The Gloriana Set

Halloween, Part II

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story!

It's funny how so many major characters and plot threads in this story—Slughorn, Pansy, Ernie and his festival, the Squeaky Mice, PORN, Lavender's crush on Draco, even Hermione's LOOP—were originally supposed to be cameos or just a fun little joke. Next thing you know, they're driving the plot!

Anyway, we continue on with the Halloween Festival in all its crumbling glory. I had originally envisioned a typically awe-inspiring Hogwarts celebration, perhaps a marvelous masquerade overflowing with beauty and breathless magic. But then I decided to subvert the whole darn trope and this is all our poor characters get.

Love,

Thebe

"Hello, Malfoy," Hermione said, brightly polite. "Here to buy a raffle ticket?"

Malfoy's lip curled. "Hardly."

A pair of snifty little Slytherin boys then stepped up to the raffle table, looking like mini-Malfoys with their hair slicked back.

"Raffle tickets?" Hermione asked in the same cheery tone. "Proceeds go to St. Mungo's."

The boys looked at the 14-volume stack of "Herbs of Desire" and sneered identical sneers.

"Forget it," the taller boy said. Hermione gave him a look. "Uh, no thank you, Miss Granger."

"Two Sickles each," Malfoy said. He casually pushed up his black coat sleeve and shirt cuff, revealing just the edge of a snake and skull on his forearm. The boys stared wide-eyed, then practically broke their arms getting coins out of their pockets. Hermione handed them two tickets and watched them flee.

"Draco Malfoy using the Dark Mark to sell charity tickets," she said with a grin. "You're giving Death Eaters a bad name." She touched the chair beside her, a silent invitation.

Malfoy slid gracefully into the chair but didn't look at her. His pale profile shone in the lamplight. "They're still out there, you know," he said soberly. "Scattered and leaderless, but watching."

"Yes," was all she said. She knew Harry and the other aurors were chasing every lead in their hunt for Death Eaters still at large. She was surprised Kingsley hadn't returned with another warrant to question Malfoy.

"Aren't you afraid, knowing they're out there?" he asked.

"Not right now," she said, sipping her punch. It did taste rather awful.

He snorted lightly in disbelief, still looking out at the rather listless crowd. "You feel safe at Hogwarts?"

"I feel safe with you."

Malfoy's profile froze, then he slowly turned his head toward her, shifting in his chair. Hermione didn't look away. It was the truth. Of course Hogwarts was a dangerous place, she'd known that since First Year. The war might be over, but danger still lurked in dark corners, and Hermione never felt safe these days unless she was with the wizard beside her.

Malfoy was still staring at her—nobody, it was clear, had said such a thing to him before. His warm hand found hers under the table. "I can't believe you said that," he whispered, a slight tremble to his voice.

"Number three," she said, trying to keep her own voice steady.

Malfoy blinked at her, confused.

"Number three on the 'Gratitude' list: 'Say Something Nice to Draco.'"

He gave her a predatory smile. "Feel free to skip ahead."