Shout out to my Betas, Amber1015 and ShadowHeart175!

The characters and universe in this work are property of J.K Rowling.

Happy Halloween, and stay safe!

"Halloween's tomorrow, isn't that so exciting?!"

"It's so nice that it's on a Saturday this year. No classes!"

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to ignore the squealing fourth years at the table behind him. This was the library; had they no decency? Picking at his cuticles, he really had to hand it to Madam Pompfrey. His hands were still a mess when he'd left the Hospital Wing a week ago, but since then they had cleared up so nicely it was almost impossible to tell that anything had happened to him. Draco's eyes flicked up when Hermione snorted, and he sneered at her. This did not cow her into submission, as he'd hoped, but only made her snigger again. Draco had to try hold himself back from cracking a grin as he leaned closer to her.

"Just what is so funny, Hermione?" he hissed.

"You look like you've smelled something terrible," she whispered back. "All they're doing is being excited."

"About Halloween," Draco clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes as the young girls broke into giggling.

Draco Malfoy hated Halloween. He always had, and he was beginning to think that he always would. For all of his life, father had called dressing up preposterous, and any suggestion that his son walk the streets and beg for candy like a common muggle was greeted with cursing and slamming doors. His mother tried her best to make it a fun occasion. She would have Dobby make candied apples like the ones sold in Diagon Alley, and for many years of Draco's youth, Dobby had carved him pumpkins as well. This later tradition stopped the year Draco put his foot through the face in a fit of petulant rage. He was seven years old.

Halloween at Hogwarts hadn't been any better. They still had classes, which Draco didn't mind so much, but there was too much buzz over a holiday that they did so little to celebrate. In Draco's eyes, the Halloween Feast was no different from their typical dinner. The food was endless and tasted just the same as it did any day, and the cheesy jack-o-lanterns made him scoff. Draco could not find the appeal in celebrating a day so clearly mundane. When did attempting to ward off evil ever help him anyway?

"What, you hate Halloween?" Hermione cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

"What's there to get excited about? It's just another day. It's not like they give us anything real to look forward to."

"What with my parents being dentists, I never saw the appeal either," she said with a shrug.

"There's also the small matter of Halloween being a cursed day here. First year, a mountain troll broke in and nearly killed you and your stupid friends. Second year, Ginevra Weasley gets possessed and opens the Chamber of Secrets. Third year, Sirius Black breaks into the castle. Fourth year, Harry's name pops out of the Goblet of Fire. I'd say that bad things happening on Halloween for four out of the six years we've been here doesn't bode well for the present."

"But what's the harm in letting people be excited about things?"

Draco rolled his eyes as she gave him a patronizing smile, opening his mouth to retort when the chair beside him was pulled out from the table.

"Draco? Letting someone be excited about something? Unheard of! Absolutely impossible 'Mione."

Harry was grinning as he reached over and nudged him.

"Very funny. I cannot handle your incredible sense of humour for another moment, or I'm sure I'll explode," Draco answered dryly. "Can you blame me for not drooling over the idea of Halloween? On the worst days, it's cursed, and on the best, it's positively mundane."

"Ah, then the news I have may be enough to turn your head," Harry said with a mischievous smile. "We're switching things up this time. A little Halloween party is in the works, and it's for Eighth years only."

"You've got my attention," Draco grudgingly conceded and turned in his seat to face Harry.

"Harry, we can't do anything too far out there–"

"Come off it, 'Mione. It's on a Saturday. You might wake up just a few hours late Sunday morning and miss out on some of your study time, but it's for post-war unity," Harry's teasing tone should not have helped him, but when Hermione's serious countenance melted away and she nodded her agreement, Draco could not help but think semi-seriously that Harry was a master manipulator.

"It'll just be a small party, anyway," Harry added. "It won't get crazy, I promise. We'll have a few drinks for everyone. There'll be music, party games, you name it. Hannah Abbott's smuggled her mum's enchanted phonograph along with some Weird Sisters albums. It'll be really great. I've also found us an excellent location. That's where I've come from, actually. I cleared it with McGonagall to let us use the Room of Requirement just now."

As if of their own volition, every muscle in Draco's body contracted into one tight unit. The blood in his veins had to be turning to ice, because there was no other explanation for how cold he felt as dread rushed through him, locking his limbs in place. He didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Harry's hands dropped to his shoulders and Draco's wide, glassy eyes found his.

