A/N: This is a one-shot; there will be no updates, okay?

Anyways, just an idea I had while watching the third Harry Potter movie. I know I still have two long-term stories to work on, but right now I can't come up with enough creativity to fit a chapter together without random one-shot ideas, so I figured maybe if I wrote a one-shot or two, a good chapter twist would come along, right? We'll see...


"Alright everyone, line up and remember; the spell is Ridikulus!" The excited little third years pushed and shoved their way into a haphazard line, straining to look at whoever was at the front, curious to see what their classmates fears were.

Ron Weasley, as many knew, was afraid of spiders.

Parvati Patil was afraid of snakes; a rational fear.

Harry was surprised to discover Draco Malfoy was afraid of his father ordering him to take the Dark Mark; the boy did not want to be a Death Eater? How very curious…

Before anyone realized what had happened, Harry himself had been shoved to the front of the line. Professor Lupin was at the back, comforting those who had been unable to produce a proper defense against the boggart, and did not realize the student he was trying to keep from the front had already made his way up. When the class began their cheers for him, though, Lupin bolted to save the class from seeing the horrid face of Lord Voldemort.

But he was too late; Harry's boggart had already taken its shape.

Later, Harry would wish Lupin had been fast enough to jump in front of him, that he had never discovered what his true fear really was, but in that moment, even he did not realize his greatest fear was just that. A fear, surely, but his greatest?

In his life, he surely had more to be scared of, like Dementors or the Dark Lord or the escaped convict Sirius Black?

So why was the confident, arrogant prat Draco Malfoy smirking at him from the middle of the room?

The boggart quickly realized Lupin was in closer vicinity and reshaped itself to a full moon, complete with ominous looking clouds; the silvery orb became a deflating balloon with the simple flick of a wand, but no one paid any mind to Lupin's greatest fear.

Everyone was far too curious about Harry's.

"You're afraid of me, Potty?" The real Malfoy wasted no time in confronting harry about his embarrassing revelation. "Should I be honored to rank higher on your list than Black or the Dark Lord?"

Harry's face flushed redder than the scarlet on his tie, and he desperately wished for Professor Lupin to call an end to class, but it was not to be; there was still twenty minutes left in class.

"What's wrong, Potter? Cat got your tongue?" The blonde took a mocking, menacing step towards the Gryffindor, but the latter did not move; his greatest concern was keeping the tears from leaking. He had tried so hard to keep the truth from coming out, so why did it matter if everyone thought he was afraid of Draco Malfoy? It was certainly better than the alternative of them learning the truth.

"Professor, I'm feeling a bit ill; would you mind if I visited Madame Pomfrey?" Best take an easily used escape route.

"Very well, Mister Potter, but I would like you back here before your next class; I have something you might consider valuable that a good friend of mine wanted you to have. He would've given it himself, but…ah…circumstances do not allow it." Confused, but only processing the fact that he was being released from the torment of his worst fear (or so it seemed), Harry set off in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

As expected, Madame Pomfrey found nothing wrong with him, but he was allowed to stay until the end of class, when, as ordered, he returned to the Defense room.

"Professor Lupin?" Shuffling from the office above alerted Harry to the location of the teacher.

"Up here, Harry!" Registering the use of his first name rather than the customary surname, Harry cautiously took the stairs one at a time, wondering what Lupin was going to give him. "Ah, glad you were feeling up to making a trip back, Harry." He winked conspiratorially at Harry, as though he knew why he had left, which he probably did; it didn't take a Hermione to put asphodel and wormwood together to get Draught of the Living Death.

"What did you have for me, Professor?" The question brought Lupin back to his search and he found his item, hidden among parchments and quills on the barely organized desk.

"This, Harry. It is from your godfather. You see, Harry, I was friends with your father back in school. The four of us, we called ourselves the Marauders, and nicknamed one another based on…um…Animagus forms. Your father was Prongs, I was Moony, your Sirius was Padfoot, and the other member of our group was Wormtail.

