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Burning For Gold	By : clover71 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 6148 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books and movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 1
- 2
Author's Note(s):

- This is the first Harry Potter fan fiction I've ever written. Please note that I'm not familiar with British English or britpick, so this fic ended up mostly 'Americanized' and partly britpick - I think. English isn't my primary language, if I may add.

- The title of this fic and the titles of the short chapters were all from the lyrics of the song 'Silver' by David Cook, which I do not claim ownership and is owned by David Cook and his label.

Burning For Gold 1/5, a draco/harry fan fiction by clover71 [LiveJournal username]

Rating: MA/ NC-17, Warning: BDSM (specifically wax play), post-war era

~ start ~

1 – when writing your history

word prompt: insanity

It started with a dream – something that left Draco shaking, yearning for something he couldn't fathom at first. The images he'd seen were carved in his mind, constantly haunting him now, even when awake.

When he'd sought help, he never expected to run to Hermione. She was the one person he least expected to end up being his friend, to Ron's chagrin, of course.

"Maybe you're just wondering where Harry could be like some of us" were Hermione's first theory, which was ridiculous in Draco's opinion and he was half tempted to tell her what the dream was about in details.

He tried to convince himself that it would go away. But then two months drifted by and he still dreamed of Harry every night – of Harry's hands exploring every inch of his bare skin, of Harry's lips burning hot against his own, of the unimaginable things that Harry did to him – and it always left Draco nearly out of breath.

'Shit.'

Three months. Three freaking months had passed since the recurring dreams started and Draco just woke up from one. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the thin layer of sweat. 'It will go away', he thought and let his back hit the mattress, ignoring the fog that had settled around him – swirling from vibrant pink to hot red.

When Draco could no longer shake off the vestiges of these… these images, he decided to tell Hermione. In a less explicit version. Then opportunity presented itself, eventually.

The ministry had appointed Hermione as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts this year and she was sent to conduct the annual inspection, making sure that the school kept to the Ministry's code. It was a shitty job, but she claimed that she considered it a break from the more stressful day-to-day events at the Ministry.

Since Ron had been sent to Wales to investigate some disturbing activities concerning low-profile wizards, Hermione had requested for Draco to accompany her instead. It was, after all, a requisite for Ministry Officials to always travel with an auror.

Class hours were over and Hermione had literally dragged Draco to the Three Broomsticks when he asked if they could talk.

"You're not bonded with him in any way, are you? Don't you have a life debt, perhaps?" Hermione had taken a sip of her butterbeer, something she loved to have every time they had the privilege to visit Hogsmeade.

Draco shook his head, said, "No. Not that I remember," and downed his own drink.

Hermione had turned pensive, muttered, "It couldn't be nothing," under her breath and Draco couldn't agree with her more. "Well, who knows? It could still go away."

It didn't.

Six months had gone by and the dream hadn't stopped. Then seven. Then ten. Now a year after, and Draco had grown from confused to utterly disturbed. He'd lost focus and had been suspended from his auror duties.

"You should go see him – Harry. Maybe then you can get some answers,"" Hermione suggested, her eyes cloaked with layers of concern.

Desperation now burned through Draco like poison. No matter how much he wanted to acquiesce, there was still an underlying problem. "I don't even know where to find him."

What Draco didn't expect was for Ron to speak up. "I do." It didn't come as a surprise for Draco to hear that Ron had managed to keep in touch with his friend though, so he kind of knew Ron would say, "I know where Harry is," next.

2 – will always be a footnote

word prompt: serendipity

Some people would call it luck but Harry Potter knew he had worked hard to get to where he was. It wasn't like his business was huge but considering the location and the size of his pub, the success had at least surpassed his expectation.

His pub had now tried to come up with events – like Mondays were "Karaoke Night" and Wednesdays would be 'Ladies' Night' and Fridays, 'Sports Night' and 'Open Mic Night' on Saturdays, just to keep the customers interested.

