Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: leela_cat
From: sdk

Title: Watching You
Characters/Pairings: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Included: Voyeurism, implied masturbation, blow jobs, some frottage
Other Warnings/Content: None, sadly
Word Count: 3,064
Summary/Description: "You think I didn't notice? You think just because you creep around under that cloak of yours, I wouldn't know?" Draco leans close, his lips close to Potter's ear, and whispers. "Do you like watching me, Potter?"
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to my betas for whipping this into shape and cheering me on, though I've tinkered with it more, so any remaining mistakes are mine. Also thank you to the DD mods for their patience and for putting KK on again this year. I hope you enjoy this, mystery giftee!




The sun shines brightly overhead but does nothing to cut through the chill in the air on this cold December morning. Draco snuggles down into the swath of wool wrapped around his neck, trying in vain to fend off the faint breeze that bites at his nose and his cheeks. Hogsmeade is full of laughter. His fellow students run to and fro in the snow, stopping off at Honeydukes for Christmas confections or ducking into the Three Broomsticks to warm up with a pint of Butterbeer. Couples swarm Madam Puddifoot's for tea while others cram in to the newest branch of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes (formerly Zonko's) to try out their latest pranks for sale.

All in all, it's a miserable day.

As Draco trudges through the snow-covered road past the main throng of shoppers, he wonders yet again why he signed up for the last Hogsmeade weekend before everyone went home for the holidays.

His excuses are thin at best. He told Millicent that he had some last-minute gifts to purchase--a complete fabrication, of course. All of his gifts have been ordered via owl-post weeks earlier, and although it's somewhat amusing to think of flustered shopkeepers attempting to help a former Death Eater shop for Christmas gifts, he isn't about to entrust his purchases to those who might hold a grudge.

He told Blaise he simply didn't wish to be cooped up in the castle for another Saturday. But Draco hates the cold and even more the snow, and with one look at Blaise's raised brow, Draco knew that Blaise was nowhere near convinced. But thankfully Blaise didn't press the issue--nor offer his company--and Draco went on his way.

The truth that Draco wouldn't mention to anyone--not even his two closest friends still at Hogwarts--is that he wants to see if his 'mysterious' stalker will follow him here, outside the gates of Hogwarts.

And if he does, Draco wants to see if he can catch him.


***


Draco couldn't sleep.

This wasn't a new development. Ever since he arrived back at Hogwarts for his repeat year, sleep had eluded him and he'd taken to walking the halls of the castle to try and wear himself out for a few hours of restless slumber before the morning's classes.

He much preferred Hogwarts at night. During the day, the castle was a belly of chaos, with excited chatter and students clogging the hallways, most of them avoiding his gaze with a few brave ones outright glaring as if he hadn't the right to return. He supposed he didn't blame them. If it hadn't been for McGonagall's personal invitation after his trial and his mother's pleading, Draco would never have set foot in the place again.

Too many memories. Most of them bad.

But Hogwarts at night became a different place. Quiet, peaceful...dare he say it, warm. He was becoming a sap, he thought ruefully. There was the occasional noise, of course--a portrait's snore or a squeak as he climbed a staircase. He even heard Peeves rattling around more than once, but even the ghost kept out of Draco's way nowadays. Still, Draco sometimes felt eyes watching him and he'd whip around more than once, looking for a professor out on their rounds or a fellow student sneaking about for one reason or another, but always the halls were empty and he was alone.

He chalked it up to the magical nature of the castle--maybe it was watching him and that was what he sensed--and forgot about it.

Until that night.

It was three weeks into term, half-past one in the morning, and Draco was rounding the third floor corridor just outside the Charms classroom when he heard a distinct clang of something hitting one of the armoured knights guarding the halls--it sounded like a foot--and a soft curse. Draco cast Lumos and turned on his heel, carefully moving his wand to cast a soft blue light over the area.

There was no one there.

