A/N: First off, the title of this chapter is ripped shamelessly from one of my all-time favorite Doctor Who episodes. It was just too funny not to.

Warning: mildly explicit sexual contact between two consenting of age—men? Boys? I dunno, whatever. Not so much so that it's sent to Google Docs, but enough that it needs a warning. Hint: it involves the blowjob from the Quidditch match.

And a different sort of warning: I'm not sure I'll be able to publish a chapter tomorrow. One of my best friends and I are spending the day together before she moves to Wisconsin, and I'll almost certainly be busy with her. I might be able to get one up before she comes, but that's really early, and then I have to drop her off at the airport at three in the morning, so there's a chance I'll be able to publish after that, but it wouldn't be until three-thirty or four and at that point, I might as well just wait until Wednesday. Then again, I may have an opportunity in the middle of the day, who knows. Just know that if something doesn't get published I haven't disappeared, and your regularly scheduled programming with resume Wednesday.

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

The Silence in the Library

Draco did not make studying easy.

He had either broken into Harry's candy stash or had one of his own, and he was continually eating a sugar quill, or a Licorice Wand, or even just a regular Muggle lollypop, though eating was perhaps too nice a term. One minute he'd be completely focused on his homework, reading through a Herbology text or writing an essay, and then his eyes would be on Harry as he licked his way through a sugar quill, closing his eyes and sighing so very, very quietly as he slid the treat in and out of his mouth. He'd always manage to stop just before Hermione looked over, or as Neville started to ask a question, leaving Harry alone in his personal hell. While everyone else was making decent progress on the pile of homework—including Neville, who really ought to have been the one having trouble focusing—Harry had barely made it past the first paragraph of his Muggle Studies essay.

It was a lollypop that made him snap. Draco had been carefully sucking and licking it for what seemed like hours and it wasn't getting any smaller, nor was he showing any signs of finishing it any time soon. Harry was grinding his teeth and had carefully positioned his Muggle Studies book on his lap, but his eyes were glued to Draco, his fingers gripping the book slowly turning white.

"Harry, for goodness sakes, that's an Everlasting Lolly," Hermione said eventually, causing Harry to jerk out of his daze and Draco to quickly drop the candy back into his seemingly endless bag of treats. "He's not going to finish it, and you're not going to get any work done while he's—"

"I've got to send an owl to Mrs. Malfoy," Harry interrupted. He stood, keeping his Muggle Studies book covering his lap. "About the—um—the charms, on her Manor," he stammered. "Right, Draco?"

Draco rose smoothly, and Harry was less than pleased he didn't need anything so trivial as a book; no, like always, Draco was in perfect control of his body. "I did indeed intend to send such a letter," he said. "But Harry, I thought you wanted to wait to go to the Owlery until after you finished your homework?"

"Going to the Owlery," Aurora mused. "I'm not sure I like the connotations of that one." Ever since the "dueling" incident, she and Draco had entered into an unspoken competition over who could come up with the—well, Harry wasn't sure if it was the best or the worst—euphemism for sex.

"I thought she'd like to know right away," Harry said, stepping behind the couch before dropping the book onto his seat. "Y'know, security and everything."

"Don't you need parchment and a quill for that?" Draco asked teasingly. "I don't see any within your reach; surely you must come around from behind the couch to fetch some."

"I've started keeping a store in the Owlery," Harry countered, which was true. After being reduced to burning holes in parchment, Harry thought it wise to always have a supply, though he rarely needed it now that he and Draco were living together. "Come on, then."

Aurora frowned. "Harry, really, I don't like this idea of going to the Owlery," she said. "All those birds, being made to watch—"

"Watch me pen a letter?" Harry asked sharply. "Yeah, must be a great thrill for them. Come on, Dray, let's go."

Draco considered continuing to tease him, but he relented. "If you insist. We shall return shortly, after owling Mother."

"That's even worse," Aurora said, crinkling her nose. "Why drag your mom into this? That's just crass."

"Goodbye, Jones," Draco said lightly, opening the door for Harry as they walked out.

Harry was against him as soon as the door closed, pushing him into the wall, claiming his mouth, grinding himself against Draco. Draco hummed quietly, pleased, before pushing him away. "I should think you would have thought of somewhere more creative than just outside our own door," he said with an arched eyebrow. "But if you insist…" His hands moved down, fluttering over Harry's jeans, and Harry pushed them away.

"Sod off," he snapped. "Couldn't make it to the Owlery, not without touching you first. Now hurry up; this is your fault, and you're going to fix it."

