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: Uhm…Two updates in one day. Who would've guessed. Anyway, not much to say here, so I'll get on with it. Here's part five!

"Mask"

Part Five:

"Dancing"

It was five in the morning when Harry came in from his nightly flight. He gazed blankly at his bed for a minute before turning his back on it. In one hand he gripped his Firebolt; in the other he swiped up the outfit he would wear to the Malfoy function that day.

The halls were eerily quiet as Harry made his way out of the castle. Freshly showered and a bit damp, Harry stepped out into the icy morning air. He tossed the Firebolt into the air and mounted it with practiced ease. Floating over the lake seemed like a dream. Morning mist rose from the surface and Harry flew so that he just barely skimmed the water with his boots, the mist surrounding him.

The ground across the lake seemed to reek of the horrors of the war, the warmth of the blood of friends, the ice-cold touch of death. Rising a bit, he rode his broom all the way to the town of Hogsmeade, flying between the buildings. Draco stood leaning against a fountain towards the outskirts of town.

Pale fingertips trailed across the frozen surface of the pool; a blank gaze watching the thin ice move beneath his touch. Steel eyes rose to look at Harry as he leapt from his broom, catching it in his grasp as it fell towards him. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I didn't either," Harry said softly as he stepped to stand beside the blonde.

"And yet, here you are." Harry nodded at the melancholy tone. "We should get going. The portkey won't remain active for long," Draco said, starting to head off, away from Hogwarts. "By the way," he began, glancing at the ravenhead as he led the way, "does anyone know where you will be? In case of an emergencies?"

Harry snorted and held back laughter. "What emergency could there be?" Draco shrugged. "I can see the headlines scrolling across the paper. 'Harry Potter On Date With Draco Malfoy When You-Know-Who Rises Again'."

Draco looked at him oddly. "They'd call this a date?"

"Knowing the Prophet, if I was out with anyone, they'd call it a date," Harry explained, remembering the episodes he had when Rita Skitter was writing about him, or rather about their precious 'Boy-Who-Lived' and his personal life.

"Would you call this a date?" Draco asked. Pointing to a large rock, he interrupted any response Harry would have said. "That's the portkey. It will take us up to the front of Malfoy Manor, but it won't take us inside because of all the enchantments on the house."

Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and touched a spiraling thorn vine symbol on the rock. The usual sensations occurred, pulling and dizziness among them. Standing tall and large before them stood the grand Malfoy Manor in all it's white, stony glory.

It looked to have been pulled out of a child's fantasy book. It was like a castle; large and looming with white pillars holding it up. A short, black metal fence held in the three-story house and front-yard garden, more grandiose in the back, most likely. Draco walked right through the fence, still holding Harry's wrist as he pulled the Gryffindor with him.

The double-doors opened before they were within five feet of them. A small boy of five or six held the doors open silently as Draco pulled Harry through. Once they were inside, the doors shut loudly. Harry spun around as best as he could while in Draco's grip only to find the boy gone.

Draco pulled him up a long, spiraling staircase. "Harry, move faster. We have to get ready for the…event. Every living Malfoy will be attending, along with a few others you might recognize from the war." He pulled Harry into the first room on the second floor.

Harry whimpered when he found himself tossed on the bed. Before any thoughts of what it could mean crossed his mind, he found clothes being thrown at him, sticking to his face. "Get dressed and come meet me next door," Draco said hurriedly before racing out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

With a heavy sigh, Harry eyed the complicated wizard's robes with distaste. He snorted and looked at his own clothes. "Technically, he never said I had to wear these," Harry muttered, moving to look at what else Draco had stashed away in the closet.

After searching through everything there, Harry picked some out and slipped those on instead of the robes. Hopefully Draco wouldn't mind. And he didn't. A long-sleeved silk button-up ruby shirt over a pair of rather tight black pants looked really great. Harry sniffed and shifted under his gaze.

"Sorry I didn't wear what you picked out, but it was so…complicated." Draco just made an odd noise and stood up. If he had complained, Draco would have been a hypocrite, seeing as he chose to wear something even less formal. He wore black jeans and a dark green turtleneck that hugged every muscle in his body.