Draco nearly gave up--decided he'd either imagined it in his sleep-deprived state or that Peeves was messing with him--when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was just a shoelace, gnarled and dirty, the knot frayed on one end and then at the other it simply disappeared as if attached to an invisible shoe.

And Draco knew at once that someone was watching him, and it wasn't the great spirit of the castle. Only one person owned an Invisibility Cloak at Hogwarts.

Potter. Harry Bloody Potter.


***


The classroom was covered in a thick layer of dust. It was filled with broken chairs and old desks, discarded furniture lying around, abandoned and forgotten. But it was quiet, out of the way at the end of a corridor that no one used any longer.

A perfect place to put on a show.

Potter had been following him for weeks now. Draco pretended not to notice, but if he paid close enough attention, he always caught evidence of his 'stalker' during his nightly walks. A shoe scuffle here--an extra squeak of the staircase there. One or two of these occurrences might be written off as coincidence, but the more they piled up, the more Draco knew that he was never alone in the castle anymore. He wondered if he ever had been.

At first Draco had been infuriated. What exactly did Potter think he was playing at anyway? Following Draco around the castle at all hours. What was he hoping to find? Draco defacing Hogwarts property or practising Dark Spells in the middle of the night? Draco snorted. Not likely, considering Potter himself had testified at Draco's trial and claimed him "harmless".

Harmless. Draco didn't know if there could be a worse insult.

And that was when it had hit him: Perhaps Potter wasn't obsessed with finding Draco doing something wrong; Perhaps Potter was just obsessed with Draco, full stop. Maybe he hoped to catch Draco in the Prefect's bath where all the 8th year students bathed--or with another student, snogging in a shadowy alcove, all the while wishing Draco was snogging him.

Maybe Potter just wanted Draco. Draco couldn't blame him; he was bloody gorgeous.

An idea formed in his mind and Draco knew how to enact his revenge and have a little fun all at Potter's expense.

And that was where the classroom came into play.

Draco was hard, achingly so. He wasn't really ashamed of this. It had nothing to do with Potter, who Draco imagined hovering outside the open classroom door, believing his presence was still undiscovered. It was more the idea of taunting Potter that stimulated Draco's arousal. Draco wondered if Potter would flee as soon as Draco unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock free from where it hid trapped and throbbing within the confines of his boxers. Would Potter run at first sight? Or would his eyes widen and his mouth go dry as Draco wrapped his long fingers around his cock and gave himself a stroke?

Potter would probably love it. Pervert.

But Draco would give Potter a taste of what he'd never have.

Draco banished the dust off the sturdiest-looking desk at the wall near the door and angled himself so Potter could have the best view. The classroom was dark, but there was a faint pool of light streaming in from the torch right outside, and Draco carefully arranged himself within it, as if it were a spotlight. He leaned back and dragged his fingers slowly down the front of his robes, parting them until they hung off his shoulders, displaying his clothes beneath. Draco had carefully picked out his outfit for the night: A dark blue button down-shirt and well-fitting trousers--not tight enough to be obscene, but snug enough to show off his long legs and leave little to the imagination. He knew his arousal was displayed proudly, tenting the front of his trousers, teasing Potter.

Draco undid the top three buttons, letting his shirt form a loose vee and expose just a hint of chest. His nipples were already pebbled and tender, and he'd only just begun. He could feel them poke up beneath the shirt and knew Potter could see them as well. Draco stilled, listening to see if Potter would shuffle along and escape. Surely it was obvious by now what Draco planned to do, but the only sound in the room was Draco's soft breath.

So Potter was staying.

Draco was more pleased than he'd like to admit.

***

The crowd thins out, then disappears completely as Draco passes the Hog's Head. Ahead of him is a snowy street with cottages plopped down here and there in a haphazard pattern--he would have thought wizards would be able to draw a straight line--and Draco decides he's gone far enough. He ducks into an alley, slowing his pace, waiting to hear the telltale crunch of footsteps behind him.

He's not disappointed.