"In the Owlery?" Draco mused. "That's hardly sanitary, nor—"

"No, not in the bloody Owlery," Harry snapped. "I hadn't gotten as far as to where; I'm much more concerned with now and before my pants suffocate me."

Draco deliberated. "Well, just how naughty do you want to be, Harry? I'd imagine you'd think McGonagall's office an insult to dear old Dumbledore, not to mention all the times you've been yelled at or given bad news there, I doubt you could keep it up, even for me." Harry made a noise of agreement. "Whisp's office offers a certain amount of danger and potential humiliation, but we have no way of knowing if she's there or not, and I don't fancy a surprise run-in, not with you looking the way you do. I daresay she'd think we came to shag her." Draco shuddered. "I couldn't imagine anything more embarrassing. The Quidditch field is most likely empty, given the fact that there was supposed to be a game today, but perhaps that doesn't offer quite enough of a thrill." Draco stopped; they had been walking at random, and were currently standing in front of the library. His eyes glinted. "Harry," he said slowly, "how would you care to continue our study session?"

Harry glared at him. "What are you talking about, Draco?"

"Well," he said smoothly, "you could continue to get your homework done—or continue not to, as the case may be—and I could finish you off beneath a table."

Harry's breath hitched, which did not escape Draco's notice. "Someone would see you," he said. "Those tables, they're not covered or—"

"Disappearing Draught," Draco said easily, pulling a flask from an inside pocket. "I thought I might keep some handy today, just in case."

"Yeah—but—what about me?" Harry stammered. "You might be covered, but I—"

"Will be in my mouth, safe and sound," Draco replied. "Besides, we'll pick a table in a corner, just in case." He reached down, cupping Harry through his jeans, earning himself a moan. "Come on, Harry," he whispered, lips sliding over his ear. "We're so close, I could have you out and in heaven in no more than five seconds."

"Madame Pince," Harry managed, though Draco had started squeezing him gently and running his tongue down his ear, nibbling on his earlobe, rendering thought nearly impossible. "If she—"

"She won't know a thing," Draco breathed, sending chills through Harry. "You're too indecisive, and since I won the original bet dictating where we'd be snogging, I'm insisting. Here, let me walk in front of you, you wouldn't want the whole library knowing what's going on in your pants, now would you?" Harry managed a strangled negative and let Draco lead him into the library. Their hands were twined together and Draco walked only a few inches in front of him, blocking him from any but the most prying eyes.

Hogwarts is known for prying eyes, and they had no more stepped over the threshold than the two French girls appeared. Their names escaped Harry's mind completely, and he stepped closer to Draco, wrapping his arms around him, keeping their bodies flush. To anyone else it would appear as nothing more than a hug.

"Hello, Harry," the one on the right said. "We have missed you; you have not been in ze common room since you have been moved, yes?"

Harry had to work very hard to form a coherent though. "Er, yeah, no, I haven't been."

Identical frowns crossed their faces. "It is not proper, to be so far from your own house," the one on the left said. "In Beauxbatons it would not be tolerated, particulièrement not a relationship with a—" She broke off, giving Draco a disdainful sneer.

Even from behind, Harry saw the dangerous look in Draco's eye. "What, my dear Charlotte Laurent, are you implying?" he asked. If he hadn't known Draco better he would have thought his tone pleasant and civilized, but he did, and he also saw how Draco's fingers hovered just above the pocket where he kept his wand. "Are you suggesting the unification of two houses unacceptable, or are you so naïve to render yourself a wreck over the Golden Boy dating un homme?"

Charlotte and her counterpart flushed. "Like I said," she replied, "such things are not tolerated at Beauxbatons."

"How very…old-school," Draco said, choosing his words carefully. "Regardless of what does or does not occur at your precious Beauxbatons, here at Hogwarts all are accepted, even immature, foolish collet monté such as yourselves." Draco started to leave, then turned around at the last minute. "Oh, and if you ever dare to say anything like that again to myself, Harry, or anyone else in this school, I'll see to it you're sent back to France. And that list, the one you two have been keeping?" The girls immediately flushed bright red. "I'll personally owl that to Madame Maxime myself. See where that gets you, putes." He spat out the last word and swept away, leaving the girls staring after them in shock.

"What list?" Harry asked once they were out of earshot.

"They've been keeping a list of the most fuckable boys at Hogwarts," Draco said. "They've gotten about halfway through it so far, or so I've heard."

Harry gaped. "How do you even know that?"

