AN: It may not seem as if this is anything new, but trust me, there are about two more pages at the end. I write when I feel like it, so often I may add on to something already written. As I (hopefully) continue this story I will doing this often and simply uploading and then putting on additions later.

AN2: The title has now changed. I think I just subconciously like to confuse people.

The Misunderstanding

—eladnarra

Chapter One: The Astronomy Tower

The first faint rays of sunlight slipped gently over the snow-topped trees of the Forbidden Forest, the freshly fallen snow sparkling slightly. It was very early and not a creature had yet stirred, leaving the flawless white expanse unmarred. The view from the Astronomy Tower was breath-taking and magical, even for one who had seen it countless times before, as had the figure standing there. He sighed deeply, taking in the whispering caress of the sun's warmth, and smiled ever-so-softly. They were sights rarely seen by anyone, both his expression and the landscape below.

Many people preferred sunsets to sunrises, in all their brazen glory and overly splendid palettes of colours and hues. It was something he would never understand. For him, sunsets symbolized the end, the death of the day in a glorious climax. Then it was over and done, enveloped by the night, death incarnate. It seemed a bit Gryffindor-ish: brave and wonderful, and yet quickly gone in foolish self-sacrifice for the sake of brief grandeur.

Ah but sunrises, yes, they were different. Dawn was not spectacular by any means, but there was an undeniable beauty in seeing the clear light move over the land, bringing warmth and life as it pushed back the cold waters of the night. Perhaps this was also somewhat reminiscent of what Gryffindors stood for, but for one reason or another he didn't mind. Even if sunrises were a bit Gryffindor-like, he thought that they had to symbolize the better traits of said house.

Abruptly the boy was broken out of his reverie by the unmistakeable creak of the tower trapdoor. In a flash he had stepped back into an alcove in the wall, hidden from view. He watched from the shadows as he heard someone approach hesitantly, their steps echoing harshly off the stones.

He blinked. There was no one there. As the sound of the footsteps unknowingly passed by him he searched in vain for the person to whom they belonged. It wasn't a ghost, he was sure of it. Then how…? His pondering was ceased when suddenly there was a flicker of movement as someone appeared, seemingly out of thin air.

"Potter," he spat. The other wizard spun around quickly, his gaze narrowing once he realized who it was.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here? I swear if you were following me, I'll—"

"Following you? Not everyone worships the ground you stand on, Potter, as I most certainly do not. I just happened to be here first. Besides, what would you do if I was following you? Tell your precious Headmaster? Go on, do it!"

"Maybe I will."

Draco laughed spitefully. "Ha! And they say Griffindorks are brave! Always running to people for help. Dumbledore, his so-called Order… they've all saved your arse one time or another. Even your mother died to save you, didn't she? Shame she had to really, though she was only a Mud—"

He never knew what hit him. One minute he was goading Potter and watching him turn a satisfyingly bright red, and the next he was sprawled on the cold stones, a large bump forming on the back of head and blood dripping from his nose.

And then Potter was on Draco, pinning him down between his legs and roughly grabbing his shirt and tie with both hands. He pulled Draco's face up to his, their noses almost touching, and fixed him with a glare that would have terrified a manticore.

"If I ever hear you call my mother that again," he snarled, "I'll hurt you so much that you will scream."

A gasp rang out on the cold air. Both boys' heads snapped around in time to see the trapdoor falling shut with a resounding 'thump.'

"Shit! We're in for it, Potter, and it's all. your. fault!" Draco untangled himself from a gaping Potter and, with a murderous glare, left, as always, with the last word.

That would show him.

—————

Lavender was in shock. She was stunned, her mind was reeling…

She had just been up to the Astronomy Tower. It was commonly known that this was the most-used place for assignations, and, as an unofficial gossiper and rumour-spreader of Hogwarts, Lavender often visited at odd times to catch people unawares. Her juiciest stories came from late-night excursions to the Astronomy Tower.

But this— this was beyond juicy! Who would've thought? Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy: an item. That's all it could be; she had obviously walked in on something. The image of Harry straddling Malfoy and holding him close enough to kiss was as clear as day as his aggressive words played over and over in her mind.

'I'll hurt you so much that you will scream.'

Lavender grinned brightly as she practically skipped to the Great Hall for breakfast.

—————

Fuming, Harry stomped through the hallways determinedly. Left turn, right turn, down the stairs, through a passageway... Finally he ground to a halt by a tapestry of the Forbidden Forest, gasping and heaving from anger and exertion. It was no use. He was lost during his sixth year at Hogwarts. And it was all Malfoy's fault.

He'd woken up quite early that morning, the remaining wisps of a dream drifting out of his consciousness. Unable to fall asleep he rose at around six, just in time to watch the sunrise from the Astronomy Tower. It was a spur-of-the-moment idea, a notion that seemed to come from nowhere, but once in residence, it was there to stay.

The sun had just been coming over the horizon as he'd gotten to the top of the tower. It had been a spectacular sight, and then Malfoy had ruined it. Why he had been up there Harry had no idea; most likely the evil git had been hatching a plan or sabotage of some sort. He certainly hadn't been up there for the view.

