Base images taken from Google Images. I liked linking the idea of drinking/being merry as commanded on Purim to this ficlet.
Hermione is a mess in the kitchen. It's frustrating, because, honestly, there are directions in a book, it shouldn't be that hard. Whenever she goes near a kitchen, though, there are always extinguishing, repairing and cleaning charms involved afterward.
When she tells Harry and Ron she's having Halloween at her place, she doesn't blame them for both wincing and trying to talk her out of it. She just sweetly reminds them of all the rather trying things she has done for them. (Well, mostly. She never mentions Voldemort. That's not playing fair.)
Harry sighs and says. "Right, then. I'll bring the treats."
Hermione bought her house in a fit of independence and starting over after she and Ron broke up. It hadn't been an acrimonious breakup at all, bittersweet more than anything, but it had still taken her some time to find her feet again. The house had been part of Project Who Is Hermione If Not a Nemesis of Voldmort, Hogwart's Student, or Girlfriend of Weasley. (Ron had recommended an acronym, but she hadn't been listening to him much at that point. Another part of the Project.) She doesn't regret the house, not even a little. Sure, the house is a somewhat distant from her work--London's bloody expensive--and she'd had to repaint and repair and redo three-fourths of it, but that's really only endeared her more to the space. It is completely hers. (Also, she's brilliant at charms, so reworking the house hadn't been quite the adventure it might have been as a muggle--or really even half so much.)
Harry's been bouncing from flat to flat ever since Ginny went to open up a WWW in the States, Ron largely just following him, so when they have events it really only makes sense to have them at Hermione's place. They spend a lot of time eating at pubs.
But Hermione loves Halloween, did even before Hogwarts and she is determined to have a Party, come hell, high water, or exploding hobs.
Harry yells from the door, "I'm here with the regulars, chocolate frogs and the like. Ron got waylaid trying to find some new treat Gin told him about."
Hermione calls back, "In the kitchen."
Harry wanders in and looks around. Clearly suspicious he says, "It's very clean in here."
"I am quite accomplished at cleaning charms," she tells him, enunciating her words.
He frowns a bit. "Are you pissed?"
"No!" She thinks about it. "Well, maybe a little. It was in the name of science. Or magic. Or something. With a name."
Harry laughs, then. She draws herself up so tall she teeters a bit. He catches her. She makes a face, but accepts the help. "I had this idea."
"Usually that works out for you."
"I'm total bollocks at cooking," she tells him solemnly. He agrees, perhaps a little less solemnly.
"But I am brilliant at charms."
"So I tried cooking by way of charms."
"Food properties are a bit unpredictable, did you know?"
"But! I am even better at potions." She nods. "Do you know what is very like potions?"
"Does it involve vodka?"
She grins. "Points to Gryffindor."
Ron arrives triumphant in his search, makes his way to the kitchen, looks at the bottles lined out on the counter, and asks, "Liquid dinner?"
Hermione rolls her eyes. "I ordered out. You have to pay, though. I can't count."
"Quite the role model for the children you are, war hero."
"Oh, I'm making Harry go to the door."
Harry makes an indignant sound. "But you're all dressed up!"
She looks down at herself. "Huh. The glamour held." She fingers her hair and touches leaves. "And the transfigurations. Brilliant."
"What are you, anyway?" Ron asks. "A tree?"
"A woodland nymph," Hermione tells him, with only a small amount of, 'really?' in her voice.
Harry and Ron exchange looks. Hermione takes another drink. "See? You can't be sending drunk nymphs to the door on Halloween. Think of the children."
Ron says, "Very well. But you're on bar duty."
Hermione claps her hands together. "I made a special Halloween drink for you, Ronald."
Harry doesn't even bother to control his laughter.