hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,

Happy H/D Holidays, silyara!

Author: dm_p
Recipient: silyara
Title: Someone to Watch (Over Me)
Summary: Harry needs help, and Draco is willing to give it. Sort of.
Rating: Hard R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): None
Epilogue compliant? EWE
Word Count:3,688
Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta and to silyara, for helping me to write a type of story I’ve never tried before. Big thanks to the mods for putting up with my tardiness. I hope you enjoy.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Draco looked up from the evaporating swirls of condensation he had traced out with his fingertips to see a rather pissed and sweaty Harry Potter. “You don’t need to buy any more drinks.”

Harry’s droopy eyes rolled as he pushed away a lock of hair that was plastered to his forehead with sweat. “’M just having fun. Won’t you have fun with me?” Harry trailed a hand down Draco’s bare arm as his hips dipped in an attempt to follow the beat of the music.

“No Potter, I’m not going to have fun with you,” Draco yelled as the music grew louder. “I’m just here to have a drink, then go home.”

Potter collapsed against the bar, his brows furrowed almost painfully. “How do you know who I am? I’ve got my scar covered an’ everything.”

Draco hadn’t noticed that Harry’s forehead was smooth. Draco stood, pushing Harry down onto his stool. “I’m Draco Malfoy, you drunken idiot. I don’t know if you’re too drunk to notice, but I know you. You know me, so you can stop hitting on me.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” Harry mumbled, his eyes drifting closed for a moment. “I don’t know how I hate you when you’re so fucking pretty.”

Draco pulled a few notes from his pocket and tossed them onto the counter, ignoring Harry’s arm as it slipped around his waist. “I’m going home,” he said, not sure why he was allowing Harry to drag him closer. “Would you like me to walk you back to your flat?”

“Or you could take me home with you,” Harry slurred in a sorry attempt at seduction. “I’m sure you could use the company.”

“I’m fine, I’ve got plenty of company at my flat,” Draco replied, carefully untangling himself from Harry while keeping hold of his hand so he could steer Harry out of the club. “I’ll take you home. Can you Apparate without getting sick?”

Harry seemed to give the question serious thought for a moment before nodding once, still holding tightly to Draco’s hand.

Draco didn’t hesitate to Apparate them both to the front door of Grimmauld Place. Harry leaned heavily on Draco when they arrived, an uneasy whimper escaping his lips. “My head’s spinning.”

Draco sighed, carefully leading Harry to his front door. “I’m not surprised. Can you get into your house alright?”

Harry groaned again. “Will you stay with me?” When Draco started to pull away Harry held on tighter. “Please? I’ll never ask you again, I just don’t want to be alone. You don’t have to do anything but sleep, I just…please? Please?”

“Go inside and go to sleep,” Draco said in lieu of an answer.

Harry fumbled with the door but eventually got it open, though he didn’t go inside. “I really want you to stay with me. What if I have alcohol poisoning and no one is here to take me to the hospital?”

“Go inside,” Draco snapped, shoving Harry through the door and following him a few steps back. “Take your shoes off and get in your bed. If you think you’re dying, yell for me.”

It didn’t register in Harry that he had even heard Draco, he just continued on his weaving path to his bedroom. A terribly loud thump sounded from within, followed by a snore.

Draco settled into Harry’s well-worn couch, fishing around in the cushions for the control to the television. He only found an empty crisp packet and for some reason a toothbrush, so he just kicked his shoes off and laid down, cracking his neck before closing his eyes.

He woke up to the sound of a toilet flushing and a stiff spine. He sat up, put his shoes back on, and stood in preparation to leave. He went to grab the door handle but a groggy, hoarse voice stopped him.

“What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry asked, ruffling his hair as Draco turned, his lips pressed thin.

“Because you begged me to stay. Nearly cried.” Draco saw Harry flinch, but continued. “I’m going home to get ready for work. I’ve already seen too much of you this morning.”

Harry winced, probably more from his hangover than Draco’s words. “I should probably do the same.” After a brief hesitation he added, “We didn’t…I mean…you and I…”

Draco sneered. “No Potter, I do have standards. You were too drunk to be of any use.”

“Oh, well…” Harry muttered, his cheeks burning. “Right.”

Draco wasn’t sure what else he should say, so he didn’t say anything. He just left, fairly certain that if he never saw Potter again it would be too soon.


As it turned out, he saw Potter the second he sat down at his desk. He hadn’t even picked up his quill to begin responding to the stack of letters that had congregated on his desk overnight when Potter came strolling in, looking surprisingly well put-together and only slightly weary.

