Disclaimer!: I DO NOT own these characters. All Harry Potter characters belong to the wonderful, J.K. Rowling.

A/N!: This is a Dramione! If you don't like it, don't read. This is my first HP fanfic.

Masks

The ball was extravagant, even for him. A masquerade fit for royalty. He would never admit it, but he was falling into his family's footsteps--but only the finer side, he reassured himself. He had been of wizarding age for three years now, but occasionally he was told he still had a lot of growing up to do. This party was just him trying to prove himself to the world.

It was late and the fires had all gone out save for the floating candles magicked high above their twirling, masked heads. The guests may have been thinning out, but music breathed energy into the remaining party. He had danced with his fair share of girls tonight, but this girl was the most remarkable. Her mask, which resembled an ornately feathered owl, curved her nose into a small, beaded beak and reached just past her cheekbones. Her dress was a stunning red that attracted the eyes of all she passed. The seemed like she had been to many masquerades during her short time on earth.

It may have been the champagne, but he couldn't keep his mind off her lips. Painted so red… Looking so supple and full… Practically begging to be smothered by his… But he mentally slapped himself. He wasn't being proper.

Though, 'proper' wasn't always the best way to describe him. The allure of this mystery girl was getting to his now ardently hazed mind.

But his own mask was frustrating him. He knew that even if he did close that last few inches between them, there would no satisfying warmth, no pleasurable fulfilling of their longings. His mask, like his most desired form, was a white dragon. Both his name and namesake combined in one. But his custom-made mask (that once filled him with deep-seated pride) was now his only source of aggravation.

There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now. She gingerly placed her gloved arms up and over his shoulders He tightened his grip on her hips. She's thinking the exact same thing, purred a voice from the back of his head, She wants you as much as you want her.

He smirked behind his mask and clasped his hands together behind her corseted back, pulling the two closer together. As they swayed, he buried his face in her curly brown hair and breathed in the heavy vanilla sent she wore so well. He let out a hot sigh onto the back of her neck. She smelt just like he thought she would. But unlike most girls he got this close to, she tensed and suddenly pushed him off of her.

Her gloved hands that were once lovingly around his neck were now on his shoulders holding her body at arms length. There was a dark blush visible under the edges of her impressive mask.

He then realized his mistake; by putting her arms around his neck, she meant to lean up and whisper a goodbye into his ear. Maybe to whisper thanks for the dance and casually disappear into the crowd -- not to grant him his lustful wish.

And now she was disappearing into the crowd, but a little less casually.

Shocked, he watched her hurry away for a moment before rushing after her. He made a snatch for her wrist, but missed. She had gotten too far ahead. Weaving through the mass of dancers in elegant gowns and shocking masks, there was suddenly a loud crack! The crowd parted with shouts of surprise and his mystery girl was nowhere to be seen.

Read and review! What do you think? I already have a few thoughts for the next chapter, so if you want more!