The After-Party Party.

It was All Hallow's Eve and the castle was buzzing with excitement. Breakfast itself was an unusual affair; the tables hung with orange and black tablecloths and laden with pumpkin pies and bat shaped cookies, along with the usual pumpkin juice and eggs and bacon. Bats had been enchanted to swoop around the hall in spirit of the occasion, and the only thing out of keeping was the lack of traditional spiders in their webs, on account of the very real fear of one Mr. Ronald Weasley.

The occasion was marked with festivities this year due to the excitement that had descended over the school as the result of the World Cup Quidditch final that England had won the previous week. Dumbledore, who looked upon holidays such as Halloween with the joy of a five year old child, had finally persuaded the rest of the staff to consent to a day of celebration.

A timetable had been drawn up by McGonagall (with the aid of Hermione and her coloured pencils) outlining special events and games that were to take place during the day. A late and leisurely breakfast had been provided, after which an afternoon of Quidditch between the staff and pupils was to take place. In the evening a Halloween party was to be held in the Great Hall, with fancy dress (and a prize for the best costume), and various games and activities reminiscent of Muggle years past. Even the Slytherins with their usual distaste of such events (and in particular any ensuing muggle components) had been washed away on the tide of happiness that had descended down upon Hogwarts like an April shower.

Ron and Hermione were already seated at the Gryffindor table as Harry entered the Great Hall. Hermione was talking to Ginny about the ideas she had for her costume in a hushed voice as he sat down and poured himself some Pumpkin juice.

"Have you heard about the after-party party?" Ron had asked him, his mouth full of pumpkin pie.

Harry paused in the process of buttering a piece of toast shaped like a witch's hat, and peered curiously at his friend.

"After-party party?" he asked.

Ron nodded, brushing crumbs from his jumper. "Yeah, some of the seventh years have decided to hold an exclusive party. Seamus has got hold of some Firewhisky and apparently Crabbe and Goyle have managed to pinch some kegs from somewhere. Should be fun."

Harry looked incredulously at his friend as if he had just uttered the words, "Yes I have admitted my feelings for Hermione and we are getting married next week. Oh and Voldemort wears pink bunny slippers."

"What do you mean 'it should be fun'? Beer supplied by Crabbe and Goyle? A party with the Slytherins? I'm not quite seeing where this is fun."

"People from all of the houses will be there. Should be no problem, mate. Besides, everyone will be drunk by then. The punch will be spiked at the Halloween party y'know?"

Ron gave Harry a wink and pointed with his head towards Fred and George sitting at the other end of the table.

"Do I have to go?" Harry asked. "It doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

"Of course you have to go, mate. And it will be fun. I promise. We are all going to get drunk and be merry and have a couple of games of naked Twister."

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and Ron thumped him on the back, laughing.

"I was joking mate. Calm down. There isn't going to be any naked Twister, maybe naked dancing though!"

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The afternoon was spent outside on the Quidditch pitch, where the whole school had congregated to watch their Professors play against some of the best student players the school had ever seen. The rules had been changed slightly to accommodate the preferred positions of the players, and thus there were two Seekers on each side. Dumbledore and Snape were the Seekers for the staff team, although how Dumbledore could ever spot the little golden ball with his eyesight was anybody's guess. Naturally, Potter and Malfoy were the Seekers for the school team. Neither boy felt particularly comfortable with the idea of playing for the same side, but both stubbornly consented to working with the other in the name of 'thrashing the teachers arses' as Ron had so eloquently put it.

Half an hour into the game, Malfoy spotted the Snitch and was about to race forward to claim his prize when Harry put his hand out and grabbed his arm, bringing him to a jolt and almost knocking him off his broom.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy spat. "The Snitch is over there, I could easily catch it."

Harry frowned at him and indicated over to the other side of the pitch where Dumbledore was perched on his broom grinning manically at the players who flew around him.

"Look at him will you, I've never seen Dumbledore so happy. We can't go catching the Snitch this early on. Besides, what will we do for the rest of the afternoon?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at Harry as he turned it over in his mind.

"I don't think Snape would agree with your assessment," he said, his eyes fixing on a spot behind Harry.