“I haven’t gone through your mail, if there’s anything urgent I’ll pass it on to you,” Draco toned, turning his eyes back to his desk. “As soon as I’m done I’ll fetch your breakfast, what would you like?”

“Just tea, thanks,” Harry replied, hesitating in the doorway to his office. “Stomach’s still not happy with me.” He stopped talking but didn’t leave, and with an irritated sigh Draco looked up. Harry’s jaw was set but his eyes were doubtful. “When you’re caught up I’d like to have a word with you.”

“That’s what a secretary is for,” Draco toned, popping the seal on an important-looking letter from the British Prime Minister. “Always at your beck and call.”

Harry made a strange noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t say anything more. Draco waited a few minutes to check that Harry was actually gone and he was, the heavy oak door opened a crack. Draco finished sorting the mail and went down to the break room, snatching up a couple of scones and a cup of tea. He pushed open Harry’s door without preamble, circling behind Harry’s desk and dropping everything down in front of him. Harry lifted his head off his pillow of files and wrinkled his nose.

“You need to eat, you were completely gone last night,” Draco said, leaning against the corner of Harry’s desk. “Those letters are urgent, do your best to respond today. And so you know, I consider last night overtime so I’m taking the afternoon off to meet Blaise Zabini. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Harry tore a scone to pieces and nodded. “Yeah, alright. Thank you for last night, by the way.”

Draco didn’t respond, he simply walked back out to his desk. He finished up his filing and left without telling Harry.

He met Blaise for lunch at the restaurant he and Pansy owned a few storefronts down from The Leaky Cauldron. Blaise was already waiting on him, lounging at their usual table already half through a Bloody Mary. “Draco,” he said, his tone bored. “You’re late.”

“Harry was impossible,” Draco sighed as he sat down, accepting the water the waiter brought over. “I don’t know why I still work for him.”

Blaise chuckled. “I know why you still work for him.”

“Fuck off,” Draco muttered, sliding down in his chair petulantly. “I just wish Potter wasn’t so fucking useless and hellbent on drinking himself to death. It would make my life much easier.”

“I’d love it if I didn’t have to hear you bitch about Potter again,” Blaise said with a sickly smile. “Can I bitch about my darling wife for a change?”

Draco grinned, leaning back in his seat as the waiter brought out a watercress salad for the both of them. “I hear enough bitching from Pansy for the both of you, thanks. She’s still upset with you for calling her fat.”

“I didn’t call her fat, I just suggested that she could go shopping for some maternity clothes if she wanted, seeing how what she now has doesn’t fit anymore.”

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed a large leaf around on his plate. “That means you think she’s fat. You’ve learned nothing from your marriage thus far? You’re sort of an idiot sometimes, Zabini, but you already know that.”

“That’s what best friends are for,” Blaise said, finishing off his drink before crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate you sometimes.”

Draco pushed his salad away, his stomach too uneasy to eat. “I should go, I don’t feel well. Sorry to make you wait for nothing. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Blaise blinked lazily before muttering, “Right. Go have a nap before you have to follow Potter to whatever pub he decides to grace with his presence. I’m sure it’s a tireless job.”

“Fuck you Blaise,” Draco said offhandedly, standing up with a slow stretch. “Someone has to look out for him, his bloody friends are more than willing to let him self-destruct.”

“You’re the only one who pays enough attention to Potter to notice his excessive consumption of alcohol,” Blaise replied, not looking up from his salad. “He’s a good actor, you know. Surprisingly well composed, considering the fact that he was a total mess at Hogwarts.”

Draco frowned. “He’s still a mess.” When Blaise raised his eyebrows Draco sighed. “Tell Pansy I’ll talk to her later, yeah?”

Blaise just laughed, and Draco left with a sneer.


Harry chose a rather crowded pub the next night, moping at the bar with a line of empty glasses in front of him. Draco, rather keen on not being recognized again, decided to sit in a shadowy corner by himself.

Draco watched Harry until he slumped down in his seat, his head coming down on the bar. He was either asleep or otherwise occupied, but Draco didn’t care. With a sigh Draco crawled out of his booth and walked over to Harry, poking him between the shoulder blades to see if he was asleep. When he let out a snore Draco shook him violently, allowing Harry to slump against his shoulder as he pulled him up to his feet. “Come on, it’s time to go home.”

Harry mumbled something into Draco’s shirt and tripped over something invisible. His knees gave out and Draco wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist, hauling him back up to his feet.

Draco was terribly happy that Harry hadn’t strayed far from Grimmauld Place so he didn’t have far to drag him.

