Author Note: I wrote this for Halloween but never got around to posting it before but here it is now. The idea of Harry as Jack and Hermione as Sally seemed to fit perfectly so I let my imagination run wild. Some of the points about Sally and Jack were my own interpretation of the movie and they might not coincide with the others' opinions. But this is how I envisioned the story and so I wrote it.
Summary: Harry steps into the character of Jack Skellington for Halloween. He cannot help but draw parallels between the relationship of the Pumpkin King and Sally, and himself and his best friend.
Halloween was approaching, and for the first time in his life, Harry Potter was throwing a celebratory ball for the holiday.
Everyone had expected him to wallow in his misery, expected him to spend the day apologizing to his parents for indirectly killing them, but he realized that crying over the past was not what his family wanted. His parents would always be with him; maybe not in flesh, but he felt them near him every time he wished they were. And the thought of it alone made him happy.
He was not sure how Ginny talked him into this, but he could not refuse the pleading look in her eyes when she proposed the idea of a Halloween ball. And to top it all off, every invitee was asked to draw a card to decide their costume, something he was really not comfortable with. But he had missed the opportunity to back out.
The group of ex-Hogwarts students had huddled around the table of a fancy muggle restaurant, their eyes trained on the bowl filled with colourful strips of paper with ideas written on them. The young adults were beginning to feel impatient, waiting for the only missing member from the crowd. She was running late, at least by their standards.
Since there was only one muggle-born in their group who was well versed in themed parties and muggle spooky avatars, they had asked her to list the characters the wizards and witches would be stepping in shoes of.
Harry turned to face the door, just as a familiar female figure rushed in, panting harshly. Involuntarily, a smile split his face in half at the mere presence of his best friend, Hermione Granger.
"Hermione!" he called out, drawing the attention of everyone in the premises.
The way her eyes lit up, as they fell on him, was all he could focus on. He did not hear the sighs of relief or the shouts of complaints escaping the wizards and witches surrounding him at her tardiness. All he noticed was the soft blush on her cheeks, the light snow in her hair and the beautiful smile on her lips as she approached him.
Her arms wound around his neck, as his curled around her petite waist, and she squeezed the life out of him. However, he made no efforts to break the warm hug, a feeling of home surrounding him. She slightly pulled back, beaming at him and he was once again lost in the brown iris of her eyes.
Hermione turned her head in the direction of her friends, not bothering to remove her arms from where they were resting on his body, and apologized, "I'm so sorry, everyone. There was just too much work that I couldn't leave early."
Ron shook his head, off-handedly dismissing her apology and ushering everyone towards the bowl. It seemed that his very thin string of patience had finally snapped.
Rolling his eyes at his best friend's personality, Harry quickly smiled at the girl in his arms before picking up a strip of folded paper. Everyone mimicked his actions until the bowl was empty and their fingers held the fate of their costumes.
Mustering his courage to unfold the piece of paper, Harry shakily exhaled when his eyes fell on the two words imprinted on the thin sheet in Hermione's intricate handwriting.
Harry remembered watching the film, The Nightmare Before Christmas, with the Grangers, back when it released in 1993. The story of the pumpkin king, who tried to overtake Christmas; the story of a damned skeleton. Pocketing the paper, he observed others' reactions to the characters they will be enacting. He mentally chuckled when Ron wrinkled his nose, clearly disliking the words he had read.
Luna had come up with the idea of keeping their costumes a secret until the ball, so there will be some surprise to look forward to. And Harry was not sure if he was completely on board.
He stole a quick glance at Hermione, eager to know how she felt about her costume, only to be surprised by the faint blush on her cheeks. She was practically glowing and it only served to increase his curiosity. Despite trying and failing at his attempts to sneak a peek at the paper piece in his hand, he did not relent. He wanted to figure out who she would be dressing up as because she was definitely happy with her choice.
"So, I guess we'll see each other at the Potter manor on the thirty-first," Neville's voice broke his chain of thoughts. Heads bobbled in agreement and with a short goodbye, everyone began dispersing to retire for the night. The apparition point was the small, dark alley located hidden to the left of the restaurant, and the group headed towards it.
Unable to contain himself, Harry turned to the bushy-haired witch and asked, "Who did you get, Hermione?"
Hermione chuckled, a teasing expression plastered on her face. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Unamused at her tiny jab, he passed her a bored look, displaying the lack of humor on his face. He was tempted to snatch the paper from her hands, but he knew that she would hex him to the next galaxy if he even dared.
