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: Maha…I got so many 'update now' reviews. Bwaha…I'm wicked. I know. But here's the update. I promise to…TRY not to leave the end like that again…maybe…And the "incident" was that thing mentioned near the beginning about Draco, right? Just try to visualize a timeline. Think about what happened last year and who hasn't been mentioned yet, who usually is, that is. Anyway, I will explain it more in the next chapter. So, here's part four of Mask.

"Mask"

Part Four:

"Dreams and Thoughts"

"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.

Harry jumped back in shock, breaking the tender kiss. "Yes, well, I actually wanted to speak with you for a moment about something rather personal," Draco said as if nothing had just happened. "I have a very, very big favor to ask of you."

Emerald eyes shone with confusion, and a few other emotions the ravenhead didn't want to think about, behind the bubbles of his glasses. "A favor? You don't want me to run around the school naked or something, do you?" he asked skeptically.

Draco let out a crystal laugh causing the poor Gryffindor to blush. "No, no. But it might end up being just as bad." Harry raised an eyebrow in silent question. "I want you to attend a dinner my aunt has been preparing all year for my parents. I need a date-and stop looking at me like that-but I don't want to take any of the Slytherins. I need a powerful partner, and it would look good to have the boy who defeated the Dark Lord with me." He paused for a moment. "And I would like you to come with me."

It took a moment for what was said was actually understood. Harry gapped at the boy. "You, want me to go with you to a FAMILY thing?" A nod. "Are you bloody nuts, Malfoy! I'm a Potter, half-blooded, and the one who defeated the man who held the Malfoy loyalty!"

Draco looked at him, anger burning behind the hurt in his eyes. "I never was loyal to that…that freak they called 'Master', and I wasn't alone in this either, Harry, and you know that. You would think after the battle last year, you'd know that I was on your side."

Wet clothes flew from the fireplace into the outstretched hand of one very irritated and pissed off Slytherin. "I'll send Polaris up with these clothes in about twenty minutes. Keep your window open so he can get in."

Before Harry could process what had happened in the past five minutes, the portrait was closing behind the blonde. Numbly, Harry walked up to his room and pushed open the window as Draco had requested.

'You would think after the battle last year, you'd know that I was on your side,' Draco had told him angrily. It is understandable that he was angry over what I had said, one part of Harry's mind whispered to him. But what I said was true, at least up until the last month or so before the battle, another part debated.

Setting his glasses on his bed, he sat up against the windowsill as he had so many times before, watching the day move outside the castle without him. A hand appeared in front of his face snapping him out of his thoughts.

The hand was attached to a person. No, not a person, Harry corrected. It was something else entirely. The glowing creature had the body of a woman covered with a glowing blue sash in all the right places. Sprouting from her back were large, silver wings that matched her long silver hair. Delicate hands held out the clothes that Harry had loaned out to Draco.

"You…You're Polaris?" The creature didn't respond, only pushed the clothes a bit closer with added urgency. Harry took them from her quickly, hoping that she would respond then. Without a word, the figure flew off, disappearing just out of Harry's line of view.

Harry looked down at the clothes and found a note sitting on top of them. Hurriedly, Harry pulled the letter open and sighed sadly. The note read, "Thank you for the loan. If you change your mind, meet me in Hogsmeade tomorrow morning at six. I will wait for you there. Be prompt and dress nicely."

Harry sat the letter beside his glasses, tossing the clothes into the open trunk at the end of his bed. "Well, Malfoy, you can wait, but I won't be there. I do not want to go to a Death Eater reunion. Plus, I own nothing 'nice'."

Harry huffed and flopped onto his bed, careful not to disturb his glasses and the letter. Laying back, he closed his eyes for a well-deserved afternoon nap to pass the time. He had not known how tired he was until he closed his eyes and was drawn into the world of dreams.

It was raining; it was always raining. The Great Battle against Voldemort raged for hours, seemingly without end. A vicious cry of "Avada Kedavra" sent the wicked Bellatrix Lestrange to her grave at the hand of Harry Potter.

All around the boy of sixteen people fell, cold or writhing in pain. None of it seemed to cause any emotions to stir. Standing there, wand shooting off as many spells as he could think of, he remained dead to all around him until cruel red eyes met his.

