Title: "Mask"

Author: Lyla Hayden

Rating: Mature, "R", "M", whatever. Warnings are; slash, gore, the usual nasties but nothing too graphic.

Pairing: HP/DM, what else?

Summary: When one bears a mask to become someone else, sometimes that mask becomes who you are, despite all your true thoughts and feelings. Such a mask cannot be shed easily and often times it takes another to rip its roots out. Harry's mask has deep roots, but the one who helps him remove them is the one he would least expect.

A/N: Part Three…Yay! Oh, and I thought I should mention this…someone mentioned that Harry was speaking of the mask as a person. Well, in a way, Mask is a person. Mask is a personality that Harry has taken as himself. So, in a sense, Mask is a person, just not a person like you would want to think. n.n' Also, on a personal note…I…hate…hair dye…I wanted pink! It is not pink! It is glowy! One week later, it's almost gone! . Gawd. :Cough: Anyway…On to the story.

"Mask"

Part Three:

"Another Wet Kiss"

Harry quietly moved out of Gryffindor Tower and out towards the Quidditch pitch using the shadows for cover as always. As he emerged from the shadows near the field, Draco stood waiting for him, his own broom in hand.

Harry walked right past him as if he wasn't even there. He went about his nightly routine without a second glance to the blonde behind him. Glasses and shoes were discarded and Harry took to the air. Behind him, Draco sighed heavily and followed, ready for another long night of watching the enigma that fascinated him so much.

The next day would have been the same, but the tension level in Potions had escalated to the point where Severus called it a day and let them all leave. Harry laughed at the way his friends were acting ad told them he'd see them at lunch.

Making up some lame excuse, Harry slipped away to the Quidditch pitch. The Firebolt, having been left in the Gryffindor tower, proved to be unneeded for the Boy-Who-Lived to vent. Harry left his boots on, but tossed his glasses onto the grass.

He let his robes drape loosely over him and he stood in the middle of the field and looked towards the sky, eyes closed. Thoughts faded to be replaced by a metallic song, falling from Harry's tongue soft enough so that no one inside the castle could hear.

Quiet feet padded bare-footed across the grass to where the oblivious boy stood. Only a few inches from the boy, Draco stopped and looked at him. Not looked as in observing, but looked as in seeing all that he was, mind, body, and soul.

A pale hand reached out to touch the slightly glowing boy, fingers grazing gently over one tanned cheek down to the parted pink lips releasing such a mesmerizing sweet song. Emerald eyes opened as the song finished.

"Malfoy?" came a husky voice, strained from the vocalized power.

"Mmm?" Draco stared into the emerald stones, cold with apathy. "What?" Letting his hand fall to his side, he gazed into the eyes of the boy that was once his mortal enemy.

"You okay?"

"You're enchanting," Draco whispered as he walked over to where his shoes lay, tapping them on with as much patience as he could muster. 'Damn him,' Draco thought. 'If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was falling for the floating ghost boy.'

Harry watched the blonde walk away, feeling the lingering touch of such soft fingers against his rough skin. "Enchanting?" came a soft whisper from the middle of the field, unheard by the one it was directed at.

Having finished his venting, Harry went to lunch. Two dark shapes fell over his shadow. With a quick spin, Harry avoided the clutches of one Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle reached out for him, but another jump back fixed him out of reach.

A flick of the wrist and his wand was at the ready, aimed at the two Slytherins. Before one syllable could come from Harry's parted lips, a cool, drawling voice said, "Don't bother." And that was all. The two Slytherin buffoons backed off, and Harry was left staring at the blonde.

Icy steel eyes stared though the Gryffindor in a way that made him feel naked. Draco stepped up to him and rested a hand on the raven locks. He walked off to lunch, but not before making sure that Harry heard him whisper, "See ya, Harry."

Stunned and confused, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table next to his two best friends. Mask wasn't there, maybe Mask was on vacation. When Harry truly wanted the protection Mask provided, Mask was nowhere to be found.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Harry turned to look at Ron. "Harry?"

