A/N: Chances are, Dying of the Light will be updated on Sunday. I'm behind on the chapter.


Sometimes, Hermione forgets that there's an entire world outside their little safe house with its dust lined walls and papered up windows and mirrors. If given the choice, she'd sequester Draco and herself into the place and never see the moonlight again but the creeping darkness lurking always on the edge of their minds is impossible to ignore. Before long they'd be force out on the hunt, desperate to avoid feeling that icy emptiness again.

It is despicably easy too to forget that people exist for more than just fodder.

Hermione looks at the way Draco's eyes are lit up like a child who has discovered sweets for the first time and she smiles softly. He eagerly scans the pub, gaze flitting from costume to costume as he drinks in the festive muggle scene. The excitement on his face is almost foreign to her - she can't remember the last time she's felt that way for any holiday or anything really. The Halloween celebrations in Hogwarts seem like a lifetime ago.

Draco whistles low, bringing Hermione out of her brooding. Curious, Hermione tracks his gaze to a scantily clad librarian with a skirt so short it'd shock Madam Pince into a coma she'd never wake up from. Hermione frowns as the bint shoots a flirtatious glance in their direction that is ultimately wasted on him because the wanker is too preoccupied with staring at that swishing, sorry excuse of a costume.

Looping her left arm around his, she surreptitiously reaches in with her right and pinches him hard in the side. As Draco squawks in pain by her side, Hermione turns to the sexy librarian and smiles, lips curling up to show jagged, sharp, teeth.

Her smile grows wider as the other woman pales, eyes widening, and stumbles backwards in too high heels in her haste to remove herself from Hermione's gaze.

"You're scaring her," says Draco and Hermione scowls at the amusement she can hear in the insufferable git's tone. Expecting the second pinch this time, Draco does no more than grunt when her fingers find his side again. Deprived of his dramatics, Hermione sulks though her left arm trapped in his prevents her from moving away from him.

"Good, she should be," Hermione retorts moodily. He chuckles and her pout turns even further downwards.

"I never pegged you for one with a jealous streak," he teases. Once, an age ago, she would have balked at the mere suggestion and reacted as such. Times are different though and she has no desire to play 'keeping up appearances' with Draco who has witnessed her at her best and coaxed her out of her worst. Such frivolous games are for other, less fucked up, people.

"You're mine," she states simply.

"Like a possession?" Draco asks and she snaps her head to look up at him. "Should I be flattered?"

"I'm not-" she says, looking straight into those cool grey eyes while her left hand snakes up his forearm to tightly grip his right hand. "It's a choice, Draco. I won't make — force — you if you don't- I won't."

"Shhh," he hushes. He shakes his hand free of hers and she nearly shatters at that but then he's gently taking her hand back and adjusting their hold so he can comfortably lace their fingers together without her crushing him. "Yours."

"So long as you leave the canaries out of this," he says, leaning over to peck her forehead. "I don't mind belonging to you."

Hermione cringes, colour rushing to her cheeks as the bastard grins cheekily at her. "You heard about that, did you?" she mumbles.

"The whole school heard about it," Draco says. "Hogwarts is an especially efficient rumour mill. The only one more competent is the circle of pureblood ladies my mother frequents in."

"Back to the point at hand," Draco says, gesturing vaguely at the empty spot where the sexy librarian had been. "She could have been easy."

"I'll bet she could have been easy," Hermione grouses. Draco turns to her and stares at her wordlessly for so long Hermione begins to pat her wild hair down self-consciously. She is about to check her teeth for anything stuck in there as well when he pulls her in and leans down so closely she can feel his breath gliding over her ear.

"I'll be the first to admit that the whole possessive display is making me want to take you back home and shag you till we both can't walk," he whispers and she shivers unconsciously at the need in his voice but he's pulling away and she bites the inside of her cheeks hard to stop herself from reaching out to him. "But, we need to." He looks pointedly at Hermione and she nods in acquiesce.

Silently, she peruses the mass of bodies while Draco presumably does the same. Shifting her gaze away from a sexy scarecrow grinding against a person in a full-bodied bunny costume, Hermione eyes the bar instead.

"Draco?" she asks and he hums in acknowledgement. "I don't think we need worry," she says and cocks her head towards the bar where a man with a long, fake, white beard is eyeing the both of them salaciously.

Draco is quiet for a moment and Hermione has to cough to mask the giggles that almost escaped her.

"Why is he dressed like Dumbledore?" Draco says, his voice carefully even.

"He's supposed to be a wizard," Hermione explains. "A wizard who likes purple robes," she adds.

