Title: In The Stacks

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns it all, except the smutty goodness that is Drarry.

Summary: In the library during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have an accidental run-in that leads to clandestine meetings in the stacks. First chapter can be read alone as a stand-alone - pretty much PWP. Draco/Harry (Drarry)

Warnings: Language, oral sex, frotting. Slash. Male/male bonding of a less than innocent nature. Smut, glorious smut! Practically PWP.

A/N: Wow, just a few weeks ago I'd never written a sex scene in my life, and now here I'm writing something that's very nearly PWP. (Not sure how much or how little of a plot there needs to be to determine whether it is or not.) How time does fly. Please review and tell me how I did! Both positive and negative comments welcome! Thank you, VenustusLovesJames for posting a (very hot) picture on her Drarry FB page that inspired this fic.

This was continued as a chapter fic by popular demand. However, a much later chapter contains RAPE/NON-CON. I will be placing warnings on the chapter itself, as well as on above the scene it happens in so that it can be skipped, and anything important that you'd miss by doing so will be summarized in an A/N at the end of the chapter.

In The Stacks

My heart's beating faster, I know what I'm after

I've been standing here my whole life

Everything I've seen twice, now it's time I realize

It's spinnin' back around now, on this road I'm crawling

Save me cause I'm falling, now I can't seem to breathe right

Runnin' – Adam Lambert

Draco Malfoy entered the Hogwarts library with his head held high, his hips swaying as he walked, the very air around him whispering, Yes, I am that good. He could feel the eyes on him as he sauntered through the aisles; the gazes of everyone who hated him, and of those who wanted him but wouldn't touch him for fear of being found guilty by association; of being tainted. Sometimes those two groups were very distinct and separate; sometimes they blended into one cohesive whole mass of confused hormonal teenagers. Teenagers whose hormones screamed that they wanted to sleep with him but whose brains screamed back, "Fucking Death Eater scum!"

That was fine. Let them want him and writhe with it. He was used to being wanted, and he'd quickly gotten used to being hated. Everyone kept their distance, whatever their designs on him were, and that suited him just fine. Harry Potter had spoken in his defense at his trial, and Professor – no, Headmistress - McGonagall had specifically set wards that would alert her if anything happened to him, rendering him untouchable; safer by far within Hogwarts than he would be out of it.

He slipped into the section on Ancient Potions and began to browse. He found a promising-looking volume titled Moste Powerful and Magickal Brews and removed it from the shelf. He began thumbing through it as he walked, head down, not really minding where he was going.

"Oomph!" There was a terrific crash and Draco went down, and a warm, squirming body followed suit. Draco's head jerked up in surprise as he fell, and a pair of soft lips connected with his. A jolt of electricity shot through him; Merlin, but those lips were soft, soft and warm and pliant and oh-so-kissable, and Merlin knew it had been far too long since he had last had a good snog. He bit back a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he shuddered with pleasure. He'd never felt anything like it, and without thinking he nibbled on the lower lip that presented itself and felt the girl gasp. Without waiting for her to pull away he cupped the back of her head with his hand and slid his tongue into her mouth, feeling as much as hearing the moan that broke free from her, and she kissed him back; tongue hesitantly, inexpertly dancing with his own. Electricity burned through him like fire, his hands lightly dancing across her back and feeling small shocks run through his fingertips.

It was fire.

It was passion.

It was heaven.

He'd never had a snog like this, ever.

"Oi! Ferret! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

He growled in frustration, feeling a shudder run through the kiss from the girl at the sensation, and pulled away to glare at the Weasel for daring to interrupt him. Weasel looked horrified and sickened, and was aiming his wand at Draco's head. Granger stood still behind him with her know-it-all Mudblood – excuse me, Muggleborn – mouth gaping open in a small "O". What reason on earth could they have for wanting to interrupt his snog?

A slight shock ran through him, and he wondered uneasily if he'd been making out with the Girl Weasel, if that was what had the Weasel's knickers in a knot. He glanced at the figure in his lap, only to have his blood run cold. It was not the Girl Weasel. It was not, in fact, a girl at all.

Straddling him, looking slightly dazed with glasses askew, black hair wild, lips red and swollen from Draco's kiss was Harry Potter.

