Samhain
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and whoever else is earning every cent there
is that concerns HP
Illustrations for the story found on my bio page.
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It was the night when the laws of space and time were insignificant. Time stood still, as the old Celts would say. It was the only time that the spirits were free to mingle with the living and be able to possess the mortal bodies as a chance for the afterlife.
But, that was then.
Now, Samhain was called Halloween and Halloween was a festival where people wore costumes of various sorts while mingling with others. Besides, in Hogwarts, spirits or ghosts were part of the norm. Who would dare ignore Peeves?
It was a night of magic and mystery. People wore masks and dressed up in clothes they would not wear on a normal day. It was a time when the creative minds would explore varying themes just to come up with something different to do.
It was a night when they could feel free. This was when pranks were legal and expected, accepted good-naturedly. This was when people would laugh together even if they didn't know who the other person was. This night was the night when people would hardly care who they were and where they're from.
It was a night of masquerade that Ron Weasley wanted to attend but would rather not. For one, he didn't have a mask. Two, he didn't have a nice robe. Three, he didn't want to ask anymore and experience The Horror that was once known as the Yule Ball. However, his friends would not have it. Not Hermione. Not Harry. Even his traitor of a sister had her part in it. They made sure Ron Weasley would attend.
Hermione transfigured leaves to come together as a solid mask. Harry took robes and sweaters from Ron's trunk and let Ginny attempt sewing things together. Ron did not want to hurt Ginny's feelings even if he could tolerate mouthing off to both his best friends. So, he wore what Ginny worked for days and nights.
He was wearing a brown robe. At least the robe reached all the way down his ankles and he silently thanked the miracle that Ginny came up with that stretched the cloth long enough to cover the rest of his legs. She had sewn the brown vest together with the skirt, which he assumed was an old cloak that he once owned when he was in his first year. Just to make sure, he wore pants underneath the robe because he did not trust Ginny's sewing all that much. Besides, he wanted to leave the masquerade as soon as possible.
He wore his orange shirt and then the white long sleeved shirt that once belonged to Bill. It was missing a few buttons and he'd rather wear an orange undershirt than walk around with a plunging neckline.
He looked at the mirror and sighed. The mirror sighed with him.
"Pauper."
"Shut up."
Ron snorted and glared at the reflection of the other boy who just walked in the Prefect's bathroom.
"Quite perfect, if you ask me. You look exactly like what you are."
Draco walked over and stood right next to Ron, facing the full length mirror that stretched wider to accommodate two reflections. He admired himself and fixed the silver chain that dangled from one shoulder and to the hook just below his collar.
He always preferred robes with high collar. It gave the illusion of having a longer neck and thus, feigning an extra inch or two added to his height as long as no one would come close enough to check how tall he really was. And he looked good in black and silver. He looked good. Period.
If Ron had been in any better other than tired, he'd have hanged Draco on the mirror and left.
"Move over, Malfoy. I'm still using the mirror. It might crack."
"Between the two of us, I don't think you really need one."
"Why, thank you. I didn't know I look that good already."
Draco sent Ron a baleful look through the mirror.
Ron just smiled. Now, he felt good. And before that mood could change, he waved a hand and left the arrogant prince of the Slytherin house.
Truth be told, it was turning into The Horror that was the Yule Ball for Ron. Not exactly about Hermione dancing with Krum but more of people all over and he really was not in the mood to have this sort of crowd, loud and getting louder by the minute. He would just return later, before midnight and be on time to remove the mask lest his best friends and Ginny condemn him for wasting their 'love and effort' for him to have a wonderful night.
If they just left him alone, it would have been a wonderful night indeed. Any day, he would attend a party or a gathering but not when said gathering had a dress code. He was poor. He could accept that. But, he didn't want to be rubbed in the face by all the things he could never have. He was too old to pine and whine for such.
He left the castle and walked to a place not too far to be considered dangerous. Here he sat in solitude and stretched both arms and legs, settling for a good position for a relaxing sleep. If he went back to his room and people found out, they would think he was sulking and would bug him to no end to be happy. And he wasn't sulking to begin with, thus all the cheering up activity would just annoy him. It was better to be outside where his friends were likely to assume he sneaked out with some girl to have some quality time together.
He could live with that.
A glint of something silver caught his eye. Turning, he raised an eyebrow at the approaching blond. Ron was annoyed. "Have you nothing better to do than find trouble?"
"Seeing that you also left the masquerade, I assume you could figure out the answer to that question."
"Sometimes, you can pass off as a human being. It must be new moon."
"Don't push your luck, Pauper."
"Sure, Little Prince. What brings you out of your castle?"
Draco looked at Ron long and hard --- a look that was returned in kind.
It was a night of masquerade, where everyone wore masks to hide who they are for the time being.
It was the night when the prince and the pauper did not know who it was they were talking to. Supposedly.
Draco squatted right next to Ron and reached for the mask of the Pauper.
Ron tilted his head and did the same, removing the Prince out of the way.
It was then the night when who they were and what they were didn't matter. They were just two people outside, sharing the same space, breathing the same air, without masks of who and what they were supposed to represent.
He wasn't a Weasley.
He wasn't a Malfoy.
He wasn't a Gryffindor.
He wasn't a Slytherin.
He wasn't a Pauper.
He wasn't a Prince.
It was the night of Samhain, when the laws of space and time did not apply.
Just for tonight, one boy was Ron and the other was Draco.
Fin