"I make it my business to know everything," Draco replied. He led Harry over to the potions section and pulled out the book they were using this year. "Here, take this. You'll need something so it doesn't look like you're just staring off into space."

"Staring off—?" Harry flushed. "Right, that hadn't occurred to me."

"Now make clever use of that book so I can stop being your personal wall," Draco said, stepping away from Harry, giving him just enough time to position the book as if he just happened to be holding it that way before he started walking. "Come on, there's a table in the far corner that's always empty. We'll start you out slow; hiding in back corners while I'm invisible and slowly work up to blowjobs in the Great Hall in the middle of dinner."

Harry's flush darkened. "I am not—"

"Yes you are," Draco said lightly. "But not now, so put the thought out of your mind. Here," he said, arriving at the table. "Sit." He pushed down on Harry's shoulders, forcing him into the chair. "And at least open the book, Harry. If you manage to get some studying done, I'm clearly not doing my job correctly, but at least look like you are. Maybe flip a page every now and then." He sat gracefully in the chair opposite Harry's, smirking. "You're so cute, Potty, all flushed and nervous. Stop overthinking, just enjoy yourself. And really, open the damned book."

Harry opened the book and even read a few words. "Heating solutions can be very dangerous, and should only be attempted by—" Suddenly there were hands on his thighs, massaging through the fabric, every now and then coming up to brush against the bulge. Harry cleared his throat and glanced around. They seemed to be alone, yes, but at any minute someone could—

His mind went blank as nimble fingers undid his button, followed by the familiar sensation of Draco unzipping him with his teeth. It was one of Harry's favorite things about getting a blowjob; the initial breath against his still-covered cock, the anticipation of what was to come. Then he was deftly removed from his boxers and, before he could worry about anyone seeing anything, Draco engulfed him completely. His fingers tightened on the book, leaving tiny rips in their wake, and Harry had to bite his lip against a moan. Draco's hands were everywhere, sliding invisibly over his shirt, pinching at a nipple, gliding back down to his thighs, gently tickling his still-covered balls. It was all Harry could do not to make a sound.

And then Draco started moving his tongue in earnest, swirling it around him, tracing patterns, flattening and licking as hard as he could. Still, the ever-present sucking, completely unrelenting, and how he was continually swallowing, working the head of his cock with his throat, managing control over muscles Harry wasn't even sure he had. Ever so gently, Draco scraped his teeth along him, and Harry let out a shuddering moan.

Being careful to cover his cock completely with his invisible hands, Draco pulled off, and Harry whimpered. "You'll have to be more quiet than that," Draco whispered. "What if someone had been passing by? How would you explain why heating solutions make you moan as if, I don't know, somebody was pleasuring you under the table?"

Harry let out a long, quiet sigh, trying to release some of the tension Draco had built up. "I don't know what you're talking about," Harry whispered back. "I'm just reading about potions."

"You better be," Draco replied. Then he went back to work, Harry once again sheathed in the wet warmth of his mouth, once again at the mercy of his lips and tongue and teeth and hands, hands that could go anywhere because they were invisible. At least he was sitting, and there wasn't any way Draco could go anywhere near his arse.

Harry forced his eyes back to the book, trying to arrange his face in a way that expressed boredom but resolution. He turned the page, nearly ripping it out of the book entirely as Draco squeezed his balls. This was getting to be too much, was in fact already too much, and it had to stop, now, before Harry did something he'd regret.

"Draco," he murmured, slipping one hand beneath the table to tangle in his hair, attempting to pull him up. "Dray, stop, seriously, I—ohh—you've got to stop." Draco knocked his hand away and shook his head, a movement that shot all the way through Harry. He ground his teeth and let his eyes slip shut, as if he had a choice. He tried again to tug Draco up and was met with a much more forceful slap to his hand. "Draco," he sighed. "Please."

Draco took this as encouragement. He moved faster, sucking harder, doing the most incredible things with his tongue. Harry leaned his head in his hands, elbows on the table, still under the pretense of reading the book. At least now he could dig his fingers into something without ruining school property, though he supposed he might get some questions as to why there were nail marks all over his forehead. He closed his eyes again, hoping he looked deep in thought, or at least bored, and not like he was anywhere close to orgasm, because that would be ridiculous.

At least it seemed he had found a reasonable position; he could focus entirely on what Draco was doing without being obvious. All he had to do was work to keep his breathing even, to make sure nothing escaped his lips beyond a bored or sleepy sigh, to keep his hips from bucking up against Draco. That was all. Stay completely quiet and completely still. No problem.