With a horrified cry Draco tried to spring away, but he was still pinned underneath Potter, and he wondered then how he could have mistaken Potter's weight and build for a girl's. Not that Potter was particularly heavy, in fact for a boy, he was surprisingly light. He was shorter than Draco, and slender, perhaps that was why. He was muscled and wiry; all hard planes and angles, nothing like the softness and curves that Draco was familiar with. Somehow that just made everything feel that much hotter.

But of course, none of this eliminated the horror that was the fact that he had just snogged Harry Potter. In the middle of the library, no less. And it, I might add, his brain supplied helpfully.

The Weasel was sputtering like he was having some kind of verbal seizure. His wand jiggled up and down in time with his incoherent, fragmented bursts of words and half-formed sentences.

Potter seemed to come back to himself. He flushed bright red and scrambled to his feet. "What the hell, Malfoy?" he demanded, trying to look furious but the way his voice squeaked sort of ruined the effect.

"What the hell, indeed, Potter," Draco sneered, recovering himself. "You want me so badly you would leap out on me unawares in the library?"

Potter's blush deepened, his scar standing out vividly on his forehead against the reddened skin. He had the presence of mind to look scandalised. "Now see here, Malfoy," he sputtered. "I wasn't-"

"No, I will not see here," Draco tilted his head back exposing his pale, slender throat. He couldn't help noticing the way Potter glanced at the expanse of skin, licking his lips with a pink tongue darting out in an unconscious gesture. Well, well, he thought. Looks like the Golden Boy enjoyed that a bit more than he ought to have done. He serenely ignored the voice in his head that said that he, himself had enjoyed it a bit more than he ought to have, and focused instead on that particular detail. If I play my cards right, Merlin knows what I could hold over him…

Draco smiled; a very Slytherin smile. He leaned forward and delighted in the way Potter gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as the blond drew near. He pulled back and the reddish stain darkened once more over his face and neck.

"Get back, you – you!" bellowed the Weasel eloquently. He was still brandishing his wand like a sparkler, twirling it in a fit of hysteria. Well, thought Draco with amusement. Madam Pince is no doubt on her way.

Outwardly he rolled his eyes. "Weasel, as much as I enjoy sharpening my razorsharp-wits against your perpetually dull ones, this does not concern you. Potter throwing himself at me and kissing me on the floor between the stacks is a matter between me and him."

"I did not-" Potter began, face still flaming.

"You evil, Death Eater slimeball!" raged Ron. "You- you attack Harry, then try to blame him; as if he would ever voluntarily touch the likes of you for anything-!"

"Granger, restrain your caveman, will you?" Draco looked bored.

Granger flushed but seemed to break out of the shocked trance she'd been in since witnessing the kiss. "Ron," she whispered. "Quiet before Madam Pince kicks you out of here!"

"Oh, so now you take orders from Malfoy, Hermione? Since when do you choose that ferret over your own boyfriend?" Ron purpled with rage, and did not quiet down in the slightest.

"Ron!" she huffed. "We were both shocked by- by what happened," she flushed. "But you need to calm down before you get us thrown out of the library!"

"I will not calm down-!"

"Mr. Weasley!" hissed Madam Pince, rounding the corner. "Out of my library – now!"

Weasel sputtered but she would brook no arguments. "Now, Mr. Weasley."

Granger grabbed his elbow and began steering him away. She paused and turned back. "Harry-"

"In a minute, Granger; I'd like to talk to him." Malfoy smirked while Potter gaped at him, and Granger's eyes flicked worriedly between the two of them. Weasel made a gagging, choked sound in the back of his throat.

"Just go," Potter said, quickly, catching Madam Pince's eye. "I'll follow in a minute."

Granger looked like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth in a firm line and proceeded to tow the blustering Weasel out.

"Can I trust you gentlemen to behave?" Madam Pince frowned at them.

"Word of honour, Ma'am," smiled Draco. She sniffed, but turned and left them to their devices.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter's tone affected a casually unconcerned lilt, but Draco noticed the way his voice shook ever so slightly on his name, the way he trembled lightly. He leaned in close and Potter sucked in his breath.

"You want me, Potter."

Potter's eyes went wide. "I do no-"

"You can't stop tasting me. Wanting my tongue back on yours, my hands on your body. It's written all over your face; how much you loved that." Draco felt a shiver run through him as he spoke the words. "A repeat can be arranged."