"It seems that old bat Trelawney made a prediction to Prongs and Padfoot about you, long after Lily and James had gotten together, and it inspired Padfoot to write this letter; seemed he knew he wouldn't…be here to deliver it himself."

"Professor," Harry said slowly, "why does it matter that Black wrote me anything? Are you telling me the man who is responsible for killing my parents was once his friend?"

"I do not rightly believe the story given, Harry, and I do not believe you should either. However, regardless of his future activities, when this letter was written, he was as much a Death Eater as you or me, and he was insistent you be given it when the time was right; I have read the letter to know the appropriate time and I think you will find it most useful."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Anytime, Harry, anytime. And, ah, anytime you should feel the need to talk about anything, my door is always open." He nodded and left the room, desperate to read the letter away from everyone else; if he had an adverse reaction to Black's words, he wanted no one else in danger.

Of course the only other person who could provoke a dangerous reaction would come around the corner.

"Better run, Potty. I'm your worst nightmare!" Malfoy had pulled his hood up to mimic a Dementor and was flailing wildly, thrashing about in an imitation of Harry on the train. Hoping he could contain himself, Harry attempted an easy sidestep; Malfoy was not be ignored so easily.

"Oh, no, Potter. You've just made four and a half more years at the bloody school bearable. What can I do to make yours less so? Tell me; I'd love to hear it!"

"You can stop being an ignorant bloody git and move out of my way!"

"You don't sound so scared of me, Potter," Malfoy growled. "Become a big man already and gotten rid of your fear?"

"I was never scared of you in the first place, Malfoy," Harry sneered. "It's not my fault you misinterpreted your appearance in the boggart lesson."

"Not hard to put the clues together, Potter. What could you possibly be scared of involving me besides me? Not that I'm a Death Eater; I'm a third year and my father's far more dangerous, not to mention the Dark Lord."

Suddenly losing any desire to continue the confrontation, Harry dodged Malfoy with a bit more effort than the previous attempt and succeeded in climbing two sets of stairs before Malfoy's changed course, providing Harry with more than enough time to make it to the Gryffindor common room to read his letter.

After Defense, he had free period, then lunch, then Divination, so he was not worried about his next few periods.

"Defense." The Fat Lady's portrait swung open to admit him, and he placed a silencing charm around his bed, mentally preparing himself for the contents of the envelope.

He still was mentally preparing himself half an hour later, ten minutes until lunch, when someone was sure to come looking for him.

Finally, he realized a few words could not hurt him, and, berating himself for being so stupid, he tore open the envelope, scanning the letter, line by line.

Harry (if that is what James and Lily decide to name you)—

If you are reading this, then that old bat Trelawney has actually made a real prophecy; I would congratulate her if she remembered making it.

James is to die and I will not be in a position to tell you what you most need to hear right now; what you are feeling is natural. Today, with the boggart, a young boy, Lucius' son if what the bat said is correct, appeared as your greatest fear; you know why.

And so do I.

Harry, there is nothing wrong with you. The Wizarding World is far more accepting than the muggles could ever hope to be, and there are many others like you.

I am one of them.

Now, you could have done better (a Malfoy, really?), but I suppose it's not to be helped. I cannot tell you what he feels or believes, but there is no reason for you to be afraid any longer; no one will think any less of you for being who and what you are.

If Trelawney is to be correct once more, you may not believe this on suspicion as I have somehow managed to escape Azkaban and you think me a convict? Harry, as I write this, I am no more a Death Eater than your mother or father; know that, as I write this, I write it to my godson to help him and not to an enemy to confuse him.

Yours Most Trustingly,

Sirius Black

The old bat had made a prediction about Harry being gay? And in love with one Draco Lucius Malfoy? How embarrassing.

And his father had known he would grow up to be gay. He didn't know which was worse.

But Sirius, his godfather-turned-convict, was the same way. He claimed the Wizarding World was more accepting. Obviously Lupin knew, and he didn't care, although he had been friends with James Potter back in the day.

