance to meet my parents incognito, and experience Muggle culture. Plus, it's loads of fun."

"You can't be serious! Me, dress like a Muggle?"

"Don't be such a snob, Draco!" she scolded, smacking him lightly on the head. "We'll be in costume, and it won't kill you to act like a normal person once in awhile, instead of a spoiled aristocrat."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Was I really acting like that? Sorry. I don't mean to. It's just sometimes . . .I forget I'm not the heir of Malfoy Manor anymore. Well, I mean I am literally, but . . ." he trailed off awkwardly.

"I know what you mean. You can't help how you were raised, Draco."

"No, but I can help my attitude, as Dad would say." Draco sighed. "All right. I'll do it. But you had better not make me wear anything ridiculous, Granger."

Hermione jumped into his arms and kissed him. "I love you, Draco!"

He grinned and kissed her back. "Now that's what I like to hear. Say it again, won't you?"

She did, and he basked in the sound of her voice and the feel of her lips against his. "Now, let's see. What kind of costume would suit you?"

He frowned worriedly. "Uh, why can't we just wear our school uniforms? No Muggle would know what they were."

"Draco, that's cheating. You're supposed to dress up as something you normally wouldn't be on Halloween. It can be something funny or scary or cute."

"Like what?"

"Hush, I'm thinking." Her brow furrowed and after five minutes she cried, "I've got it! We'll go as a princess and a dragon. You can be the dragon, it fits cause your name means that, and I'll be the princess. That fits too because in Greek legends, Hermione was a Spartan princess, the daughter of King Menelaus of Sparta and Helen of Troy. It's perfect!"

Draco looked less than thrilled. "If you say so. But I have one thing, if I'm going to be a dragon, I'm making it a Slytherin dragon—green and silver colored, with small wings, more like a large serpent than a dragon."

"Fine. That sounds pretty neat. We'll go trick-or-treating—Slytherin style."

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into the castle towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, knowing they wouldn't be disturbed there.

"Uh . . .Mione, why are we going in a girl's bathroom?" Draco asked, balking before the door. "I wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea about me."

"That you're a cross dresser?" she asked saucily.

Draco choked. "Hermione!"

"What?" she said impishly. "I think you'd look cute in a dress." Then she burst out laughing. "Only kidding. Come on, Dragonheart. Nobody will notice, they're all at the feast and everyone knows this bathroom is haunted. Harry, Ron, and I brewed Polyjuice Potion in it our second year and nobody ever knew it."

"You've got to be kidding! You—breaking rules? How much punch did you drink?"

"Draco, honestly! I'm not pure as the driven snow, even though I don't like breaking rules, sometimes it's necessary. Now get in here." She opened the door and hauled him into the bathroom.

"What were you brewing the Polyjuice Potion for?" Draco asked.

"To find out who Slytherin's Heir was." Hermione admitted. "Never mind that now. We need to concentrate on making you a costume."

She rolled up her sleeves, pointed her wand, and began Transfiguring. Myrtle soared out of her toilet to see what was going on and cackled loudly. "Oooh . . .that's really funny! What are you doing, Granger? Something naughty with Malfoy?"

The ghost girl stuck her tongue out at Draco, then crossed her eyes and perched upon the sink.

Hermione transfigured two rolls of toilet paper into some large boots that were shaped like dragon feet, with glittering green scales and silver talons. She changed two hand towels into a pair of dragon gloves and then she made Draco's robes into the body of the costume. Finally, she made the head out of a broken faucet head. It was a full mask, and the dragon looked real enough to breathe fire.

"Well, what do you think? Slytherin enough for you?"

Draco whistled. "It's brilliant! And so are you, Mione. Help me put it on?"

She did, and she had made the mask hinged so that Draco could push the head off and it attached at the back of the neck. "How about you?"

Hermione looked challengingly at him. "Your turn, Malfoy. Make me a princess."

Draco blinked. "Okay." He thought hard.

Then he pointed his wand and Transfigured Hermione's ordinary school uniform into a gorgeous dress of ice blue taffeta and tissue that had small sparkles woven in it. It fit closely, like a medieval lady's gown, with an underdress of icy blue tissue and the outer one was of heavier taffeta with the sparkles woven into it. The bodice was just low enough to tempt a second look, but not so low as to be demeaning. The bodice had sparkling silver lace about it and she also had a silver web necklace on with a large aqua drop hanging from it.

Hermione turned and looked in the mirror. "Oh! My hair!"

Her bushy frizzy hair was now wrapped and coiled about her head in dozens of braids and dusted with silver glitter. She also had a small silver tiara and matching shoes of silver and blue.

"Well? Like it?"

"Draco . . .it's . . .I have no words . . .you've made me look like a real princess."

"That's because you are one. At least to me you are," he said tenderly. "All right, now what?"

"Now we get pillowcases and our brooms."

"Pillowcases?" His eyebrow rose into his hair.

"To put our sweets in."

"Oh. Hermione, if your parents didn't let you have sweets what did you do with the ones you got?"

She gave him a guilty smile. "The ones I didn't like I traded with my friends. The other ones I hid beneath my bed. I ate them when my parents were asleep, while I was reading."

Draco shook a playful finger at her.

"Such a naughty girl!" howled Myrtle. "No wonder you like going out with him. He's a bad boy too!"

"Aw, dry up, Myrtle!" Draco ordered irritably.

Hermione summoned a pillowcase and her broom, casting a Featherlight Charm on the pillowcase, so it would remain light as a feather no matter how many sweets were put in it.

Draco followed her lead, for once, and soon they were slipping out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Draco had pulled his dragon costume's head on so no one would recognize him.

The two tiptoed, or at least Hermione did, out of the castle, and then they mounted their brooms and soared into the sky. It was a fantastic night, clear and the full moon shone pale and perfect down upon them. Hermione looked back at Draco, grinned and said, "Come on, Dragonheart, let's go visit my old neighborhood. Oh, and one more thing, try not to scare any little kids."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Spoilsport. What's the point of being a dragon if you can't scare people?"

"You're supposed to be a good dragon." She argued.

"Says who?"

She huffed, then reasoned that it would be unrealistic for to expect a Slytherin to behave on Halloween. "Fine. You can scare anyone who deserves it, but not the little babies and primary school kids."

"Agreed. Scaring the little ones isn't fun, because they cry and then I get a headache." Draco said. Plus, he didn't like making little kids cry, though he would never admit it. "I'll just scare the little brats who are being nasty."

Hermione smiled and then she turned her broom towards Hogsmeade. They would Floo from there to The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, since Hermione lived in Cambridgeshire, close to Oxford University, and that was too far to travel by broomstick in one night and still get there and back by curfew. But they could do it in stages, partly by Floo powder and the rest by broom, since the brooms could fly very fast and there would be no traffic in the air to slow them down.

This is for all those Draco/Hermione worshippers out there! Have a Happy Halloween!

You all got a double feature today, since I also posted a new short HP fic called Split Second as well! After you read this, check it out! It's a bittersweet little tale. Thanks for reading!

I'll have the next part posted soon.