WARNING: There is semi-graphical boy/boy sex in this story. If you are high uncomfortable with that, I suggest turning around now. Otherwise, enjoy the show.

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There was nothing that he could have done to protest against going to the ball. Everyone expected him to go, merely for his own celebratory status. Imagine their shock if they found out that their favorite hero wasn't attending the first masquerade ball to be held at Hogwarts.

Sadly, he didn't have a chance to imagine before his best friend threw his costume at him.

"A Zorro costume." He raised a doubtful eyebrow. The redhead blinked back at him, confused.

"Who's Zorro?" he questioned. The black-haired boy shook his head and sighed.

"Never mind. But honestly, Ron, do I have to go?" he asked as he slipped into the black pants.

"You might as well. Besides, it'll be fun," the brown-eyed boy assured him, slipping into his own black outfit.

"Is your costume the same as mine?"

"Other than the mask, yeah." Ron tossed Harry the black mask nearly identical to his own. The only difference was the small outline of silver glitter along the edges of the mask, whereas Ron's had no glitter at all. The mask itself only covers his eyes and part of his nose once it was on Harry's face. With a sigh, he readjusted it and waited for his companion to put on his own mask.

"Are we ready then?" Harry began walking toward the door, not bothering to wait for an answer. With a nod, Ron followed quickly and the two descended the stairs into the Gryffindor common room.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron questioned as they shuffled out of the portrait hole.

"She's probably already there. After all, we're not supposed to know who anybody is. Therefore, she's meeting us down there, just so we don't see her costume beforehand," Harry explained as they headed down to the Great Hall.

"But how are we going to find her if we don't know what she looks like?"

"Beats me. We'll find her though." Both boys jumped down the last few steps and headed into the Great Hall. Staring in awe, they were barely inside the doorway before they stopped to take in the sight before them. The area was decorated much like it had been for the Yule Ball; however, instead of the whimsical winter wonderland, a classical medieval ballroom took its place.

"Whoa," Ron breathed out, coming back to his senses first. Students were already on the dance floor, mingling with one another merrily. The room was only lit by candlelight, provided by the candles in the chandeliers above them. This way, no one could make out the person in front of them other than by what they were wearing.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron grabbed onto his companion's arm and dragged him further into the party. Harry reluctantly followed behind the redhead, turning his gaze onto other things in the room. The decorations were magnificently done, giving the whole room a different vibe of energy. Harry grinned slightly and turned his head forward again; only, Ron was gone.

"Now where could he...oh never mind," Harry sighed to himself and sat down in one of the chairs at a table. He vaguely took notice of the people around him as he grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin juice, watching his fellow classmates glide along the dance floor. Suddenly a shadow blocked out his light, hovering over him ominously.

"Care to dance?" a proud voice asked him confidently and a pale hand was extended out to him. The voice Harry could recognize, but his memory could not place who it belonged to. Looking up before him, he examined the figure as well as he could. A shiny red mesh dress is what he saw; a short red mesh dress at that, barely past the rear in the back and scarcely brushing the pelvis in the front. Underneath the dress was a black long-sleeved catsuit that clung to the other person's skin. Fishnet sleeves covered the arms of the catsuit and the outfit was completed with a black mask, much like Harry's own, with red glitter versus silver.

"Well? I don't have all evening, you know," his suitor reminded him, placing the hand that wasn't outstretched to Harry on their slim hip impatiently.

'Well…she is rather pretty. Besides, it's not like anybody else has asked me.' Harry thought to himself and grabbed the outstretched hand.

"Sure, why not?" he replied and stood up, allowing his dance partner to lead him into the middle of the crowd. The two of them stopped and his newfound companion draped her arms around his waist, striking Harry as a rather strange thing to do. After all, wasn't she supposed to put her arms around his neck, and his were to go around the waist? The pair danced in time with the music, her leading them and him following. While they spun gracefully, Harry allowed his mind to mull over the possibilities of who his partner was.

'Oh lord, what if it's Pansy?' He cringed at the thought. Pansy Parkinson was probably his last choice as a dance partner, right up there with Millicent Bulstrode…and Daphne Greengrass…basically any Slytherin female, really.