He was now able to calmly (almost) rationalize; his biggest fear was not Draco himself or the unrequited love…or maybe it was? His biggest fear could very well be Draco finding out he was gay and in love with him and simply ridiculing Harory about it; could he help who he was in love with? Why did it have to be Draco Malfoy of all people?

Of course, he did know…the attitude, the passion, his ability to see through Harry's fame to just Harry, even if it was mostly insults that made up their conversations. That was why he loved the blonde Slytherin.

And he knew the teen would never love him back, but, as Harry knew very well, sometimes dreams are all a person has. He sighed and picked up his forgotten book bag; lunch was nearly over, but he could sleep through Divination; maybe get a few dreams in while supposedly coming up with ways to die?

And despite how he knew he was not supposed to trust the convict he knew was his godfather, he couldn't help but be comforted by the words in the letter as he thought that maybe, just maybe, things could work themselves out.

Potter was bloody scared of him.

The boy always made it easy to set him off, a few words here or a few words there, and they were fighting rather quickly. Somehow, Draco always got off with a few well-placed words and Potter was sent to detention more often than not.

It never failed.

Draco relished the few times they met nowadays; setting Potter off in a fight was one of the only ways he got to see him anymore. When he had confronted the Gryffindor in class today, he was expecting to get a few glares, maybe a few sharp words, before Lupin pulled the two apart in an attempt to destroy any hope of a duel that might have been.

He was disappointed and felt his chest constrict when the boy looked downcast and asked to leave the classroom. An odd feeling to have for someone he hated, right?

It was all stupid anyways. Their fights were a way to make sure the Boy-Who-Lived regretted the day he said no to being friends with Draco Malfoy; they weren't just his method of getting noticed. Although he did find he liked the moments when those heated green eyes were focused solely on him…

Stupid thoughts! He wished the thoughts would just leave him alone. His parents had always said it was counterproductive to fall in love with anyone, especially anyone that couldn't bear him a Pureblood heir, although he didn't seem to be listening to his parents much these days anyways.

And the Dark Lord would never allow it, although he had been strongly considering switching sides.

And…aw hell, he was all out of arguments.

Was it so hard to believe that straight-as-an-arrow-Death-Eater-Draco-Malfoy had fallen in love with the Golden-Saviour-Boy-Who-Lived? The simple answer was yes, because when it came down to it, nothing as dark and tainted as him should be allowed to even look at someone so pure and wonderful.

And two, Draco Malfoy always wanted what he could have and got what he wanted; he could neither have nor get Harry Potter.

Especially when, for some unseen reason, Potter was scared of him.

"Harry, why was your boggart Malfoy of all things?" Hermione wanted all the answers of course.

"Yeah, mate. If Ginny can hex the little bugger, you can surely get over that."

"It's not Malfoy I'm afraid of, guys. It's Malfoy finding out a secret about me. I'm," he took a deep breath, "I'm gay. And I'm in love with Malfoy." Ron choked on his toast, but Hermione looked thoughtfully at him.

"You're joking, right mate? I mean, you're in love with a slimy git like that? I can understand the gay part; wizards are generally much more accepting than muggles, but there are some people that just don't…"

"Are you sure, Harry?" Hermione cut off the rambling redhead and fixed her gaze on Harry, willing him to answer truthfully. He nodded. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead. "Then I guess all I can do is wish you the best of luck and offer my services in any way. And offer to deck him if he so much as looks at you the wrong way." His eyes lit up and he hugged her across the table.

"You're an angel, Hermione Granger!"

"Nope, just your average teenage witch."

"Hermione, there is nothing average about you. But despite your offer," he said, coming down from his high, "I think there's one major flaw; there's another party involved that may not be willing to participate." He was surprised when she burst out in laughter; had she gone absolutely mad?

"Really, Harry, haven't you seen the way he looks at you? It's so obvious!" She really had gone mad. "Harry, do you want to be afraid?" He violently shook his head. "Then I have no choice; you will never do this on your own, that's for sure."

