A/N: Ummm, I did this for a friend when I was bored. And I'm posting it. Yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything mentioned in this plot, for I am not half as brilliant as JK Rowling, thus I did not come up with them.

Seventeen and Clueless

I'm seventeen years old, and I guess I should be saying that I know what I want. But I don't. I know what I like, oh yes, Lord knows I do. But I don't know if I want it.

I've liked him practically since I met him. I think that's pretty much why I hid the fact that I was a werewolf from him. I wanted him to remain my friend. He found out anyway, but he didn't leave me like I thought he would.

His name is Sirius Black, which I find quite ironic, because the only thing he's ever taken seriously is his lack of seriousness. I suppose that's one of the things I like about him. You-Know-Who himself could probably be after him, and he'd be joking around at the Three Broomsticks or something.

He's got beautiful shiny black hair and gorgeous deep blue eyes. I think I could be in love with him, to tell you the truth. But I never have been very assertive, and I don't intend to start now.

I mean, I don't see me walking up to someone and just telling them I like them. What I am good at, though, is keeping a secret. No one besides you has known till now that I like him, and even possibly love him.

I think he likes me, though. One time, it was late or night, so I don't remember if I was dreaming or not, he told me he liked me. It was Christmas, and James and Peter had gone home for the break. Sirius had stayed back with me because there was going to be a full moon and I needed someone. We were down in the common room talking. He told me that he liked me. He told me he loved me, and he kissed me.

We kissed for a while, but I think one of us was supposed to be embarrassed, so I decided it was me.

I pulled back and I just kind of walked back to the dorm. I suppose I either offended him, or it was a dream, because there was never any mention of it ever again.

But I'm seventeen, and I don't know what I want. I know what I need, and I need to be with Sirius. But I don't know if that's what I want. And I know what I like, and I liked that kiss with Sirius. But do I really want another one?

A seventeen-year-old boy doesn't necessarily want to be gay, even though he knows he is. And a seventeen-year-old boy doesn't necessarily want commitment to the one he loves, even though he needs it.

But I think I figured out that no matter how much a seventeen-year-old boy denies wanting something, he wants it more than anything else.

And I've also figured out that I don't want to know that.