Harry turned and quickly stuffed his fist into his mouth to hide his laughter as he spied the Potions master. Snape was sitting sidesaddle on his broom like an eighteenth century damsel, his voluminous robes billowing around him. His distaste for the game was evident.

"Yeah, but since when did Snape agree with anything I ever said?" he replied, turning back to Malfoy grinning.

Draco could not help but smile. The look on the Head of Slytherins face was priceless and he wouldn't give it up for the world, even if it meant catching the Snitch in this pointless charade.

The game casually sauntered on for a couple of hours, the Professors looking more haggard by the minute. Dumbledore had fallen asleep on his broom, his chin drooping onto his chest. Every so often he would let out a rather loud snore, causing whoever was idly playing with the Quaffle to drop it in surprise. McGonagall was sitting bone straight on her broom, intently watching out for Bludgers as the Head teacher slept next to her. Snape had given up on playing a long time ago, and he now sat daintily on his broom with his legs crossed, a Potions textbook resting open on his lap. Madam Pomfrey was busy shouting "Watch out!" to any player who came within a hundred yards of a Bludger, obviously flustered from keeping track of any potential accidents that could occur. Professor Trelawney was flying around in a jaunty circle, her bug eyed head snapping from side to side as she mumbled to herself, "I see the Snitch. No. I see the Snitch. No. Wait....there it is. No!". The rest of the staff team had abandoned the skies and all sat on the edge of the pitch near the student team hoops, sipping tea from dainty china cups.

Harry and Draco were both bored out of their minds, as were the majority of the spectators who were all slumped in their seats, napping. Harry lazily glanced around the pitch and stifled a yawn. Suddenly the Snitch zoomed out of nowhere and hovered in front of Dumbledore's sleeping face.

"Do you want to get it or shall I?" he nudged Draco.

Draco shrugged "Doesn't matter," he replied, studying his fingernails.

"You take it then, I'm feeling generous today," Harry said with a smirk he had learnt from Draco, the Smirk Master himself.

Draco nodded once and stretched his arms out behind his head, working the muscles in his shoulders, before flying slowly towards the Snitch, looking for the entire world as if he were taking a Sunday stroll in the park. He reached out and plucked the Snitch from the sky by one of it's wings. It seemed that even the Snitch had stopped bothering to play.

Silence.

Up in the stands Hermione nudged Seamus who was commentator for the match.

"Draco Malfoy has erm...caught the Snitch. The students win!" he shouted.

The crowd woke up and roared to life, cheering more that the game had finally finished than for the result it produced.

Dumbledore woke up with a start, his sleep filled eyes focusing on Draco.

"I nearly caught it you know!" he declared cheerfully, beaming around at Snape, who just rolled his eyes.

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As eight o'clock rolled around, the students finally emerged from their respective dormitories. A strange assortment of costumes had been created from both magical and Muggle means and the students gawped at each other as they entered the Great Hall. The Weasley twins, who were dressed in matching Victorian costumes, had magically created a flesh bond between them, joining them at the hips. The Siamese twins shuffled their way over to the punch bowl and emptied a 70% proof bottle of Muggle brandy into the mixture with a smirk.

Ron and Harry walked over to Hermione and studied her with bewildered looks on their faces.

"What on earth are you supposed to be?" Ron asked her.

Hermione sighed and turned her eyes to the ceiling. "Don't you read?" she asked. "In 'Hogwarts: A History' it explains how one Lady Eleanor of Norway died in this very castle on Halloween five hundred years ago. I am she."

"How did she die?" asked Ron

"She killed herself," Hermione replied. "She was in love with her Charms teacher. Unrequited of course, and she couldn't stand it when he finally took a wife. So she flung herself off of the Astronomy Tower."

Hermione raised her wand and with a flourish swished it against her neck.

Ron and Harry jumped back, startled as Hermione's head rolled to the side as if she had snapped her neck.

"That's gross Hermione!" they declared in unison.

"You have no appreciation of History," she sniffed, her nose in the air. Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she stared at Harry, her gaze lopsided on account of the broken neck.

