"I thought you left?" Harry snorted, trying to keep his sweaty fists from shaking. "What a horrible night to be refused for a dance." He seemed pissed. The slender boy didn't reply or move. Standing in front of a wall torch, the only movements were the shadows on the walls – making him rather sad now shadows fell down on his mask. Harry pursed his lips, lifting his chin as he waited for a voice.
"What's with the mask?"
The boy remained still. Just a soft noise of breathing came from under the silver-plated layer. Peculiar, how it looked a lot creepier now they were standing alone in a dark corridor. "Funny, how you decided to pop up every now and then, but still don't have the guts to speak to me. Should I be impressed? Take it off."
The white haired boy took a breath, leaning back against the wall – showing no sign of wanting to participate.
"I said: take it off."
"Have a walk with me?"
It took nothing to take Harry to walk with him. Especially since it was his only opportunity to hear more from him. Now he heard his voice once more he realized how much he had missed it. Once they headed outside the castle, speculations were ever so caused. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see. I knew you couldn't let a secret rendez vous go."
A shiver ran down Harry's spine. Though the words they shared were few, it was enough to keep him both excited and curious. Walking down the steps, they headed for the boathouse: the underground harbour where they stored the boats for the first year arrives. Once arriving there, they headed up the stairs; entering the Bell Tower – the both of them lifting their wands to create bulbs of light.
"Now what?" Harry muttered once he sat down at the top, his back resting against the ever so cold bricks. "Enlighten me."
"You left me for dead."
"-I thought you loved me."
Draco scoffed, turning his face to have a few outside – watching the owls drift by. "You're not the victim here, Harry. You were killing me. Who's the enemy now?"
"Take off your mask," Harry cried softly – anger unsteadied his voice. "Take it off!"
"Fine," Draco sighed, stroking his wand down his face – the mask fading into dark smoke. Harry dropped his jaw, veins popping on his forehead, and he held his breath.
"I thought it was a simple rumour, but it's true. You are a death eater."
"Yet no murderer."
"But you will be." Harry added coldhearted.
"If I must."
Harry got up on his feet, rushing his hands through his hair – walking circles. "Why," he cried as he closed his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"-You knew,"
"That you weren't dead!"
Draco curled the corner of his mouth, twisting the ring on his index finger – seeming to feel awfully pleasant. "You deserve it. The pain." He paused, looking down at his chosen one. "You started this."