The following morning the chatter about the dance had yet to die down.  Draco heard whispers of  masquerade  and  Halloween in every public space he occupied.  When it was time for Transfiguration, he was more than tired of hearing about it.  Fortunately his seat in that class was next to Blaise, who he knew for a fact would not spend the forty-five minute period simpering about color schemes and design details.  Or, at least, if Blaise did choose to discuss it, it was socially acceptable for Draco to punch him.  And he would, gladly, if forced into such a position.