"And what are you?" she asked.

Harry looked down at his black Tuxedo and walking cane and twitched his moustache up at her. He had decided on wearing contacts for the evening, thinking glasses wouldn't really be something that went with his costume.

"I'm Gomez Addams," he said.

"Who?" asked Ron

"Muggle character. Never mind," Harry told him.

"No need to ask what you are," Hermione said, looking at Ron in disgust.

Ron grinned from underneath his black hooded robe.

"Pretty cheap and tasteless if you ask me," said a sneering voice from behind the trio. "A Death Eater. You could have tried to use your imagination, Weasel."

Behind them stood Draco Malfoy. There was no second guessing his costume. He wore tightly fitting black linen trousers and a showy white dress shirt which was frilled at the collar and cuffs. A black velvet cloak was thrown over his shoulders, and a silver clasp in the shape of a coffin sat at his throat. His pale blonde hair had been slicked back, reminiscent of the style he wore in the first two years at Hogwarts. Draco was grinning, revealing twin ivory fangs. A single drop of blood was delicately smeared at the corner of his mouth.

"A vampire, that's original," Harry said. "It's not like 90% of Muggles dress up as vampires on this very night."

"Ah," said Draco waving his arm in a flourish. "But I am not just any vampire. I am THE Count Dracula; pure blood, exquisite taste, lots of money."

"Did he hate Muggles too?" Hermione asked.

"No. Just Mudbloods," Draco declared before flouncing off to join Crabbe and Goyle who were both dressed as Executioners, complete with plastic axes.

Ron looked like he was about to take after Draco and punch him.

"Leave it Ron," said Hermione, placing a hand on the angry redheads arm. "He isn't worth it. Let's just have some fun. Shall we go and get some punch?"

"Yes! The punch!" Ron declared with a twinkle in his eye, Malfoy already forgotten.

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The party was decidedly a success. Both Professors and students were feelings tipsy on account of the spiked punch and the small stalls that had been set up around the circumference of the hall, advertising apple bobbing and 'pin the tail of the three headed dog', had been kept busy all evening. The best costume prize had eventually been won by a first year Hufflepuff girl who had dressed as an octupus. As midnight approached the seventh years eyed each other warily, both reluctant and anxious to get to the after-party party. It had been decided that it would be held in the Slytherin common room, the most spacious of the four houses, and the furthest away from the staff areas. Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had already spent a couple of hours that afternoon casting silencing spells around the common room to ensure they would not be discovered.

As the clock struck midnight, Dumbledore (who was dressed as a wizard called Gandalf from a Muggle series of books), clapped his hands and rose the dimmed lights.

"Thank you all for such a wonderful celebration," he said. "And well done once again to the student team who only just managed to beat us earlier at Quidditch."

With that a wave of giggles washed through the room as students tried not to laugh.

"Now all of you off to bed," continued Dumbledore. "And I am glad there will be no after-party parties in the Slytherin dungeon room!" he finished, his eyes twinkling.

The seventh years exchanged smug glances, safe in the knowledge that the Headmaster had all but given his permission for the revelries to continue (although it was unlikely he would have approved of the alcohol if he had known).

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The after-party party was just getting into full swing as Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Slytherin common room. Candlelight filled the room, providing the only illumination, and eerie shapes danced on the walls. Students stood around half a dozen giant kegs in the corner, taking turns at filling their glasses. Others stood in tiny groups, holding onto each other for support as the drink took effect. Malfoy was sitting on one of the leather sofas, pretending to gnaw at Pansy Parkinson's neck with his fangs. Crabbe and Goyle stood guard either side of the entrance, their plastic axes held stiffly by their sides as they drunkenly rocked and tried to focus on the room.

"Glad you could make it, Potter!" Malfoy declared in a false tone, leaving Pansy's neck for a moment to join them. "Do make yourselves at home and have some beer."

Harry frowned at him, trying to gauge how drunk he was, and whether he would fall over if he pushed him. He decided he wasn't worth the effort.

"Come now Potter, don't tell me you don't drink. Although I wouldn't be surprised, being the Golden Boy and all," Malfoy said.

