"Draco is the Darkling Prince of Halloween Land…or is he? Wasn't he back at Hogwarts for his final year of school? Weren't he and Harry just starting to get along?

At least he has started to remember; Harry has no clue he's not where he's supposed to be. However, he has had the strangest dream about a blond boy he's never met, but seems to be in love with…

Time is running out and it's up to Draco to find Harry and get them back to the real world, before they are lost forever."

Author's note 27-11-16: Back in early October I decided to write a little fic for Halloween, taking inspiration from one of my favourite films, "The Nightmare Before Christmas". Things got rapidly out of hand however, and several weeks later I had a 60K word novel-length fic. Whoops! I've really enjoyed working on this though, so I hope you enjoy reading it!

It is 18 chapters long with an epilogue, so I've decided to release it 3 chapters at a time, every other day. But it is definitely finished and unless there's an absolute disaster, I won't deviate from that schedule!

It's not just a Halloween fic, it's also a Christmas fic, so it seemed perfect to release it on November 27th-28th, as that's halfway between the two holidays :)

There's a lot of action as well as feels in this one. There is also some allusions to horror themes (but not many) and one mild smutty reference. Other than that, I don't think there are any other warnings you need? It's just one long ball of fluff really!

So here we go, the first three chapters, I hope you enjoy!

Juliet xxx

I

Prince Draco gazed out over the city from where he stood at his bedroom balcony. The pale sun was climbing incrementally higher in the grey sky, bringing another day to the Land of Halloween. He had been there since dawn, his hands resting on the wrought iron railings, peering down like a gargoyle at the twisted tips of the city's buildings.

He had awoken with something in his chest unsettling him, although he couldn't say exactly what, and it was with an absent mind that he'd dressed and readied himself an hour or so before. But even after so long in contemplation, he still had no idea of the source of his melancholy.

The people were starting to rise, and a gentle hubbub was mounting as they went about their business. After the thrill and excitement of the previous night's annual festivities, the cobbled streets gave off a sleepy air, of a general sense of a job well done.

Coming to the conclusion that he wasn't going to find any answers watching the world go by, Draco decided to vacate the royal castle and mingle amongst the masses. It would do him good to hear their stories of how their hauntings had gone in the Land of the Living, and maybe he could shake the strange feeling that had settled in his heart.

He crossed his large bedroom, nodding to the spiders as they remade their webs around his four-poster bed. "Good morning sirs," he said, tipping his head and fetching his black top hat and tails in order to head outside.

"Good morning Prince Draco!" the spiders squeaked back in unison.

He took himself onto the landing, past the broken mirrors and muttering suits of armour. "Good morning Beatrice," he said to the translucent maid at the top of the sweeping staircase.

"Ahh good morning Your Highness," she said happily. "It's a wonderful gloomy day in the kingdom. Are you going into town?"

Draco inclined his head in affirmation as he slipped his arms through his morning coat. She was always a dear, old Beatrice, and he felt his spirits lifted a little just to have her fussing over him.

"Well, I'm glad to see you've bundled up. Breakfast is served if you're hungry before you go?"

He wasn't, but he thanked her anyway, and complimented her on the dustiness of the banisters.

"Oh," she said coyly. "Thank you Your Highness, I do try." She sprinkled a little more down as she floated on by, before vanishing through the wall.

The Weeping Queen was already seated in the breakfast room when he entered, sipping cold tea from under her black veil. "Draco, darling," she said, noticing his attire. "Will you not eat?"

Draco shook his head as he kissed his mother's cheek through the lace. "I'm feeling rather restless, I thought I might walk down to the hanging tree, see what news the skeletons have of last night."

The queen frowned, or so Draco could tell through the material over her face, and shifted beneath her skirts. "I'm sure the mayor will release a full statement later," she assured him. The mayor had held all the real power in Halloween since The Twilight King's demise several years ago, and although Draco knew that as well as the next citizen, he resented the idea of having to wait for his say-so on anything, let alone the All Hallows Eve report.

"I didn't sleep well," he said by way of an explanation. "I fancy a stroll to clear the bats from the belfries."

"Very well dear," she sighed, and waved him off.

The air was wonderfully dank as he crossed over the drawbridge, and as he breathed in deep he counted how many sharks he could see in the slimy moat below. "Morning ladies!" he called down. They snapped their jaws playfully and growled a chorus of hellos.