Hours later, Harry found himself the center of attention for the many Malfoys, boys and girls, and was steadily falling asleep. He constantly had to deny people dances. A thick, cold voice sounded softly from behind him close to his ear. "Mister Potter, who would have expected to find you here."

Harry turned around to come face-to-face with Severus Snape. "P-Professor!" More than a little mortified that he had been caught at such a place, he found himself blushing.

"Severus, how good of you to come," Draco said from behind him. The Slytherin draped an arm over Harry's shoulders, distracting him from the leering gaze of his professor. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"As much as one could at a party like this." Severus huffed irritably. "I really didn't expect to see you here, Draco, more-so than young Potter here. After all, you are the one who-"

Cutting him off abruptly, Draco turned to Harry. "Come dance with me, Harry." Before Harry or Severus could say anything contrary, Draco dragged the ravenhead to the middle of all the dancing and took up the lead, spinning him around to the beat of the song.

"Sorry to make you dance. I know you hate it."

Harry smiled through his embarrassment at such closeness. "I know you hate hearing about the incident. You hate hearing about it more than I hate dancing, so I guess I can deal with it for a while."

Draco smiled gratefully. "Actually, it's not that I don't want to hear about it. I don't want to hear people talk about it as if I wanted to kill them. It's not like I had a choice, Harry."

"I know that, Draco. You don't have to talk about it."

"I loved them. Really, I did. Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, was not my father. Neither was Narcissa Malfoy, Death Eater Wife. They were different when they were at home." Draco sighed and rested his head on Harry's shoulder, allowing him to take the lead in a much softer dance while he talked.

"I was never evil, Harry. I just wanted him to be proud of me. Actually, killing them in that battle was probably the only thing he'd ever be proud of me for doing." Draco laughed while Harry remained a bit disturbed at that. "Not killing him, really. He would be proud that I didn't do everything I was told; that I followed my own heart instead, even if it meant killing my own parents and my own friends."

Draco sighed and pulled Harry tight against him. Oblivious to the hundreds of eyes on them, they finished their dance in silence and then walked out. The party to celebrate the lives of the people that both boys had helped to destroy meant nothing to them.

They used another portkey and returned to Hogwarts just in time to walk past the students eating dinner in the Great Hall. Draco and Harry walked side-by-side, Harry holding his Firebolt tightly, until they were forced to go opposite directions. A small smile from each, and they walked off in silence.

That night, Harry walked out to the Quidditch Pitch but left his broom inside. He hadn't changed out of the clothes he'd borrowed from Draco, and had avoided his friends all day. With a sigh, Harry laid in the middle of the field and stared at the sky.

Quiet steps alerted Harry to another's presence. Without looking, Harry said, "Hey Draco." Said boy sat next to him, leaning back on his elbows to look at the sky with him. Emerald eyes glanced out of the corner of his eyes at the Slytherin Prince. "You didn't change yet?"

"Neither did you, it seems." Draco looked over at him with a crooked grin of amusement. Harry shrugged and stretched out with a yawn. After a moment, Draco spoke up again. "I hope it wasn't too bad of a day."

"If Snape wasn't there, it probably wouldn't have been so bad."

"But if he wasn't there, I wouldn't have gotten you to dance," Draco said softly, laying back and resting his head against the side of Harry's arm. "I can't see why you don't like to dance. You are a really good dancer. Leading or not."

Harry laughed and looked over at the blonde. Silver moonlight made his pale skin and blonde hair glow beautifully. Harry sat up and looked down at him in silence. Steel eyes watched him with a growing curiosity. Caught up in the moment, Harry leaned down and kissed him softly.

To Be Continued

A/N: Bwaha…I did say 'maybe' didn't I? Plus, with two updates in one day you can't really complain and you know it. I am evil, I know. I had the day off of work so I just sat here and wrote. I hope I'm not moving things along too quickly. I'm trying to keep a slow, steady pace. Oh well…Review? Beware, I have a delicate heart.