"I drink," Harry replied through clenched teeth, and as if to prove the point he snatched Malfoy's glass from him and downed it in one long gulp.

Malfoy's grin grew wider, his fangs peeking out menacingly.

"That's better Potter," he said. "But next time get your own glass." He tossed Harry a smirk before returning to the sofa, grabbing another beer on his way.

"Better get to it mate before there isn't any left!" Ron said from beside him, rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Ronald Weasley, you are not to get drunk. You neither, Harry," said Hermione sternly.

"Oh leave off, 'Mione," said Ron, pouting, "It is a party after all."

"Too right!" said Harry, suddenly deciding that if he had to attend a party he had no desire to attend, then he may as well do it drunk. He grabbed Ron's shoulder and dragged him towards the kegs.

"Boys," mumbled Hermione under her breath before joining a group of Ravenclaw girls who were engaged in a debate about the origins of Halloween celebrations.

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An hour and a significant amount of beer later, Ron and Harry turned away from the keg and plonked themselves down on the floor.

"I think I'm drunk, mate," Ron said, squinting up at Harry.

"I think you're right," Harry slurred back.

The pair of them collapsed against each other, giggling. A few minutes later they caught their breath and Ron peered at Harry with a worried look on his face.

"Harry," he said.

"Ron?" Harry replied, studying the bottom of his glass, wondering where the beer had vanished.

"Don't move, but there is a big hairy caterpillar crawling on your face."

Harry froze and managed to squeak out "Where Ron? Get it off!"

Ron reached over and plucked the fake moustache from Harry's upper lip.

"I think it's dead mate," he said. "He died of the fumes from your alcohol breath,"

Neither boy noticed Malfoy approaching them as they wrapped the moustache up in a handkerchief, intent on giving it a proper burial in the morning.

"Having fun?" Malfoy asked, his voice pitching.

Harry and Ron looked up solemnly at Malfoy.

"We were, but there was a caterpillar and it died and so now we are in mourning," Ron said, his voice sober, unlike his mind.

Malfoy sank onto the floor next to Harry and tried to get his alcohol soaked brain around Ron's comment.

Suddenly Pansy appeared, seemingly a lot more sober than the rest of the students.

"I think it's time we played some games!" she said, her eyes flashing.

"Oh Pans!" Draco groaned, looking like he couldn't move if Snape approached him wearing a tutu, informing him he would be in detention for the next decade if he didn't get up.

"Dracoooo," Pansy whined. "You promised, remember? It will be fun."

"Oh yeah, bloody good fun," Draco whispered under his breath.

"Of course, Pansy dear," he said, pasting a smile on his face. "What do you want to play?"

"Truth or Dare," Pansy declared, grinning.

All three of the slumped boys let out a groan this time, but Pansy could not be deterred.

"Come on, it's a party," she said. "We have to play games. Besides, what could be more fun than humiliating a bunch of drunken Gryffindors?"

Draco brightened considerably at this and he relented.

"Okay, get some people together and bring them over here. And if I am made to do anything that involves standing up then I will not be happy."

Pansy smirked and raced off to gather some people together, most of whom had to either be bribed with beer or threatened with a hex.

Finally a group of twenty or so students made their way over and sat down in a circle on the floor. Crabbe and Goyle had finally abandoned their posts at the door and dragged a keg over to join them. Pansy handed out fresh beers, and despite their normally better judgement, Harry and Ron accepted them without protest.

"Please tell me you didn't agree to play," Hermione said, appearing next to Ron.

Harry shrugged. "May as well," he said.

"Yeah, c'mon 'Mione," Ron moaned. "You may even enjoy it."

"I find that very unlikely Ronald Weasley. I, for one, am not blind drunk. Secondly, I know better than to play any game, never mind Truth or Dare, when Slytherins are present."

"Stick in the mud-blood," Draco mumbled.

"I have no intention of playing these childish games," Hermione continued. "But I will sit here and watch, just to make sure nothing untoward happens," she stared pointedly at Draco, who shrugged.

"Okay," said Ron "I'm going to go first."

"Why do you get to go first?" Draco asked, obviously put out.

