The Apparation point for the All Hallows Eve party was at the large, ornate gates that heralded the entrance to Malfoy Manor. Two security wizards were checking the invites of the arrivals, one of them being Greg Goyle.

"How are you?" Hermione asked politely.

"Good, thanks. I got a flat and a telly," he said proudly.

Considering where he'd been and his future prospects once he left Azkaban, Hermione supposed he had plenty to be happy about. She wasn't about to rain on his parade.

"Good to hear you're doing well," she said.

"Enjoy the party," he said and the other security wizard tapped the gates with his wand.

They walked up the long path leading to the manor, torches lighting their way. Bonfires were lit about the grounds with party-goers merrily dancing around them. They arrived at the massive front doors of the manor to find their attention drawn to activity and music coming from the east side of the manor. They went that way to find the famed Malfoy Ballroom opened to the grounds. The Weird Sisters were in full tilt.

"How the hell did he manage to get The Weird Sisters to play here?" Harry asked no one in particular.

"How the hell did he manage to get the house elves to dress in costume?" Hermione asked.

"Oi! Would you look at that?" came from a familiar voice.

Ron ambled into view somewhere from their right with a harem girl under each arm. Harry snorted in amusement.

"Right bloody clever costumes!" Ron exclaimed. "All you're missing is a broom!" he gestured to Hermione, knocking the witch under his right arm in the head with his champagne flute.

Hermione winced in sympathy for the young witch, who looked to be not a day over seventeen.

"One of your harem I take it?" Harry asked dryly.

The two young witches looked at Harry and Hermione in awe.

"It's the other two!" one of them hissed excitedly to the other.

"Yeah, this is...Karen-" Ron started.

"Kathryn," she corrected.

"Yeah, Kathy and...Patty-"

"Pamela," the other witch also corrected.

Harry and Hermione gave each other a pointed glance. It was obvious that Ron's "harem" didn't accompany him to this party for his sparkling personality (in his mind), but unfortunately no one bothered telling him that. He wouldn't understand or believe it anyway. The witches of his harem could declare their mission accomplished: to be seen at one of the premier social events of the year in Wizarding Britain.

"I need a drink," Hermione said.

**

Several drinks later, the couple stood before a massive table overflowing with every kind of sweet, biscuit, or cake imaginable. Hermione licked her lips at the thought of an apple covered with hot caramel sauce, and declared that a chocolate éclair topped with a warm strawberry sauce would go perfectly with the caramel apple. Harry chuckled and plucked the empty ale bottle from her hand and placed another in its place. She warmly thanked the elf when he (she?) gave her the plate of sweets. She took a huge bite of the éclair and groaned.

"Sweet is good for miss?" the elf asked, extending a handkerchief to her.

"Yes, very good for miss," Hermione said.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and someone said, "Good evening, Miss Granger."

She turned to see Clarice and Draco. Draco's lips twitched and Clarice grinned shyly at her.

"It's great to see you!" Hermione said to her, glancing at the elf, wondering why the poor thing was there practically dancing with the handkerchief.

"Great costume, Miss Granger," she said.

"Clarice, we're not at work, we're at a smashing party, please call me Hermione."

Harry cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked at him and saw him tapping the end of his nose.

"Is this a new party game?" Hermione asked, tapping his nose as well.

"How much has she had to drink?" Draco asked when Hermione tapped Clarice's nose.

Harry finally took the handkerchief from the elf and drew Hermione close. "You have a spot of red sauce on end your nose," he whispered in her ear.

She mouthed "oh" and wiped her nose. The Weird Sisters started a song and a cheering crowd gathered.

"I love this song!" Hermione exclaimed and went to join the crowd. She urged Clarice to join her and soon the two were hopping and swaying with the rest of the crowd.

"At least she's a fun drunk," Draco said. "I can't say the same for Weasley over there."

They looked to see Ron glaring at the dancing crowd.

"What's his problem?" Draco asked.

"His harem has left him," Harry replied and the two shared the latest gossip of the Ministry.

The raucous song ended and a slower song began. Hermione returned to him and took his hand.

"Fancy a dance, Corporal Potter?" she asked.

The held each close and swayed among the other dozen of slow-dancing couples. She was thoroughly enjoying his covetous hold on her and snuggled closer to him. He rested his chin on top of her head.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked and lightly kissed her forehead.

"Yes, great music, great food, great company," she said and nuzzled his chest.

"In all the time I've known you, I've never seen your hair like this," he said of the ponytail high on her head. "I like it."

