Title: Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea

By: ExquisitelyInked

Summary: Draco has two questions to choose from, and the answer to both will unravel the secret of his love for Harry Potter. That Harry himself is the asker doesn't make things easier.

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter but like everyone else I wish I did so I could get Harry and Draco together. Okay. A dialogue or two were taken from the PoA movie and I messed with some canon details and I'm telling you I own nothing okay so no legal action!

A/N: Hello, everyone! (To those who missed me, I love you.) (To those who didn't, you obviously have good taste in fanfiction writers.) I'm back after a long while. Please excuse any mistakes you find. I'm still a bit rusty after my writer's block. Forgive me for it.

Draco couldn't be happier.

The chatter in the Great Hall was perfect cover, Draco thought. No one, especially the teachers, would see him. He turned around to look for Harry. He found Potter just opposite him, on the next table. The Slytherins watched eagerly. Waiting for Draco to humiliate Potter.

'Hey, Potter,' he called.

No response. 'Potter! I heard you fainted on the train. Is that true?' Laughter from the Slytherin side. Hermione shot a glare at Malfoy who flipped her off, not even looking at her. Disgusted, she turned back to her food and grimaced, wondering how she would eat now.

'Piss off, Malfoy,' Ron said. Draco flipped him off, too, still sneering at Harry's back. Ron turned back as well, but had no qualms about his food.

'At least look at me, Scarhead, I'd like to see you scared as hell.'

Harry reluctantly complied, but gave a venomous stare instead of what Draco apparently wanted to see. 'Okay? Now leave me alone.'

Draco's heartbeat skipped. A couple of tears filled his eyes, not in anger but in pure unrequited feelings, but he blinked them away, looking at the floor. He sighed quietly, and returned to his plate, suddenly not hungry.

Harry watched him silently. A now-taciturn Draco was ignoring his "friends".

'Potter!'

'Fuck off, Malfoy, I'm trying to get to Divination.'

'Where's Weasley?'

'He went to find Hermione. Why do you care?'

'So you're alone?'

'Yes, utterly alone, and you are free to hex me, cast an injurious spell on me, kill me, unleash a snake on me—yes, like last year, you sod, I'm still suffering because of that—and do whatever you want. But let me find Trelawney's attic—classroom first.'

'Good. I just wanted to ask a question.'

'Fire away, bastard.'

'Are you okay?'

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. The third floor corridor never seemed more deserted, what with him and his archenemy exchanging civil words like that. 'What the hell?'

'Are you okay? After that Dementor attack on you?'

'There was no Dementor attack on me. I just fainted because of the cold.' Harry knew lying was bad, and especially lying like this, where Draco could spread word that "there had been no Dementor, it's just that Potter fainted like a girl". But he didn't care. Draco Malfoy, his archenemy had just asked him if he was okay.

'But still, you're all fine now?' Draco asked anxiously. To spend another second talking to Harry was to risk his secret being found out by the black-haired object of his love, and he just needed to talk to Harry.

'I've got two arms, two legs, I'm walking around with a jolly smile on my face—' Harry imitated one of Aunt Petunia's garden gnomes here, '—and you doubt whether I'm alright or not? But yeah, I'm talking nicely to you. Something's fantastically wrong with me.'

Draco smiled at that. 'Just wanted to check,' he said. Harry retorted, 'Yeah, I'll be ready for the next round of humiliation from you when it comes.'

'I'll do my best to prevent that,' Draco said, and turned and walked away.

'Prevent what? Me being ready or you humiliating me? Malfoy!' Harry called, but Draco didn't reply, trying to run away from him as fast as he could and not drown in mortification.

Harry watched Draco carefully after that bout of civility which he showed to him.

He started noticing the lovesick way in which Draco sometimes stared at him. The public mocking went down, too. No more unfunny imitations of him in a dead faint; no more cries of 'Oh, I'm passing out, someone help!' from any of the Slytherins. How had Draco managed to subdue them?

Malfoy also averted his eyes when Harry met his gaze. Tried to avoid Harry. Of course, it didn't help that Harry was taking to following Draco around just so he could determine whether his doubts were right or not.