"Well, do you want to?" Ron asked, refilling his glass.

"I don't care," Draco replied, slumping heavily against the wall, leaning into Harry, his eyes shut.

"Shut up then!" Ron said.

He cleared his throat, and looked at the people who were seated around him.

"Crabbe," he said, "Truth or Dare?"

"Huh? Oh, dare," Crabbe declared.

"Idiot," Draco mumbled. Harry smiled next to him, only Crabbe (or Goyle for that matter) would be stupid enough to ask for a dare on the first turn.

"Okay, I want you and Goyle to slow dance around the room, cheek to cheek," Ron declared with glee.

Draco sniggered in spite of himself, and pried open one eye to watch.

Crabbe shakily got to his feet and bowed towards Goyle, offering his hand.

"Wud ya care for a dance?" he asked.

Goyle took the offered hand and pulled himself up, nearly pulling Crabbe over in the process.

Pansy waved her wand and the rock music that had been blasting around the common room hushed into a slow love song. Crabbe took the lead and wrapped an arm around Goyle's waist, his other hand clasping Goyle's. They started to shuffle around the room as strains of 'Moon River' floated through the air.

The students who hadn't drunk themselves unconscious started laughing, and soon everyone was laughing so hard they could hardly move. Next to Harry, Draco shook as he suppressed his laughter, tears threatening to run down his cheeks.

"Oh God," he squeaked, "I can't breathe."

The song ended and Crabbe led Goyle back to his seat, bowing once more.

"Your turn to ask now, Crabbe, since you got the dare," Pansy told him.

Crabbe appeared to be thinking for a moment, the rusty cogs turning in his already overburdened brain.

"Potter, truth or dare?" he asked finally, a look of satisfaction crossing his face.

Harry looked warily at him, and deciding that he would probably end up chained to the outside of the North Tower covered in honey if he picked a dare, opted for a truth. Crabbes smile widened and Harry suddenly decided he had picked the wrong choice.

"Are you a virgin?" Crabbe asked. Breaths were sucked in all around the room as the students awaited his answer. Draco felt Harry tense beside him, and smirked.

"Well, Potter?" he asked quietly.

"Oh fuck," Harry declared. "Okay okay, I'm a virgin. Happy?"

"Oh yeah, tremendously. The thought of you having sex with anyone makes me want to puke," Draco said. "And I don't want to waste any beer."

Harry shoved him with his elbow. Draco yelped but didn't move.

"Hey, it's not like we didn't all know that anyway," Draco said. "Goody goody Gryffindor isn't exactly going to be some sex god is he?"

Harry frowned but ignored the comment.

"Pansy," he said instead. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," she said without hesitation.

Harry sat there in silence for a moment, trying to work out what he could ask her that would provide the most incriminating answer. He couldn't think of anything he particularly wanted to know, then suddenly it popped into his head.

"Have you ever shagged Malfoy?" he asked.

"Nope," she sighed wistfully, her eyes flickering over to Draco, who just smiled.

"She isn't going to either," he whispered just loud enough for Harry to hear.

"Okay, my turn!" Pansy said, sitting up grinning.

"Why do I get a bad feeling about this, Pans?" Draco drawled, looking at her from under half shut eyes.

"Maybe because you know me too well," she said. "Draco, truth or dare?"

"Oh sod it, dare," Draco said "There isn't anything you can think of that would be shocking anyway."

"Oh yeah? You think so do you?" she asked slyly. "I take it you don't think it's shocking that I am going to ask you to kiss Harry Potter? With tongues?"

There was an audible gasp amongst the students. Draco's mouth hung open in surprise.

"You wouldn't," he hissed.

"Too late, already have. Do it Draco. Or do you want the double dare? We all know what that is. If you would rather streak naked through the corridor and go and knock on Snapes door and ask to borrow some boxers, then be my guest."

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Draco thought. How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

"Do I get a say in this?" Harry piped up.

"No!" everyone said in unison, even Ron and Hermione who exchanged a brief knowing look.

"Traitors!" Harry cried, folding his arms across his chest.