Pumpkins lined the pavements, gossiping idly as Draco strolled into the city centre, and he listened to the buzzards as they cawed and swooped overhead. He had half a mind to pop into Rag Doll's and grab a bloodshake for breakfast, but he was still feeling out of sorts, and he figured too much iron might upset his stomach. So instead he walked through the abbey, nodding a greeting to the headless monks as they tended to their ebony black horses. The heads were perched in the window sills above them, shouting down instructions. "No!" one cried down to its body. "How many times – you're brushing the wrong end!"

The prince chuckled to himself, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and minding his polished boots as he skirted around the horses' droppings on the cobbles. He still may not feel quite right, but at least walking around other people was giving him something else to think about.

"Get!" a witch screeched to his right, lunging out the front door of a terraced house, brandishing her broomstick above her head. "Get OUT you troublesome pest!"

A small, stocky dog shot out from between her legs, followed closely by a ginger cat that stopped at the witch's heels, hissing and arching its back. The dog barked back up at the woman, whose pointy hat was askew as she shook her broom again.

"If I catch you sniffing around here again-" she began to threaten.

The dog was black with huge bat-like ears and a squashed up face. He was wearing fake bat wings on a harness across his back, and looked wholly unconcerned by the old hag's words. Instead, he gave her a toothy smile, then lifted his leg and started to pee on the cobbled stones in front of her house.

"Oh you menace!" she howled, and jerked as if to chase him off. But the dog, having finished his business, merely shook himself and scampered off, his tongue lolling out as he grinned smugly.

Draco couldn't help but smile too as the witch slammed her door shut again, and he carried on walking the same way as the dog. "That was a bit rude now, wasn't it?" he admonished playfully. His mother had taught him never to be afraid of speaking to the people of the realm as they were all equal by All Hallowed law, and as funny as he thought the dog's little display was, it was his duty to promote harmony.

The dog however turned his head and glanced up at him with a frown, then plonked his arse on the stone as he looked him up and down. "And who exactly are you supposed to be, Sunshine?" he asked in a low, gravelly voice.

Draco blinked at him and watched as he scratched behind his ear with his back paw. "Excuse me?" he asked, finding it hard not to be insulted.

The dog didn't seem bothered though. "You a new arrival?"

"I am Draco, Darkling Prince and Lord of the Realm," he said indignantly. "And you'll kindly address me as Your Highness."

The dog smacked his lips and stood, shaking himself and making the costume bat wings wiggle. "Nah, you ain't," he said. "I can tell, not like all these other numpties. You weren't here yesterday, and now you are. And what with it being Halloween last night, I'm guessing you got pulled down."

He started to trot away, and Draco was only able to stare at him for a moment, before hurrying after him. "What the Devil are you talking about?" he asked, perplexed, but the little dog just sighed, bored.

"Well," he said, which with his rough accent sounded more like "Wew." "You found a portal I'm guessing, and they're always weakest near the date of their own holiday. Ringing any bells?"

"No," Draco said, folding his arms.

The dog grunted. "You found a doorway what looked like a pumpkin on a tree, and you fell through it. Happens more often than you'd think."

Draco stopped walking and let his hands fall, his gaze not quite focused on anything at all. "What did you say?" he asked.

"Pumpkin door – you remembering now?" the dog said, pausing to look up at him. "If it's your first day, you should still be able to remember."

Draco shook his head, dismissing the idea. So what if he could picture a door like the dog was describing, that was just a case of using his imagination. "I took part in the annual hauntings yesterday, just like I do every year," he said. "There was no pumpkin door, I slipped through the shadows in the cemetery like everyone else up into the Living Land and back again. Nothing I haven't done time and again."

The dog shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, unconcerned as he sniffed at the bottom of a drain pipe. "What do I care if you never get home?"

Draco drew himself up taller. "I am home," he said, but something tickled abruptly at the back of his mind. The word 'home' made him think of a castle, sure, but it wasn't the castle that loomed behind them. It also made him think of a grand house, and a woman with light blond hair. He shook his head and pushed that thought away. His mother was back in the dining hall, finishing her breakfast and readying herself for a good day's wailing.

"Tell me exactly what you did yesterday," the dog said, sitting himself down on his hip again. "Take me through, from start to finish."

Draco frowned at such a silly question. "Why should I?"

The dog gave a little grown and then barked. "Ruff! Just answer the question…" He rolled his eyes. "Your Highness."

Draco was irritated, but he also knew he hadn't been feeling right since he had risen, so he figured he might as well play along with this nonsense for the time being. "Well, I woke, washed, dressed especially for the day-"

"What did you wear?"