A couple of weeks later, he asked Hermione a question. Fortunately Ron was bartering with Fred and George for a Heathcote Barbary chocolate frog card that they were charging too high a price for, so hopefully no one would laugh at him.

'A friend of mine—' he paused. Hermione wouldn't fall for that age-old ruse. Indeed she was raising her eyebrow in the don't-dare-lie-to-me way she often used with Ron, and so Harry decided to come clean with his suspicions. 'I think Malfoy likes me,' he said, not believing those words were escaping his mouth.

Hermione took it soberly, without a hint of a smirk or a laugh. Harry was grateful, especially because he knew if she had mentioned something similar he wouldn't have let her live it down. 'Why do you think that?'

Harry told her about those longing looks, the avoidance tactics that Malfoy was employing. Everything down to the last words Malfoy had said in that third floor corridor. Hermione contemplated for a while and then nodded her agreement. 'I think he does, but more... intensely.'

'What do you mean by that?'

'I think he's in love with you, and probably has been for a while now.'

'You don't say,' Harry accused. 'That was what I was saying all this while.'

'What are you going to do about it?' Hermione asked gently. Harry looked distressed at that. 'I don't know,' he said distractedly. 'I don't know anything. What am I supposed to do if someone fancies me?'

'Well, I think—and it's just what I think, mind you—you should decide where your own affections lie, and then act upon them.'

'Act upon them?'

Hermione simply nodded, and refused to explain more. The pink blush on her cheeks deterred Harry from inquiring further.

'Riddikulus!' Lupin called. The class repeated it after him in unison.

'This class is ridiculous,' Draco muttered. Crabbe nodded eagerly in concurrence.

'Everyone, line up, please! In an orderly method!' Professor Lupin called. Of course no one listened, enthusiastically jostling each other, trying to get ahead in line.

The boggart faced Longbottom first. Draco watched his fellow Slytherins jeering at him. Then other Gryffindors (Draco sneered as Weasley's greatest fear unfolded to be a spider - who was afraid of spiders? Filthy blood traitors) had their turn, and finally Harry stepped up to face the boggart. Draco fell silent in his scorn and looked on, interested, like many others, to see what his greatest fear was. Maybe he could protect him from it—

He was left in want, for Professor Lupin dashed in front of Harry. The boggart became a moon and clouds, and Lupin banished it.

The class groaned in disappointment. Most of it came from the Slytherin side ('What is Saint Potter afraid of? We want to exploit it in every way possible'), but everyone else ignored them as Professor Lupin dismissed the class, filing out, chattering to each other animatedly about what had happened.

Draco hung back. Professor Lupin stopped at the entrance to the class, and asked, 'Why are you still here? Don't you have a class to go to, now?'

'No.' Divination wasn't interesting anyway. Quaffle-eyed Trelawney and her predictions of Draco's notoriety. 'I wanted a try at the boggart.' Blatant lies. But Lupin played along.

'Well, Mr Malfoy, I'm sorry but you can't, not without my presence,' Lupin said. 'And I've got a class to teach right now. Why don't you come by in lunch? I'll see what I can do to give you a chance.'

Draco shrugged. He wasn't going to come, anyway. 'Maybe.' He didn't bother to call Lupin "sir". Lupin didn't expect him to. 'Well, good day, Mr Malfoy.' Draco remained silent as Lupin walked away.

He stood there quietly, pensively gazing at the shuddering closet in front of him. What was he afraid of?

Harry dying. In danger. Oh, Merlin, no.

He sighed in absolute relief that his chance hadn't come today otherwise who knows what would've happened when his house-mates would've seen it. When Harry Potter would've seen it. Then a voice came, once again from the entrance of the room, but it wasn't Lupin. Draco was shocked to hear it so abruptly, shattering the quiet atmosphere of the room (well, as quiet as it could get with the rattling closet).

'What are you doing here?'

Draco's eyes flitted from the closet to the door. Harry was standing there looking at him blankly. Draco's heartbeat quickened and he hoped he wasn't blushing or doing something as Hufflepuff as that. 'What do you think?'

Harry didn't bother to reply. He asked, 'What are you afraid of?' as he stepped into the room, coming closer to an increasingly uncomfortable Draco.

'Nothing.' He wasn't going to blurt out his secret. As if. To change the subject, he shot back, 'What are you afraid of?'