"What? Oh, nothing." He felt as if Mask was back, but his face remained indifferent, nothing like the wizarding world's famous 'Harry Potter'.

"You're acting really weird," Hermione rested one hand on his forehead, the other on her own forehead to feel if he was sick. "Hmm…Harry?" But Harry's mind wasn't there any more, for right across from him sat one special Slytherin who looked his way and smiled.

Crimson crept to his cheeks and his eyes darted away. Unknown to the rest of the student body, a chuckle rose from the Ice Prince, accompanied by a slight blush. 'He is such a strange guy. Don't fall too hard, now,' Draco told himself silently.

It wasn't until that weekend that the two spoke again. It was a Hogsmeade weekend. Since his now legal guardian Remus Lupin refused to sign the required paperwork, Harry was stuck in the castle alone.

Draco chose this opportunity to make Mask leave once more. Approaching the Gryffindor near the gate proved to be hazardous. Chilling drops of water fell, drenching him with the icy freshness of the winter snow.

"Oh hell…" the boy cursed, glancing up at the tree that had decided to give way and release the mass amounts of snow just as he walked beneath it. Clothes sticking to him, he shrugged it off and walked up to Harry.

"You are sooo…drenched, Malfoy?" the ravenhead snickered.

"No kidding. Would you come with me to the dungeons?" At the stiffening of the other boy, the blonde added, "No one is there and if I wanted to do something, I already would have." When Harry still looked unsure, Draco sighed and gave in. "What about to your dorms, then?"

"Alright…I guess," Harry muttered reluctantly. After a few moments of standing, or in Draco's case, shivering, in silence, Draco bluntly said he didn't know the way, though he did. "Oh, well, it's this way."

The trip to Gryffindor Tower was done in silence, one muttered password gaining them admittance to the Gryffindor Common Room. Draco huffed. "Bright and cheery." Glancing around briefly, he added, "Warm, too."

Harry shrugged. "It's Gryffindor."

"The Slytherin Dungeons get like ice this time of year," came a slightly chattering response from the dripping Slytherin Prince. It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco needed to be dried off before he caught a cold.

"Ah, I'll go get you a towel. If it doesn't bother you too much, I'll also get you a change of clothes while you wait for these to dry." Draco nodded, watching Harry walk up one of the staircases towards his dormitory.

The warmth of the Gryffindor tower seeped through Draco's wet clothing, seeming to only increase his chills. Slowly, he peeled off his cloak and shirts, wringing them out next to the fireplace and hanging them up above it with a quick stick spell.

"I've brought some of my clothes down, but they will be rather big seeing as they were my cousin Dudley's first," Harry said as he came down the stairs clumsily, holding a large pile of clothes and towels.

"Mmm," was all Draco said when he looked over the array of clothing. His small frame could fit inside the muggle clothing at least two times over. "It's fine." The soft towel absorbed the water in his hair, face, and torso before he moved to strip his pants.

Doing what is only polite, Harry turned his back. The redness of Harry's cheeks suggested that he hadn't turned around soon enough to have it called being polite. Draco pulled on the obscenely large clothing and grimaced at the look of it.

"Harry, I'm still wet and these clothes…" Blonde locks sprayed drops of water around the room proving his claim that towel-drying wouldn't work. Harry turned around and cracked a smile. "I really don't think I like you looking at me like that…"

"You look…"

"Stupid."

"I was going to say cute. You remind me of a kid trying on his father's clothing." He had to suppress the urge to laugh at the face Draco made. "Oh, your tag…" Stepping closer, Harry reached around Draco and tucked the offender in. Steel eyes locked onto shinning emerald and Draco softly pressed his lips to Harry's.

To be continued

A/N: Bwaha…I'm wicked. Ahem, yeah, so that was the hardest chapter to write so far. Wah! I kept getting distracted! So sorry! But thank you for your support. Seeing such detailed reviews really warms my heart and helps me to focus on my writing. Thanks. Until next time. Pwa!(Wave)