He pulled back and smirked. Potter's pupils were dilated, and as green eyes met grey his breath hitched. He licked his lips. "Why?" The words came out in a whisper, sounding like they had been forced through a half-closed throat. "What's in it for you?"

"Did it ever occur to you, Potter, that perhaps I enjoyed that, as well?" he purred. And he had; not that he would ever acknowledge it. This would purely be a ploy to humiliate and embarrass his rival. No more, no less.

And if I happen to get another snog like that out of him in the process, well… that's nobody's business but mine.

Potter's eyes widened, and he gave a barely perceptible nod. "I - alright," he whispered. "When? Where?"

"Well, I was thinking after dinner," Draco drawled. "And as for where; this spot is perfect, wouldn't you agree?"

Potter glanced around, and he had to concede that the Slytherin had a point. In this little alcove, they were completely alone, hidden from the rest of the library. If Granger and the Weasel hadn't been standing so close they wouldn't have seen anything at all – and most likely didn't see the accident, initially. If they took a few steps back they would be completely hidden in the stacks on all sides. It was far enough back in the library that so long as they weren't shouting at the top of their lungs the way the Weasel had been, they'd likely remain unnoticed and uninterrupted.

"Alright," he agreed. He ran a shaking hand through his messy hair and gave a nervous laugh. "Alright," he repeated.

Draco smirked. "Till then, Potter," he whispered, leaning in close enough that the other boy could feel his breath, hot below his ear. He relished the way Potter shuddered, a gesture that had little to do with disgust, if the look of pleasure on his face was any indication.

He sauntered his way out of the library, carrying Moste Powerful and Magickal Brews with him as he went.

Draco was torn. Part of him was filled with glee; he would soon have blackmail material on the Golden Gryffindor, and on top of that he would be getting what promised to be an excellent snog. The other half of him wanted to take down the cameras he'd hidden and rush back to his room to hide. He wanted that snog; wanted it so badly he could taste it, so badly that he was filled with doubt regarding just how foolish this venture was. Not to mention that if he exposed Potter, he exposed himself – not that his reputation could really get any worse, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

On top of all that was the very confusing factor that Potter was a boy, and while Draco was used to being wanted by boys – he'd lived with Blaise Zabini for six years in the dungeons, after all – he was not used to wanting a boy in return. This little endeavour raised all sorts of uncomfortable questions about his sexuality that he preferred to deal with by ignoring them and hoping they went away.

It was just a fluke, he reassured himself. A one-off; trying it once and then never again. Just a snog.

Never mind the part of his brain that didn't like the idea of only getting to taste Potter once more.

He fidgeted, checking and adjusting the cameras' positioning and glancing around nervously. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, then groaned and pulled out a pocket mirror in order to fix the mess he'd just made of it. He shifted. Potter would be here soon, no doubt. They'd practically devoured one another with their eyes before he'd left the dining hall.


He whirled. Potter stood in the opening to the aisle, where they'd had their collision and kiss previously that day. His eyes were dark with want, and his face open with need. Draco's mouth was suddenly very, very dry.

"Potter," he tried to say with his usual carefree drawl that intoned that he had not, in fact been anticipating this all day; been waiting for it, desperate for it. It came out sounding hollow, needy, even to his ears.

Potter let out a low growl and plunged forward, closing the distance between them in a flash. He seized Draco's shoulders and mashed their lips together, groaning into the kiss. Draco gasped, and Potter's tongue was in his mouth, toying with his, flicking the tip and licking the ridge of his mouth.

The fire, the electricity from earlier was still there; in fact it was worse, perhaps because they'd been anticipating this all day. Draco moaned, and pushed back, giving as good as Potter did – better; he was the Ice Prince of Slytherin and was well-practiced in a way Potter obviously wasn't. Not that that detracted from the pleasure the brunet's kisses provided; in a way it increased it because he knew just how few people had had the privilege of seeing Potter reduced to this shaking mass of need that currently quivered in Draco's arms. If indeed any ever had affected him so strongly before.

Draco liked to think not.

They clutched at one another, bodies pressed flush against each other as they kissed. Draco's hands travelled over Potter's back and chest and he revelled in the smooth planes beneath his hands, pressing just hard enough to elicit a response from the green-eyed boy who was currently gasping into the kiss and returning the gestures with enthusiasm.