Standing up, she dragged Harry along with her; his ear was none too pleased by that.

"Petrificus Totalus." With Harry petrified by the entrance to the door, she made her way to the Slytherin table, guard up and ready for a sneak attack. "Malfoy, get your ass up here."

"And why would I do that, Mudblo—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll find yourself missing a vital part of your anatomy. Or you'll acquire a black eye; whichever I find funnier. Now, before I levitate you myself, up." Pansy was on the verge of hexing the Gryffindor, but a sharp look from both her and Draco sent her cowering into her seat.

She released Harry from the spell before Malfoy was too close and whispered, "You've got one shot. You can stand up for yourself, or you can run. But I've given you your chance."

Malfoy was smirking.

"Going to face your fears, Potty? Are you going to hex me? Hang me upside-down?" The teachers were looking on in interest, but it seemed Dumbledore was keeping any of them from interfering, mainly Snape and McGonagall.

The blonde's words cut through him, and, for a moment, Harry doubted Hermione's sanity level, not for the first time. But the longer the two stared at each other, the more intense the gaze got; Harry was almost frightened at the amount of passion running through him, and despite the fact that everyone in the Great Hall had their eyes fixed on the spectacle, Harry felt like they were the only two in the room.

"Really, Potter, you should have known you wouldn't be able to face me without back-up. Shall we call Weasley and Granger over? Maybe Weasley can cough up a couple of slugs for us?" A round of laughs emanated from the Slytherins, but they were quickly silenced.

"Malfoy, for two, running on three, years, you've made my life as much a living hell as possible, and besides turning down your hand because you were a total ass our first meeting, I did nothing wrong to you." The Slytherin rolled his eyes.

"Cry me a river, Potter. Exactly why should I care? Why do I care that you feel hurt by our fights? Or that you're scared of me?"

Any more words he was going to say were cut off when Harry dropped his wand to the floor and pulled the blonde Slytherin to him. A collective gasp rang through the Hall.

"Because," Harry whispered, "despite the amount of times we've cursed and taunted each other, I still fell in love with you." No one besides Draco heard what Harry said, but words were not necessary when Harry tilted the slightly shorter boy's head up to meet his lips.

At first, Draco was extremely unresponsive. In fact, after two brief moments, when Harry pulled away, he was confident and becoming more so with each passing second, that Hermione had been completely wrong.

Until Draco leaned back up to kiss him. Although the hippogriff-injured hand made their attempts a bit awkward, the two locked in a tight embrace, hands wrapped around each other, desperate to never let go.

Of course, as far as kisses go, this one was a bit awkward; most peoples' first kisses generally are. They bumped teeth once or twice and their noses continued to jam together, but it was still the most perfect moment in either boy's life.

Finally, they pulled away, green and silver eyes locked onto one another.

"Harry, my father…your friends…"

"I love you, Draco Malfoy. And I will leave it up to you to decide where we go from here."

"My father will insist I date you for close contact and the ability to kill you whenever they deem time. I may even be used as bait once or twice." Draco looked ashamed at what he was saying.

"Then I take him down if he even tries to hurt you."

"If you had done this in private, we could have kept it a secret." Harry laughed and shook his head.

"I'm Harry bloody Potter; no secret in my life remains so for long. Besides, I had to make sure you understood."

"Understood what?" Harry's gaze burned into him, filled with so much love and passion he could hardly breathe.

"You're mine." Draco was indignant.

"Excuse m—." Harry silenced him with a quick kiss and pulled away.

"Well, I think it's about bloody time for breakfast; wouldn't you agree?" It took a few minutes for Draco to process what had just happened, and by the time he had, Harry was already sitting down, eating breakfast.

The rumor mill had already begun, so Draco shuffled back to his seat, ignoring the dirty looks from the homophobes and Dark Lord followers.

They could all go to hell.

Because he would have Harry the next opportunity he had to tell the boy. His Harry. And it was all thanks to the damned boggart.