Harry was glad he listened to his assistant's advice as well. Mel had been long trying to convince him to keep the pub open during daytime rather than only at nights. Only one month since they started with daytime business and the profits hadn't exactly skyrocketed, but the new scheme did help add up to the numbers.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were normally idle. Harry hadn't exactly found any logical reason but it had molded a routine for him and his employees. They were just glad there were days when they could relax more and not be on their toes the whole time.

A few customers had poured in since seven that evening. The pub was almost half full, which was unusual for a Thursday night.

Apart from the regular customers, there was a group of young men and women that occupied around three tables joined together. This was the first time Harry had seen any of them. The fact that these people were all good-looking led Harry to presume they were a new batch of models from the small modeling agency across the street.

Harry paused near the entry that separated the main pub to the kitchen to breathe in the scenario. This was a complete opposite of the life that he once knew and lived for seven years. The life he chose to lock up in a chest and bury somewhere deep in his hidden past.

The nostalgia swept through him like a gust of wind and his hand instantly flew to his forehead, mindlessly tracing the scar shaped like lighting with his fingertips. The scar that had been slowly fading for the last five years but it was still there and it served as a bookmark of Harry's history.

He shook off of his shallow musing just as Mel leaned over, said, "We have a situation. Sort of," with a look that could steer Harry over the edge of panic.

"What is it?"

"Our bartender called and said he has the shingles virus. It's quite contagious so he was ordered by his doctor to take at least twenty days off." Mel obviously tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal. "I managed to convince Kurt to take over the bar just for the night and Liam had agreed to extend his shift to cover for Kurt's tables."

"Just for the night?" This seemed like a perfect time for Harry to lose his composure.

"Yeah. But don't worry, Liam had already placed a sign outside to let passersby know we're in need of a temporary bartender," Mel said with an optimism and determination that Harry had always admired. She reminded him sometimes of Mrs. Weasley.

With the pros and cons of not having his only bartender around for more than half a month swirling in his head, Harry hadn't noticed the door open and Mel's enthusiastic "oh hello there! Are you interested in the job?" didn't totally register in his mind.

When Harry heard a fairly familiar voice say, "Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have any experience at all," his head snapped up. His heart plummeted to the ground when he saw the young man oozing with the same confidence Harry remembered. His white blond hair had the same short cut but wasn't as slick as it was a long time ago.

"Draco." The name slipped out of Harry's lips like a secret spell.

Despite the confidence Draco wore, there was timidity in his gaze and in his voice when he said, "Hello Harry."

Whatever it was that vibrated between them was disrupted when Mel spoke. "Oh! So you know each other?"

It took a while before Harry could come up with an appropriate answer. "We met at school."

There wasn't any need to elaborate. Mel seemed to buy it and without any reluctance, she said, "Well, I guess that means you know him enough to trust him and trust him enough to hire him. Right, Harry?"

Harry wasn't entirely sure what he said in response. His mind was caught in a whirlwind of memories; of images of his past; of the fact that one of the reasons (or perhaps the only reason) Harry left the wizarding world was right there, standing a few feet from him.

He must've uttered some form of agreement since Mel clapped her hand once, said, "Great!" then hooked an arm around Draco's. "You're hired then. Now I'll have to ask you to fill up some forms and then I'll have Kurt teach you the ropes."

3 – a distant memory

word prompt: breeze

Cool draft seeped through the gap in Draco's window, shoving away the slightest warmth that lingered in his still dark room. Yet, despite the chill, his skin was ironically coated with sweat, beads of it rolled down his forehead, settling on the tip of his eyelashes like liquid crystal.

His chest stung, as if a double-edged blade had been driven through him and he pressed the heel of his hand against the center of his rib cage, desperately trying to ease the pain. His sharp breaths came in short, sporadic cadence as if he had just run fifty miles or a hundred.

Vestiges of the dream he just had – a white, cloudy haze – swayed just above the surface of his eyes, like mist blending with the gray shadows that drifted around him.

'Crap.'

It had just gotten worse. Draco thought that the dream would become less intense once he saw Harry, but it had only gotten worse.

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe at some point in his life – between now and five years ago – he was cursed with an obligation, a life debt, and he had only forgotten. 'Forgotten? Ha!' Or maybe… maybe he had indeed lost his mind.