He bit down on Potter's neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin by his pulse point. Potter bucked against him and swayed in his arms. Hardness brushed his thigh and he groaned aloud. Unconsciously he jutted his hips forwards, brushing against Potter again, straining for more of that delicious sensation.

Merlin, he thought wildly. Potter's turned me gay!

Then he wasn't thinking, because Potter had the same idea and they were rubbing together, rutting against each other and Merlin, it was wonderful. Draco shivered against the length of him and let out a hoarse cry as he felt himself drawing close. Potter captured his lips in another kiss and in a blinding, half-crazed moment it was over, the two boys coming together as they ground themselves to completion. It was probably the most brilliant orgasm of Draco's life.

They collapsed against the stacks, weak-kneed and gasping. Draco couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't believe what he'd just experienced.

He stared at Potter, happy to note that the boy looked just as dazed and spent as he felt.

"Merlin," he gasped. "That was bloody amazing!"

Draco wholeheartedly agreed. He closed his eyes, willing his heart to stop pounding so hard. His breathing was still ragged.

"We probably shouldn't leave together," he finally managed to say after he regained some of his composure and murmured a quick cleaning charm over them both.

Potter shook his head. "No, I suppose not. And thanks," he added, gesturing to the area that had just been magically cleaned.

"Don't worry about it." A pause. "You can leave first, if you want."

"In a minute." Potter chuckled. "I'm still trying to catch my breath."

Draco cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "So, same time tomorrow?"

Potter stared. "Fuck yes," he whispered.

Draco cursed himself as he took down the cameras. He hadn't taken a single picture; he'd gotten completely side-tracked, and forgotten the plan. On top of that not only had he made additional pans that ended any notion of this being a one-off, he had ground against and orgasmed with a boy; not just any boy but Harry Bleeding Potter.

And he could not stop grinning.

This was bad; this was very bad.

Mentally, he slapped himself. "Get a grip, Draco." He shook his head.

Next time, he promised himself, he would be prepared. Next time he would not get so distracted. He would stick to the plan and would use the opportunity to successfully acquire blackmail material that would allow him to humiliate his rival. Today's little… accident would only serve to increase the trust the brunet would place in him during their next encounter.

Yes, that was it.

Draco was still in control.

They met again, many times, yet every time Draco lost control and couldn't contain himself. It would have been embarrassing had anyone else known about his plans for the brunet.

Finally, Draco realized something needed to be done. They could not go on the way they were.

The next time they met, Draco had a plan. He was ready. But like even the most brilliant schemes are wont to do, his did not quite go as intended.

Potter launched himself at Draco like a wild thing again, but this time Draco was prepared. After a few moments of frenzied kisses, he grabbed Potter's hands and pinned them over his head, against the stacks. Potter whined and struggled against him for a moment, then stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing. I just want to try something, that's all." He grinned, and stripped off his tie. Potter licked his lips and gave him the ghost of a smile. He didn't struggle as Draco bound his wrists behind his back. He trailed feathery kisses along Potter's neck, loosening the Gryffindor's tie as he went, and Potter keened.

He slid the tie off and used it to blindfold Potter. Potter stiffened, but he whispered, "Relax; let me take care of you," and felt the other boy comply.

This left him desperately aroused. How often had he ever had Potter at his mercy? True, once on the train at the start of sixth year; but never had Potter surrendered to him willingly. Never had Draco known how heady willing surrender could be. He kissed Potter, kissed him and slammed his body into the stacks, devouring the shorter boy's mouth with his own. Potter moaned and brushed against him, and Draco was seized by a sudden impulse.

He dropped to his knees, fumbling at the Gryffindor's trousers. He undid the buttons with shaking hands and slid the fly down, ignoring Potter's sharp intake of breath. He pulled down the other boy's trousers, followed by his pants. A small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that this was it, what he'd been waiting for, so why didn't he hurry up and take some photos already? Potter was at his mercy.

Strangely, the thought only made him more aroused, and the sight of Potter's erection only furthered that still. The Boy Who Lived was well-hung, he'd give him that. Without thinking, his tongue darted out and licked the tip of Potter's cock. It tasted bitter, salty. Not unpleasant. The other boy bit back a cry, and suddenly Draco lunged forward, taking Potter into his mouth. Potter gasped and his knees buckled, but Draco held him steady and he leaned back against the stacks for support.

