I will be updating this frequently until Halloween. I'm also working on two stories for a fest on Livejournal. Those will be posted here soon. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This is for fun, not profit.

Impossible. Just impossible.

'How," Harry began and cleared his throat around the rough squeak that slipped out, "is this happening?"

Ron scratched his scalp, his curious eyes glued on Harry like there was a horcrux hanging around his neck and it was poisoning his mind. He thoughtfully rubbed his chin and poked Harry's bicep. "I don't know, mate. Do you think," he gulped as the thought hit him like a hippogriff, "it's permanent?"

Harry sighed and gestured to his chest, his pulse racing as he tried to find a solution to the little problem. "Not until you said something," he shrieked, feeling slightly hysterical. "Merlin, Ron, what if I'm stuck with this for life?"

Ron, looking slightly devious in his bank robber costume gestured to the rest of the room where several people were dancing with each other or making out as the firewhiskey flowed. There was a naughty nurse grinding against a Quidditch player, a princess and a vampire were trying to reach the other's tonsils with their tongues, a man-sized golden snitch flitted about the room, a Gilderoy Lockhart lookalike was surrounded by several girls wearing costumes that barely covered any skin, and a cheerleader looking suspiciously like Pansy Parkinson was busy reaching into the pants of one Neville Longbottom dressed as a cowboy. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

Suddenly faced with the idea of losing the addition to his chest, Harry found that he already missed it. "But," Harry squirmed under the weight pinning him to the couch in the common room, "would it be a bad thing?"

"Wait," Ron fixed Harry with a curiously amused stare, "are you trying to tell me something?"

"What?" Harry shook his head harder than was necessary, "N-n-no. Of course not."

"One doth protest too much," Ron replied, leaning back in the armchair as he took in the sight before him. He smirked at Harry's stunned expression—eyes wide open and mouth gaping—before adding, "Hermione. She thinks Shakespeare is romantic."

As if just speaking about her was enough to solve all the world's problems, Ron's face lit up with unadulterated glee. His eyes scanned the Halloween party until they landed on a certain female cop with brown hair, currently dressed in a short—barely there—low-cut dress that just managed to cover up her nipples and grazed the top of her thighs complete with garter belt and fishnet stockings. The tiny badge stuck to her visible bosom glinted in the firelight as she sipped on some butterbeer and smiled openly at her boyfriend from across the room.

"That's so," Harry waved his hand in the air to find the right word that encompassed the growth on his chest and the mating ritual carrying on between his two best friends, "wrong on so many levels, Ron. I can't believe—this is just too weird."

"I don't think you have any right to judge," Ron said and pointedly looked at Harry's chest, "given the position you're in."

"This is not what—"

"Meow."

"Was that—"

"Did that just—"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as his best friend stared at him with nothing but horror on his face. It was worse than the time they faced Aragog in the Forbidden Forest. "I think," Harry began and raked his fingers through his dark hair, "I'm in for a long night."

"Meow."

Ron eyed Harry as if the man had just told him that he was secretly a Death Eater and that Lucius Malfoy was the greatest hero to ever live. "That's disturbing."

"Meow."

"What am I going to do?"

"Meow."

"There's nothing to do, Harry. You're stuck," Ron chuckled darkly before getting to his feet. "Somehow I don't think you mind though," he shot his best friend a cheeky grin before he picked his way through the crowd and kissed his girlfriend soundly—complete with groping and caressing.

Harry shuddered. He did not need to see that—no one needed did.

"Meow."

Glancing down at the sounds emanating from his chest, Harry groaned and wriggled against the addition that had taken up residence there. He couldn't help the soft smile that played at his lips as he watched the cat curl against his body. Draco Malfoy, complete with skin-tight, leather cat costume and furry cat ears had claimed Harry's lap and snuggled into his former enemy's chest, floating in and out of consciousness through his drunken haze. Once or twice, Harry had had to stop the cat-man from licking his neck because he was, "a cat and you look like milk, 'Arry."

Truth be told, Harry didn't mind spending his evening wrapped in the arms of one Cat-Draco as the man cuddled against him and hissed at anyone that came remotely close to the couch they were perched on.

"My 'Arry," the man mewled and buried his face into Harry's chest, planting soft kisses against his sternum. "Meow."

Maybe it was impossible. Maybe Malfoy would regret his actions in the morning. But maybe, just maybe sometimes a Halloween party could hold some promise.

Thank you for reading! As always, reviews are lovely!