"Merlin...Draco...wasn't thinking...deep breaths-you've...slow...down." Harry's voice reached him from afar, but Draco could barely understand the words over the roar of flames.

Crabbe was falling before his eyes, down and down just beyond Draco's desperate reach. Draco could see his friend's face contorting into an unbearably gruesome mask of fear, panic and despair flaring in his eyes, and as Crabbe's long scream rang loudly in his ears over the crackle of the fire, he could smell the charred wood. Draco just barely made out another noise over the looping scream, someone else talking quickly, panic in their voice, before hands were touching him; touching his face; cupping his cheeks.

"Draco?"

Draco knew that voice, and his eyes opened to find Gregory kneeling before him. He shut them again, tightly this time, and desperately tried to push the vision from his mind – it wouldn't leave, just kept coming back – falling and falling and falling.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking; we can absolutely find somewhere else for the party."

Was that Harry?

"We should take him to see Madam Pomfrey. She'll give him a calming draught, and he'll come out of this."

That was definitely Hermione. The command in her voice was unmistakable. It seemed to be this calm assertion that finally managed to pull Draco from his memories.

Draco blinked once, twice, three times, and found himself in the center of a tight triangle. His shoulders tensed until he identified Harry was on his right, Hermione on his left, and Gregroy still kneeled before him with his hands on Draco's face. His cheeks felt wet, and Draco realized this meant he must have been crying. Suddenly feeling very silly for his outburst, Draco laid his still-shaking hands over Gregory's and pulled them down from his face. Taking a few deep breaths, he kept ahold of Gregory's hands and turned his head toward Harry, gripping them as though they were a life line tossed to him in the middle of a stormy sea. Though he suppressed a shudder at the thought of going back to that terrible place, he didn't want to spoil Harry's party.

"No, I'm sorry, you absolutely should not change the location of your party," he said immediately and felt Gregory squeeze his hands. Taking that as a sign of support, he added, "We'll both be there. It'll be good to have a chance to relax after how rocky this term's been already."

Though he was not even able to sound convincing to himself, Draco still hated the way the three were still looking at him as if he may fall apart again at the slightest thing.

"Are you sure? I can definitely have it somewhere else, I don't want to-"

"Potter, if you move that party, I swear on Merlin's shaggy beard that I will hex you into next week," Draco threatened. "I had an emotional reaction, that's all. I think that it's fair given the situation, but that room means horrible things to plenty of other people as well, and I think that throwing this party will be a way of reclaiming it as our own. A way to have better memories when we look back on our time here."

Hermione was the first to nod slowly. What he had said made sense, and Draco knew that they would all cave-in to his demand eventually. It pleased him despite this knowledge when Gregory and Harry eventually murmured their consent as well. Draco released Gregory's hands to wipe the tears from his cheeks and purposefully turned toward the table to look at his book.

"Now, if you lot don't mind, this is a library," he told the table. "I fully intend on studying, and if that isn't your plan as well, you'll have to see yourselves out."

The rest of the day moved too quickly for Draco to keep up with. His classes had been a welcome distraction, if not for Harry's constant staring and asking if he was sure he was alright. Draco had to tell him when they reached the Herbology greenhouse that if he asked one more time, Draco would be forced to bury him alive. The questioning stopped after that, but the concerned staring did not. Draco didn't know which he preferred, taking his earliest opportunity to disappear back into the library.

Conversation at dinner had been too enthusiastic to be natural, and it was blatantly obvious to Draco that his friends were still discussing what had happened in the library when Draco wasn't around. He wanted to roll his eyes and tell them to come off it, but Draco was grudgingly touched by their caution anyway. Weasley couldn't sense the tension in the conversation, but that came as no surprise to the blond. Though he and Harry had made up, Weasley's new policy when it came to Draco seemed to be complete avoidance. Weasley didn't speak to him unless it was necessary, and Draco couldn't really find a complaint with this arrangement.

The only destination Draco had in mind after dinner was the safety of his dorm. Regardless of what he had said, he was exhausted from his earlier reaction, and when he finally crawled between his sheets that night, he was gifted with a dreamless sleep.

...

When Draco opened his eyes again, the sun was already high in the sky. He sat up too quickly, the blood rushing to his head, and swung his legs over the side of his bed in search of his slippers. How had he slept in so late? Why hadn't Gregory woken him up? Merlin, he was starving. Draco found himself hoping he hadn't slept through breakfast, but one glance at his pocket watch told him that it was well past noon. With his luck, he'd managed to miss lunch as well. Draco looked up as the door was pushed open, a scowl darkening his features.