Draco slid him partway out of his mouth, covering the exposed skin with his hands, squeezing and caressing the overly sensitized flesh. He could tongue Harry properly this way, tracing circles over his head, licking away the pre-come seeping from his slit. He was close, so close, all he needed was for Draco to—

"Harry!"

He jumped. It took every ounce of strength he had but he managed to relax his face into something approaching normal as he turned to see those two blasted French girls standing before him again. Draco didn't stop, didn't even slow down.

"Wh-what?" he stammered. He cleared his throat. "What do you two want?"

The one he was pretty sure was Charlotte said, "Where is Draco Malfoy?"

"He, uh, went to the bathroom," Harry said. The sentence took every available brain cell, all three of them. "Why?"

She glared at him. "We have ze message for him, please. Tell him I said—" She broke off into a string of French that flew over Harry's head.

"Look," he said, stopping her mid-rant. "I'll tell him you came by, how's that? I've got all this left to read," he said, flipping randomly through the potions book, "and I don't speak French." Draco was absolutely, impossibly brilliant, holding nothing back, and Harry could barely breathe, let alone focus on the girls standing in front of him.

"Maybe we should wait for him here, yes?" the other one said. "So we do not miss him again?"

"No," Harry said rather loudly. The girls raised their eyebrows, and Harry cursed himself. And Draco, who was doing that thing he loved, the thing he had no resistance against. "No," he said, a little more quietly. "I've got to study. Go off." Every muscle in his body was clenched, focused on holding himself back, not willing to come while these two girls were watching. He had no idea how well he'd be able to hide what was about to happen, but even if he had the best poker face in the world, he was not going to have these girls anywhere near him during that final act. "Seriously," he said. "Go away."

They frowned at him. "Fine," the one who was probably Charlotte said. "But we will not forget—"

"Yeah, yeah, French, ranting at Draco, I got it," Harry said, turning back to the potions book. He watched them disappear out of the corner of his eye and let out a huge sigh, resuming his previous position and digging his fingers into his head. He could have sworn he heard Draco laugh around him, but he was far beyond caring. Right now it was all he could do to keep quiet, to keep from completely losing it.

And then he was gone, closing his eyes and grinding his teeth together, turning bright red as he dug crescent-shaped marks into himself. Draco was still sucking him, taking everything he had, and it felt so fucking good and there was nothing he could do about it other than sit there and feel as he emptied himself into Draco, as Draco carefully cleaned him afterwards before tucking him back into his boxers and zipping and buttoning him up. Harry still didn't trust himself to move or talk when Draco suddenly appeared before him, sitting in the other chair, a smug look on his face.

"That was brilliant," Draco drawled. "I couldn't have planned it better myself, with Violette and Charlotte showing up at that particular moment. Harry, really, it was priceless." Harry regained enough of himself to throw the potions book at Draco, who caught it deftly and set it back down on the table. "Don't worry, you'll see the humor in the situation once you can breathe again."

Harry glared at him. "You—" He had to stop himself as his voice came out a breathy moan.

Draco smirked. "Can't even talk, can you? I suppose we should wait to return to our room until you can walk again; I don't fancy carrying you the whole way." Harry pointed threateningly at Draco, but that was all he could manage. Draco's smirk softened into a genuinely amused smile. "Harry, you're so bloody adorable I can't even stand it. All hot and bothered, past coherent thought, and I'm not even touching you. Go ahead, take as long as you need to recover. I'll review our potion for tomorrow." He opened the book and began casually flipping through the pages as Harry recuperated.

"You," he said again, and this time he sounded much more like himself. Draco looked up from the book with a raised eyebrow.

"Me?" he asked. "What about me, darling?"

"You," Harry repeated, "are impossible. Let's get out of here before those damned French girls come back." They stood, and Draco gracefully wrapped an arm around Harry's.

"You were brilliant," he whispered, lips once again sliding over Harry's ear. "Really, Harry, that was incredible. I've hardly seen you in better form and, really, I could barely see you at all, so that's saying something." He continued to talk like this all the way back to their room, and by the time Harry was once again seated on the couch with his Muggle Studies paper in front of him, he was no more capable of studying than he had been before they left.

"Did you go to the Owlery?" Aurora asked mockingly.

"Harry did," Draco said. "Rather, I took him there."

"Enough," Hermione said firmly. "I am sick to death of hearing you two talk like this, especially when neither of you have finished your homework. It's nearly dinner, and I don't see a single completed essay between the three of you. Stop bloody teasing each other and get to work, would you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "The perils of studying with Hermione."