Pain shot through the lightning bolt scar on his forehead as his wand locked with Voldemort's wand, the twin of his own. Both knew it would be one or the other. "Only one of us will walk away from this, Tom," Harry yelled at him, which was unneeded seeing as the fighting around him had ceased to watch the fight.

By calling him by his birth name, Harry succeeded in fully pissing the man off. Struggling to remain calm, Voldemort hissed, "You have no chance against a full wizard, dear Harry. I have read every dark arts book that there is, and I can very well use each and every one of them on you before you fall."

This was true, and everyone knew it. No one knew that fact more than Harry himself. Of course, Harry had not come unprepared. He, too, had read every book he could get his hands on, but while Voldemort worked on curses and spells, Harry read books handed to him by the brainy Hermione Granger about twin wands and spells regarding them.

While there was only a slight difference between their power, one of them had the advantage, unknown to the onlookers. Harry aimed his wand at Voldemort's and said the spell Hermione had forced him to practice day after day. "Vamod Deoul Lav Desu'dofe!" Both of their wands soared to the ground before bursting into flames.

"Wha-" Voldemort said in shock. Harry grinned mischievously and pulled out a spare wand, one he had recently recovered from his father's possessions. The Dark Lord didn't even have the time to think about how much shit he was in before his death came at the words he had used so many times before.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort let out an inhuman scream and fell to the ground, his flesh turning into liquid. His innards melted away, leaving the ground stained with the red and peach fluid, only to be joined by the bones. The fluid hardened before catching on fire, leaving no trace of a person to be found. The wands they had become so accustomed to using left black splotches on the half-dead grass.

Harry woke to a loud, shaking world. "Harry!" Ron shook Harry's shoulders desperately. "Wake up, Harry! It's almost time for dinner!" Harry shoved at Ron, shaking slightly from having such a descriptive dream of the past. He hadn't realized the memory still haunted him.

"I'm coming, Ron. Go on ahead without me." With a huff of impatience, Ron walked out of the room calling for Hermione. Harry picked up the wrinkled letter and shoved it away under his pillow.

Looking over his glasses, he found them to be broken beyond repair. The glass of one eye was shattered, the other was found in pieces scattered over the bed. He tossed them onto his bed and walked out without them.

The Gryffindor set his mind on claiming he found a new spell to fix his eyesight, at least temporarily. Ignoring the protests of the safety of the spell, Harry walked with Hermione and Ron to dinner, listening to the stories from their trip and even throwing in a comment every once in a while to show he was still listening.

At the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, the roar of chatter about their visit was overwhelming to the point where Harry said he had a headache and was going to go to see Madam Pomfrey to get something for it. Along the way, Harry's mind drifted back to when Draco had stopped by the tower.

Against his will, he recalled the kiss that he had forgotten about until just then. Blushing, Harry took a seat at the base of the staircase. Running his tongue along his lips he could still feel Draco's lips there, leaving a lingering tingle. Mentally smacking himself, Harry shook his head.

Why did Draco kiss me, he thought silently. And when did he become 'Draco'? With another mental slap, Harry stood up. Best not to think about that, Harry thought decidedly. If I do end up going to that thing tomorrow, which I won't, will he try to kiss me again? Will I push him away if he does?

"GAH!" Harry shouted aloud, digging his hands into his hair furiously. "I am NOT thinking about that!" He stomped angrily up to his dorm. Collapsing onto his bed, he jumped back up. Glass lay scattered on his bed still.

With a sigh, Harry cleaned up the mess and looked out the open window. His rebellious mind went back to Draco, thinking of the cool lips against his. Sighing resolutely, Harry went to his trunk and dug around for any article of clothing that could be called 'nice'.

"I am not going because I want to!" A nagging part of his mind told him that there was more to it than he was admitting, but Harry pushed it away. He set an outfit aside for the morning and went to take a refreshing shower that, hopefully, would rid himself of those thoughts and his growing headache.

To Be Continued

A/N: See? A better ending! Pwa…Yeah, well, I got this one out the fastest, I think, but it is also the worst, in my opinion. But look! I DO have a plot! Not much of one, but I do. Really. Yeah, well, until next time. Review? And please be gentle…my heart is very fragile…