There was absolutely no way to describe the atmosphere in their house but with the word "electric". Hermione was zipping around, putting the final touches on Ron's costume. It was a year in the making, yes, but she had often found that the best ideas came right at the end, after stewing in her mind for a while.

Ron did not understand the excitement. He had lived through one muggle Halloween in his life and only barely—half-frightened the entire day after a so-called "small" prank Hermione had pulled on him.

As it was, he was waiting in costume, endured the occasional addition Hermione offered, and tried to feel ready for the final step in his education about this strange muggle ritual. He was ready to become a criminal—or come close to it.

It still didn't seem logical to him. Surely candy was not equal in value to a life... How could the bargain even be made? Did different people demand different candy payments to neutralize their different "tricks"?

Ron shivered.

He felt a tickle on the back of his neck from the charms they had used as a base to the disguise, and once again cursed his wife and her family's traditions.

"Are you ready, Humpty Dumpty?" Hermione asked with a small smile toying at her lips. Ron blushed, wondering just how ridiculous he looked. He had asked Hermione repeatedly exactly who he was meant to be, but she had only recited a vague rhyme to him.

He hadn't, of course, been so motivated as to look the name up. It didn't seem worth it when he would be forced into it anyway.

"I'm ready." He held an empty orange bag in his hands, had his wand up the sleeve of tight shirt, and looked back at her.

That was when he paused.

She looked normal. Her pointed hat was on, and she wore ordinary robes, almost as though they were back in Hogwarts. Around her neck, he even spotted her Gryffindor scarf.

"What on earth-" he protested. "What are you meant to be?"

Hermione's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I'm a witch," she said.

"You waited a year to dress up like normal?" Ron did not understand, but his arms were caught in the fabric that cocooned him, so the adequate gestures could not be made.

"I thought it might offer some comfort to my frightened husband." she said softly, thought the joke was bright in her eyes.

"I'm not frightened," he said quickly. "Only concerned about our safety and questioning the sanity of the muggle population in general—why must we go?"

"I promised you some trick or treating. It's tradition!"

Ron protested with a hint of a whine. "You didn't do it at all during our years at Hogwarts."

"We also weren't a family at Hogwarts. Now we are, and we have some traditions to uphold as such."

Ron grinned despite himself. He loved the ferocity with which she called them a family.

Then he remembered what she was asking him to do.

"What if they hurt me?"

"Who? The kids?"

"No..." he dropped his voice to a whisper, "the skeletons and the momb—sorry—zombies!"

"We've talked about this. They're all costumes!"

"But they're muggles!"

"Muggles with access to disguises. It's a a bit of fun. Don't you want candy?"

Ron tilted his head to the side, weighing their options. "Fine, but only a few minutes."

She nodded. Then, with a wink, she added, "Whatever you want. And when we're back, I'd like for you to explore what I'm wearing—or not wearing—under these robes."

She took his hand and squeezed, not expecting him to let go of her as though she'd burned him.

His expression was one belonging to a bewildered child, and she felt herself falter, waver for a second before she followed his gaze to the mirror they had approached.

"I'm a bloody egg," was all he said before they both burst into unstoppable laughter.

"You're naked under the robes... and I'm an egg," he repeated moments later. "Well at least you do truly crack me up."

Hermione have him a light slap. "That was an eggcellent pun, but we should get going. No sense wasting an amazing costume—"

"An egg, though? Seriously?"

"It's brilliance in ovoid form."

They broke down then, once again, in uncontrollable laughter. Ron thought he rather liked Halloween. Even though it was ridiculous. Even with the pumpkins and the spiders and the fire... okay, the last one might just be him. Despite it all, though, she smiled and moved to put his arm around his wife's waist. He realized, then, that the shape of the costume simply didn't allow for any ease of movement.

"I am an egg that waddles. Dear Merlin. We should go now before I reconsider. Oh, just think of it, Hermione. The children will laugh at me. That might actually be worse than the tricking or treats! Hermione, wait—"

But she had already grabbed his hand and was pulling him through the doorway and into the - gulp - decorated street.