Previously…

i "Honestly, though, Halloween would be rather boring if it weren't for the required costumes this year," Harry finally admitted, twirling a quill between his fingers. "Other years, it's just been a feast, although no one complains."

"What are you going as?"

"A Deatheater," the teenager answered glibly, waiting for a reaction. Brethany did not disappoint.

"A iDeath/i-" the young woman choked with sudden laughter. "If you really do dress up as a Deatheater, you have to make sure I see everyone's reactions."

Harry laughed. "It iwould/i be amusing to see the reactions. No, but I'm actually going as a centaur…Luna's going as a unicorn, so we'll sort of be a matching pair." He flushed under the teacher's knowing grin. "She was happy to go with me," the teenager grinned goofily, embarrassed happiness shining in his eyes.

"Told ya so," Brethany laughed.

"Oh, shut up," Harry struggled to glower at her, but couldn't stop smiling. /i

And Now…

"Merlin, this is harder than I thought it would be…" Brethany growled at her reflection. "Who would have thought that metamorphmagus abilities were so hard to get right. Red eyes should be nothing!" Sighing, she surveyed the rest of her costume. A long, old-fashioned gown made of raw silk that shimmered blood red in the light and clung in all the right places; she had lengthened her hair and curled it into tight corkscrew curls; thigh-high boots were laced up her legs; and, to complete the look, long white canines glowed against the crimson of her lips. "Finally," she sighed, her latest effort achieving the glowing red eyes she had been going for. "OK, I'm ready. Vampire Brethany is in the building!"

Twenty minutes later, Brethany was in the Great Hall, half an hour before the students were expected. The Hall had been decorated by several of the more enterprising seventh years, and the effect was quite impressive. The ceiling showed a dark, gloomy night interspersed by lightning, and several of the castle ghosts floated among the rafters. The walls were covered in cobwebs and grinning skeletons that waved cheerfully as she walked by. Pumpkins floated above every table, cleverly distorted and carved to look like the various teachers; Brethany cackled loudly when she spotted her own likeness over the Ravenclaw table. Stray suits of armor wandered the Hall, lights glowing faintly within helmets. Torches flickered eerily from the walls and flashes of lightning cast jagged shadows across the Hall. Black and gray shrouds covered the tables, and dribbly black candles hovered over each seat. A thick mist filled the Hall, giving the entire room a creepy air. The students had done a wonderful job indeed.

"Brethany," Minerva McGonagall's voice spoke from the mist, and the DADA teacher watched in amusement as her colleague stepped out of the fog. "What is so amusing?" the Transfiguration professor demanded sharply, raising her nose in the air. Brethany choked on her laughter. The older woman had dressed as the very picture of a muggle's misconception of a witch. Her skin was pale, with a greenish tint, and covered in age blemishes; a large mole adorned the very tip of her nose; a ratty old gray dress flowed to the floor; her hair was styled in a beautifully frizzy gray bob that hung about her face in a truly terrifying fashion.

"It's a fantastic outfit, Minerva," Brethany struggled not to howl with laughter. "Who suggested it, exactly?"

The older witch -!- glared off into the mist. "Poppy helped me put it together, if that is what you are asking." The younger woman gaped at her in surprise, then choked on a laugh. "The idea, however, was given to me by my niece, who is a squib. She thought the outfit suitable, for some reason."

"It's…very…" Brethany gave up. "It's very well done. Thorough, even. You look just like what most children have nightmares about, Minerva. Your niece was right; it's very fitting."

"Fitting?!"

Brethany fled before she could be verbally flayed. The first person she ran into in the mist was Filius Flitwick, who was quite delighted with her costume. Brethany warned him off Minerva, then continued to see who was there. The students were beginning to filter in, and the varied costumes were quite impressive looking in the eerie lighting. Fairies, elves, historical figures, magical creatures, the occasional muggle superhero, caricatures of Death, and even two boys dressed as Harry Potter himself wandered through the mist. Several students stared in dismay at her costume, then scuttled away, terrified, when she showed off her pretty teeth. She had just frightened several second years out of their wits when she came across a rather impressive centaur.