Not even bothering to try to hide now, is he? Draco thinks. He spins around to confront Potter, only Potter's not there.

Instead an older wizard with salt and pepper grey hair stands where Potter should have, dressed in long drab robes that look as if they've seen better days. The wizard's mouth is set in an ugly sneer across his face as he stalks forward.

"Death Eater scum. How can you show your face here?"

Draco sighs. This again. "Actually, that's ex-Death Eater scum. A 'mister' wouldn't hurt either."

"You think you're so much better than all of us, don't you? Better than filthy mudbloods, is that it?" The wizard spits and Draco wrinkles his nose. How uncouth.

"Some of you, yes." This is getting rather boring. He's heard more colourful insults from the lower classmen at school. He opens his mouth to say so when the man brandishes a wand and aims it straight at Draco's heart.

Well, fuck.

Draco fumbles for his own wand, but knows he'll never make it in time; he braces for the impact of whatever spell is coming his way when suddenly Potter appears out of thin air, directly in front of the wizard's wand.

"I wouldn't," Potter says simply. He's blocking Draco's line of sight, but Draco can just imagine the simpering hero-worship washing over the wizard's face. It's the way everyone looks at Potter these days, and it's revolting. The wizard mutters something and then stumbles off, disappearing out of the alley.

"You have a bloody hard-on for saving me, don't you?"

Before the last word leaves his lips, two fists bunch in Draco's robes and he's slammed against the side of the building, his vision filled with a pair of flashing green eyes.

"Are you mental?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why're you out here alone? You could have been hurt."

With stone digging uncomfortably into his spine, Draco thinks Potter has a lot of nerve pretending to be concerned with his well-being.

"What do you care?"

"You don't really believe that rubbish anyway," Potter says as if Draco hasn't spoken. He loosens his fingers slightly, but when Draco tries to slip free from his hold, Potter pushes him against the wall again.

"You think you know me because you follow me around all the time?"

At that Potter's cheeks redden, and Draco knows it's not just the cold air. He feels a momentary surge of victory.

"You think I didn't notice? You think just because you creep around under that cloak of yours, I wouldn't know?" Draco leans close, his lips close to Potter's ear, and whispers. "Do you like watching me, Potter?"

Potters eyes narrow and Draco smirks.

"I bet you do," he continues. "I bet you really enjoyed it the other night, didn't you? Did you enjoy the show I put on for you, Potter? I bet you rushed back to your dorm and wanked yourself raw after that, didn't you?"

Draco curls his fingers into the loops of Potter's ridiculous Muggle jeans and yanks his hips forward, and is rewarded with the thick press of Potter's cock hard and throbbing against his thigh.

He smiles slowly. "Is it saving people that gets you hard, Potter? Or is it just me?"

Potter struggles, but Draco holds fast, moving his hips ever so slightly to cause just a hint of friction. Potter's eyelashes flutter and something warm uncurls in Draco's belly.

Finally he has the upper hand on Harry Potter.

"I'm not the only one hard." Potter's voice is low and Draco almost can't make out his words, and then Potter suddenly rolls his hips and Draco realises what Potter is talking about. Draco is hard and caught snugly in the press of Potter's thigh and fuck if that doesn't feel good. Fuck.

"I'm an eighteen year old male, Potter. I can get off looking at a broom. Don't think you're special."

"Shut up."

Draco opens his mouth to protest and is promptly attacked by Potter's mouth.

The kiss is messy. Full of clanging teeth and fuck, is Potter growling into his mouth? Draco fingers tighten around Potter's belt loops and pull him closer, jerking his own hips in return. And right now, he doesn't care. He doesn't care that they're in the middle of an alley in Hogsmeade, that it's bitterly cold and the wind stings his skin everywhere Potter's hands leave him exposed; he doesn't care that he's getting off with Harry Bloody Potter, he just never wants it to stop. It's insane, but the press of Potter's body from chest to groin leaves Draco with little ability to think, so he gives in and just feels.