'Whatever.' There was no turning back now. He'd set foot on the muggle world – an unfamiliar territory – not by free will but by this I-have-no-choice-or-I-will-go-mad yearning that had a tight grip on his heart and his mind. This was a situation he wouldn’t dare go through if it hadn’t been for this – this feverish desire that had been keeping him hot and burning from the pit of his stomach, setting layers and layers of his skin on fire.

The breeze brushed against his skin, slinking across every inch of his body. Draco bolted out of bed and rushed over to close the window, silently cursing the cold, the broken heater and this dingy room that muggles called 'flat', which was right above the hole-in-the-wall bar that Harry owned.

The once boy-who-lived had been quite intent to stay away from the wizarding world. For what reason, Draco had no clue. He wasn't even sure he'd like to find out.

So much for thinking that there was no shit way he would set foot on this side of existence. Now he was stuck. Trapped, perhaps.

Walking might help clear his head. Draco changed into his warmest clothes and made his way down the narrow stairs that led directly to the pub's backroom. He was almost out the main door when someone spoke.

"You're up early."

Draco stopped short, startled to realise that someone was lounging inside the pub at this ungodly hour and worse… it was Harry. His hand hovered over the door knob for a heartbeat before he let it drop and turned to face possible embarrassment.

Traces of sleep were still evident behind the black-rimmed glasses and the blue-gray shirt with torn hem that hang loosely over a pair of worn sweatpants were creased in visible places. Harry had a cup of steaming liquid sitting on one hand and a rolled up newspaper on the other.

The sight Draco took in triggered some kind of pain to coil tightly in his upper abdomen. He caught a whiff of Harry – all musky and like a faded scent of spice. It made the room spin and the floor tilt underneath Draco's feet, prompting him to lean against the door for support.

Draco slipped his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie, said, "Speak for yourself," when he finally found his voice. The remark might have sounded slightly catty, but it didn't seem to have any negative effect on Harry. He constantly shifted his weight from one leg to the other, pantomiming uneasiness.

"Were you on your way out?" Harry asked, tilting his head to one side as if he was trying to read Draco's mind.

But Draco figured it was absurd to think that Harry could be practicing legilimency so he pushed it out of his head, shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Yeah, I thought I'd take a walk. Couldn't go back to sleep."

"Oh." Harry gazed around the room for a few wordless seconds, like he was avoiding Draco's eyes on purpose. Draco could only imagine a thousand strands of thoughts unraveling in Harry's head. But the only words that came out of Harry's mouth was "okay, have a good walk then."

4 – a warning sign of mistakes made

word prompt: glass

It was just a bloody piece of glass, for Merlin's sake. Harry knew it was absurd to think that Draco dropped it on purpose. Besides, it shouldn't have been a big deal. Either one of them could easily fix it with a reparo spell. But something boiled inside Harry and he couldn't help but get so worked up and fume over it.

"You should've been more careful!" Harry's voice had taken an octave higher. He hadn't meant to yell, but if he didn't, he might end up exploding anyway.

Draco seemed to mirror his ire and bellowed, "I already said I'm sorry!"

It was when Harry opened his mouth, most likely to retort, that his assistant, Melaine Fogler, spoke up, said, "Look, Harry. It was an accident, okay?"

The smoke of anger that was radiating off of Harry slowly diffused but Harry could still feel something – frustration or irritation or agitation or… whatever – vibrating throughout his body. "Fine then. You better clean it up before people start pouring in," in a reticent way. Harry made a move to leave but then he stopped and faced Draco once more. "Leave the bar to Kurt. You're going to wait and serve at tables tonight."

"Like I have any other choice," Draco muttered before dashing into the kitchen.

Counting up to twenty in his head proved to be effective for Harry. He managed to keep his temper under control or else he would have been a heartbeat close to strangling Draco Malfoy. He only snapped out of his inner fuming when someone snorted then he heard Kurt say, "U-S-T."

It took a while before Harry's preoccupied mind caught up with what Kurt said and Harry blurted, "Excuse me?"