"Harry!" Brethany grinned widely at her favorite student. "You look very nice, Harry. Well done on the costume." Well done, indeed. The teenage boy had managed to transfigure his entire lower body into that of a small, dappled gray horse, and had lengthened his hair to cover both torso and back. A green blanket was draped over the equine part of him, and his tail was long and black. With the bow and arrows slung over his shoulder, Harry made a quite impressive centaur. "You look quite lovely as well, Luna," the teacher complimented the Ravenclaw girl.

"Thank you, Professor," Luna twirled a long lock of pale blond hair around her finger. The girl was dressed as a unicorn in a long, sparkling white dress that somehow managed the illusion of animal hair. Her feet had been transfigured into horse's hooves, and a slender white horn sprouted from the girl's pale forehead. Coupled with the equine ears peeking from loose white hair, the costume was both quaint and lovely…rather like the girl herself. "You look quite dangerous," the teenage girl added.

Brethany laughed, flashing her fangs gleefully. "I've been scaring the students horribly…I should likely feel bad about it, but it's rather fun." Harry snorted his amusement. "It's not imy/i fault that the rumors never completely died out, is it? Harry, I know, passed on a few rumors about blood-letting during detentions." She gave the young man a mock glare.

"Well, neither is it my fault if the vast majority of the school is highly open to suggestion," Harry retorted, stamping a hoof. "Merlin, these things are hard to control," he muttered to himself, a hand going down in a futile effort to hold the broad leg still.

"Stop thinking so hard about it," Luna offered. "If you try so hard to control it, the horse part of you will get skittish. Horses can sense fear, you know."

Cocking her head slightly, Brethany regarded the girl. "You know you're right, Miss Lovegood? I've been around horses quite a bit, and they do get skittish around nervous people. You might try that, Harry, it will probably work. Just because you're only half-horse doesn't mean a little horse-savvy won't come in handy."

"'Savvy'?"

"It means knowledge, know-how, understanding, familiarity, experience…savvy." The American grinned at their befuddled expressions. "D' you ken?" Luna smiled mysteriously in answer, but Harry simply rolled his eyes. "Oh, go on, spoil all my fun," Brethany muttered mockingly. "Nobody likes me anymore," she pouted.

"When did we?" Harry teased. "You're the horrible vampire teacher who gives us lots of homework; why would we like you? Now, if you didn't issue homework, and your tests consisted of only two questions, and you automatically gave out Os, we would all love you except for Hermione and the Ravenclaws." Brethany rolled her eyes, then grinned when Luna slapped the teenage boy across the back of the head. "Ow!"

"Stop teasing Professor Lewis," the blond girl spoke seriously. "It's not very clever to deliberately provoke a vampire; she might eat you."

"And not in the good way, either," said vampire murmured quietly, causing Harry to go bright red and choke, and Luna to smile mysteriously, fingers playing with her hair. "What's wrong, Harry? Breathe wrong?" Brethany grinned innocently at the flushed teenager.

"Shut up," he muttered lowly. "That's just…"

"Wrong? I agree entirely. I don't like your blood very much, anyway. It's all bright kindness and sunshine, very heroic and good. It burns on the way down, no matter how good it tastes." The three watched as several eavesdropping students squeaked in horror and darted away into the mist. "I hope they got what they were listening for," Brethany grinned evilly. "My students haven't been properly afraid of me since I taught them how to discern if a person was a vampire. I may have to go over that lesson again," she mused to herself.

"You delight in perpetuating rumors about yourself," Harry shook his head in mock disapproval. His teacher tossed him a 'Yeah? So?' look. "I can't believe the school board hasn't cracked down on you yet…they did when Remus was accused of being a werewolf, after all."