There's a tugging at his robes and then insistent fingers fumble with his belt buckle, wrenching the clasp free. Draco breaks their dueling kiss with a gasp.

"Are you mental? It's bloody freezing. My bits will fall off."

Potter grins and yanks Draco's trousers open. "Don't worry, I'll keep you warm."

Then there is a jet of freezing cold air as Potter pulls his cock free, a hex ready on Draco's lips, although his hands are full of Potter's arse instead of his wand, when Potter wraps his gloved hand around Draco's length, encasing it in smooth warmth.

And then Potter drops to his knees.

"Fuck..."

Draco's eyes widen--he's mesmerized by the sight of Potter sunk down in the snow, stroking his cock, the tip just centimetres away from Potter's mouth. Potter licks his lips with a wicked gleam in his eye and dives forward.

"Oh fuck-" Draco's head falls back against the stone wall as he's encased in even greater warmth than he could ever imagine. An eager tongue snakes down along the underside of his length. Draco's thighs tense and he knows he's going to come far too soon from this. From Potter's mouth squeezing around his shaft, the quick flick of his tongue as he reaches the slit, from the press of the velvety inside of Potter's cheek.

He slides his fingers into Potter's messy mop of hair to try to regain his balance, his power, but Potter moves his head heedless of how Draco tugs to attempt to keep him close, to keep his cock wrapped up in that beautiful mouth. A gust of icy-cold air shocks Draco again, and then Potter wraps his hand around the base of Draco's cock, keeping him safe from the chill. But Draco doesn't care about the cold anymore. He wants to rip off his scarf, his robes, even his trousers, and give Potter unfettered access to his body, snow be damned.

Draco looks down and meets a pair of piercing green eyes, staring at him with an intensity he's experienced only once before--when he dueled with Potter. Potter has that same focus now; he's in charge and he knows it, even with Draco's cock stuffed in his mouth.

But it's when Draco drops his gaze lower and finds Potter with his free hand shoved into his own trousers, wanking himself furiously, that Draco loses it. His body coils up tight and he comes, his gaze unwillingly meeting those green eyes again as he bites his lip to keep from crying out.

And Potter swallows it all. Damn him.

Draco leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, panting. Damn Potter. Damn Potter's hand and damn Potter's mouth and damn Potter's everything.

When he opens his eyes, Potter is standing in front of him with a ridiculous grin on his face.

Wanker.

"You might want to tuck yourself in before your bits fall off. Or do you need help?"

Before Draco can move, Potter spells him clean and carefully puts his trousers to rights once more. Draco glares, but says nothing, and ignores the lingering spark of warmth from Potter's gloved hands.

"Next time you accost me, could you at least wait until we are indoors?"

Potter laughs. It's a warm, genuine laugh, even if it's a little hard around the edges. Draco feels something tug in his gut, but he dismisses it--it's probably just the desire to wipe that open grin off of Potter's face. A flash of kissing Potter's smile away comes unbidden into his head at the thought and Draco scowls, which makes Potter laugh again.

Maybe he should teach Potter the proper way to kiss. That would make his infuriating smile disappear and show who should be rightly in charge of this…whatever this is.

As if reading his mind, Potter leans close. It's a slow slithering approach, much different from when Potter first kissed him, and Draco holds his breath, unable to move. Potter's breath ghosts over Draco's lips and he whispers, "I'll see you tonight, Malfoy."

Tonight? Draco almost asks, but with a jolt he remembers how this all started: Potter following him around like an obsessed puppy. It's somehow not as unwelcome a prospect as it once was.

But Potter pulls away before even the faintest brush of their lips, and that irritates Draco more than he'd like to admit.

Bloody tease. Two can play this game. Draco smirks.

"If you can find me." He straightens and slips out from between the wall and Potter's body, dragging a finger along Potter's chest on his way.

Draco doesn't have to look back to know that Potter is still watching him as he walks away.

As it should be.