"You're up," came Gregory's surprised voice. "Hungry?"

Draco suddenly found he couldn't be annoyed with him as he saw the plate Gregory was balancing in one hand and scooted back on his bed to make room for him.

"Starving. Why'd you let me sleep so late? Harry has the most enormous list of things to get done for the party, and we said we'd help him," Draco chided.

Gregory shrugged and sat down by him before he passed the plate off into Draco's eager hands.

"We all decided it would be a special treat to let you catch up on your sleep. Deny it all you want, but I know for a fact that you've not been in your bed for the past few nights," Gregory returned sternly.

This made Draco roll his eyes, and he picked up a piece of toast and stuck it into his mouth in favour of answering him. Letting him sleep in was a nice gesture, and Draco did feel much better than he had the night before, so he felt any further complaining could not be justified. Gregory seemed content to sit by him as Draco ate his lunch, but Draco instead set the plate down on the bed and made a move to push himself to his feet.

"How much did you all get done? Let me put my big boy pants on, and I'll come help," Draco said and began to pull the covers back.

"You're not wearing pants?" Gregory's voice was a scandalized whisper as yanked the blankets back over Draco's lap. Draco only laughed at him.

"It's only a saying, Gregory. I sleep in bed clothes, you know that," Draco rolled his eyes playfully, but sank back against the pillows and reached towards the plate of food to pick up a bunch of grapes. "Tell me though, how much is left to do? I want to help with this party."

Though he truly did want to help his friends get ready, that was really only half of it. If Draco were honest, he also wanted to be in that room before the rest of the eighth years arrived to be sure he could keep his head, and he knew that Gregory could read right through his words to the meaning behind him. The thought of stepping foot back in that place had his stomach churning, and Draco found himself rolling the grapes between his fingers in favour of eating them. His cheeks burned the longer it took Gregory to answer him, and shame kept his eyes lowered. Gregory must think he was a coward for not being able to return to that place, that was what kept his silence. He thought Draco was a coward and-

"It looks different," Gregory's voice was soft, reassuring. "It looks almost like the Slytherin common room, now that I think about it. The colours are different, of course, but the layout is the same. Same chairs by the fire, same couch in the corner. The floor's pretty much covered with pillows, so that'll be, uh, comfortable? I think it'll be a good time."

Gregory looked as though he was poised to keep rambling, so Draco offered him a quick smile and gave his hand a pat.

"I'm sure it'll be great, Gregory. I trust your judgement," Draco said before neatly stuffing the rest of the food in his mouth and scooting off the side of his bed. "Is there a dress code for this thing?"

He asked the question over his shoulder as he sank to his knees in front of his trunk. Draco began sifting through his clothes for something suitable for a party before abruptly realising what he typically wore to Malfoy soirées would likely not be what was expected for the party tonight. Maybe just some dress pants and a pressed shirt then?

"Just wear something you're comfortable in. I don't think anyone's dressing up or doing costumes. We're just going to relax with our friends and have fun."

"That's where you're wrong, Greg," Harry's breathless voice floated through the open door as he came bounding up the last of the stairs. "Loads of the girls have been coming to me today telling me that they want everyone to wear costumes. They don't have time to order any, so they're going to transfigure some of their things to make a couple of pieces."

Draco did not try to hide the snort he gave.

"I won't be caught dead in a costume, Harry. As I'm sure you remember, I hold a deep-seated hatred for all things Halloween. You're lucky I'm even coming to your party," he snarked, head still buried in his trunk.

The strange thing about famous last words is that no one ever knows when they've uttered their own until it's too late. If Draco had known then, perhaps he wouldn't be standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement in a pair of Harry's tight leather pants and a black shirt that clung to his chest, feeling out of place despite the obnoxious costumes others around him were sporting. Draco was horribly self-conscious in the skin-tight clothes despite the too-big black leather jacket Harry had wrestled him into, and he fully planned to rip the dragon tail from his pants and the horns from his head once he managed to weasel his way out from under Harry's arm.

The limb had been draped over his shoulder since they'd walked in, and Draco had not spotted Gregory in the hour that they'd been there. Instead, he had talked to people who, surprisingly, were not glaring at him, and were indeed quite normal. Tracey Davis was conversing with Hannah Abbott, and the two were laughing as if they'd been friends their whole lives. A Ravenclaw girl was talking to Harry about Quidditch, and Draco found himself pleasantly surprised when she turned to him and asked how his Nimbus 2001 was flying these days. Draco told her it still rode well, though it didn't get much use, and as she walked away, a giddy smile came to his lips.