He could tell that it wasn't Pansy; his partner was much too intelligent. It wasn't Millicent; his partner was too graceful. But Daphne, he wasn't as sure. He didn't know much about the girl, but it didn't seem to matter.

His companion pulled him closer as a faster song began to play. Slowly, almost as though not to scare Harry off, she began to grind into him, bringing him closer.

'She's certainly dominant…oh hell, who care.' Harry shrugged off the thought and began grinding his hips into hers. He dropped his hands from her neck and loosely held her hips. Her hands found their way down his sides, one briefly stopping to cup his ass lightly, squeezing gently. Harry found himself too caught up in the moment to care who was touching him where. He briefly wondered where his friends had taken off to, but soon realized it didn't matter. All that mattered was that moment on the dance floor in the sea of sweat and hormones.

"Can I try something?" his captor breathed out, locking eyes with Harry. Harry caught a glimpse of grey before the light moved away from his eyes.

"That depends," Harry answered in a dazed manner, watching the girl in front of him closely. Soon he felt a mouth on his, kissing him firmly. Taken by surprise at first, Harry cautiously engaged in the display of intimacy. Throwing all caution out the window, he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. She slid her tongue into the dark, wet crevice, grabbing the side of Harry's face and dipping him down towards the floor, resting her other hand on his back. Harry's head spun wildly as everything became one big blur; his only focus now was the beautiful woman in front of him. She pulled out of the kiss just then, looking down at Harry with a smirk.

"Shall we go elsewhere?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave. Again, Harry was struck with surprise at how forward she was. Nevertheless, he nodded and allowed her to lead him away.

"Do I even get to know your name?" he questioned of her as they headed up the stairs.

"All in good time, sir. All in good time," she replied as they made their way to the seventh floor. They soon found themselves in front of a blank wall. Harry watched as she walked past the room three times before the door appeared, revealing the Room of Requirement. "Come on." She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the room, shutting the door behind them both.

The room itself was equipped with a large roaring fire in the fireplace, set just before the foot of the queen-sized green and silver bed. Nothing else was in the room. Just those two things. With a smile, she sashayed toward him and brought him into another kiss, pinning him down on the bed. Blindly, Harry attempted to remove her mask, only to have his hand swatted away.

"Ah, ah, ah," his companion scolded him, placing her hands on his shoulders and straddling him down. "We've only just begun," her voice went low again as she kissed him hard. The green-eyed boy didn't object in the least bit, allowing her to explore for a short time. She soon moved on to unbuttoning his shirt, inch by inch, lifting Harry up to remove the fabric. Her lips left his as they began trailing kisses downward, from his neck to his shoulders, to his shoulders to his chest, and from his chest to his well-toned abdomen. She grabbed onto one of his nipples, massaging it gently as she continued to assault his body with her kisses. Harry stifled a moan which turned into a yip as she bit down on his neck. He felt his head loll to the side and went limp, taking in the biting and sucking he was feeling.

'Am I being easy?' He wondered to himself, feeling his eyes slide shut again. He reached up and pulled her closer. A hand slid down to his thigh, rubbing it sensually with the thumb as the other fingers helped unzip Harry's pants.

'I am being easy. But I can't stop…wanting…this. Besides, Ron said to have fun.' He jerked in surprise when he felt that same thumb on the tip of his growing erection, rubbing in the same manner. Biting back another moan, he peered at her through half-lidded eyes, strands of silky blond hair obstructing his vision.

"Well, well, Potter; here I had you pinpointed as a complete virgin. Yet here you are, kissing with skill that can almost match my own. I'm impressed," she said, suddenly not sounding like a she at all. Harry's eyes shot open and he sat up, turning on the lamp next to the bed and ripping away the other one's mask.

"You…" he breathed out, staring at the other boy with a mixture of awe and anger.

"Me," the blond smirked, allowing his grey eyes to wander over Harry's bare chest freely. "Did you really expect anyone else?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Malfoy…what the hell do you think you're doing," Harry attempted to growl, but it came out more as a whimper as Malfoy's hand ran up his shaft, tickling him lightly.

"Please, just call me Draco," the young Malfoy insisted, continuing to stroke Harry gently.

"Fine, Draco. Care to explain why you're on me?"

"Only if you can explain why you're turned on," Draco shot back smoothly. Harry fell silent once more, looking at the sheets rather than at Draco.