"Ginny said most women Quidditch players wear their hair like this," she said.

"And you fill out that kit quite nicely," he said, placing a soft kiss below her ear.

"Oi, my turn!" a loud voice suddenly declared from behind them.

"Bugger off, Ron, we're in the middle of a dance," Harry said, his voice tinged with irritation.

Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled.

"No, Ron, get off!" she protested and tried to pry his fingers off her arm.

"Come on, just for a minute," he said and pulled harder, yanking off the elbow pad.

She pushed him away angrily. "What's wrong with you? Quit making a scene! I said no!"

Draco appeared on the scene flanked by two bulking security wizards. "Is there a problem here?" he asked.

"Yeah, these two," Ron said belligerently.

"What did we do?" Harry asked.

"You're drunk, Ron, go home," Hermione said.

"Piss off, you can't tell me what to do!"

Harry grabbed the front of Ron's robe. "Don't talk to her that way," he warned.

"Weasley, leave my home immediately," Draco said and spoke to the security wizards at his side. "Gentlemen, escort him to the front gate."

He gestured for the band to continue and the party resumed.


Harry was talking with a group of wizards comparing their mobiles and girlfriends.

"Yeah, that's good, but mine has this-"

He saw Hermione and a group of witches dash from the ballroom. What are they up to?

Unbelievably, Hermione had a broom in her hand. Harry returned his attention to the wizards and almost dropped his mobile at his next thought.

She's not going to fly, is she?

"All right there, Potter?"

He left the group and broke into a run. She can't fly and she's been drinking!

He arrived too late and heard a group of witches and a growing crowd of wizards cheering her on. Hermione was dubiously famous for her aversion to flying and her opinion that brooms were only good for sweeping, so this was a rare sight. All Harry could think about was the love of his life falling and breaking her pretty neck. Draco appeared at his side with a broom.

"Get up there with her, Potter," he said.

Harry mounted the broom and sped toward her. He guessed that she was about thirty feet off the ground, but surprisingly stable as she coasted above the crowd. She slowed to a stop when he arrived beside her.

"Gather your galleons, tossers!" she shouted to the crowd. "Yeah, Katie, you too!"

"Did someone put you up to this?" Harry asked.

She burped and scoffed. "Katie and a group of the girls said I was a scared little girl and bet that I couldn't fly!"

When she lifted her hands to air-quote "scared little girl" her broom tipped forward. She squealed and grabbed the handle once more. Harry reached over and took hold of the handle with a hand.

"For Merlin's sake, love, keep your hands on it!" he exclaimed.

"Will you tell me that later?" she asked lasciviously.

He was torn between amusement and exasperation. "Are you ready to rejoin the party? The costume winners are about to be announced," he said.

Due her wobbly flying skills and tipsy, nonsensical conversation, she suddenly dropped too fast and the bristles of her broom brushed the top of a bonfire. She felt heat on her bum and patted her pockets for her wand.

"Hold on!" Harry shouted and sprayed water with his wand.

Unfortunately, this damaged the broom to a non-flyable status. Harry grabbed her wrist as the broom dropped out from under her, sobering her instantly.

"Listen to me, love. Look down, we're not far from the ground. I'm going to fly very slow and take you to Neville, you see him there? He has his arms out ready for you."

She nodded quickly and got a better grip on his hand. As soon as she was safely on the ground, Harry shook Neville's hand and practically dragged Hermione back to a deserted parlor in the manor. She stood quiet and watched him pace, stop and look at her, and resume pacing.

"Harry?"

He stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and spoke vehemently. "What were you thinking? Haven't you ever heard not to drink and fly? You could have fallen off that broom and hurt yourself or worse! You're smarter than doing some stupid dare!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. It was stupid."

He saw her trembling hands and teary eyes.

"You scared yourself," he stated softly.

She nodded quickly in response. He took her face in his hands, gave her a heated kiss, and drew her close.

"We didn't live through a war for you to die because of some stupid dare from your drunk mates! I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you! I love you...you daft, beautiful, maddening, brave...witchy woman."

"Witchy woman?" she repeated, snickering at his words.

"See? You get me so flustered that I can't think straight. And you owe someone a broom, whose was it?"

She shrugged. "Dunno, someone just shoved it in my hands."


When the clock in the ballroom chimed at midnight, a flourish was heard from the band. Draco stood at the microphone and spoke.

"Thanks to all of you for attending my little party," he said, eliciting laughter from the crowd. "Despite that flying stunt earlier, I sincerely hope that this gathering was an enjoyable one."

