A/N: I don't own these characters or the superheroes mentioned.
Chapter 1: The Announcement
Small blue paper airplanes with red wings zoomed out of the large front corner office like a squadron preparing for attack before each crashed dramatically into an separate in-tray, sending parchment flying in every cubicle as noises of irritation filled the air. A second and third wave zoomed down the hallway to the lucky recipients in the adjoining offices.
The sounds of discontent only grew worse in the room as the memos were read and some were immediately crumpled and tossed into a bin.
"Potter!" a wizard in a back corner of the room shouted.
Harry Potter, who had just read his own memo, clutched it in hand and rolled his eyes as he wheeled his chair around and rose, making his way toward the loudly complaining wizard. As the Junior Department Head for the Auror office, he was the one given the task of dealing with office drama. How about that for a promotion?
"What in the name of Morgana's heaving bosom is the meaning of this?" griped a blonde wizard whose gray eyes flashed with annoyance.
"Exactly what it says, Malfoy. Or do I need to read it for you?" he offered sarcastically. He couldn't resist. They got on well now, but old habits and all that.
"Thanks, I don't need glasses to see that this is a load of thestral dung."
"Can't be helped. You have to go. We all do."
"Come on, Potter. Doesn't your job title mean anything at all?"
"It means more paperwork and dealing with you sorry lot every time you get a hangnail."
Draco snorted. "Where did Robards get this ridiculous idea anyway?"
"Apparently he's recently discovered Muggle comic books."
In the adjoining office space of the legal division, similar noises of frustration were heard, though a few people laughed in amusement. Hermione Granger was not one of those. Her cubicle neighbor, however, looked positively elated. Desiree Mounce was a dark-haired and blue-eyed American witch whose love for all things Fantastic Four was only rivaled by Gawain Robards's sudden obsession with Superman.
Hermione read over her memo once more in hopes that she'd misread it the moment before. Unfortunately it read exactly the same:
Fellow heroes and heroines of the DMLE,
this year's Hallowe'en Charity Ball will benefit
St Fillista's Research Center for Childhood Maladies.
Come dressed as your favourite caped crusader or vile villain!
(Attendance is mandatory.)
A Welsh address was printed below next to "Official portkeys will be given out 31 October and will activate at 8pm".
"What rubbish," Hermione moaned. "Doesn't he know we have better things to do than plan for fancy dress parties?"
"Oh c'mon, My," Desiree chirped, using the Moomin-inspired nickname she'd given her favourite witch-at-law. "At least this will be better than last year's."
Hermione shuddered. The witch had a point. Last year someone had given Robards the bright idea to have the ball outdoors. In the Shetlands. It might have been the coldest Hermione had ever been. Warming charms can only do so much.
"And," the other witch continued, "think of all those fit wizards in lycra." She waggled her eyebrows, which made Hermione crack a smile.
Rumour had it that Desiree was interested in Dennis Creevey who'd grown up to be far less annoying and had become one of the top investigators in the department.
"I wouldn't even know who to be," Hermione groused.
"Well if you don't want to dress up, you could just say you're Mary Jane or Lois Lane. Personally, I think you'd make a kick-ass Storm. You know, from X-Men?"
Hermione hadn't the slightest clue and didn't care. Her superhero knowledge was limited, which was just fine with her. She made a noise of disinterest and went back to shuffling through her notes on the latest case. Desiree, knowing it was a lost cause at the moment, went back to her own work as well.
The next two weeks sped by and, though Hermione could hardly avoid the topic of the ball, she wasn't any closer to making any sort of decision on what to wear and any time that Harry or anyone else brought it up, she quickly changed the subject.
Draco Malfoy was having a similar problem. "I am not wearing anything involving tights," he hissed when Seamus suggested he go as Batman. After all, Bruce Wayne and Draco Malfoy weren't all that different according to Witch Weekly who'd caught wind of the Ball.
"The new Batman wears armour, you tit. Haven't you seen the films?" asked an astonished Hershel Wright, a half-blood who's 'Da' raised him on Muggle action films. He worked in the cubicle next to Draco and had seen it as his personal mission to introduce his office neighbour to everything from Indiana Jones to James Bond to The Fast and the Furious V.
"No?" Draco had a feeling this would be promptly rectified. It was.
"Potter!" shouted Seamus Finnegan who'd been eavesdropping from his cubicle on the other side of Hershel, "Malfoy hasn't seen The Dark Knight yet."
Harry, who'd seen it ten times already, invited them over to his that evening since Ginny was away with the Harpies at a match in Norway. Normally Harry would have went, but he was on-call for the next few evenings. More bonus perks of his new title.
In the end, Draco was far more impressed by the film than he'd suspected.
"You should probably watch the older one with Michael Keaton, too, but I really like this one," commented Seamus.
"You have that one, too, Potter?" Draco inquired.
"No, but you could probably find a copy pretty cheap."
"Going to watch them all, then, Malfoy?" needled George good-naturedly, who'd come by for dinner and stayed for the movie.
"What's it to you, Weasley?" Draco scoffed.
Everyone in the room knew that meant he most certainly was.
The party was in just two days and Hermione still didn't have anything to wear. She wondered if she shouldn't just go by one of those Hallowe'en pop-up shops and hope she got lucky. That night she had her scheduled call with her parents, which meant it was already the next morning in Australia.
"You could go as Catwoman, my dear," suggested her mum.
"I think I spent enough time as a cat that one year, thanks," Hermione sighed.
The voice on the other end of the line tittered.
"It was only a idea, dear. I'm sure you'll find something."
Hermione grumbled and decided that, yes, she'd better go by the near-by shop the following day and hope to Merlin that there was something other than those obscenely short dresses that barely covered one's backside.
"May I offer you some assistance?" inquired a young girl of perhaps twenty who was presently squeezed into a vampire gown.
"I'm looking for something in superheroes?"
"Right, just this way."
Around the corner there was an entire wall of hero costumes. Most of the ones for women were glorified swimsuits with matching stockings. Just her luck.
"Do you have anything, I dunno, with more, er, coverage?"
"Just these over here." She pointed Hermione helpfully towards some more substantial outfits. This was also reflected in the price.
Hermione sighed. Did she really want to spend 60 quid on something she'd never wear again? She looked through the choices in dismay.
"Are you sure this is everything?"
The girl's eyes scanned the racks. "Well, there are a few from last season that are discounted. You might find something. They're in that bin on the end just there."
Hermione thanked her and quickly rifled through the plastic packets. Most were the standards: mouse, french maid, nurse, and… Catwoman. Hermione stared down at it in chagrin. It had been marked down to £35 from £60 and included a mask and cheap boots. It was as if the universe itself was taunting her.
"I'll take it," she said as she arrived back at the counter, handing both packet and bills over to the girl. Moments later, she found herself outside poorer in both Muggle money and hope.
"This is the most ludicrous thing ever," she huffed to no one in particular.