"I'm no-"

"Don't try denying it, Potter. You're hard as a rock, all thanks to me, of course." Draco looked rather pleased with himself. Harry frowned and glared at the blond Slytherin.

"Only because you look like a girl!" Harry pointed out. Draco shrugged and tilted his head to the side, looking at Harry with interest.

"Do I now?" he inquired rhetorically. A wicked smile crossed his features then. "But would a girl be able to do this?" He bent forward, biting onto one of Harry's nipples with his teeth, twirling his tongue around the small nub of flesh as the hand in Harry's pants began stroking him again in time with his tongue. Harry bit down on his lip to keep from groaning aloud, eyes falling closed again. Draco nodded satisfactorily and removed his mouth from Harry's chest, much to the raven-haired boy's (discreet) disappointment.

"Would a girl be able to do this?" he brought in his next point, lifting the smaller boy's hips and tugging off the offending black pants. Finding it easier to work with just boxers in the way, Draco stared into the beautiful face of the golden boy for a moment. Gently, he removed the black mask and threw it to the side. Flexing his fingers briefly, he returned his hand back down to Harry's lower regions, slipping ice-cold fingers under him.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, twitching at the strange impact and reopening his eyes. He was met with dark grey eyes and a demanding look.

"Don't make things so difficult, Harry. Just relax," Draco instructed, allowing his fingers to brush Harry's entrance. The Gryffindor stiffened at the sudden contact, freezing in all movements to see what Draco would do to him. The paler boy carefully slipped one finger inside the tanned boy, pausing to take note of any sort of reaction. When nothing came, he took that as a good sign and allowed a second finger to join the first.

"Draco…" Harry whispered, feeling his muscles clench up involuntarily.

"Shh…relax…you'll get used to it," Draco assured him, sliding the two fingers out; but not all the way. Harry didn't bother holding back his whimper as Draco shoved the fingers back inside of him, scissoring them to stretch Harry out. The ebony-haired teen hissed, suddenly feeling the ache of his unattended libido.

Yep, Draco was right: he was definitely turned on by this.

Draco smiled and pulled his fingers all the way out, sitting back on his heels at the end of the bed.

"Well, that takes care of that," he said and got off of the bed, walking toward the door of the room.

"Wait, what?" Harry attempted to sit up, watching the blond grab for the doorknob. Draco shrugged and looked back at Harry, giving him a skeptical look.

"Hey, you're the one who said you weren't turned on," he noted. Harry took in a deep shuddery breath, attempting to regain some composure for his next sentence.

"Fuck me."

'What? No! Wrong sentence, wrong sentence!' His mind screamed at him. Draco raised an eyebrow and a low chuckle escaped his throat.

"Ohhh, so now we're going to admit that we're aroused?" he taunted the other boy, stepping away from the door slowly.

"Draco, just shut up and do it." Harry couldn't believe what he was saying. It was Malfoy! His enemy! His rival! His tormentor for the past five years of his life, ever since he was 11. He had no feeling for the boy other than pure and undeniable hatred.

Yet, that didn't explain why he was begging for Draco to get inside him; for Draco to touch him; for Draco to lick, suck, and fuck him hard. Staring at the blond with large, pleading eyes, Harry waited for a response. Draco merely snickered and folded his arms over his chest.

"So, the wonderful Harry Potter isn't as innocent as everyone thinks," he drawled out, slipping the red dress over his head and flinging it into the corner. "Even he has his dirty little thoughts and fantasies." He smirked again and began walking back toward the bed, unzipping his catsuit leisurely. He slipped the arm socks off and threw them over with the dress, retracting his arms from the sleeves of the black one-piece. He rolled the fabric down and stopped just in front of Harry, making sure he was watching. With a final flourish, he pulled off the rest of his outfit and stood perfectly still, guaranteeing Harry a full-on view.

"But, who ever knew that they were about me?" he grinned devilishly and threw the catsuit over with the rest of his clothes, placing his hands on his hips and waiting.

"I, er-they're not about, um-" Harry stuttered, unable to keep his eyes off of Draco and all his naked glory. The grey-eyed boy's smirk grew wider and he spread his legs wider apart, staring down at the shorter boy.