"It's a secret, Harry. You'll know in two days," she informed him, smiling pleasantly at her first friend. He could not help but grin in response, wishing for Sunday to arrive soon.
The pair sat on the chairs, spending hours catching up and talking about everything nonsense without feeling awkward or uncomfortable when the silence dominated in-between topics. It felt nice to just be sitting there, just the two of them and chatting the night away. It reminded Harry of a life that could have been if Voldemort did not exist. Nights like these were his safe haven, his escape from all the nightmares of the war and the overworking hours of his job. She was his safe haven.
Hermione embraced him one last time, wishing him a good night before they separated to return to their empty homes. Harry did not think there could be a day when he would be waiting for Halloween with utmost restlessness, but he was proven wrong for the umpteenth time in his life.
Harry stood in front of the mirror, admiring the work of human hands and a tinge of magic that had turned him into a very believable version of Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King of Halloween Town. He could not find the clothes at the last minute, all the costumes having been half his size, so he decided to rely on one thing he was proficient in using; his wand.
He transfigured his regular clothes into resembling the black pin-striped suit, a bat bow-tie and pitch black dress shoes. He painted his face an abnormal shade of white, with cross-stitched design across his mouth and black eyes to represent empty eye-sockets. His emerald eyes shone through the dark surroundings, piercing and dangerous. Although the colour faintly covered his scar, his messy hair ruined the look and Harry refused to shave them. And the glasses stayed, thanks to his 20-20 blindness.
However, if given the opportunity, he would say that he had done an 'Exceeds Expectations' job. He guessed he could call himself Harry Skellington. Immediately, he cringed at the name his brain produced and he trashed the idea.
Giving himself a one last overall in the mirror, Harry left his quarters to welcome the guests, some of whom have practically forced him into organizing the ball to begin with.
The house-elves had decorated not only the ballroom but the entire manor according to the occasion and Harry could not deny that he was certainly impressed by the details and thought that went into it. But in all fairness, it should not have been a surprise since the decor was planned by Hermione. That witch would never do a half-arsed task, even when she was hungover. Especially then.
The entrance of the room supported bats, hanging low from the head-jamb. The doors had a warning written on them in dripping crimson liquid; Come If You Dare. Thick cobwebs covered the entirety of walls and ceilings. Spiders were evicted because of his best friend's fear. Carved pumpkins littered the floor in an organized chaos, magically enchanted to glow in the otherwise dim area. They certainly looked more horrifying than the jack-o-lanterns muggles decorated their parties with. A spine-chilling tone of music spewed into the quiet hallway, amplifying the thriller of the night. It did not help that every quarter, a blood-curdling scream would sound out.
The giant windows overlooking the lawns displayed a blackened sky, indicating the halloween sun had set and the red moon was flaring hauntingly. The sombering mood was ideal for the setting and it enhanced the surroundings to accompany the dark costumes. In the shaggy grass lie tens of gravestones, red splatters over them to showcase a massacre.
His dining room was enlarged along with the table to accommodate the number of guests he was expecting. The invitation was extended to the staff of Hogwarts, the adult members of the Order and all the final year students, none of whom had declined. Their costume ideas were mailed to them through Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl gifted to him by Sirius.
Harry glided towards the main hall, greeting everyone who had joined him in celebrating the holiday. Their costumes, however, amused him greatly. Professor McGonagall was dressed as the Mad Hatter, Professor Flitwick was the haunted doll Annabelle, Professor Sprout appeared to be the Whomping WIllow and Professor Pomfrey was Mr. Pennywise. The other professors had opted to dress normally as wizards and witches. He did not know the reason behind this decision, but he knew this would be a story he would crack up about years from now.
Locating his friends, Harry made a quick exit to meet them, eager to inspect their attires. He was steps away from them when he heard Ron complaining about his uncomfortable teeth. The poor guy was meant to be Count Dracula, and Harry guffawed at the baggy outfit, drawing looks from everyone around him.
The view was clear and he could see his friends mimicking the looks of famous horror characters. And the dam broke, filling the entire place in a merry noise of laughter. Unable to control himself, he clutched his abdomen, trying to draw in regular breaths to not run out of air.