Draco ran his tongue along Potter's length and teased the slit, causing Potter to curse with abandon. He moved back and forth, sliding the length in and out of his mouth and working the base with his hand, hollowing his cheeks experimentally. Potter bucked, and cried, and strained at his bonds. Draco couldn't take his eyes off him.

His head thrown back, hair in disarray, blindfolded and begging, he was absolutely beautiful. Draco was mesmerized by the way he moved; the sounds he made. He ran his tongue up and down the ridges of Potter's cock only for him to let out these little mewling sounds that drove Draco mad.

"Oh, gods, Draco," Potter gasped brokenly. "Draco, I'm-"

He gave one extra hard suck and Potter was coming, bucking and thrusting forwards with a cry. Draco swallowed the bitter, salty liquid and caught Potter as he sunk to the ground. He captured his mouth in another kiss, then removed the blindfold. He wanted to see those eyes.

"Merlin, Malfoy," Potter gasped.

"You were calling me by my given name a moment ago, you know," Draco pointed out, not sure why the change upset him.

"Draco," said Potter – Harry – after a moment's hesitation. "Draco, that was…"

"I know," cut in the Slytherin, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Your turn," whispered Harry, green eyes boring into grey, and he gave up without a fight. He unbound Harry's hands and held still while Harry bound him with the Gryffindor tie in return. Harry slipped the Slytherin blindfold on, and he felt his senses heighten in response. He heard Harry replacing his clothing.

He felt Harry draw near, sliding in between his legs, and his breath caught. Spots of colour appeared high on his cheekbones as Harry licked a stripe along his jaw, up towards his ear then down his neck.

He shivered. "Harry…"

Harry fumbled with his trousers, and he heard the sound of his own fly being drawn, and lifted his hips so Harry could draw off the trousers and his pants. He was painfully hard and leaking, aching for what was to come.

He heard Harry's sharp intake of breath as Draco's erection sprang free, and for a moment there was silence and cold air on his prick. Then he felt Harry's breath ghost over the head, and let out a loud moan.

Harry took him into his mouth inexpertly, but enthusiastically. He was careful with his teeth, and while it wasn't the most technically proficient blowjob Draco had ever received, it was definitely the most erotic. Never before had he trusted a partner to bind him like this, and there was something intoxicating about being at Harry's mercy, in a different yet much the same way that having him at his own mercy had been.

But more than that, there was the fire, the electricity that was present for all their kisses was present as Harry went down on him and served to make it more thrilling than any other such experience he'd had. He doubted very much that he could be so easily satisfied with anyone else now that he'd had a taste of what it was like with Harry.

He cried out and cursed as Harry worked his tongue up and down and dipping into his slit, teasing and taunting him till he broke. When he came it was like lightning blinding him and coursing through his veins.

He shook and quaked in the aftermath, shocked by the intensity. Harry kissed him gently and removed the blindfold.

"Thank you for trusting me," he said.

"You trusted me," Draco's voice shook.

"True," Harry smiled. "And you didn't even take any pictures."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You knew?"

"I suspected," Harry admitted. "But I wanted you too badly to care." He unbound Draco's hands.

Draco stared. Harry fiddled with his shoelace. "Same time tomorrow?" he murmured, like always.

"No," said Draco, suddenly. Potter looked stricken, though he tried not to show it.

"Alright," he started, hesitantly. "I guess that maybe I should go…" Draco snaked out an arm and grabbed the other boy's wrist as he made to rise.

"Tomorrow's Hogsmeade," observed Draco. Harry nodded uncertainly. "Go with me?" Draco's nonchalance was forced, and it took Harry a minute to process what he'd said. When he did his smile was like the sun.

"Are you asking me on a date, Draco Malfoy?" he teased.

"Shut up before I change my mind," snapped Draco.

"Does this mean you want to be… more than this?" Harry couldn't keep the anxiousness out of his voice.


"Like… boyfriends?"

"If you're interested, maybe. Let's just go on that date and see how it goes. That is unless you don't want to." Draco hesitated. "Do you want to?"

"Fuck yes," Harry whispered.

So Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter kissed some more, hidden in the stacks.

A/N: To see the (super hot) picture that inspired this fanfic, go to: w w w DOT facebook DOT com SLASH photo DOT php?fbid=498474636872971&set=pb.391199857600450.-2207520000.1370031693.&type=3&theater

(To go to the site, remove the spaces and replace DOT with . and SLASH with / )