"Nothing" was the terse response he got before everyone around him dispersed.

5 – taking pills for solemn motive

word prompt: illusion

"You still haven't told me why you came seeking employment here in the muggle world" came Harry's voice, startling Draco and making him jump slightly. He was too deep in thought that he hadn't sensed someone came up behind him. And Harry should really, really stop sneaking up on him like that.

"Huh?"

"I thought you were—" Harry turned his head to steal a glance behind him before leaning closer, added, "I thought you were an auror at the Ministry," softly.

"Um…" What in the wizarding world would Draco tell Harry? The truth?

"Well?" Harry's eyebrow was raised, a look that could have meant Harry was expecting Draco to say something crossed Harry's face, but Draco could hardly remember what Harry's words were. Harry must have sensed this. He cleared his throat and asked, "Why did you come here? You haven't exactly given me a reason."

It was like a light bulb had been switched inside Draco's head and he was quick to snap a return. "I'll tell you, if you tell me why you chose to lead a life here in the muggle world despite the fact that you're much needed in the wizarding community."

There was a visible shift in Harry's aura, the lively orange and yellow morphing to different shades of gray. It blended well with the tension that rapidly grew thick in the stock room.

"Why I came here is my own business." Harry spoke with a hard edge in his voice. "While I have the slightest interest to know your reason since you're under my employment. But you have every right to privacy, so I won't ask again if you don't want to tell."

Draco didn't exactly know how to respond so he ended up muttering, "Thank you," in a dry, laconic manner. He wasn't sure if it was just an illusion but he thought he saw a gleam of hurt that went past Harry's eyes.

Guilt surged through Draco like a river of fire, scorching his conscience. When Harry nodded, said, "Later," and turned to leave, Draco felt something heavy settle in his chest.

"Wait." Draco couldn't even hide the desperation in his tone. "I uh… I came here because I thought I needed a change of environment." He told Harry about getting suspended but left out the real reason why, twisted the truth a little and led Harry to believe he'd been unhappy.

Lines appeared on Harry's forehead, showing traces of skepticism. But then again, it could be another illusion since Harry said, "I know how that must feel. You can stay here as long as you want then," in a lighter tone. He strode out of the room with ease but Draco felt ironically burdened with a weight that kept him anchored on the spot.

One thing Draco had noticed was whenever Harry was near him, the ache that twisted his innards would ease up and when Harry was away, the pain would resurface, building an urge to have Harry close once more.

It had started to become a pattern. A pretty scary thought in more ways than one. And Draco was certain this wasn't an illusion at all.

6 – a better side

word prompt: soul

Harry felt like his soul was being ripped apart, bared of all the secrets he hid deep within him. He bolted upright, panting, not certain where he was at the time. The disorientation faded eventually and Harry blinked against the veil of darkness.

It had been years since he had that kind of dream. It wasn't at all unpleasant, quite the opposite, actually. But it was… mind-boggling.

The whiff of Draco's cologne, which Harry caught in that rather erotic dream, still clung to his nose. Harry nearly fell off the bed when a knock startled him back to reality, followed by Draco's voice. "Harry? You alright?"

The mere sound of Draco's voice – husky and still laced with sleep – sent chills all over Harry's body. "I'm… I'm fine."

"May I come in?"

'No. Don't.' Harry thought he'd locked the door, anyway. But then again, it was Draco at the other side of his bedroom door. And how did he get inside Harry's flat, anyway? When Harry didn't say a word, he heard a hushed 'alohomora' followed by a click. He felt helpless when the door was pushed open and Draco strode inside, wand in hand.

"Y-you're not supposed to use magic. We did agree on that, didn't we?" Harry felt strangely cold and warm all over.

"Sorry. But I heard you yelling. And you were making these strange and rather loud noises." Draco edged closer, the faint light slicing through the thin fabric of the curtains touched Draco's face, giving a soft glow that made Draco look somewhat like how he did five years ago. "Figured you were having a nightmare or some sorts."

When Draco sat warily on the edge of Harry's bed, the corner of his lips curled into a small smile, Harry was swept with a wave of emotions that made him dizzy.