Ron was the saddest excuse of vampire Harry had ever laid eyes on. His clothes too big on his lean body, the blood around his lips smudged to his cheeks and his hair had streaks of black in them, clearly from a disastrous attempt of using muggle hair-dye. Lavender was the Nun and her outfit shocked Harry to no bounds. The character was meant to be terrifying, but the beauty queen had chosen to transform it into a hot costume with a short and tight-fitting gown. She appeared to have dressed for the wrong occasion, likely confusing Halloween for Valentine's Day.
Neville seemed to have picked out Maleficent and he, surprisingly, managed to be decent at it, considering the limitations of his knowledge about muggle traditions. His helmet, with two long horns on either end, was adorable on his slightly chubby face yet silly. Luna, on the other hand, was the perfect person to adorn the attire of Harley Quinn with very little efforts. The baseball bat clutched in her hand was just an added bonus because everyone was glancing warily at it, timely. The Ravenclaw was unpredictable and not very trusted around dangerous weapons.
Harry shifted his eyes to Ginny and they nearly fell out of their socket. The Ursula look was completely modified to suit the young redhead, who sensualized the character more than necessary. Her hair were pulled up in a messy bun, crimson ringlets framing her delicate face. The black dress was tight against her body, accentuating her figure, and the skirt was split into eight sections to represent the tentacles. Ginny was an attractive girl and there was no denying it, especially when Neville was sparing her long stares. And the blush on her cheeks were proof that the said attention was not unwelcomed.
Back in his sixth year, Harry was drawn to the redhead for a while. He dreamed of a future with the girl who understood his love for Quidditch and he was grateful that she was readily available to talk and reduce his burden. But when he had accidentally overheard Neville declaring his feelings for Ginny in their dorm, Harry backed off and immediately erased his budding attraction for his best mate's sister. Now, they were only good friends who shared a passion for sports.
Harry was admiring the members of the ball when a voice caught his attention.
"Harry!" came the shout from behind him.
He turned around and felt his jaw drop, coming to a rest on the ground. Walking towards him at a rather quick pace, dressed in the character of Sally from the same film as his own character, was Hermione. And Merlin, she was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Her face was painted in pale blue and the stitched mouth pattern mirrored his. He was not sure how he recognized her under the makeup, but something told him that he would not have missed her even in a crowd. His eyes lowered to her garments and a barely audible gasp escaped his lips.
Her tattered clothing hugged her body in all the right places; her blood-red lips inviting the touch of a man, begging to be devoured furiously. Her hair were tamed to fall in soft waves down her shoulder. She had not bothered changing the colour and it certainly worked in her favour. What captivated Harry were her eyes; so brown and glistening with joy. Despite the distance, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in them and his heart clenched with an emotion he could not describe. He was losing himself in those chocolate-browns, quickly and unflinchingly.
Blinking rapidly to regain his senses, Harry opened his arms in time for her to wound hers around his neck, embracing him tightly to her warm body. He felt himself flush when he felt her curves digging into him, inappropriate thoughts clouding his rational inner voice.
Clearing his throat, he pulled back just enough to see her face. He brushed a lonely strand of hair falling on her face, obscuring his view. Gently cupping her cheek, Harry whispered, "You look...wow."
Words failed him and he could not express her beauty in words. Silently praying that the honesty shining in his eyes would be enough for Hermione, he grinned, satisfied, when a faint blush graced her cheeks. He chuckled as the red hue traveled down her neck and disappeared behind the rather low neckline of the dress.
"You look amazing too, Pumpkin King," came Hermione's cheeky compliment to Harry, watching as another chuckle escaped past his pearly whites.
The duo stood there in silence, eyes locked and unblinking. Harry wondered why he never realized just how brown her eyes were. Was he really that stupid? He did not have the answer for it, but it was appearing to be more of a 'yes'.
A cough interrupted their staring competition and a wave of annoyance washed over the 'Boy-Who-Conquered'. He turned to glare at the source of the voice, only to find Ron smirking like a cheshire cat at his best friends. And it frustrated Harry that the ginger-haired boy knew something he probably did not.
"You two realize that you're dressed as a couple, right?" the smug smile on his lips was unwavering. Of course they knew.
Harry felt his cheeks heat up at his words and from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Hermione turning cherry-red. He pondered if it was because she was embarrassed or shy, all the while hoping that it was the latter. For some reason, his heart skipped a beat at the prospect of Hermione being his better-half. His eyes widened at his own thoughts and he quickly shook his head to dash the images popping in his head.