Draco suddenly felt a lot more sober, and he sat up, moving away from where he had slouched against Harry. He cleared his throat.

"Okay then," he said "I'll do it. I'll kiss Potter."

He moved in front of Harry on his knees and slid towards him, a smirk on his face, and one elegant eyebrow raised in question.

Harry gulped and tried to push himself as far back against the wall as he could, which wasn't very far at all.

Draco grinned at his discomfort, revealing his fangs. He looked almost predatory in the candlelight, his silver eyes burning. He slowly moved closer and closer to Harry until his face was only a couple of inches away. He drank in the scared look in Harry's deep green eyes, and suddenly he realised that in this current situation he held some strange kind of power over Potter. It wasn't the power he felt when he was standing in front of him spitting insults. This time that vaguely annoyed look in Harry's eyes had given way to one of pure fear, which upon reflection was a much better look to yield power over.

Draco licked his lips, noticing the way Harry's wide-eyed gaze flickered down to his mouth. He ran his tongue over the tip of one of his sharp little fangs, and he saw Harry draw a deep breath. Harry's eyes darted back up to meet Draco's. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. The room was deathly silent as everyone waited and watched, unsure if in their current drunken states they were actually witnessing Draco Malfoy about to kiss his number one rival, Harry Potter.

Draco leaned in closer, and felt the hot gasps of Harry's breath tickling his face. He reached out and brushed his lips against Harry's, capturing them in a kiss that surprised both of them in its gentleness. His eyes locked with Harry's, and he sucked Harry's bottom lip, eliciting a tiny shudder from his enemy that he was sure only he had noticed. Draco flicked his tongue out over Harry's lips, demanding entrance. He reached up and cupped the back of Harry's head with one hand, his fingers curling into his soft hair.

He felt Harry pull back a little and then he relented and melted into the kiss, his eyes slipping shut. He parted his lips slightly and Draco darted his tongue inside, gasping as his tongue met with Harry's. He suddenly felt Harry's hand press into the small of his back, drawing him near. Despite his hastily put together plan, Draco gave in and pushed even closer, his eyes closing. The kiss drew deeper and more passionate as Harry began to kiss him back, his tongue fighting Draco's for dominance. Draco felt a thick warmth spread down from his abdomen and his trousers suddenly became very tight...

There was a loud cough, and then another. Draco pulled back sharply, his breath rapid and his eyes wide.

"I think you were enjoying that more than you should have been," Pansy said with a strange look in her eyes.

The silence hung like a shroud in the air, and Draco turned to see every student frozen to the spot, their jaws slack. He swallowed thickly, the taste of Harry still clinging to his lips.

"What can I say? Good acting," he tried, with a sneer.

The students seemed to consider this, then relaxed into broad grins and finally cat calls. It was easier for their drunken minds to accept that he was a good actor than the shockingly obvious truth that Draco Malfoy had actually liked kissing Harry Potter.

Draco turned to Blaise and asked him to do some stupid dare that involved him standing on his head while balancing a beer glass on his feet and singing all three verses of the National Anthem. As the students turned their attention towards Blaise, Draco slumped back down against the wall, suddenly exhausted. He found himself leaning against Harry again, increasingly aware of the heat that flowed from him. He glanced at Harry from under his eyelashes and saw that he was paying as little attention to Blaise as he was. Draco shifted slightly so he was facing Harry side on, and slouched back down. Anyone who was watching would have presumed that Draco had fallen into a drink induced slumber against Harry, who was of course too polite to shove him off.

Draco found his face level with Harry's neck, the expanse of golden skin stretching out to him. He saw the faint beat of his pulse flickering at his throat, and suddenly he needed to taste him. He leaned in just a little more and pressed his lips to Harry's neck, noting how Harry's muscles tensed at his touch. Draco feathered tiny kisses across Harry's neck and then nipped him gently with his fangs like the good little vampire he was. Harry's breath hitched slightly, audible only to Draco. Draco bit a little harder, the razor sharp fangs slightly piercing the unblemished flesh. Harry whimpered and moved an inch closer as Draco marked him for himself, leaving Harry with a tiny pair of mementos of the evening.