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He'd enjoyed every second of it. Working like this was everything he'd ever dreamed of and more. He'd never imagined that he of all people would be in a place like Romania, working with dragons. And it was amazing.

But today, Charlie felt different. It was the same as any other day: get up early; check the eggs; prepare the food mixes; write up the reports; spend two hours trekking from place to place doing the menial jobs that he had to do because of his lower rank yet loved. But today, the jobs didn't hold the same excitement, the same fervor, the same sparkle that they usually did. Today was different. Today was the 31st October.

It was a well-known fact, amongst those who knew him well, that Charlie Weasley hated Halloween. As far as he was concerned, it was worse than exams, trips to the Mediwitch and funerals put together.

It had been OK when he had been younger. His mum had always cooked a huge dinner (his dad used to say she was trying to out-cook the Hogwarts house elves) and they'd all been allowed to have loads of fun. They were allowed to get away with anything (the twins mostly anything), and it had always been a chance for the whole family to spend time together, relaxing.

And Charlie had loved that. It had usually been one of the few occasions that he got on with all of his brothers at the same time. They'd take turns making up silly games like 'Ghost Broom Ride' and 'Hunt the Hippogriff in the Dark.' One year the twins had enjoyed smashing a collection of pumpkins their father had brought home from work to pulp with their broomsticks (that had been one of the things that they hadn't got away with).

They'd tell ghost stories, too. Making up grizzly tales of cursed Inferi and nasty apparation deaths. They'd always included Ron and Ginny too (even though they were always a bit young really). It had been great, and Charlie had loved Halloween. But then he went to Hogwarts. And everything changed.

He had been extremely excited in his first year, for Halloween. Bill had told him about the gigantic feast Hogwarts always prepared, and the decorations and spells that supplemented the feast. He had also told him about the great parties each house usually had. So Charlie had been all set to have a great time with his friends, until Errol had come blundering in, not two hours before the feast was about to begin with a letter addressed to both him and Bill.

Charlie had never made it to his first Halloween Feast. He and Bill had spent the night in the deserted Gryffindor tower, each deep in their own thoughts and each trying not to cry in front of each other. Errol had brought news of the death of their Uncle Bertie, their dad's brother, and a person both Bill and Charlie had liked. He'd always come across as slightly crazy, but they'd always had a laugh when he visited, and he'd always bring them all some sort of unusual present from one of his many journeys. After receiving the letter, Charlie had gone right off the idea of celebrating Halloween. It just didn't seem right.

In his second year, Charlie was slightly more dubious about Halloween. Having missed the celebrations the year previously, he was unsure of what to expect, but, as the day approached, his friends had begun their usual fantasising about what food would be on offer, and soon, Charlie had been dragged into the excitement too, and, once again had been as excited as the others at the prospect of food and a party.

But on the morning of the thirty-first, Charlie had awoken to a horrible stomach ache and a pounding headache, feeling truly awful. Thirty minutes later a visiting Bill had morosely told him of the stomach bug that had been sweeping through Hogwarts. Now Charlie had it.

He'd spent the entire day in bed, a bucket on the floor beside him, drifting in and out of what sleep he could get and throwing up every hour. It had been one of the worst days in Charlie's school career so far, coming in a close second next to last Halloween. It got even worse when the rest of his dorm-mates went off to the feast, casting him guilty and sympathetic glances as they slipped out of the door, trying to hide the excitement on their faces. Charlie merely lay in the silence by himself; trying not to think of all the food his friends would be eating (mainly because the thought of it made him feel sick again, and partly because he didn't want to imagine what he was missing). Bill had come back from the feast early to visit him, but by then, Charlie was utterly miserable, and had cast his brother away pretty quickly, delving under his blankets behind his curtains, and trying to block out the sounds of his dorm-mates returning, laughing and joking together.

By the time October rolled round in his third year, Charlie hadn't been surprised when he was yet again stopped from going to the feast. A compost fight that day in Herbology had escalated to the point where McGonagall had been less than impressed to have to deal with three muddy, filthy boys in her office and had promptly given them all detention that evening, despite the protests Charlie and his friends had given. They'd spent the evening in McGonagall's draughty classroom, writing out lines until she saw fit to return to them, which hadn't been until well after the feast had ended and McGonagall had spent several hours with the rest of the staff. Charlie's hand had been cramped up for the whole of the following day, and that, compared with the icy stares he received from his fellow Gryffindors for losing a whole fifty points had led him to a simple realisation. Halloween was officially the worst day of the year.

Charlie hadn't been expecting anything better the next year. Bill had laughed at him, telling him how stupid he was, but Charlie knew that it wouldn't be any better than it normally was. He just knew – and he was right.