Glaring playfully at Ron, Harry punched his arm and said, "Quit joking! Or I'll mail photographs of you in that costume to Mrs. Weasley."
The horror flashing on Ron's face was a treat to watch as everyone burst into laughter at the expense of the poor boy. Despite being nineteen years of age, the redhead seemed to not have shaken off the fear he had of his mother and it often served as a trump card against him. And it certainly did not help his case that Molly Weasley was unaware of the costumes her children were wearing, as they had watched the films for their accurate appearance and dressed at Lavender's house.
Neville, taking pity on the youngest Weasley boy, decided to interject, "The ball is great, Harry. I didn't know muggle balls could be fun."
Even a fool could see the attempt at changing the topic but, nevertheless, the group saw several nods in agreement to the Longbottom heir's statement. They have not had much exposure to muggle traditions and the ball was one, with the decorations and the meals. It seems that all the parties Dursley's held in their house had some benefits for the boy they treated as their slave.
"Thank you, Neville. Although, the house-elves deserve the real praise, for they did all the work while I hid in my room the entire time," Harry humoured the group for a few more minutes before excusing himself to meet the other guests he had invited. It was going to be a long night.
Harry stood in a corner leaning against the wall, a glass of red wine in his left hand and his eyes trained on the giggling figure of Hermione. She was surrounded by a group of Hogwarts students, boys clearly flirting with her and her friends laughing at her plight. Her hair bounced around when she turned to face a new person, her eyes twinkling at a joke Luna seemed to have cracked.
The time away from her gave him an opportunity to observe seriously. Her costume and the character they were both dressed to resemble brought forth the thoughts of the film they had watched all those years ago. And suddenly, he could not control his mind from drawing parallels between the animated couple, and him and his best friend.
Sally saw Jack, not Jack-Skellington-The-Pumpkin-King.
Hermione had noticed him for who he was; just Harry Potter, the boy who grew up alone and was as fascinated by magic as her. For years, he believed that people who approached him were only there because they knew the hero from the hoax articles published in the newspaper widely popular in the wizarding community. Hell, even Ron was in that train compartment because of it. When he felt that he would not have a genuine person in his life, with everyone expecting things of him that were largely unfair for the pre-teen, she swooped in and saved him from resigning himself to his unfortunate fate.
She was not afraid of offending him with her strong and controversial opinions of the magic-users when they initially became friends. At times when others considered her to be bossy, or rude, when she had yelled at Harry for procrastinating on his studies, he was simply glad to have someone in his life who cared for his education and his future. Surprisingly, it was evident to only him that she wanted him to build a future based on his own merits and not the status he was awarded with on that fateful Halloween night.
Despite his perfectly practiced facade, she could read him like a book with her eyes closed. She always knew when something was wrong with him, when something was terrifying him or maybe even hurting him. He vaguely remembered his anxiety during the second task of the Triwizard Competition. The entirety of Britain had expected him to breeze through the task, to deal with his problems without trouble, as he did with the Horntail, but she was the only one who noticed the scared boy hidden underneath that strong image he had sculpted for himself. And with that same bossy personality, she had eased his fears of his untimely death, although she was horrified herself. She saw Harry, not the saviour of the wizarding world.
Sally was not hesitant to call Jack out for the wrong.
Harry almost chuckled at how defining this quality was of Hermione. The witch was always ready to jump at any opportunity to yell at her friends, whether they believed they deserved it or not. And she would not regret it, even if she was in the wrong.
He remembered when he used the Half-Blood Prince's potions book in their sixth year as a compensation for not purchasing said text beforehand. Hermione had ripped him a new one every day for supposedly 'cheating' or so she said. Their professor had not objected to the use of the book, but it was against everything Hermione believed him, and she made sure he was aware of her thoughts.
Suddenly, a memory from his fifth year peeked in from the sidelines; the battle at the Department of Mysteries. His heart clenched at the thought of Sirius, his godfather who lost his life because of him. If only he had listened to Hermione. She kept emphasizing that it was a trap set by Voldemort to draw him out, and she had been right. But his stubbornness cost him his last connection to his parents. However, Hermione ensured he knew how critically wrong his move was, she decided to accompany him nonetheless, resulting in almost dying herself.
Sally supported Jack and believed in fixing the problems he landed himself in.
Harry did not even want to think about the times she had aided him in situations he felt helplessly trapped. From the first fortunate encounter on the train, to the law enforcement issue just a week ago, Hermione was the only person he realized he could turn to for emotional and physical support.
