I actually wrote this story 4 years ago, with a different fandom. I never published it, but here it is now.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden light all over the library. It was a beautiful afternoon, cool and calm, and the gold and yellow light landing on students only reflected the peaceful atmosphere in the halls. The hickory wood of the bookshelves looked almost magical in this room and students could be seen all around, reading diligently, doing research, or simply enjoying each other's company.

One student, however, was searching.

Harry looked up and down the tall shelves of the library, scanning the J's, the S's, and then the D's, twice. He didn't know how on Earth it wasn't there, but perhaps he should have checked the public library first. He was searching for a classic book, and he simply had to read it twice before Thanksgiving break, meaning that it needed to be returned before Thanksgiving, and that meant that he needed to check it out now, in September, to ensure full comprehension and analysis.

Tuesdays always ended early for Harry Potter. AP Economics always ended at 2:00, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays Mr. Reyerson was needed at a college math class, leaving the students with the rest of the afternoon free. Seeing that today required no other activities for Harry until 6:00, he had decided to spend the better part of the afternoon in the library, searching for this coveted novel.

Catcher in the Rye was part of the required reading for the second semester of his senior year, and this was the excuse that he gave to anyone who might question why he searched so diligently for the novel. He liked to be ahead of schedule, because he would undoubtedly end up behind if he didn't at least try. The truth of the matter was that Harry desperately needed to read this story, almost as much as he needed air to read. And besides, you always read the book for class before the actual class, as Hermione would attest to. He dropped to his knees to look beneath the shelves, considering the possibility that some irresponsible little shithead of an adolescent had kicked it underneath. From this position he didn't see the boy who was also in this aisle, crouching near the floor in a squatting position and staring stubbornly at a row of titles. Harry began to crawl, squinting to see under the shelf as much as his glasses would allow him until-

"Ow!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Harry said, looking up as his victim. "I didn't see..." His voice trailed off.

Shit... He thought, as he inwardly cursed himself for even making eye contact with the male in front of him. The male who happened to be Draco Malfoy. The bane of his existence, and prince of the school, by his own definition.

Draco Malfoy was tall, thin, beautiful, and elegant. He spoke in a tone that made adults want to listen to him, if not hang on every word that came from his plump, red lips. He moved with a grace that would take many teenagers, even adults, years to perfect. He was practically perfect, aesthetically, and his mind was an even greater force to be reckoned with. The only problem with this boy (and it was the worst, most terrible thing about him) was that he knew all of this. He was a pigheaded, conceited, stubborn know-it-all. Despite being 3rd in their class rank, he considered himself to be the smartest person in the school, and made sure that everyone knew so as well. In addition to being conceited in his looks and his smarts, he was rich. Filthy, ridiculously rich.

His father had worked with both Volkswagen and Toyota to design fuel-efficient vehicles, eventually leading to Lucius Malfoy making a breakthrough in hybrid cars to create the ground-breaking Organico car, or "Vegetable Car", as Mr. Malfoy and other executives so affectionately called it. The car was decomposable, although it would take at least 5 years, probably more, ran on organic vegetable oil, and left steam fumes instead of carbon monoxide. It was brilliant not only because of its environmental benefits, but also because it was as simple to run as making coffee in the morning. The car was marketable to consumers, requiring only water, the organic vegetable oil that was delivered to the doorsteps of monthly subscribers, and the fact that it came equipped with solar panels for back up energy, plus an extra battery.

So, after all of these accomplishments, the Malfoys were left with more money than anyone could ever want, or need, and they spent it well. Draco was often talking about the lavish vacations that he took, the maids that cleaned his room, and all of the books that filled their libraries. Libraries. As in plural. More than one library existed in the Malfoy house. Hermione hated him.

This was the same gorgeous, dangerous, and conceited boy that sat before Harry, scowling and rubbing his butt in an exaggerated fashion, which Harry didn't notice at all, not one bit. He was gay, but not desperate. Draco narrowed his eyes, and Harry considered the possibility and probability that the floor would open up right now, become a portal of some sort, and take him to wherever Hermione and Ron were, which wasn't here, with an angry Malfoy staring at him.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy." Harry heard the squeak in his voice and cleared his throat once to get rid of it. "I didn't even see you, I was looking so hard." The squeak didn't go away, and it was obvious from Malfoy's adorable obnoxious smirk that he heard it too.

"That's apparent. I hope that I don't have a bruise there tomorrow." He drawled as he drew himself to his feet in one fluid motion that left Harry staring at his knees. Draco looked down at him, his smirk widening just the slightest. "What, are you looking for the remnants of your parents down there?"

Harry froze in his tracks, where he'd been in the middle of standing up. Draco was definitely proud of himself now, having received an emotional response from his victim. With his head still bowed, Harry considered his choices of action, and then pulled himself to his feet and stood at his full height. Draco smiled fully, as if proud of himself for being a wicked and terrible human being, but his expression faltered just the smallest bit as he caught sight of Harry's face.

"Yes, actually." Harry said carefully and slowly, as if talking to a child. Immediately, the little bit of color he had was gone from Draco's face. His mouth gaped, and he looked unattractively like a dying fish. Harry continued, just as slow and deliberate in his deliverance.

"My father's favorite book was Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger. I wasn't supposed to read it until I turned 17. I haven't been able to find it, and I searched all summer." Draco suddenly closed and opened his mouth, as if to reply with a witty retort, but Harry simply continued.

"I don't have a credit card to use for online purchases, and I didn't see one in bookstores. So I", the boy gestured around him, "came here. I haven't had a chance yet, seeing as I had new classes this year, and I could have read it immediately following my 17th birthday this summer. But thanks for noticing that I was trying to find some small part of my father here. Thanks for not being a total dick about it."

And with that, Harry Potter strode past Draco Malfoy, who stared after him, his face contorting into something not quite anger, and not quite remorse. He watched Potter leave the library, clenching his fists at his side. However, Harry left so quickly that there were very few students who noticed his own clenched fists and jaw, or the wetness in his eyes as he strode toward the Gryffindor hall.