"Do Muggles really think all wizards look like Dumbledore?" Draco asks, looking at Hermione like she's supposed to be the keeper to the knowledge of why Muggles are as daft as they seem. Hermione shrugs and nods apologetically.

"It's... a culture thing," she says. "That image is ingrained in their heads as 'wizard'."

Draco sighs a long suffering kind of sigh. "It could be worse, right?"

"I'm sure it could," Hermione says, placating, while nudging him out of their booth. She smiles shyly at the Dumbledore lookalike as she manoeuvres them in his direction. "It could have been Voldemort."


Instead of going straight home like they normally do, Draco surprises Hermione by stopping her when she makes to take his arm for the side along apparition and suggesting they walk home.

Hermione looks at him sceptically, even reaching out to feel for his forehead but all he does is stand still and humour her as she makes a show of checking him for a fever. He waits patiently till she's done running her hands all over his face and he rolls his eyes at her affectionately then reaches for her and tugs her along with him as he turns and walks out of the back alleys.

She quickens her steps till she's walking alongside him and tucks her arm into his, leaning her head on his shoulder as he slows down to accommodate her shorter legs.

Side by side, huddled into each other, they make their way out of central London to the outskirts near Islington where the Muggle neighbourhoods loom in clusters of flats and townhouses.

Several children run pass them, dressed in adorable little costumes and clutching pumpkin buckets that rattle with sweets.

Draco pauses, causing Hermione to halt as well, gazing after the children thoughtfully.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hermione prods.

"Nothing. Just wondering what they're doing," Draco says, gesturing at the children far ahead of them, ringing a doorbell and screaming something Draco can't quite catch.

"You know, I'm not sure," Hermione says. "I never did this as a child. It looks like they're collecting sweets from the houses."

"I would never have been allowed anyway," Hermione says and when Draco looks at her quizzically, she adds, "My parents were dentists."

"Dentists?" Draco echoes, tilting his head to the side.

"Like Muggle healers but for teeth," Hermione explains.

"Ah," Draco nods sagely. "That would explain why you'd hoard the sweets on the table during Halloween in Hogwarts. Deprivation is a tragedy."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione gasps, one hand fluttering to rest delicately on her heart. "Have you been secretly watching me all the while back then?" Draco instantly flushes, mumbling incomprehensibly to his shoe, gaze darting everywhere but her.

"I'm waiting," Hermione sings, one foot tapping against the pavement in mock impatience. "Or have you always been a closet pervert?"

"I'm not-!" he starts to protest but is cut off by a tiny blond figure barrelling into the back of his knees. He lets out an undignified 'oof!', his free arm flailing in the air as Hermione scrambles to right him before he falls forwards.

"Oh god!" exclaims a voice a distance behind them just as Draco manages to salvage his balance, muttering, "I'm fine, I'm fine!" to Hermione as he spins around to see what has run into him.

The déjà vu from seeing the tearful little girl, dressed like a princess and staring up at him hits him like a sledgehammer and he freezes in his spot, breath catching as Hermione stills beside him as well.

"I'm so sorry!" the same voice from before shouts and Draco blinks, shaken from his stupor and mutely offers his hand to the little girl, pulling her up when she accepts his help.

"I keep telling her to not run ahead," her mother says, flustered from the running, the exact shade of dirty blond hair, now shortened to shoulder length bouncing similarly as it did last time. "But she never listens."

"Children can be stubborn," Draco says, smiling weakly at the woman who narrows her eyes, peering intently at his face before her eyes widen in unmistakable recognition.

"Oh my!" she says. "It's you again!" And Draco can feel Hermione's gaze burning into him as he keeps his attention focused on the girl's mother. He pats Hermione's hand in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

"I don't know what it is with my daughter and bumping into you," she says, shaking her head and laughing a little as she bends down to pat the girl on the head. Suddenly shy, the girl runs between her mother's legs and hides behind her, peeking over the side at them.

"Silly girl," the mother says fondly before turning to look at Draco sympathetically. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Draco says, waving his hand dismissively. "Hermione caught me before I fell." The woman looks over to Hermione, seemingly surprised to see her and Hermione gives her a tight smile.

"No, I meant, you ran off last time," the woman starts to say but winces apologetically and looks guiltily at Hermione then back at Draco. "I'm sorry, it's not my place to pry and I really shouldn't be disturbing you on your date."

"Oh no, no," Hermione says, shaking her head quickly causing her curls to bounce around her. "You're not intruding. Not intruding us, I mean. It's not a date. I mean, we were on a date, but we're just walking home now. So, no, you're not-"

"Love, you're rambling," Draco says kindly, squeezing her hand gently.