Harry paused, staring intently at an uneasy Draco. Then he softly said, 'Dementors.'

That distracted Malfoy. 'Oh. I thought you'd be afraid of the Dark Lord.' Dementors. Could he nag Lupin into teaching him to fight them off? Then he could shield Harry and Harry would love him—

'I haven't even seen him, Malfoy. Maybe I'll rethink my attitude toward him later.'

'Neither have I seen him, Potter, yet we all quiver at his name.'

'Like you're trembling right now?' Harry asked quietly, reaching out. Draco swatted him away. 'I'm not trembling,' he said, and he knew it was a lie. Harry's propinquity was playing hell with him. 'I'd say you are, Malfoy,' he said, and stepped even closer than he already was. Malfoy tried to step away.

'Yes, it's true that I fainted on the train because of the Dementors. I'm sorry that I lied to you.'

Draco looked up in surprise. Harry continued. 'I heard a woman screaming before I passed out, and I think it was my mum.'

'Potter—'

'Why did you cry that day?'

'What the bloody hell are you talking about—' Draco spluttered indignantly, but Harry ploughed on. 'I meant when you were mocking me that day and I told you to leave me alone. Did you actually cry at that?'

'No, as if I would give a damn about who told me to do what!' Malfoy said haughtily.

'So what were you crying about?'

'I don't cry. Malfoys seldom do.'

'Why did the tears come in your eyes?'

'They didn't. I have no idea as to what you might be blathering on about.'

'Tell me either the answer to that question or tell me what you're most frightened of.'

Between the devil and the deep blue sea. Draco closed his eyes in frustrated desperation. He sighed. 'I had only two tears in my eyes—I counted, Potter—and they were simply because of some emotions that overtook me.'

'What emotions?'

'I've already answered your query, now please allow me to leave.' Draco was slipping into his aristocratic self under pressure. Harry was already too close. His hand would need to move only move an inch to touch Draco's.

'No.' Then, almost as if he was talking to someone other than Draco in the room, he said, 'I've decided where my affections lie, now.'

Malfoy decided to ignore that last bit in favour of complaining against Harry's refusal to let him go. 'I object to this arbitrary rejection of my entreaty!' he said frantically, using long extravagant words he would normally use in the presence of his father's guests. Image was everything.

There was silence. Then:

'I've always thought that you are a bit... fascinating... when you use difficult words like that,' Harry whispered into Draco's ear, moving his hand the required inch and firmly clasping Draco's hand tightly. 'What's "arbitrary"?'

'Based on random choice or personal whim, rather than any reason or system...' Draco whispered back, not denying the tremor which was overtaking him, and Harry's lips met with his own.

Their first kiss was exceedingly awkward. The second was had with a bit more confidence.

By the fifth they were clinging to each other like they were never going to let go; Draco with a bit more passion, previously unreciprocated love making itself clearly known to Harry.

When they finally released each other, Draco said, 'I think I love you.'

'I know.'

'You hate me, don't you?'

'No, not really. Didn't you hear me when I said I'd decided where my affections lie?'

'I did.'

'So?'

'Okay,' Draco said, suddenly unable to look at Harry anymore, who noted it with a frown of displeasure. 'So what are we now?'

'It's obvious,' Harry said. 'We're us.'

Draco looked up faster than Harry could say "love". 'We are?' Back to laconic, normal language.

'Were you dead throughout our snogging?' Harry asked, laughing. Draco's shoulders sagged in relief, but he had to add, 'But I'd prefer if people didn't find out,' he said. 'I don't want to be an outcast in my own house,' he added. Harry nodded. 'Of course, if you want it that way.'

Draco smiled openly at Harry, who said, 'But wait. What are you scared of?' Draco laughed and replied, 'Something dangerous happening to you, and I don't think I'd like to see your dead body in front of me, even if it's a boggart.'

They left the room one at a time, so as to avoid misgivings. Neither of them wanted to—in fact, they were all for holding hands and prancing about like gits—but they had to.

Harry went and told everything to Hermione, leaving out certain details.

Draco went to his dormitory and went over every single kiss they had shared, smiling like a love-drunk fool all the time.

He really couldn't be happier.