After stopping to rest once and a brief vomit scare they made it back to Harry’s flat. Draco maneuvered the keys out of Harry’s pocket and unlocked the door, finally steering Harry to collapse on the couch, where he fell asleep before he was fully lying down.

Draco left, pulling the door shut quietly behind him, even though he knew Harry wouldn’t wake up.

When he made it back to his flat he had a note from Pansy on his door with an ultrasound attached. He peeled it off and went inside, dropping the photograph down on the coffee table on his way to his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile on he floor as he climbed into bed.

He couldn’t sleep.


Next day, Harry beat him to work and was sitting at Draco’s desk shifting through his mail. “What are you doing?” Draco asked, and Harry stood up, tugging at his hair.

“Oh, well…I was looking for you. I’d like to talk to you.”

Draco watched Harry swivel back and forth in his chair, looking up at Draco with a worried wrinkle to his brow. “Talk.”

Harry stopped spinning to sigh and ruffle his hair again. “We should go into my office. It’s sort of important.”

“Just tell me what you want to tell me,” Draco snapped, not sure why he was angry. “Let me guess, I’m fired?”

“What?” Harry asked, meeting Draco’s eyes for the first time. “No, of course not. I just…I wanted to talk to you about…well, I wanted to ask you why you feel the need to, well…follow me around after work. If…if you wanted to go with me you could just ask, it’s just sort of creepy to follow me around and try not draw attention to yourself.”

Draco could feel a blush rising on his cheeks and he hated himself for it. He crossed his arms and thought carefully about how to respond, but nothing would come to mind. “I don’t want to go with you, Potter, and it’s none of your business what I do with my time. And I don’t follow you. Actually, I have no idea what you are talking about. Get out of my chair, I have work to do.”

“I just think it’s a bit creepy that you always seem to be there,” Harry said, his tone more sure. “And if you think I haven’t noticed you’re wrong. I may be drunk but I can still see.”

“So you hit on me on purpose?” Draco said with a dry laugh. “I don’t think so. You can at least admit you have a bit of a problem with the drink.”

Harry stood and narrowed his eyes a bit. Draco noticed a moment later Harry’s eyes were red. “Stop following me. Stop taking me home. I can promise you I won’t be asking you to have sex with me any time soon, so you can stop waiting for that.”

Draco’s entire body was burning and he was even angrier when he felt tears stinging at his eyes. “If I wanted to have sex with you I could have done it already. You’re rather willing when you’re pissed.” Harry started to reply, a sneer that didn’t look right on him forming on his lips, but Draco pressed on. “I think my debt to you has been repaid more times than I can begin to count, so I’m done. I quit. I quit my job and I quit helping you. Good luck piecing together your shambles of a life, you ungrateful arsehole.”

Draco turned to leave, half-expecting a snappy reply from Harry but not receiving one. He made it all the way home, his ears ringing and head spinning.

He expected to have an owled apology waiting for him, but there was none. He expected for Harry to come by and offer a halted and embarrassed plea for forgiveness, but he didn’t come.

So Draco stopped expecting.


A week went by and Draco didn’t accomplish anything but dusting his neglected flat and helping Pansy shop for maternity clothes and listen to her croon about how perfectly wonderful Blaise was to her.

Saturday came and Draco decided not to get dressed. He climbed out of bed, made a cup of tea and a few slices of toast and leaned against the kitchen counter, reading the Weekend Prophet in a pair of too-large silk pajama pants. He was just getting interested in a story concerning the marriage and subsequent divorce of Stubby Boardman to a vampire when a hesitant knock sounded on his door.

Dusting some crumbs of toast from his fingers he made his way to the door, pulling it open and expecting Blaise. Or Pansy.

It was Harry Potter, dressed for the weekend in a pair of disgusting denims and a t-shirt that was so threadbare it appeared to be made of tissue paper. Draco was not impressed and stopped short of slamming the door in his face.

“Blaise told me about the life debt,” Harry said, instead of the traditional ‘hello’.

“I’ll kill him,” Draco hissed, trying to slam the door shut but Harry stuck a foot in the doorway to stop it.

“I need to talk to you,” Harry said, pushing the door back open and holding onto the handle.

Draco turned away, walking back to his abandoned toast and tea. “What is it with you and talking to me? You’re always needing to talk to me, it’s as if you have no one else to talk to. Get a dog or something.”

