Stan Shunpike was not a realistic man, an academic man, or a man of any real accomplishment. He did however, understand certain things. Ernie always said that's why he hired him on the night bus. Stan might be a bit on the daft side, but he didn't ask questions. Criminals, runaways, and thieves (usually) paid their fee. As long as a wizard was alright enough to pay for a service, he was alright and it was no one's business why he was resorting to a barely-legal semi-muggle bus. Stan understood this, and, romantic as he was, never expected to meet anyone special or important. Even if he did, Stan had enough self-assurance to believe he'd take in a very solemn, wise manner. He would nod, and he would wink like Dumbledore used to.
It worked fine until the most beautiful boy Stan had ever laid eyes on paid his sickles to escape a lonely muggle road. Stan was barely controlling the urge to stare as it was when the dark young knight revealed himself to be the true savior of the wizarding world. Stan almost fell over, almost lost his adoration for the too-young boy in jealousy that this was the hero Stan had wanted to be since he was five when Mum transformed his birthday party into a celebration of Him.
Stan was not a smart man, or a man who stuck to his convictions, but he hadn't been in Hufflepuff for nothing. The Minister of Magic himself proclaimed Harry Potter to be crazy a year later, but Stan knew. He said he'd known all along the boy was deranged, said a lot of things that he was glad his hero never heard, but he knew. Four thirteen years of his life he had been taught that Harry Potter was going to save them all. Stan Shunpike might tell a fib every once and a while to impress the ladies, but he was not the kind of man who could lie to himself. As it was, Stan Shunpike fancied himself in a woefully forbidden state of amour with the Chosen One.
Azkaban changed everything. For the first time in his life, Stan felt no joy whatsoever in meeting the Minister of Magic. The man personally assured him that once someone more important was caught, Stan would be free to "go back to his ordinary life." For the first time, Stan could not tell anyone he knew how the Ministry really worked. For the first time Stan was pretty sure he understood very, very well. Half a year passed of waiting for something to happen, waiting for someone more important, dangerous, manic, or at least vaguely criminal to replace him. He dreamed of his escape and how his name would be all over the Daily Prophet. He dreamed of the Minister simply giving up and letting him go, no press required.
All the cynicism of reality could not stop Stan from dreaming too, of Harry Potter. He wondered where he was and if he was on his way to fight You-Know-Who…Voldemort. If Harry could speak his name so casually when he was only thirteen, at twenty-one Stan should have been beyond such fear. It was sort of difficult not to be afraid when you were in prison because the most evil man the world had ever seen was out to destroy everything you knew. It didn't help that the Prophet he'd charmed the guard out of declared the Chosen One missing. For his own sake, Stan almost hoped the Boy Who Lived was dead.
Stan was half lost in a dream of escaping prison and happening upon his prince when Harry Potter himself casually opened the cell door and remarked, "Thought you might want out. Going to be a bit dangerous here soon."
"Blimey, you're Harry Potter…and you're supposed to be missing. What are you doing here?" In his shock, and to his later gratitude, Stan was unable to feel embarrassment.
"Just passing through. Listen, you need to get somewhere safe. Take the Knight Bus and go anywhere, go to Hogwarts, leave the country. You've been under the 'care' of the Ministry too long. You're not safe."
"You know mate, I'm really beginning to miss being invisible."
"Trust me, I know the feeling…come on, the guard's bound to wake up eventually."
Before he could be lost any more to shock, Stan took a breath, "Why are you here? Why are you rescuing me?"
"It wasn't right, the ministry putting you up like this." Somehow, Harry managed to look like this was a most acceptable and logical explanation.
"Th…thank you. Anytime you need the Knight Bus, free of charge..."
Harry was quiet for a minute, and then said, quietly, "I think I might have to take you up on that…it'll be dangerous. I can borrow it and return it…"
On that Stan's eyes widened until he felt a vague ache in his forehead. "No, I'm coming with you. I've waited for this for too long…"
"You've waited for a death wish?" Harry's brows rose.
"No…my life to mean something…for you…"
Harry James Potter age seventeen, boy Who Lived, Chosen One once again defied all human logic and kissed Stan Shunpike, age twenty-two, Knight Bus Driver, Future Minister of Magic with more passion than he'd ever kissed Ginny Weasley, or had been rumored to kiss Hermione Granger. Stan knew what he had to do, what he'd been born to do. Ten minutes later, a normal, scared, boy was underneath him, against a cell floor that probably hadn't been cleaned since the last time the Dark Lord rose. Stan, keeping his lips on the pale flesh at all times, thrust as hard as he could, until after what seemed like hours, both men collapsed breathing as if fresh from battle.
In silence, both men dressed, blushing as they made their way back to the world of impending horror. The prince had risen and Stan, ordinary and worthless as his mother had seen him since his fifth birthday, knew, but would never speak of how he saved the Boy Who Lived.