Draco thought that was an even more ridiculous thing to ask, but he found he couldn't quite answer the question right away, like he thought he would. Instead, he looked down at himself and pulled at his lace cravat. "Much the same as this, I suppose."

The dog huffed. "You suppose?" he repeated. "Give me details."

Draco opened his mouth again, trying to picture what shade of coat he'd worn, the design of his cufflinks, the cut of his boots.

He found he couldn't recall a single thing.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, he was aware he had a whole wardrobe full of clothes; he knew which trousers went best with which shirts, he had a fine collection of capes and handkerchiefs and belts, and he had inherited a number of silk waistcoats from his father after his passing. He had crafted a certain look, and now he found the people had come to expect it, so he supposed it wasn't all that unusual he couldn't quite pinpoint precisely what he had worn the day before.

"The waistcoat yesterday was navy," he lied, thinking of one he had hanging up back in his room. "The trousers dove grey. Happy?"

He wasn't sure what it meant to the dog to know either way, but it irked him he couldn't answer properly. He should just walk away, stop engaging with this ridiculous beast, but the odd feeling he'd woken up with was still lingering, and now this creature was challenging him on what he could remember, he wondered if the gaps in his mind were related.

"Hmmm," said the dog, clearly not convinced. "Okay, what did you eat, what was your dinner?"

"Bat spleen soup," said Draco immediately. It was one of his favourites. "With toadstool risotto and pumpkin…pumpkin…" He blinked. He knew he and his mother had dined on pumpkin rind, but he was also recalling a steaming hot pumpkin pie, with several scoops of melting ice cream. He grimaced. That sounded far too sweet for his liking, but he was seeing it quite clearly in his mind's eye. He was sat at a long table full of others around his age, all eating and making merry.

Who were they? He was sure he didn't know them. Except…he had been sitting next to a girl he felt very familiar with, with jet black hair bobbed just under her ear lobes. She had placed her hand on his knee, and leaned in to whisper to him. "Be patient," were the words she'd uttered, but that was wrong – wrong wrong wrong!

"No," Draco said, shaking his head. The castle he turned to look up at now, his life-long home, had no such hall, and he'd never seen those people before. He couldn't have, they weren't residents of Halloween Land, he was sure…wasn't he?

"You alright there?" the dog asked with a modicum more sympathy.

"I'm fine," Draco snapped. He was probably getting confused with a bad dream. That was what those images were most likely, and also the probable cause of his strange mood this morning.

"Sure," the dog agreed in an infuriating placating tone. "How about after that, after you went up and did your hauntings. You remember going to bed?"

Draco opened his mouth to say that of course he did, he'd woken up in his room as usual after all. But he couldn't quite picture himself specifically doing it last night. He knew he normally changed into his night robe and read for an hour or so, listening to the groaning and the clanking of the castle to sooth him off to sleep. But last night felt like a distant and hazy memory, not solid at all.

"Why can't I remember?" he rasped, feeling a prick of fear dance up his spine.

The dog trotted over to him and rested a paw on his shiny boot. "It's alright Sunshine," he said kindly, which surprised Draco somewhat. "It'll come back to you, just think. What's real?"

Here, this was real, Draco stubbornly thought. This was his home town, he'd spent his whole life in Halloween Land, he knew every nook and cranny of it, and these other images were just the result of some poorly digested mushrooms.

But they wouldn't leave him be. He could feel that girl's hand on his knee, the earnest twinkle in her dark eyes making his stomach flip over. They'd been looking at a boy, and Draco's heart actually contracted in his chest as he recalled his messy black hair, the reflection of the candlelight on his glasses…

Now who was he?

"I don't know," he whispered, not wanted to confess out loud. "I don't know what's real. Why do I have other memories? It's like…they're side by side?"

The dog grinned toothily at him. "That sounds about right," he said.

"How can it be right?" Draco snapped, fear making his temper short. "It's nonsense, that's what it is."

The dog huffed. "No need to get testy, Your Highness. Ain't my fault you fell through a portal."

"I did no such thing," Draco retorted, even as the same image of the pumpkin on the tree came to mind.

"Suit yourself, grumpy pants," the dog said with a roll of his eyes, scratching himself again. His fabric wings were strange; Draco didn't understand why he was wearing a costume, like someone from the Living Land might?