"Uh—I'm okay now." Harry's voice cracked and quivered at the edges, making him sound less convincing.

"Sure?" Draco laid a hand over Harry's blanket-covered leg and even through its thickness, he could feel the warmth of Draco's palm and it sent tingles coursing through his skin.

"I'm fine." It took great effort to keep his voice steady this time. Harry reached for his glasses from the bedside table and nearly lost his balance. Draco's hand shot straight to his arm, grabbing him to guide him back on the mattress.

The skin to skin touch ignited something inside Harry. It was as if a filament of their souls intertwined and for a moment, they were bonded, minds connected, thoughts mingling in green and gray shafts of light.

Draco must have sensed Harry's emotions. Either that or the same effect washed through him because he quickly ripped his hand off of Harry's arm as if he was burned. But instead of seeing fear or confusion veil over Draco's eyes like Harry expected, he saw a mantle of tranquility, of undisturbed surface of a calm lake – wide and bluish gray and pretty.

Something shifted between them, between the wordless minutes that danced around them. And for the first time since Draco hopped back into his life, Harry felt at ease at their proximity, like something inside him was partly healed. Partly.

"I—if you're certain you're okay, I'll um… I'll go back to my room now." Draco was up on his feet in an instant but made his way to the door in a snail pace.

Harry could only nod and say, "Thanks. You know. For coming," stupidly.

"Good night, Harry." It sounded like a promise— that Draco would be seeing Harry tomorrow, hopefully in a better light.

7 – an open mind

word prompt: question

The room seemed to be shrinking, walls drawing closer around him. But that didn't stop Draco from pacing. He'd been walking back and forth in the small space of Ron and Hermione's living room.

"You're starting to make me feel really dizzy." Hermione's voice reminded him where he was and he stopped briefly enough to give Hermione a look he hoped translated his thoughts, hoped Hermione understood he was desperate for her advice – anything that could enlighten him.

His almost inaudible 'I'm sorry' echoed in his own ears and he was sure he looked utterly pitiful at the moment. He did his best to tell Hermione what had transpired three nights ago. The feeling was still fresh in his mind, as if that brief shared moment in Harry's room had been carved in his hindbrain.

Draco could still feel the strange sensation, like static, on his palm. It was stronger when he had touched Harry's arm. He shouldn't have gone to Harry's flat, to Harry's room when he heard Harry yelling and moaning and... But the pull was so strong, as if Draco could almost feel the current of Harry's nightmare coursing through his own veins.

The morning after, Draco felt this stronger urge to be close to Harry all the time, stronger than when he started having the recurring dreams. It was as if being near Harry healed the ache that twisted tightly in his gut and eased the painful throbbing in his head.

But… but…

Having Harry in close proximity didn't seem to be enough anymore. Draco wanted more, wanted to feel Harry's skin against his own, wanted to feel Harry's body pressed against his, wanted to feel Harry's breath against his lips.

This had been driving him mad. For three days, he had suffered the agonizing shivers that ran through his body, the constant drying of his mouth and the tightness in his chest.

What the fuck was going on with him?

In desperation, he sought out Hermione's help once more. There wasn't anyone he could trust enough who wouldn't easily conclude that he had gone mental.

To Draco's surprise, Ron stuck around to hear him out and was now looking at him with what he could only guess was sympathy.

"Draco," Hermione said, her tone edged with the same tenacity she held when throwing her opinions during Ministry Council meetings. "I think I know what's going on."

Even Ron straightened up, interest lining his pale, freckled face.

Draco chose not to utter a word, just gazed at Hermione with expectation, silently coaxing her to continue. She ran her hands through her face, heaved a sigh and said, "I think you have a serious case of fixation."

"A what?" Draco and Ron chorused.

Hermione rose to her feet, clutched Draco's arms and looked straight into his eyes. "I'm not entirely sure about this." Her eyes said otherwise though. There was a depth of certainty in her gaze somehow. "I don’t even know if this normally happens to wizards and witches, but it does to some non-magical folks. I know someone, a psychiatrist, who can tell for sure."

~ tbc ~
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Burning For Gold