He might not have considered the Firebolt he received in their third year a problem he willingly walked into, she sure did. And in spite of him completely trusting the broom to be harmless, Hermione took it upon herself to rescue him and reported the said flying article. And to top it all off, he had acted downright like an arse and ignored his best friend for an object he had not possessed for even a month.
A sudden thought appeared in his mind; the Triwizard Tournament. The entire wizarding world had labelled him a liar, but she, his best friend, believed him and stood by him through the dangers ahead. She prepared him for the challenges and shared his feelings of horror when the tasks were revealed. He still has not forgiven himself for casually tossing her aside when Ron returned to him.
On a lesser scary occasion, at least in his opinion, she had saved his sorry arse multiple times when academics were concerned. After Harry had found out about his mother's talent in Charms, he had decided on taking the classes seriously. And somehow, he had forgotten to finish the essay they were assigned and he had potentially given up on yet another opportunity of feeling closer to his mother. But as a knight in shining armour, Hermione not only offered her help but even tried to write the entire homework for him. It was a secret that she made him swear to never repeat to another soul.
Sally was there for Jack, when nobody else bothered to be.
Harry could not count the number of times this proved true in Hermione's case. It would be unfair to her if he downplayed her efforts and sacrifices in keeping him alive.
In spite of everyone leaving him at the first sign of trouble, she stood beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder facing the danger in the eye. The most prominent of those events was the Horcrux Hunt in their seventh year. Even Ron had walked out on him, too worried for his family than deciding to support the right. But not Hermione. She stayed with him in the harshest conditions, encouraging him to move forward and fight the battle everyone had placed on his young shoulders. Sometimes, Harry thought that she was the only reason he had not given up on life during the entire adventure.
It was the first time he felt something; something a boy should not feel for his best friend. With her encompassed in his arms, swaying to the silent music only their ears could hear, Harry knew he would never be the same around her. And he desperately wished he had let loose the control over his emotions. Maybe things would not be so difficult if he was a more normal teenager.
Harry shifted his eyes to the swaying figure of Hermione on the dance floor, her arms around Ron's broad shoulders and a smile splitting her face in perfect proportions.
There was a time when Harry thought that his two best friends had feelings for each other, feelings other than friendship. But his suspicions were cleared when Ron asked Lavender out in their sixth year and Hermione, all but began planning their wedding. And it amused Harry to see the smart witch of their year turn into something he could never have imagined; Lavender. It was horrifying to hear her squeal and awe whenever Ron would leave them to be with his newfound girlfriend.
Now, he could only hope she was as conflicted as he was in her presence.
Sally stood in the background, never asking Jack to appreciate her efforts.
Harry forgot to breathe momentarily. He was unable to form coherent thoughts as moments began flashing in front of his eyes. Hermione never took credit for anything, although she was the reason he was alive, surrounded by friends and possible family. She was the reason he was friends with Ron after all the times the latter had deserted him in times of need. She was the reason he built up the courage to experience his first kiss. And she was the reason he could remember the members of his past without the feeling of guilt overwhelming his senses.
She had healed him; picking up the pieces and gluing them back to complete him.
A fond smile graced Harry's face as he finally connected the missing puzzle pieces. It was no wonder she did things for him that no friend would have willingly partaken in. Nobody would have risked death while helping him unless...he could not finish that sentence. She never asked him to acknowledge her efforts, never forced him to accept her feelings. She was in love with him!
And you are in love with her, a voice that strangely sounded familiar whispered in his head.
At the end of the film, Jack realized that he had hopelessly fallen for the rag doll.
Harry could have hexed himself for being stupid all these years. Of course, he loved Hermione. How could he have not seen it before? He smiled when she was happy. It physically pained him to see her sad, be it because of a bad test result or a horrible comment made on her appearance. The amount of times he wished to seriously hurt Ron for making her cry were infinite. He always worried for her safety, always feared losing her to a consequence of his stubborn nature.
The world could burn and he would not care, just so long as Hermione was with him. His hand involuntarily touched his cheek, tracing the outline of her lips that had collided with his flesh. All he craved for now, was to feel that same soft touch on his lips while their hands tangled in each other's hair, with no room for air to interfere.
He had wasted too much time already, and he was not ready to waste another second.