After their confrontation and subsequent discovery Harry had been too infuriated to move. The nerve of Malfoy, just taking off like that while he was still gaping like a goldfish and unable to think of a quick comeback. He flushed angrily at the memory; why had he let him do that to him?

And so he had set off (eventually) in a right temper and thoroughly unfocused. It was not the best idea to get distracted when navigating the myriad of corridors and stairways of Hogwarts, as often they moved around you and could leave you back where you started if you weren't paying attention. Before Harry knew it he was in a part of the castle he'd never seen before, and most definitely late for breakfast.

On a desperate whim he started in the opposite direction, slipping into a dark, narrow opening on his right. Hoping it led somewhere other than the dungeons he muttered a quick 'Lumos' and followed the passage as it wound slowly downwards. Cobwebs brushed his face like fragments of lace and condensation dripped onto his neck from above.

Many minutes of constant speculation and growing apprehension finally ended at a door. Slowly pushing outwards, Harry peered around the edge. The sight of the doors to the Great Hall made him sigh in relief as he realized the door was in fact a painting in the Entrance Hall. Stepping out quietly he gently closed the portrait hole and noted the subject, a severe looking wizard painted in a Romanesque style. You could never tell when such things could come in handy.

There were still about ten more minutes of breakfast so Harry crossed to the doors. He didn't want there to be a Spanish Inquisition into why he was late, especially by a certain hook-nosed Professor, so he entered stealthily. His day had been horrible enough already.

Unfortunately the door had other ideas and slipped from his grasp as he was closing it carefully, shutting with a boom that echoed throughout the hall. The silence was instantaneous; as the entire population of Hogwarts glanced his way mouths dropped and eyes widened. A second later all four tables broke out into socked whispers, sounding for all the world like a swarm of locusts. Blinking slowly in confusion, Harry took a moment to look down, subconsciously wondering if he had actually managed to go out in public dressed in his pyjamas. He hadn't— he was wearing his regular attire, a fact that he greeted most warmly. Although it seemed his scuffle with Malfoy had been quite rough. His tie was loose, his robes unclasped, and one could see his rumpled and half-untucked shirt underneath. Blushing slightly Harry straightened his clothes and nervously made his way to the Gryffindor table, conscious of the many eyes trained on him. He quickly slid into a seat across from Ron and Hermione, wishing he could keep sliding and end up under the table; it wasn't the best of hiding places, but maybe the house elves would take pity on him and magically whisk him away to the kitchen. Instead Harry served himself some food, resolutely looking down at his plate like an ostrich with its head in the sand. Perhaps if he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him…?

"Ahem."

Apparently such techniques worked only for birds. Harry raised his eyes reluctantly to met Hermione's scrutinizing look, grimacing inwardly. She was in her "I won't stop asking until you give me a straight answer" mode: her lips were parting even as he watched to begin the first attack. Ron, on her right, simply stared. He knew what was coming and he wasn't even going to attempt to save him. Though to Harry it looked as if Ron wanted answers as much as Hermione.

He was doomed and he didn't even know why.

"Oh Harry! Why didn't you tell us?" was the first beseeching question.

And already he was flummoxed. Tell them what? That he was going to the Astronomy Tower to watch the sunrise? That he'd just had a fight with Malfoy? Unsure, Harry went for the noncommittal and vague response.

"I didn't think it was that important."

"Not important!" Ron exploded. "How could you think such a thing was not bloody important?"

Harry winced as his best friend continued to rant. Wrong thing to say, obviously. Alright then, noncommittal and vague wasn't right. Maybe an entirely honest approach would work, though he couldn't see how— he had absolutely no clue what they were going on about, or why the entire Great Hall had taken to glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes between each bite of breakfast.

Before Harry had time to ponder this, Hermione cut Ron off and returned to the dreaded questioning.

"How long has this been going on?"

Another bemusing query. Harry could not even begin to imagine what Hermione could mean. He assumed it had something to do with his fighting with Malfoy; she'd been trying to promote House unity, along with Dumbledore and the teachers. But how could she not know when their enmity began?

"You mean Malfoy? Well, quite I while I suppose," he replied evasively.

Ron choked on his piece of toast, and Hermione paled slightly. "That… that wasn't the first time?" she whispered quietly.

The entire table hushed and many members of the other Houses stood up to get a better view, their friends listening to murmured commentary. Harry shifted uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

"Er… no?" What else could he say? Of course it wasn't the first time they had fought. He and Malfoy had traded insults since his first time on the Hogwarts Express. Their skirmishes didn't often result in punches being thrown, but honestly… what was there to get worked up about?

The silence was heavy now; not even the Professors at the Head Table spoke. Whether it was out of courtesy to the students straining to hear or out of their own curiosity Harry didn't know.

"Where else have you been…?" Hermione didn't complete the sentence, almost as if she was afraid to say it. Harry was becoming more and more bewildered. He knew now that they couldn't still be on the same subject. In fact, he doubted they were still in the same Universe. And yet he responded in the only way that made sense to him.

"Classrooms, hallways… wherever we meet. Where else, Hermione?" With that he picked up his last piece of bacon and strolled out of the Great Hall. If they couldn't bother to make sense he wouldn't bother to listen.

Sometimes he wondered if they were all really as clueless as they seemed.