Perhaps it was the two butterbeers he'd nursed, or maybe it was the calming draught he'd downed before he walked in, but Draco was feeling more like himself than ever by the time Pavarti Patil was standing on a table and demanding that they all play a game Draco had never heard of before. Draco's protests didn't seem to matter to Harry, who slipped his arm from around Draco's shoulder to grab his hand instead. Harry dragged him over to the circle that was quickly forming and sat him down on a large pillow, laughing all along the way at Draco's whining. His pouting soon became a large smile once he'd looked up to find Gregory on his other side.

"Where have you been?" Draco had to lean over, their arms pressed together, and speak up over the raucous screams of the people around him to make himself heard. "I was looking for you, but I never spotted you."

"I've been right here! Do you know what's happening?" Gregory asked just as loudly, confusion written across his face.

"A game, I think!" Draco started to explain. "They're calling it never have I ever–"

"Okay!" Pavarti was standing in the middle of the circle, her cat ears crooked on her head, her shoes missing from her stockinged feet, and her drawn on whiskers smudged by sweat. A glance at Ernie Macmillan told Draco that it may have been more than sweat that rubbed off those marks, but he had no time to explore this theory before she was shouting again.

"For those of you who don't know the rules, it's simple! We go around the circle with the talking bottle, and then we say something we've never done before! If you've done something someone hasn't, you have to drink! First one to drink ten times loses!"

As she spoke, another girl Draco didn't recognize was conjuring tiny glasses and handing them out in groups of ten to each person. Hannah Abbot was helping her by spacing out large bottles of Firewhisky around the circle. As there were only about twenty people in their ring, and they had five bottles, she put them at every fourth person. This meant it landed right in between Harry and Draco, the latter eyeing it with caution, as if it were a snake that could strike him at any moment. Draco had heard many things about Firewhisky, and he knew from the expensive wines he had shared with his parents that he was a bit of a lightweight. The last thing Draco needed tonight was to lose his senses, but it was too late to back out of the game now.

The "talking bottle" started somewhere across the circle from Draco with Macmillan, who proudly decreed that he had never eaten a badly flavoured Bertie Bott's bean. Nearly half the circle, Draco included, took a drink and flipped their first glass upside down. That wasn't so bad. The firewhisky burned on its way down, as Draco had expected, but it didn't feel as horrible as he might have thought it would. The Ravenclaw girl to the left of Macmillan claimed to have never kissed a person she didn't love, to which Draco and two others were the only people to drink.

By the time the "talking bottle" got around to Weasley and Hermione, Draco had already downed five drinks, and Harry and Gregory were both up to three. Weasley, who had seemed absolutely sloshed before the game had begun, looked like he may fall over at any moment after the four flipped glasses sitting before him. He was looking far too pleased with himself as he rolled the bottle between his hands, leaving everyone in the circle in eager suspense before he took his turn.

"Right, then, never have I ever kissed a bloke," Weasley laughed.

Draco reached for his sixth glass without a thought and tipped it back. He looked first to Harry, who's eyes were widening in surprise, and then to Gregory, who's eyes were glued to Draco's face. Gregory looked like he wanted to say something – his mouth was moving at least – but then Hermione was lifting the bottle above her head and drunkenly shouting that she had never had a cavity in her life. As only Finnigan and Harry knew what she was talking about, everyone shrugged and tipped a glass back.

The bottle was in Draco's hands before he knew it, and he found himself resting his chin on its lid as he tried to think. The pleasant hum in the back of his mind made it hard to think of anything, and Draco was vaguely surprised by the notion that, perhaps, he was too drunk. The thought made him laugh a little as he picked his head up, his mind zeroing in on the answer despite the hundreds of possibilities rolling through his brain.

"Never have I ever been this drunk," he proclaimed and was followed by cheers as most in the circle drank to that.

Draco passed the bottle off to Harry with a giggle, who sat in thought for only a moment before he was eagerly taking his turn.

"Never have I ever gotten a stupid tattoo."

"Oh, piss off, mate!" Ron shouted across the circle as Draco tossed back his last drink. "One drunk Pygmy Puff tattoo, and the man can't let it go!"