"God, I'm sorry," Hermione says and looks at the little girl, still hiding behind her mother. "It's just. She's really cute. I love her hair."

A knowing look crosses the mother's face and her eyes twinkle with mirth. "Yes, she got that from her father. I love to see them under the sun, it-"

"It glints like gold under the sunlight," Hermione finishes distantly, not breaking her gaze away from the girl.

The mother smiles and nods slowly. "That's right."

"Anyway," she says, reaching down to take her little girl's hand. "We should be going. We've still got houses to get to. It's dreadfully American, this whole trick or treating business, but the children love it."

"Understandably," Draco chuckles dutifully as the mother sighs in exasperation and nods amiably at them as she begins to lead her daughter on.

Before the mother daughter pair could pass them, the daughter suddenly reaches out and tugs at Hermione's coat. Hermione takes a quick glance at Draco before stooping to lower herself to the girl's level.

"Hello," Hermione says, smiling softly.

"What are you supposed to be?" the girl asks.

"Oh," Hermione says, blinking. "Well, I'm a vampire." The girl narrows her eyes and turns her gaze to Draco. "I'm her ghoul," he answers promptly.

She wrinkles her nose and squints accusingly at them. "You don't look like one," she says to Hermione then turns to Draco, her tone bossy, "And I don't know what a gh- gol- goal is, but I'm sure you don't look like one of them either."

"Ah," Draco says. "But what makes us really scary is that you can't tell that we're different."

"Then you're not doing it right," the girl says gravely. "Monsters are supposed to look different. You are supposed to be able to tell."

"Enough," her mother chides. "Not everybody has the time to put together a costume like you, don't be rude."

"Sorry," the mother apologises again. "Come along," she says to the girl and together they walk off, the daughter chattering happily while her mother listens and nods occasionally.

As though through some unspoken agreement, Draco and Hermione stay rooted to the spot, watching after them and only turning to leave once the pair are well out of sight.


Hermione is uncharacteristically quiet when they reach home and Draco isn't quite sure what to say to break her out of her contemplative mood.

"Is it what the girl said?" Draco asks as they go about their bedtime routine, easily sidestepping and moving around each other in a dance they have perfected.

"Hmm? What is?" Hermione says distractedly, pulling on a woollen jumper, which predictably snags on her hair, leaving her in an awkward turtle-like position. Right on cue, Draco deftly steps behind her and helps her ease her head through the neck hole.

"Something's bothering you," Draco says, bending down and resting his chin on her shoulder as he peers at her through the corner of his eye.

"You mean the bit about monsters and looking different?" Hermione asks, angling her head to the side so she can get a better look at him. Draco hums and nods in affirmation.

"No," she says, shaking her head slightly. "No, that's just babble from the mouth of babes. Cute, but hardly accurate."

"It's something else," she says, chewing on the bottom of her lip. "Nothing important." Draco raises a questioning eyebrow and she pulls his arms around her waist, leans back against his chest and starts swaying them both slowly.

"It's... in the past," Hermione says. "Let's just let the past lie where it is."

"Hermione?" Draco starts but pauses, suddenly unsure on how to proceed. His mind is going in circles and he's not even sure if he really wants what he's about to ask her. But it has been gnawing at him since they met the mother daughter pair and if he were being honest, it had been even longer than that, needling at him like an itch at the back of his brain.

"Hermione," he tries again but falters all the same.

"What is it, Draco?" Hermione asks kindly, resting her hands on top of his and drawing lazy circles on his skin.

"Can we go to Malfoy Manor?" he blurts out. "Not tonight, of course, but one of these nights. It's not strictly the wizarding world either, I mean, at least it isn't in the heart of Diagon Alley and no one will know anyway," Draco rambles, barely stopping to breathe.

Hermione doesn't jerk away but her sudden stillness is just as bad, if not worse. Draco closes his eyes and tucks his face into the crook of her neck.

"My parents," Draco mumbles against her skin. "I just... I have to know."

"It's torture," Draco continues, "not knowing for sure. If there's the slightest chance..."

When Hermione finally moves to rub her hands along his forearms, Draco relaxes and slumps, leaning more of his weight on her which she bears without complaint.

"Okay, Draco," Hermione says soothingly. "Okay."


A/N: It's not the right holiday, I know, but I literally got the idea to include this on Halloween itself, so it was all in the works. I also, quite literally, just finish writing the next chapter for Flesh and Blood, so like I said, behind. (I have yet to write the next chapter for Dying of the Light, thus the possibility of it only being updated on Sunday if not later).

As always, review. Even a simple "I like it!" helps.