With a mission in mind, Harry stalked towards Hermione, a hungry look in his eyes devouring their prey. The confidence rolling off of him automatically worked to move the crowd from his path, making it easier for him to glide flawlessly through the masses of people gathered on the dance floor. The said target moved to face the heated gaze, her own eyes widening at the predatory look he was carrying. It certainly did not help that the dark makeup around his eyes only served to highlight his emerald green orbs. As he moved closer, he could see her breath hitching and cheeks colouring at the aura he was projecting.
His feet stopped when he reached her, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down her spine. Forwarding his hand and bending his back slightly, Harry asked in his best seductive voice, "Will you honour me with a dance, My Lady?"
Hermione chuckled at his formal invitation and gracefully grasped his extended hand. "It would be my honour, My Lord."
The duo moved towards the dance floor, their eyes refusing to part. His arms came to rest on her petite waist and her fingers entwined at the back of his neck. The soft waltz music sounded in the room as the magical couple slowly swayed in rhythm, their surroundings faded and the lights dimmed. They did not even notice the moonlight shining on them, thanks to the elves who noticed their master finally approaching the object of his affections.
The serene luminescence accentuated her radiating beauty and Harry could not seem to concentrate on maintaining his composure. Twirling her around in an unorthodox fashion, Harry smirked as she tilted her head backwards and laughed wholeheartedly. The happiness rolled off her in waves as she danced to her heart's content. It was their first dance and the importance of it was not lost on either of them.
Harry eyed her scarlet-coloured lips, the bottom part slightly fuller than the top, and gulped visibly. He was not even aware that it was possible for him to desire someone so badly that it hurt. He pulled her closer and read the slight confusion in her questioning gaze. However, he presented her with an unequivocal answer through his actions.
He kissed her.
Their lips brushed as he waited for her approval to the intimate gesture. Hermione, on the other hand, froze at the touch. She could not believe that this was not a dream, and her wish was finally coming true. Sensing her hesitation, Harry tried to pull back, thinking that he had misread their interactions and quite possibly ruined everything. However, he had barely broken the contact before her arms tightened around his neck and her lips crashed against his in a rather passionate manner.
He felt her parting her lips and the vanilla scent washed over him like a wave of warmth. Her mouth was cold against his hot and there was a sound from the back of his throat, a low growl. A bolt of pleasure shot through his body and his palms cupped her cheeks, restricting her from moving her head. The taste of her, mixed with the sweet butterbeer, deafened his rationality and he craved for more. Feeling dissatisfied by the lack of touch, his tongue conquered the depths of her mouth, feral, consuming her senses.
"Harry?" Hermione found herself gasping, caught between slight disorientation and an array of feelings pulsing in her veins.
He smiled gently, glowing brightly in the moonlight. "My dearest friend, if you don't mind. I'd like to join you by your side," he sang playfully, waiting for her to catch on to his jig.
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in an 'o' shape. He could see the gears moving in her head, recognition reflecting in her brown eyes and her small frame shook with mirth. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before joining her. Her eyes teared at the revelation of his feelings. This had to be the most romantic thing anyone could have done for her.
"And sit together, now and forever," she giggled, the beautiful song fresh in her mind.
He pulled her closer and chorused with her, "For it is plain, as anyone can see. We're simply meant to be."
He barely let her finish before claiming her lips again, this time with a ferocity that sent his toes curling. His hormones haywired when her fingers tugged on the black mop of hair on his head and her tongue invaded his mouth. A breathless moan escaped past the barriers and he pressed her to his body harder. Heat rose to his chest and his heart stilled as her body was flush against his, her curves very prominent.
He forcefully broke away, reminding himself of the unwanted attention they had garnered from their audience. Her swollen lips, smudged lipstick, flushed cheeks and untamed hair were a sight to behold. He nearly lost his manners to pull her towards his bedroom, forbidding her from ever leaving the closed quarters. Ignoring the whistles he was sure were emitting from his group of friends, he leaned closer to her.
"Trick-or-Treat, Hermione?" he whispered in her ear, his breath fanning the soft skin behind it.
She shivered involuntarily, his breath warm on her cold skin. A red hue appeared on her cheeks as she mumbled, her voice as low as his, "Treat."
Harry grinned at her response and lowered his head, catching her lips in another heart-soaring kiss. Oh, how he looked forward to Christmas this year.
Author Note: Thanks for reading guys. I hope you liked it. Please leave a review or a constructive criticism and I will be sure to read them all.