#Author:Lettersbyelise

[dewitty1]

Heart Of Silver/Heart Of Gold

lettersbyelise @lettersbyelise

Chapters: 25/25 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Gregory Goyle, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Andromeda Black Tonks, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Jeff the Niffler, Other Characters Additional Tags: Demon Draco Malfoy, Human Harry Potter, POV Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, First Time, Angst, Enthusiastic Consent, Bathroom Sex, Mutual Masturbation, First Time Blow Jobs, Non-Penetrative Sex, Intercrural Sex, (kinda), Christmas Miracles, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Advent Calendar, Complete

Summary:

Draco Malfoy, a young demon specialising in school bullying, has lived hundreds of uneventful lives. Until his world is turned upside down by his newest assignment a few days before Christmas: to get rid of 8th year classmate Harry Potter, Defeater of Dark Lords and thorn in the side of all things evil. Trouble is, Draco’s world has been upside down for a while… ever since he started having very human feelings for a certain bespectacled Gryffindor.

Excerpt:

Harry’s cheeks were pink, the blinking fairy lights randomly highlighting his hair with pink, blue, yellow and green. His grin had turned slightly embarrassed, as it always did when he was the centre of attention for too long. Draco used to think it was false modesty. Right now, he wasn’t so sure. Now that he was starting to see Harry for who he really was... it felt like a Bludger to the face, every time, realising how utterly, how deeply good Harry was.

Draco wondered how a demon like him didn’t burst into flames just by being in Harry’s vicinity.

The first players made room for new ones, Granger, Weasley, Finnigan and Blaise this time. Draco felt someone sit next to him on a free cushion, a friendly shoulder brushing his.

“Fun game,” Harry said, very close to Draco’s ear. “You should play.”

“Not sure I’d be good at Muggle games,” Draco admitted. Harry’s face tightened. Draco, realising his mistake, backpedaled quickly. “I mean... not because they’re Muggle, obviously. I have nothing against... that.” Harry watched him silently, as if taunting him to say it, so he did. “I have nothing against it anymore. You know that... Don’t you?”

“I think I do,” Harry murmured, eyes pulled back to the loud players again. “Still think you should play, you know? You’re so... serious. So grave, all the time. You should loosen up a little.”

“I am serious because I want to be serious, Potter,” Draco muttered. He didn’t know why he was telling him this. With the surrounding noise, he was certain only Harry would hear him. “I’ve been a little shit for far too long. I’m making amends now. At least, i’m trying to.”

Harry nodded, still watching the game. “I believe you.” He canted his head to glance at Draco. There was a crooked little smile on his lips that Draco did not care for. “And if you don’t know how to relax, perhaps I should give you a hand.”

Draco froze, unable to look away from Harry, his little smile, the impish glint in his beautiful green eyes.

“I—” he said. He was humiliatingly interrupted by his own throat, contracting to swallow a gulp of air. Harry laughed.

“Hold that thought,” he said. He stood to his feet, fairy lights dangling from around his neck. He ran to his dormitory room.

Harry came back as a fourth round of Hungry Hungry Hippos was finishing, Longbottom as the winner this time. He shyly yet proudly punched the air in victory. Pansy clapped and whistled loudly.

“Oi, Harry, what ye got in there?” Finnigan greeted Harry. Harry opened his fist to show everyone its contents: a small, flat packet and a transparent plastic pouch containing what looked like dried, crushed Gillyweed. He grinned mischievously.

The Muggleborns and half-bloods in the group burst into laughter. Thomas clapped Harry on the back while Granger crossed her arms with a disapproving huff. “What? What is it?” Weasley kept asking, still sitting on the floor, pulling at the hem of her robe. “It’s Harry pretending to be cool but really being a stupid, predictable teenager,” Granger scoffed. Her admonition had the opposite of the desired effect on her boyfriend. Weasley stood to have a better look at the pouch.

“McGonagall let you in with this?” Thomas enthused. “There really is such thing as a ‘Boy Who Lived’ privilege!”

“Shove it, Thomas, or you won’t have any,” Harry laughed. “What McGonagall doesn’t know can’t get me in trouble.” He looked around. His eyes fell on Draco who was still seating where Harry had left him, too bewildered by the scene to move. “Wanna try?”

Someone moved the board games aside. Slowly, the students arranged themselves in a loose, lounging circle on the floor. Hannah Abbott brought something that looked like a large silver box riddled with buttons, opened a round compartment on top and placed a small silver disk in it before closing it with a click. Strange music started playing—definitely Muggle—and Draco tried to pay attention when he noticed Harry nodding approvingly at Abbott. The song was upbeat yet melancholy, hopeful yet happy. The singer was asking her lover to kiss her repeatedly beneath the twilight. Pretty lyrics, Draco thought. As he looked over to Harry, he thought they were quite fitting.

