Discalimer!: I DO NOT own these chatacters!

Masks

"I had her, Blaise!" Draco shouted angrily at his best friend who seemed to be ignoring him. Blaise Zabini looked like he could have been an African prince in a past life, but unfortunately for the Congo, he lived in Great Britain. Draco on the other hand, was as pale as Blaise was dark. He had platinum blonde hair and stormy gray eyes. And at the moment, they were practically thundering.

"And she slipped right between your fingers, I know..." said Blaise, lazily picking his fingernails. It was the fourth time he had heard the story today; Draco had been raving about this mystery girl all day.

House elves were scampering around the high ceilinged ball room cleaning up what was left of the previous night's party. The two men were lounging on a recently conjured sofa in the middle of it all. Being so used to the use of their slaves, they paid no attention to the objects flying in every which direction to several rubbish bins scattered about the expansive room.

Draco glared at Blaise as a large eared house elf lifted his legs to take the rug from underneath his feet. How could he not be intrigued? Maybe it was more of a "you had to be there" moment, but to Draco, it was stimulating. He had to find her.

"I'm going to plan another party — another masquerade." the blonde stated, eyes unfocused in thought. "She'll come back. I think she really likes to dress up." He remembered the feathers on the mask and the beak over her nose, with those perfect, red lips smiling below it and how much he wanted to —

"Wait," interrupted Blaise. "You don't even know this girl's name let alone what she likes! Which, by the way, apparently, isn't you. She's not going to come back just because you want her to."

"Oh, wonderfully supportive, Blaise, thanks." Draco retorted dryly.

"I'm sorry, mate," said Blaise, but his tone was less than apologetic. Draco pursed his lips in annoyance. "But, I'm just being realistic. Don't you think your being a little rash? You danced with her for ten minutes and now you're throwing a whole new party just to bring her back?"

Thinking for a moment, Draco finally said, "Well? Why the bloody hell can't I try?" There was a distinct air of defiance in his voice.

Blaise scoffed "Oh, come off it!" raising his voice, hoping to stop this nonsense. "Your obsessed, Draco!"

Draco was slightly taken aback and glowered back at Zabini in disbelief. He stood up and walked away a few feet, scattering a few house elves in the process. One even dropped a mop which clattered noisily against the shining marble floor.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" Draco asked sharply, "I am not obsessed! Girls obsess over me, but it's never the other way around," His confidence in what he was saying cracked a bit. "I just can't seem to stop thinking about her… I always get what I want, why should this girl be any different?

"I want her, and she will be mine."

In more ways than one, growled the voice lurking in the back of his mind. He smirked in agreement. Another masquerade was absolutely what would bring her back. Blaise was wrong and he was sure of it.

"Alright," Draco bellowed suddenly. Blaise jumped. "There's only one way to settle this," Draco stuck out his hand to Blaise and declared triumphantly, "I bet you 40 Galleons that if I host a new party next week my girl will come back. If she doesn't show, then we'll know who's right then, wont we?" Blaise looked at Draco then his open hand and cracked a grin.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?

"… No."

"Then shake!" Draco shook his empty hand impatiently.

Blaise's grin had fallen slightly on one side, turning his smile into a smirk. He chuckled and grasped Draco's hand, giving it a firm shake, "Deal."

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