He raised his champagne flute to the crowd, who clapped in response.

"Now we come to the moment you've all been waiting for, the judging of the costumes. The distinguished panel of judges includes me of course, and the members of the Puddlemere United quidditch team."

The crowd cheered and whistled when a troupe of cowboys made a collective bow. Draco and the cowboys put their heads together for a few minutes and came to a decision.

"Tonight's third place winner, who will also be the winner of a month's free programming of Magic Vision, is Katie Bell, for her spot-on likeness of Minerva McGonagall."

The crowd clapped and a some of the old professor's most memorable phrases were heard throughout the crowd.

"Everyone, take note of the bloke covered in balloons. Second place goes to Alan Moresby, costumed as a bunch of grapes. As such, he will get to peruse the wine cellar of Malfoy Manor and take home the wine of his choice."

Alan yelped when someone behind him popped a balloon attached to his bum.

"Now we come to tonight's first place winner, who will be the recipient of a 100 galleon gift cheque good at any Dragon Communications outlet shop. Congratulations to Hermione Granger, for her most unlikely and form-fitting use of a Quidditch kit."

**

Back at Grimmauld Place, Ron sat alone in the dining room with a Butterbeer and crisps. Now that his head was clearer, he felt extremely foolish at his earlier behavior. He was aggravated at the fact that he arrived at the party with seven witches and was unceremoniously booted from the party with nary a witch to take home. He couldn't work out exactly why that aggravation was transferred to Harry, and felt damn lucky that Hermione didn't hex his balls off for his treatment of her. If Ginny had been there, she probably would have. His sister and Hermione were best mates, thick as thieves and protective of each other. Just after midnight, the happy couple in question Apparated to the front parlor. Ron saw them from the dining room and grinned when Harry pinched her rather fit bum, accentuated in Quidditch pants. With a single finger to his chest bone, she pushed him against the wall and attacked his mouth with hers.

She never did that to me!

They held hands all the way up the stairs and he heard Harry's bedroom door close.

**

Hermione didn't mind one bit for Harry to begin the night's sexual escapades in the shower. They lovingly lathered each other, and during the rinsing portion of the shower, Hermione found herself leaning against the wall with a leg draping Harry's shoulder while he eagerly lapped and sucked at her quim. For someone who claimed a less than stellar sex life in the past, he was really quite good at it.

He paused, stood, and turned her around to face the wall.

"You did something naughty this evening, Miss Granger. You could have burned this gorgeous arse when that broom caught fire," he said, massaging and grinding his cock between her cheeks. "Do you know what happens to naughty witches?"

She shook her head and shuddered when he inserted a finger in her arse.

"They get a spanking," he said and gave her wet slaps alternating with finger thrusts until her arse cheeks were red. She was panting with pleasure when he slid his cock in, causing her to keen in pleasure, he groaning until he was in to the hilt.

"Fuck, this is paradise," he gasped in her ear.

She moved against him and let her head fall back against his shoulder. His hands moved from her breasts to holding her hips as he slapped against her. He slowed, not wanting to come, wanting to make it to the bed, to draw their pleasure out as long as possible. He looked down where his cock was moving in and out of her arse, marveling at her motions mirroring his rolling hips.

"Let's move this to the bed," he urged.

They kissed and fondled the short distance to his bed and picked up where they left off.

"Ride me," he encouraged.

She straddled his hips and sank to the hilt. She rolled her hips, riding him decadently, taking her pleasure of him. When she brought her own hands to her breasts, he sat up, his hands and mouth taking the place of her hands. Tonight wasn't going to be mindless rutting; but slow, passionate loving of each other, reveling in the other's whispered affections and appreciation of the pleasure they were bringing one another.

"Look at us, it's perfect," he whispered.

She looked to where their bodies were connected and arched her back to roll deeper, to try and take more of him into her.

"Perfect," she whispered.

**

They cuddled under the covers, listening to a crackling fire in the fireplace, watching the shadows from the flames dancing on the walls. She rested her head on his chest while he absently ran a hand through her hair.

"Love, there's something I've been dead curious about," he said.

"Ask away," she replied.

"Have you always been so...sexual?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to offend her.

She chuckled and patted his chest, not at all offended. "Admittedly, no."

"Then when....or how...?" he asked.

She snorted softly. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Like I said, I've been dead curious about it."

She sighed and sat up. "And since I appreciate honest curiosity, and because I love you, you get the story behind the discovery of my sexuality."

**