Seeming to realize what he had just done, Draco raised his fists with a triumphant yell. The circle erupted into applause, and several of the girl's screamed with him. They had all seemed to forget that this meant Draco had lost, not won, but no one cared. Hermione, who had just taken her eighth drink and who had become completely unravelled during the course of the game, went as far as to crawl across the circle and blindside Draco with a crushing hug. Draco found himself laughing beneath her weight before he was stumbling to his feet and demanding that the music be turned up.

He was then pulling off his tail and horns, the jacket soon following, and dragging Hermione out into the middle of the room to dance with him. Draco was convinced that he loved this song, it had to be his favourite, as he spun her around and pulled her in and out. They were coordinated in their attempt for all of three minutes before Draco was just dancing with his hands above his head and his eyes closed.

They opened again when a new pair of hands enveloped his own. Draco looked up hopefully for Gregory but found Harry in his place. Though his smile fell slightly, he held onto the hands gripping him and let Harry pull him around. Draco even let him spin him out and then in until his back was pressed against Harry's chest, at which point Draco was laughing uncontrollably. Feeling more free in that moment than he had in his entire life, he let himself be pulled and spun and led around spontaneously. As the music changed, he and Harry were just jumping around, still connected by their hands, and shouting along to the lyrics of a song Draco never would have admitted to knowing if he were sober.

But it couldn't last forever, and Draco ran into his proverbial wall quite hard. He found himself on his knees in front of a bin and puking with a gusto that could not be rivalled. Someone was rubbing his back and speaking softly to him, Draco could not tell who, and then he was being fed something that tasted like peppermint after the entirety of the contents of his stomach had been emptied. His head was in his arms, loud groans escaping his mouth, when strong arms lifted him up, and he found himself nestled against a solid chest.

"Is he going to be alright?" Harry's face was distorted in the flashing lights, so Draco shut his eyes to block it out.

"Yeah, I think so. I'll watch him tonight, and if he gets worse, I'll take him down to Madam Pomfrey."

Then Draco was swaying as the person cradling him began to walk. He opened his eyes after a time to find Gregory's face swimming in and out of his vision. Draco was smiling then, and reaching a hand up to touch it. A childish whine spilled from his lips when he missed it completely, and so he fumbled for him again, this time accidentally slapping him.

"'M sorry," Draco murmured and rubbed his hand against the spot he'd hit, pulling a laugh from Gregory.

"That's quite alright. How are you feeling?" Gregory's voice sounded like sugar, and Draco was sure that if he tried it, his mouth would taste like candy.

"Hungry," he groaned out. "'N sleepy, 'n sick."

"I know you are. You'll feel better in the morning," Gregory answered gently.

"You...yo-you are so nice. 'N you are just so so cute," Draco mumbled, patting Gregory's cheek once more.

"Oh yeah?" Gregory laughed and looked down at him.

"Yeah, the cutest. Cuter than the cutest. I think you're beautiful."

Gregory was quiet, and as Draco thumped against his chest, mind wandering blissfully, he was conscious that they were moving up the stairs. He was wiggling to get down as soon as Gregory opened the door to their dormitory, but Draco stumbled when his feet hit the floor. Gregory's hands caught his waist, and Draco giggled as he hung in the balance for a moment. Gregory was laughing too when he pulled Draco back up, and the latter found himself falling forward against Gregory's chest.

Everything was quiet then, and Draco peered up at Gregory through his eyelashes. Gregory was staring at him with a strange intensity in his eyes, and it made Draco's stomach flip. A slow smile pulled at his lips despite it, and as Draco tilted his head, he found Gregory's eyes moving down to his lips. Draco fought the urge to lick them, and instead laid his hands on Gregory's shoulders to steady himself.

"Gregory?" his voice held a strange fragility.

"Yes, Draco?"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Gregory's eyes flicked back up to meet Draco's, and he could see the struggle there.

"I do," Gregory said after a moment, and leaned down to kiss Draco's forehead. Draco held still, expecting more, but then Gregory was shaking his head and pulling back. "But not like this. You're drunk. I'm drunk too, but not as drunk as you. And if you wake up tomorrow, and you still want to kiss me, I swear I will kiss you a thousand times. But I can't tonight. I'm sorry."

"S'kay, Gregory." Draco gave him a smile and slipped out of his arms. "I think I'm going to bed, now."

Draco wriggled out of the remains of his costume and into his night clothes before rolling into bed. As he pulled the sheets up around his shoulders, his forehead pleasantly warm from where Gregory's lips had touched it, Draco could not help but think that Halloween might not be so terrible after all.