The lights dimmed. Harry, still wrapped in fairy lights, shone as enticingly as a Christmas present. Wouldn’t he look just perfect, surrounded by multi coloured lights, naked in Draco’s bed—

Oh, sweet Lucifer. That was new.

Draco had never allowed his mind to go there before.

And now that it had been, he couldn’t think of anything else.

Harry naked. In his bed.

He watched Harry bend over and lick a stripe along rolled-up cigarette paper, and his mouth watered.

Around the circle, a few students looked utterly at ease, as though what they were about to do was normal and not completely foreign. A few others, like Granger, appeared to be battling to keep the disapproval from their faces. The majority, though, just followed the proceedings curiously. Harry lit the tip of the cigarette with a muttered ‘Incendio’ and took the first puff, closing his eyes briefly before passing it to Thomas on his right.

He leaned on his left to murmur to Draco, “You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t even know what it is, Potter,” Draco whispered back.

Harry suppressed a giggle. “It’s a marijuana cigarette.”

Draco had never heard the term before, but he wasn’t stupid. He could read the context. As a demon, he had a knack for sensing illegal shenanigans when he saw them. He felt a little frisson of excitement mixed with circumspection at the thought.

“Drugs?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Kind of.”

“What’s kind of a drug? It either is, or it isn’t.”

“You’re right,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. Around the circle, their classmates were passing the joint around with lazy smiles. “I just meant it’s light and recreational. It helps with... relaxing, or sleeping. Among other things.”

Harry’s face was thoughtful. No innuendo of any kind here. Draco reflected on all the reasons why Harry would need help relaxing or sleeping. So he said, “I want to try.”

Harry glanced at him. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Draco clasped his hands in his lap, looking at them instead of at Harry.

“You never tried it before?”

“No,” admitted Draco.

“Oh. Of course. Yeah.”

“Why would you say ‘of course’?”

“No reason!” Harry lifted his hands. “It’s just that—you’re so... upper-class and all. I assumed—” He glanced at Draco and saw something in his expression that made him stop in his tracks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s okay if you’ve never done it before, or if you don’t want to do it now.”

Draco wanted to be offended—Harry seemed to think what he’d just said was insulting although Draco couldn’t fathom why—but he chose to move away from that particular attitude. After all, in the past, it had done him no good when it came to Harry.

“Will you show me?” He asked.

In the dim shine of the fairy lights, Harry’s face lit up.

“Of course.” He took the cigarette when it came back his way. He looked Draco in the eyes. Draco stood very still, his hands trembling, his whole body buzzing with the nearness of Harry. “I’m going to make it easier for you,” Harry explained. “I’m going to take a pull, and I’m going to exhale in your mouth.”

Draco felt his eyes go wide as saucers. “Beg your pardon?”

Harry looked as though he wanted to laugh, but not at Draco’s expense. “It’s... softer that way. You will still get a high, only slower. Nicer. For your first time,” he added, and Draco blushed.

Around them, a hush had fallen, as though their classmates had noticed the joint hanging from between Harry’s thumb and forefinger, his body fully angled towards Draco’s, Draco still as a bird caught in the line of vision of a snake.

Someone hooted, “Show the posh boy how to live, Harry!” and several people giggled. Harry paid them no mind. He just smiled at Draco.

He brought the cigarette to his lips.

He took a pull, his cheeks hollowing, his eyelids drooping slightly. His green eyes shone in the fairy lights, their gaze trained on Draco, insistent, unwavering.

Draco saw him lift his hand as if in slow motion, Harry’s strong, blunt fingers making contact with his jaw, the calloused tips sliding along his cheek, into his hair, fisting lightly, bringing his face closer. Harry’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and Draco angled his head, opened his mouth, and let Harry blow a cloud of grass-scented smoke into his mouth, the hint of his soft lips and his hot breath a thousand times more heady than the drug.

Around them, Draco was aware of people cheering and wolf-whistling.

With a smile just this side of smug, his eyes never leaving Draco’s, Harry pulled away, his fingers caressing Draco’s cheek as he retreated.

Draco swallowed.

With it came the smoke, and he burst into a coughing fit.

Everybody laughed. Draco was still coughing, but he didn’t care. Less than a foot away, Harry sat prettier than the Christmas tree, his gaze soft and facetious. He smiled at Draco before taking another puff of the cigarette for himself.

What a sweet irony, Draco thought, smiling at him, mind and body loose.

He was the demon, and Harry was the tempter.