"Why would you say these things?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The dog shrugged. "It ain't the first time I've seen this," he said. "It's rare, but I've seen plenty like you before, and it takes a good bit a prompting for you to override what they've done to your head."

"They?" Draco asked, not liking the sound of that. He thought of the mayor and his council, always meddling where they didn't belong.

But the dog nodded. "They, them, the usual ominous undertones a secretive governing body usually implies. They dragged you down here and messed with your mind. If I hadn't of said anything, you would never have known."

"So…" Draco began, trying to unravel what was going on. "You think I'm not really the prince?"

The dog squinted at him. "No clue what you might be up there," he said with a flick of his eyes to the cloudy sky. "But down here, nah. Sorry mate, there weren't no prince here yesterday, but now everyone thinks there was. It's just the way it works. They shift everyone's reality, so they don't remember it being any different."

Draco rubbed his forehead. "I don't understand," he said, his insides writhing like snakes. What was going on?

The dog sighed. "Alright, here's bones of it, you ready?" Draco wasn't sure he was, but he was tired of talking in circles, so he nodded. "You were living up there – in the Land of the Living," he started explain. "The veils between worlds are week on the days of their holidays, but to actually fall through…" He shook his head. "I'm guessing you're one of those wizard types, using magic and all that, that always exacerbates things."

Magic – now that did spark something in Draco's mind. "Magic – I have a magic wand," he cried, his hands automatically flying to his trouser pockets, but of course there was nothing there. "Or I did?"

"Still do, I imagine," the dog said. "Just not with you right now. You starting to get it?" he asked hopefully, his tail giving a tentative flick back and forth.

Draco looked at his hands, at the black nail varnish that this morning had seemed essential and now felt totally out of place. What was happening, why was he struggling to remember who he was? He was a Prince…wasn't he?

"What's going on?" he rasped.

The dog licked his nose. "It's alright mate, take your time. But," he added with a tilt of his head. "Not too much time. We're on a clock here."

"Is this..." Draco began, starting to pace widthways across the cobbled street between the crooked terraced houses. "Is this even real?"

"Oh it's definitely real, I'm afraid," the dog scoffed. "It's just not where you come from, not who you think you are."

"My name is Draco," he announced with sudden defiance. "Darkling Prince of the Land of Halloween." But…was that all? Why had he awoken with such a startling sense of unease, of misplacement?

What were those peculiar images he had floating around his head? The more he focused on that grand hall with the feast, the clearer it became. He could see so much green and silver, and he thought again to that idea he'd had about the wand.

"My name is Draco…Malfoy," he said with sudden clarity. He covered his mouth with his hand. He rolled the word around in his mind. Malfoy. Yes, that was right. But how could it be? "What's happening?" he whispered. He was a prince, but he was equally sure he was a wizard too, a student no less.

It was all coming crashing down now.

He went to a school called Hogwarts, he was the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and despite what his memory was trying to tell him, he had never set foot in this Halloween place until that day. "I've been bloody kidnapped and brainwashed!"

The dog rose to all fours. "Bingo, there we go," he said impatiently and scrubbed at the stone floor with his clawed feet. "Remember who you really are now?"

"Yes," he snapped. He wasn't sure why he had thought he was a prince, but it seemed he did. But those memories were now paling in comparison to the life he'd been living before, the people he'd known. Sure, it had been Halloween the day before, he had been at the feast at Hogwarts; but it was a celebration, it wasn't a place. "The question is what the hell am I doing here?"

The dog – the talking dog, Draco abruptly realised in light of reclaiming his full memory back – raised his eyebrows, or the closest doggy equivalent. "Magic portal," he said dryly. "Pumpkin door, you said you remembered that much?"

"Yes, yes," Draco griped. "I was in the Forbidden Forest. And – oh." He felt his face drop and his stomach bottom out. "I wasn't alone." As the false memories faded, Draco could now see quite clearly what had happened to him yesterday, and his stomach rinsed cold with a mild amount of horror. "I was at my school," he began recalling out loud to his new unlikely friend. "My magic school," he amended, remembering what the dog had said about that being important. "We have a feast every year at Halloween."

"I thought you guys went trick or treating?" the dog questioned, but Draco waved him off.

"That's more of an American thing, and we're in the middle-of-nowhere Scotland anyway. That's not really the point now, though."

"Then what is?" the dog asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Harry."

Harry was always the point, wasn't he?