"Like what you see, Potter?" he questioned of the other boy. Harry nodded his head dumbly and locked his eyes with Draco's. Draco nodded as well and leaned forward, touching his nose with the green-eyed boy's.

"Draco…?" Harry said uncertainly. Draco shook his head.

"You really are too beautiful," was all he said before he tilted his head, drawing the Gryffindor into another fiery kiss. This time, Draco took the time to remove Harry's boxers as well, dropping them neatly on the side of the bed. Pulling away from Harry's mouth, he nipped at the sensitive flesh of his throat, sucking and biting teasingly.

"Draco," Harry panted, but Draco paid no heed as he continued moving down Harry's body with rough kisses.

"Draco," Harry tried again and failed once more. Finally Draco had made it down to his final destination. Without warning, his tongue flicked out and brushed the tip of Harry's head, driving his senses wild. Pulling Draco up by the hair, he looked into the other boy's eyes in desperation.

"Stop toying with me, Malfoy," Harry growled, gritting his teeth in pain as his erection throbbed. Malfoy stared at him for a few moments before shutting him up with another kiss on the mouth. He swiftly picked Harry up, one arm around the waist and the other under his rear, tossing him again the nearest wall. Harry faintly felt the pain of the harsh throw as his lips fell pleasantly numb. Draco stopped kissing him again, staring deeply into Harry's eyes to gain his attention.

"You listen to me and you listen to me good, Potter. I may look like a girl. I may act like a girl sometimes. And I might even pretend to be a girl from time to time. But never forget this; no girl will ever be able to fuck you like this." With that, Draco took the ultimate plunge: right into Harry.

The brunet boy gasped out at the quick thrust, clamping his mouth shut to keep from screaming. Tears stung at the back of his eyes as Draco pulled out slightly, driving himself even deeper. There was no way he was going to allow Draco to see him cry; he just didn't deserve that. Not yet, anyway.

They were sweating; both of them, and the room began to smell musky for reasons Harry could only guess why. Draco continued thrusting into the other boy and nibble at his neck in between each one, causing sparks to fly and Harry's senses to drive him wild.

Not only was Draco a great fuck, but he also seemed to have a neck-fetish.

Harry felt himself start to lose control, silently praying to himself with each additional thrust Draco made.

'Don't make me come yet. Please don't come yet. I'm not ready for this to be over.' His head rolled to one side, exposing his neck even further to the dominating blond. He continued pleading to himself, but with no avail. As soon as Draco licked that sensitive area behind his ear, he came; so hard and so strong that sticky, wet patches were left on both of their stomachs. He felt his entire body relax then, preparing itself to slump over and be done with it.

"Hold out just a little longer," Draco whispered into his ear. "For me?" Harry felt himself nod and continued feeling the intrusion of the enemy deep within him. It wasn't long before he felt a warm sensation spread throughout his body, signaling that Draco was done. The blond smiled at him tiredly and kept a firm grasp on him as they both fell back onto the bed; Draco on his back and Harry sitting on top of his lap. Draco looked up at him expectantly.

"Well?" he prodded. Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"You're right; a girl definitely wouldn't be able to screw me like that."

"Enjoy yourself, Potter?" Draco continued asking questions, propping himself up with his elbows. Harry chose not to answer. Instead, he looked down at his stomach and groaned in disgust.

"You didn't happen to conjure up any tissue, did you?" he asked the blond, fingering the off-white fluid curiously. Draco gave him a dubious look in return.

"What on earth would you need tissue for?"

"To clean myself off. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not walking around with dried cum-stains on my body," Harry snorted. Draco sat all the way up, giving the brunet one last sultry look.

"I can arrange that," he stated calmly and pressed Harry flat on his back, beginning to lick the cum off of the other boy's chiseled stomach. The pale pink tongue lapped it up; much like a kitten would drink up cream from a saucer. Harry squeaked slightly when the tongue dipped into his navel, swirling around once before coming back out. Sparks ignited again as Draco finished cleaning off Harry's stomach, raising his head to meet his eyes.

"Better?" he inquired, raising an aristocratic eyebrow. Harry couldn't help but smirk back and nod.