"The difference, Mr. Potter, is that Professor Lewis is not a real vampire, while Lupin is most definitely an accursed werewolf," Snape spoke menacingly from the mist. Both students whirled to face him, wands drawn. "Pathetic," the Potions professor sneered. "If I had been an enemy, you would both be dead at my feet."

"If you had been an enemy, Harry would have sensed your presence several moments ago, Professor Snape," Brethany pointed out levelly, scrutinizing her fellow teacher. "Are you…Merlin, you are!" She laughed gaily. "I love the costume…it's quite fitting." Fitting, indeed. Truth to tell, he looked very nearly as he normally did: harshly cut, long black robes with a high collar, black waistcoat and trousers, black boots, and a long, sweeping black cloak. The style, though, was slightly different. The cloak was of a classic cut, more like an opera cloak, and was lined with gray silk; the black waistcoat was worn over a pearl-gray blouse with a black silk cravat; the robes were obviously of black silk; lastly, his hair was pulled back into an elegant tie, showing off a beautiful widow's peak over a scholar's brow. The wizard's eyes seemed to have an odd sheen, as though the surface of his eyes were unusually reflective, and upon a closer look, his canines appeared to be as long as Brethany's own.

"It's funny how you two dressed alike," Luna mused aloud. "You make quite a daunting couple." The girl drifted off into the mist, pulling Harry with her, before either teacher could break from their shock.

"So…Count Vlad Dracula III?" Brethany asked, trying to ignore the discomfort of the situation.

"Indeed," came the growled answer. "Had I known my outfit of choice was already claimed, I would have sought out another selection." The rebuke was obvious, but Brethany ignored it, having regained her emotional equilibrium.

"Oh, but this is wonderful! We can see who can scare more students!" She grinned up at him, unrepentant for having chosen a similar costume. "I've already perpetuated several rumors, as well as scared dozens of students; you'll have to catch up."

"Students have been thinking I am a vampire for years, Ms. Lewis," Snape pointed out dryly, "And I have done absolutely nothing to perpetuate such rumors."

"Oh, please. You are the epitome of dark and evil to most teenagers," Brethany scoffed. "To their naïve little minds, you embody the darkest and most horrific of men…ergo, a vampire. Teenagers are nothing if not melodramatic, Snape, and such a dark figure as you are is easy to romanticize. They would cast you as either the betrayed lover or the evil vampire; I think you got the better end of the stick." The young woman grinned at Snape's expression of horror.

"Oh, but Severus would make isuch/i a tragic hero," Pomona Sprout appeared out of the mist, a broad grin on her face, obviously having heard the tale end of the conversation. The two women exchanged mischievous looks. "Obviously, he's only so mean to the children because his one true love betrayed him, leaving him destitute at the altar…he has since dedicated his life to teaching children, bent on helping others' offspring in lieu of his own desired, but regretfully impossible, children. He can't help his bad temper; he must suffer through life thinking of his lost lover, able only to dream of a better life than his own." The middle-aged witch sighed dramatically, a dreamy expression on her face, then looked to said tragic hero to see his reaction.

"How in Merlin's name did you come up with such twaddle," the Potions Master demanded in disgust, his face puckered into an expression of distaste.

"Oh, I didn't come up with it, Severus," Pomona told him cheerily.

"Do you mean to say that you've never overheard the sixth and seventh year girls talking about you?" Brethany was honestly surprised, but equally delighted. "There is an entire clique of girls that devotes nearly all its gossip to you…they'll talk for hours-"

"During classes, even," the Herbology teacher chimed in.

"-All about you: who you took points from, and why; whether your lover was from Gryffindor and whether that's why you dislike Gryffindors so much; what your personal quarters look like; whether you're a boxers or briefs kind of man; how you-" Brethany cut herself off when her target stomped off, his face screwed up in horrified anger. "Do you think he believed all that?"

"Undoubtedly." The other woman looked satisfied. "I'm not certain whether we just pricked his pride or inflated it, but either way, it was quite enjoyable." Brethany snorted her amusement, then both women laughed.

Word Count: 2090