Scared Potter? (Drarry fanfiction)

Chapter 29 - Masquerade

Uncontrolled looks stained to Harry's back. People were talking about him. About his insidious outbreaks, and his deserted looks. It was about a week ago that he swore he'd seen Draco sitting in the Great Hall, and to this day – even though everyone told him otherwise – he refused to call it a tangled perception. He wasn't going mad. Draco was still around. No matter how silly it would sound, he could feel him.

Today was Halloween. The chatter and laughter had become louder, and tricks were done all through the day. Tonight there would be a ball. Hermione got them their outfits, and though Harry hadn't seen them yet, he wasn't as keen too either. Ronald still lived his lie, leaving Hermione clueless according to the situation – and funnily enough Harry seemed to be more sorry than he was. However, he couldn't get tangled in between them. He finally had his friends back. No matter how it could break them, as the golden trio, he was selfish enough not wanting to lose the both of them again – for now he felt lonelier than ever.

While everyone remained busy changing clothes and face painting each other with fake blood, Harry remained calm and alone in the corner of the Gryffindor common room. Hermione decided for them to dress up in a Victorian style with dashes of muggily-peeks to it, just for shits and giggles. Ronald seemed delighted by her ideas. The brown suit would match perfectly, along with wooden oak mask – making him look wise and mischievous, to his taste. Hermione, on the other hand, thought he looked silly. But since their love was tough enough as it was, she decided to leave him be and keep his stupid mask. Harry thought of keeping it plain simple. A normal black mask attached to a stick, so he didn't have to look as silly all the time – or take off his glasses. A masquerade ball. How fun it would be.

The night had started. The opening ceremony was done, and as usual everyone was forced to do a waltz – as Professor McGonagall was ever so pleased with the Christmas results from years ago. Hermione looked beautiful as ever. Her dress faint yellow, extraordinary and tremendous with a silver laced mask attached to her face without a string – and than Ronald looking rather silly, as if he tried to mock the elderly. Harry, on the other hand, was natural; a black suit, bordeaux tie, and his mask – a weak excuse for a Dracula-like costume.

"Can I have this dance?"

Harry turned, baffled and weak once he saw who asked him to dance. Slender and tall was he who gave his hand, his skin porcelain pale – his face hidden behind a mask of what seemed to be precious metal. Silver – faded through time.

"Draco?" Harry gulped as his eyes began to burn. The boy behind the mask didn't reply. His hand remained lifted, waiting for the acceptance. "You know I cannot take that," Harry muttered as he stepped back. Peculiar, how everyone danced but no one seemed to notice. "Where were you?"

The boy took back his hand - his black cloak draping down his shoulders – and turned his back on him, leaving with a slow but steady pace. Harry shivered once his scent gnawed through him, familiar and rich. Dark but warm, like the scent of a forest during a snowy winters day. "Don't you walk away from me," Harry demanded – grabbing his cloak to keep him still.

"Harry?"

A sweet voice entered his ears from up close. Luna Lovegood dressed up like a poison ivy held his hand what caused him to turn. "You seem worried?"

Harry shivered at her words, and looked around in a hurry – losing track of the one he was looking for.

"I'm not." Harry forced a smile on his face. "Just a little stomach ache, that's all."

"How comes?"

"Too many caramel cobwebs."

He clenched his teeth, annoyed by the way he allowed him to escape again. Doubt caused his stomach to turn, and now there was nothing left to run to, he wondered whether his friends were right. Maybe he was just going plain mad.

The night continued. Masks were lowered, and people were starting to get rather wasted – for what they could. Ron and Hermione got into a large fight, and Neville puked all over Luna's feet, now trying to make it up to her as he cried his eyes out. Harry sat in the corner once more. His body restless yet weak, no matter how hard he tried to have at least a bit of fun. "Where are you?" he muttered to himself as he scraped the refined leathery edges off his mask. A few were still dancing, others were snogging, and Argus Filch cursed to himself as he swept the stoned floor clean. Harry got himself ready to stand up and leave for bed, for he could not prevent his friends from breaking up, or felt like easing the innocence from his fellow students – a.c. Luna and Neville. Lifting his hand, he waved his friends goodbye – stumbling on his feet, his view vivid now he was intoxicated. Hermione cried, giving Ronald the hand as he served Harry a smile, and the others didn't bother. Today turned out to be a disaster, and though none of it seemed to be any of his fault, he did feel to blame. Mister Filch served Harry one last foul look, before he demanded the rest to leave as a well, yet Harry didn't wait up. Wandering through the halls he searched for redemption.

And then he appeared.