It had actually been his own attitude to the problem that had caused his absence this time round He'd spent the day in a moody stupor, much to the annoyance of several of his friends who kept telling him how stupid he was being and that he should come down with them later ready to enjoy himself. Charlie, however, hadn't been quite as enthusiastic and had scowled at them all for the rest of the day, not daring to say anything. When it had been time for the feast they had all given up on him and gone anyway. Later, Bill had just rolled his eyes and told Charlie that he only had himself to blame, and that it was his own stupid attitude that was ruining Halloween, not just unfortunate events.

So Charlie had begun to resent Halloween with a passion. He hated the dressing up, and the stories that had once chilled him with excitement when he had been younger now seemed babyish. The decorations were fake and all in all it seemed to be justan excuse to have a pointless party.

Fifth year hadn't been any better. Charlie became the ridicule of several jokes as Halloween approached, so much so that it got to the point that even if he had dared to go to the feast, he wouldn't have had anyone to go with anyway.

By the time he reached his last year at Hogwarts, Charlie had resigned to the fact that Halloween and he just didn't go together. Not anymore, leastways. He'd even tried being optimistic about the whole thing, and had finally made it to the feast (He had gone in his sixth year too, but Charlie didn't even like to think about how that had ended up. Suzy Kirk hadn't spoken to him since then).

His seventh-year feast, however, had been a very muted affair. Surprisingly, nothing had gone wrong, but Charlie had been so full of dread that everything had just seemed a bit – rubbish.

So it was with the same depression that Charlie was looking to this year's Halloween with. He'd tried to ignore the posters and chanting spells that hovered around the offices and workstations, informing everyone about the party that evening, concentrating merely on his work. Watching the others preparing for the party hadn't helped either, and as soon as his shift was over, Charlie apparated back to his flat, muttering that he had work to do in reply to his friends' curious glances.

He threw himself into his work, trying to blot out the squeals of drunken laughter coming from the street below as teenagers toppled around in fairy wings and vampire teeth. As the evening progressed, he found himself becoming so immersed in his work, that when the noise of someone rapping on the door sounded through his room, he almost jumped out of his skin.

"Come in," he called, pushing his chair back from the desk slightly. It was Morgan, fully dressed from head to toe in black with added extras of a small pair of ears on a headband, and a pair of wings on her back. She'd painted the end of her nose black, and mussed her usually blonde hair (now black) up into a crazy frizz. She caught Charlie's expression and laughed lightly.

"I'm a bat! See?" she said, giving him a small twirl. Charlie didn't alter his expression of half disbelief, and half disgust and turned back to his work.

Morgan sighed and sat heavily down on his bed.

"Come on, Charlie. Come to the party! It's really great, honestly. Everyone's dressed up, just like the Muggles do, except it's so much better than one of their parties." Charlie turned back towards her with this comment.

"I thought you were Muggle-born?"

"I am," shrugged Morgan, "But I didn't know what I was missing then did I?" she sighed. "Oh, come on, Charlie, don't be such a bore. It really is great. What've you got against it anyway?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"You want the entire story?"

Morgan tutted.

"Give me an abridged version then."

So Charlie told her, and by the end, he could tell that Morgan was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Oh, Charlie, you're really going to let that stop you?" Charlie opened his mouth to answer, but Morgan continued. "Look, just forget what happened at Hogwarts. This is different. Nothing's gone wrong yet, has it? Besides," she said grinning, "Think of this as a new start."

Charlie sighed, and glanced from his pile of work, spilling over onto his bed, to Morgan, who sat with wide, pleading eyes… dressed as a bat. He'd always hated Halloween. But maybe it was just at Hogwarts that it had gone wrong? On the other hand, he'd hate to return home later after a disastrous party with the small voice in his head telling him, "I told you so."

So far he was healthy, and in a good mood, and nothing had seemed to go wrong. Unless he got another terrible letter Charlie couldn't honestly see anything going wrong this time. He paused for a minute before making a decision.

"What the hell," he said, turning to Morgan, "I'll come out." Morgan grinned.

"Great! But first, you need something to wear…"

Five hours later, Charlie was back at his flat, stripping off the remnants of the vampire costume Morgan had found for him. The party had indeed been amazing. Everyone had been dressed up, and as well as music there had been Halloween games, both Muggle and magical. Charlie himself had even shown them all how to play some of those he remembered from his childhood. The decorations had been mind blowing, with magical streamers twisting around their heads, pumpkins grinning manically and a charm that meant that every so often a cluster of sweets would fall from the ceiling. And Charlie had loved every last minute of it. He'd had a great time, and nothing had gone wrong…

As he collapsed into bed, outside, an owl soared up to the window, with a letter addressed to 'Charlie Weasley'…

A/N: This oneshot was written for the Reviews Lounge's collaboration 'Something Wicked This Way Comes' and can also be found as part of a collection of oneshots under the fic with the same title. Thanks to my beta Spinky, and thanks to you for reading!!