Harry followed Draco, either forgetting that Draco hadn’t invited him in or not caring about an invitation. He shut the door slowly, giving himself time to think. Or perhaps choose the breed of dog that most suited his personality. After a moment he took a few steps towards Draco, but Draco didn’t turn. “So I want to say this all, so let me finish. I appreciate you trying to repay the debt you owed me after I saved your life in the Room of Requirement. I also appreciate that you didn’t want me to know that is what you were doing. I appreciate that you cared enough to keep trying, even though you knew I would tell you to go home and leave me alone. I appreciate you being there for me every day, at work to cover my arse and help me with the job I’m supposed to be so good at. I appreciate you being there to make sure I get home safely every night. I appreciate every single thing you do for me.”

Harry fell silent, and Draco felt sick. He spread his fingers across the cool marble of the countertop and held his breath for a moment. “Is that all?” Draco asked with the exhalation of his breath.

Draco could hear Harry’s next few steps towards him, and could practically hear his thoughts spinning. “I…well…I can’t imagine why you continued to help me, when I would do the same thing night after night. No one else seems to care, so why do you?”

Draco’s heart wretched and his throat tightened. He turned around to face Harry, his back pressed against the lip of the counter as far away from him as possible. “Because,” Draco began, but his voice cracked and he stopped to clear his throat. “Because as disgusting and reckless and fucking stupid you are when you’re drunk, you’re still beautiful. So beautiful that I could kill you for treating yourself like shit. You’re too fucking good to piss away your life.”

Harry didn’t say anything and he was looking everywhere but into Draco’s eyes. His eyes lingered over the slender snake tattoo curling around Draco’s right nipple, and Draco looked down in time to see the snake flick out its tongue and flip the tip of its tail.

“I thought the artist was lying to me when he said the tattoo would move,” Draco said offhandedly, his eyes drawn to Harry’s twitching fingertips. “He’s not moved since I got him.”

Harry hissed. Draco wasn’t sure what was happening until he looked down and saw the snake trace a gentle circle around his nipple, its head bobbing and swaying at the attention. Harry fell silent and a very soft but distinct response issued from the snake’s mouth. Draco didn’t know what was happening or even how it was possible for a tattoo to talk, but he was more interested in the small smile that was growing on Harry’s face.

“What did he say?” Draco whispered, though he wasn’t sure why.

Before Harry replied he traced his pinky finger along the snake’s spine, causing a chill to run down Draco’s own. “He said you’re heart is pounding and he likes the warmth when you blush.”

“He didn’t say that,” Draco said breathlessly, although he could tell by the knowing smirk on Harry’s face that he hadn’t lied. The snake let out another little hiss and Harry’s grin grew larger. “Now he’s never going to shut up and people are going to look at me like I’m crazy because I have a talking tattoo.”

“No, he’s just been lonely, no one to talk to,” Harry said with a laugh. “And he only speaks when spoken to. Don’t you want to know what he said?”

Draco shook his head, but Harry took hold of his wrists and twisted them behind his back and held them there, their bodies pressed flush. Draco couldn’t breathe and he could feel his own erection filling and pressing against Harry’s own. Draco turned his face away, cheeks burning with sudden and consuming arousal as Harry his delicate wrists into one of his hands, freeing up the other to grasp Draco’s arse and drag their lower bodies closer, impossibly closer. The smell of Harry: sweat, fresh air, and some clinging must from Grimmauld Place overtook him and his head felt like it was filled with cotton. Fuck all, Draco was going to come without Harry having touched him, he could feel his orgasm building.

Then Harry bit the crook of his neck, hard, and Draco’s knees gave out as he came. He was shaking with his release and Harry was gathering him in his arms like Draco had done for Harry so many times in the past. Draco fought free and sank to his knees, unfastening Harry’s denims and tugging them down with shaking hands. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss over his erection through his damp pants, breathing hot air through the fabric. With a swift tug Harry’s pants were gone and his cock was in Draco’s mouth and Draco had never enjoyed the taste of cock more than he was in that moment. He felt a little spurt of come over his tongue and he hummed his approval, which Harry favoured with a shaking sigh as he tangled his hand in Draco’s hair and tugged.

Draco didn’t pull away and Harry came in his mouth, hard and hot and perfect. Draco leaned back against the cupboards, letting his head fall back as he tried to catch his breath. Harry was soon beside him, doing up his trousers, his legs splayed bonelessly in front of him.

“I’ll stop drinking,” Harry panted, ruffling his fucking hair just like he always did.

“I know,” Draco replied, wiping a drop of come from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll come back to work.”

Harry chuckled and let his head fall against Draco’s shoulder. “He was right, you do like to be bitten.”

Draco just slapped Harry’s impossibly messy head.
Tags: [fic], ewe, rated: r, round: winter 2008

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