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Fist Me

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Title: When Purebloods Take Muggle Studies.


Resume: When Muggle Studies become mandatory for the returning eighth years at Hogwarts, Harry was not expecting Draco Malfoy to start hitting on him. Or - the one where Draco Malfoy really has no idea what he's actually saying.


Pair: Harry/Draco.


Author's notes: AU, where Narcissa turned to Dumbledore for help in saving her only son during fourth-year and Voldemort killed Lucius as a result. Harry fought and beat Voldemort. I am turning this into a small series of oneshots. I have no idea when I will write the next, but this was fun. I love oblivious Harry!


Tags: M/M, Humour, Gay sex.





Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders, trying to get rid of the soreness from the latest Quidditch game. Just because the eighth-years weren't allowed on the school teams didn't mean they couldn't play when the Quidditch pitch was free.


Staring across the Black Lake Harry leaned against the huge oak tree, enjoying the fresh breeze and possibly the last bit of sunshine before fall arrived. September was coming to an end, and he couldn´t believe this would be his last year at Hogwarts.


It was home. And he really didn't want to leave. 


Maybe he could ask Dumbledore to take over after Hooch; there were rumours stating she wanted to retire soon.


Pulling his knees up, Harry rested his arms on them and closed his eyes for a moment. He was so tired, and he had no intention of doing any actual homework tonight. No matter how much Hermione was going to nag him or Ron about it. 


Mind made up about telling Hermione off, he smiled and almost yelped when he opened his eyes, noticing someone standing over him, blocking the sunset. “Malfoy?” Harry asked dumbly, because there was no way it couldn´t be him. His hair was as blond as ever. And, though his face had lost some of its pointiness within the last year, it was still very much his grey eyes staring down at Harry, clearly wanting something from him.


“Potter,” Malfoy stated.


Even though Malfoy and Harry had never gotten along - this year hadn't changed that - they had agreed to mutually pretend the other didn't exist, and Harry was in no particular mood to argue now. He barely had any time to himself after killing Voldemort; everyone wanted a piece of Harry. Wanted his help with something. Craved his attention.


And Harry was bloody tired of it.


“What do you want, Malfoy?” The weariness was poorly hidden in Harry´s tone of voice. Not that he gave a fuck about what Malfoy thought anyway, the spoiled tosser.


“Fist me,” the words were both blunt and sharp, and Malfoy was staring straight into Harry's green eyes.


Harry scrambled backwards, his back slamming into the tree, his hands fighting to grasp onto the tree so he could stand up. The fight was awkward, and the tree almost won, but Harry finally managed to get to his feet. “W-what?!”


Really , Potter?” Malfoy sneered down at Harry because the wanker was still taller than him by a few inches at least. “We ́re not eleven any longer where someone refused to shake my hand. Surely this would be alright. Finnegan told me so.” 


Harry blushed crimson, mouth gaping unattractively. He briefly wondered if someone had cast an Imperius curse on Malfoy. Shaking his head, Harry then remembered that the Ministry had spent a lot of time and money to make sure it would be impossible for anyone to cast one of the Unforgivable Curses on Hogwarts´ grounds. “I-I´m… Malfoy, that's not…”


“For Merlin's sake, Potter!” Malfoy moved closer, scowling at the Gryffindor who panicked and looked around to see if he could yell for help.


“That's completely different! T-that's a handshake, not a-a…” Nope, Harry was not going to say it.


Malfoy stared at his own hand, turning it this way and that, calculating and trying to understand what was wrong with the 18-year-old idiot in front of him. Surely, Potter was not that childish. “I don't understand,” he had to confess, because he didn't understand. And he was not about to stand there for hours until Potter had the decency of doing as he told him to. This feud between them had gone on long enough. Life was too bloody short for crap like this.


Harry ran a nervous hand through his dark hair, trying to get the words he needed to say out. “I-I´m… thank you for your offer, Malfoy, but I don't think that would be a good idea.”


Malfoy scoffed, but he was not about to turn tail like his younger self. He may be a Slytherin but he was no longer a coward. “Are you refusing me again, Potter?” His tone was demanding and firm, but he had kept it as polite as one could when being insulted.


“It's not…” Harry looked at Malfoy. He had to agree with the girls at Hogwarts that he did have nice cheekbones. And his eyes were - not as cold as they used to be. And his hair was stylish - Malfoy was pretty , that wasn't why Harry was refusing his request. 


Harry didn't do casual sex. They weren´t even dating! He hadn't eve- Harry stopped and stared at Malfoy's hand, then back up at his face. What? He held out his fist, pointing it Harry. 


“What are you- oh. Oh ! Right, that's what you-, okay God , Jesus fucking Christ...” It dawned on Harry what Malfoy had meant and felt so bloody stupid. And embarrassed as hell. Of course Malfoy wouldn't have asked that of Harry of all people.


“Well, what did you think I meant, Potter?” he drawled, the right eyebrow raised in mock challenge.


“Wh- I - er…” Harry cringed at his own stupidity. Both having had those kinds of thoughts concerning Malfoy of all people, and making himself vulnerable to said male.


Malfoy stood there, eyes narrowing, when he reached his conclusion. And, of course, he was too fucking smart for his own good. “That's disgusting, Potter! As if I would ever,” he spat when realizing Harry's mistake and turned to leave.


Harry closed his eyes, mortified by himself, hoping against all odds that Malfoy wouldn't tell a soul.