It had been different since they had returned to school. Draco had been determined to turn over a new leaf and start again, without anyone telling him who he was supposed to be, or more importantly, blackmailing him into killing anyone. What he had not expected though, was for Harry to do the same, to drop their old rivalry for the silly, childish thing it had been. And in place of that animosity, something else had grown with alarming speed. Something warm, something friendly.

Draco had always known what his true feelings towards Harry were, even as a small child. But now they were teetering on the edge of adulthood, there was no way he could deny the attraction that simmered under his skin, even if he had never dared to speak the words out loud.

He completely, hopelessly, fancied the pants off of Harry bloody Potter.

"What's a Harry?" the dog asked.

"Harry is my…friend." It was strange to say that out loud, but seeing at the dog was a stranger, and he was Merlin only knew how far away from home, Draco felt himself emboldened. "And he was with me last night."

His stomach did a flip. That wasn't quite how it happened, but it sort of made it sound like they were together together. The truth was though, the opposite was precisely why Draco had stormed off into the Forbidden Forest in the first place.

It had emerged slowly, their new friendship. The mere lack of animosity had been a good enough start, but then Harry had offered to pair with him in Potions when Blaise and Pansy had abandoned him by teaming up together. However, Granger and Weasley had done the same to Harry, and afterwards Draco had suspected that maybe Pansy had left him on his own on purpose. Not that he and Harry had spoken much during the next couple of hours, but then later that day they had shared a sofa in the combined Eight Year common room, and Harry had even smiled at him.

Seeing as the Eight Years had a great deal of independence compared to the regular students, there had been a dramatic increase in inter-house social activities. There were big parties at the weekends and smaller gatherings during the week to play games or study together. Trips to Hogsmeade were popular as were informal Quidditch games, and Draco had found that he and Harry were spending more time together than ever.

Polite hellos had become actual conversations, and Draco's heart had become a pathetic flutter of nerves whenever they said more than a few words to each other. For whatever reason, Harry had decided to forgive him, at least enough not to treat up with open distain, and Draco couldn't remember a time he had felt happier.

And then Halloween had rolled around.

Draco knew, he knew, that when Harry had asked if he would be going to the feast it was just a general enquiry. But he couldn't seem to stop himself from hoping that that meant that he wanted him to be there…so they could spend some time together. Together together.

But then he'd gone and sat at the other end of the bloody table, and spent the whole time talking with people that weren't him. And then he had gone over to Ginny Weasley.

Oh, everyone knew they were just friends now, that the romance has fizzled out and that Weasley even had her eye on a certain doe-eyed Ravenclaw now if rumours were to be believed. But the fact that Harry would rather talk to her over Draco had made something in him snap, and he had stomped off before anyone could dissuade him otherwise, not thinking about where he was going, just that he'd needed to get Harry's smiles to other people out of his sight.

He'd never meant to end up in the forest, but he'd been so distracted by Harry following him, he'd not really been paying much attention. He was determined to stay angry, even though Harry didn't really deserve it. He'd obviously not tried to piss Draco off on purpose, but Draco hadn't wanted to admit why he'd left the party, despite Harry's persistent questioning.

"What did you say the portal looked like?" he asked, his memories become hazy towards the end.

The dog considered him, his hazel eyes scrunched in concentration. "Never seen one myself," he said. "But I heard enough stories. You see, there's not just one portal – they go to all the holiday lands."

Draco raised his eyebrows in alarm. "There's not just Halloween Land?" he enquired.

The dog shook his head. "So, if what I've heard is right, there would have been a ring of trees, each with a different door. One would have been a pumpkin, the one that would have brought you here."

Draco nodded. He and Harry had stopped walking he remembered, and Draco had become increasingly embarrassed at his earlier overreacting, not helped by the fact that Harry had kept trying to guess what was wrong. Knowing that he'd cared, that he'd come after him at all, made Draco feel warm and toasty in the here and now, despite all the other things that had obviously gone wrong afterwards.

As they had stopped, and Draco had valiantly attempted to rustle up some courage and maybe do something drastic like tell Harry how he'd felt, Harry had lit his wand. Which meant now he could recall what had been painted on the trees, at least, to a certain extent.

"I don't remember the pumpkin," he admitted. "I was pulled backwards once everything started going crazy. But there definitely were other symbols – other doors. And Harry…" He chewed his lip and brought up his last memory, before everything had gotten dark. "Harry went through another one, he didn't come with me."

He felt himself deflate in disappointment. But the dog didn't seem deterred. "Alright then," he said with gusto. "Not to worry, Sunshine. First thing's first: which door did he go through then?"