"Oh yes," he replied and Draco drew him closer, kissing him one last time. Harry could taste himself inside of Draco's mouth and reached back as far as his tongue would allow him. Draco ran a finger up Harry's spine, sending chills throughout him. Draco dipped his head down and flicked his tongue out, touching the back of Harry's ear and making him see stars.

And then, Harry awoke. He kicked at his sheets wildly, flailing his limbs and coming back to reality. He stared around the room wide-eyed, heart pounding in his chest and his ears ringing. He gulped in a deep breath of air and closed his eyes again, relaxing at the fact that he was alone in his bed in what appeared to be Gryffindor tower.

"Thank god it was only a dream," he muttered to himself, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath and his heart slowed down. With another deep sigh, he opened his eyes slowly.

He was greeted with a pair of grey eyes staring into his own. Harry yelled in shock, scrambling away from Draco as quickly as he could. Draco tilted his head and blinked at Harry, sitting on the bed and watching carefully.

"What's the matter, Harry? Nightmare?" Draco asked him, an impish grin growing on his fine features.

"No…no, that…you and I…"

"Ah, the morning of regret. I know, Potter, I know. It's tough, but you better get used to it if this is going to become a regular occurrence," Draco drawled out. Harry gulped and his hands started to shake.

"R-regular occurrence?" he repeated warily, watching Draco closely. Reaching behind him, Draco nodded and came up with his red and black mask from the previous evening.

"Of course, Harry," he said, slipping the mask on over his face. "After all, girls aren't able to fuck you like I can." With that, he pulled Harry into another kiss, this time unwillingly.

"Wait, stop, Malfoy, get off me!" he shouted, punching at his predator wildly.

"Why, Potter? This is what you wanted last night," Draco purred, nipping at his neck again.

"No, get away from me!" Harry yelled again, punching Draco in the gut.

"Get off! Leave me alone!"

"Okay, I'm off, just quit hitting me!" a different voice snapped at him. Harry's eyes shot open and he looked around. Standing in front of him was none other than Ron, who was rubbing his abdomen tenderly. Harry sat up and continued examining his surroundings.

He was back in Gryffindor tower; the real tower.

"Man, do you have a wicked punch," Ron grunted. Harry gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you," he said truthfully. Ron nodded in understanding and placed his hands in his pockets.

"Musta been some nightmare you were having. You kept groaning and moaning in your sleep," Ron said to him. Harry froze at the words and carefully moved the leg of his sweatpants.

They, along with his boxers, were wet with sweat and cum.

"Yeah, big nightmare," he said offhandedly. Ron shrugged and peered closer at him.

"What happened to your neck?" he questioned.

"What do you mean?" Harry retorted, getting up to look in the mirror. His neck was adorned with several small bruises, all about the same size and the same with apart.

"That looks pretty bad," Ron said from behind him. Harry stared deeper into the mirror, critically analyzing his marks. Shuddering from the sudden chill that overtook his body, he turned away from the mirror and shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe I have bedbugs or something."

"Hmm, we should get one of the house elves to change your sheets then," Ron replied thoughtfully.

"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed with him and sat on his bed again.

"Hey, get up, Harry! We have to get ready soon." Ron walked over to his own bed and opened his trunk, rummaging through it briefly.

"Ready? For what?" Harry blinked in surprise. Ron looked at him strangely.

"The masquerade ball? It's tonight? Don't you remember?" he asked, returning back to Harry's bedside with a pile of clothing in his hands.

"Oh…right," Harry said and nodded. Brushing off the creepy feeling that overtook him, he focused on the clothing in Ron's hand. "Is that my costume?"

"Yep, here." Ron handed him the black shirt and black pants. "Oh oops, forgot your mask," he said and moved back over to his bed, picking up the black mask. He frowned down at it and turned it in his hand.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked him, not liking the look on his best friend's face.

"That's funny…I thought Hermione said she was decorating it with silver. Oh well." Ron shrugged and handed Harry the mask. The brunet took it from him and turned it over to examine the front. With a yelp, he dropped it and watched it land on the floor. Peering over the edge of the bed, Harry stared down at the piece of black plastic.

A black mask with red glitter stared right back.

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So…what exactly did happen? Any guesses? I'd love to hear them, really. Leave them in your reviews, eh?

Thanks to my lovely April for betaing this for me. Hope you…enjoyed(?) this!