Title: Halloween
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Masturbation/Sex with ghosts (you decide), and slash
Summary: On Halloween night, the ghosts of the dead have been known to visit lucky Witches and Wizards. This night, one special man gets a visit that will change the course of the rest of his life.


Harry Potter curled up in his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, feeling warm and snug and a bit too full after the delicious celebratory feast in honour of Halloween. The Great Hall had been as fantastically decorated as ever, his friends had been wonderfully happy and the House Elves had outdone themselves on the food. This year it was a time for celebration and joy, Voldemort was gone, Harry was alive and the world was as it should be.

And yet… And yet as it grew closer to midnight, as the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead thinned out and the true Hallow took over after the celebration, Harry felt the change in the atmosphere, and mourning took over. Tonight the dead would walk again, and all those who had lost would remember their loved ones. Tonight, those loved ones would come to Harry.

Harry could feel the change in the world around him, he could feel the slightest depression in the air that came more from the metaphysical than anything real. He could sense the change in the world as the living slipped into sweet dreams and the dead emerged from behind the veil of death. Despite these changes, despite the sombre emotions floating around him, he felt himself harden, almost against his will. His hand slipped stealthily down his body, brushing over flat nipples and a barely sculptured abdomen, caressing the few hairs there with a faint shiver. The air seemed to shiver with him, seemed to tighten in anticipation.

His other hand strayed to his chest again, trailing ghostly light fingers over the stiffening nipples and sending cold shivers through his body, little icy fingers trailing along his spine. He gave a whimper so soft it could have been mistaken for the distant wailing of the dead, and his hand dipped down to its final destination.

His body seemed to vibrate with pleasure, each nerve-ending coming awake and humming to the tune of his hand as it lightly stroked over his balls and up the underside of his rigid length, stiffening further with the heady touches. He threw the covers off and sighed as the air brushed teasingly across his skin, swirling and dipping in icy touches where his hand lingered on his nipples. He whimpered again and squirmed, and the air came alive with the same humming that thrummed through his body, he could feel it pulsing across his flesh with the pounding of his heart as his hand wrapped around himself and stroked in ice-hot glides. His body arched of its own accord, reaching for something no longer there, his nerves stretching and screaming for an absent lover.

His hand moved without conscious thought to join the first at his groin, teasing over the head before slipping beneath, fingers teasing over his hidden entrance. The icy fingers of the air seemed to follow him, penetrating him in shivers as his fingers slipped inside, opening himself to the touches of the air. He cried silently as the very air seemed to take form, seemed to push in past his fingers, questing inside and around in bites of ice and heat. His hand sped up on his shaft, the air teasing around the hot palm and freezing everything he wasn’t touching. His eyes were squeezed closed, he did not see his breath rising in mists to join the air whirling around him and teasing his body to higher pleasure. He could not see anything beyond the slivers of his own desire as his fingers found his prostate at the same time as the air, as his hands sped up, as everything exploded in ice and fire around him.

He saw nothing until the final pleasure overtook him, until the ice seemed to solidify in a second as eyes and snow-white hair and a sneer as cold as the atmosphere, before shattering into millions of shards of ice and pleasure.

Harry woke up on the morning of November the first curled up tightly under his covers. His pyjamas were wet, and clung to his skin like the frozen embrace of a lover that never-the-less had to slip away come morning. Despite the blankets huddled under his chin, every inch of his flesh was frozen and felt like it was humming with the pleasures of post-orgasm.

The events of the night before slipped from his waking mind like water from the palm, only a few droplets of memory and pleasure clinging as he dressed and scurried, still shivering, to Breakfast. The decorations and joyous atmosphere of the night before had melted away like morning dew, leaving the children in the school once more children, fretting over homework and exams and rushing to class. Harry joined them, the night before forgotten in the rush of normal, daytime worries.

Until he glanced across the hall, and his eyes fell on Draco Malfoy. The other boy looked up as he glanced over, and their eyes met in a shiver that was like thousands of icy fingers along his skin, but nothing at all like it at the same time. Then Malfoy sneered, a perfect cold sneer, and looked away. But that was all it took for Harry, whose heart was thrumming in time with the frozen shivers across his skin and whose body was remembering again the ice-heat of the night before.

He looked away and, for a time again, forgot; as is the nature of these things. And when he noticed pink patches on his skin, like exposure to extremes of temperature, hot or cold, he explained it away. And if he felt a little more discomfort sitting down, he ignored it, and soon Halloween had faded completely from his mind and from his skin. But it was never forgotten, for many Halloweens to come the ghostly traces of that evening would follow him, until the time they came again and found his bed and body already occupied by ice and fire and passion, real living passion.

It is said that on Halloween night, the veil between the worlds is lifted, and the dead can once again visit those important to them. It is said that only a lucky few are visited, and the visits remain with them for a long time to come. It is also said, in shy whispers, that on Halloween night, when you dream, the dead sometimes come to you and touch your dreams, and you can see for one instant the face of your love. Most people forget, but sometimes you remember in inexplicable blushes or strange shivers if you bump into someone in the street. Sometimes you remember.