Chapter Five: The Misunderstanding

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K.R. I pay them cookies to be my dirty little whores.

Warnings: Slight slash. Brief blowjoby scene. Language.

A/N: I am so, so sorry that this took so long! I had writer's block and then I was doing a bunch of Head Canons as a trial admin at a FB page. (I'm a fully fledged admin now! Check it out, it's: We Are The Potter Generation. We Ship Drarry.) I promise not to go so long without an update in the future. Even if it means posting a shorter chapter.

HOWEVER I PROMISE there is smut in the next chapter. To make it up to you guys. 3

Also, I discovered that I had Crabb mentioned as though he was alive in the last chapter. Oops. I fixed it, and let's all just pretend that didn't happen, mmmk? ;)

Now, I'd like to thank VenustusLovesJames, TheOnlyCeeCeeJay, DragonLover9865rlassie, Daddy's crazy little bitch, Tenshi Yami-Angel of Darkness, Rufescent, dXrXaXrXrXy, and trollnexus, for commenting. :) Thanks to everyone who favourited and followed, as well! :D I love you all! 3

Guess it was not meant to be
But it's not as bad as it seems
It only burns when I breathe, yeah

You saw the way that I fell
But I'm better off by myself
That's the tale I like to tell, yeah

But it's not that easy for me to say goodbye
And everything in me, wants you back in my life

Can't let you go
Can't let you go, oh

Can't Let You Go - Adam Lambert

"Harry, what's up with you and Malfoy?"

Harry glanced at Hermione and sighed. He should have known that if anyone would be suspicious of his story that he and Malfoy had become friends, it would be her. Although Ron was convinced he was under a spell. He supposed that where Draco was concerned it would be too much to hope that there would be someone on his side.

"Nothing, Mione," he answered, as usual. "We're friends. I know it's a hard concept to wrap your head around, but trust me, it's true." He almost believed it himself, now, he'd said it do many times. "Now can I eat in peace?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't push. Ginny, on the other hand, looked devious, and it made Harry nervous. She was the one person he did not want to have a conversation with about this. Ron just muttered about ferrets and continued stuffing his face.

It was as he was leaving the Great Hall that he was trapped. An arm snaked out, from an alcove behind a hanging banner as he walked by, yanking him into it and a quick hand over his mouth kept him from crying out. He looked into Ginny's eyes and resigned himself. Like it or not, this conversation was happening.

"Alright, Harry," she challenged, eyes narrowed into slits, "You. Malfoy. What's going on? And don't," as he opened his mouth to regurgitate the friends story, "Tell me you're just friends. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you held his hand. Spill."

Harry sighed. He had known from the moment that he said they were friends in the hospital wing and Ginny's eyes had narrowed at him that she had an idea of what was going on.

After all, Ginny was the one who had figured him out. Not Hermione. Not Ron. Ginny. When he went to talk to her after the war about the possibility of them getting back together and she had suggested they worked better as brother and sister he'd been shocked. Then she'd cocked her head and looked at him in puzzlement. "But Harry," she'd asked. "Aren't you sort of… gay?"

He of course had denied it and been horrified and was subsequently launched into a very confusing time of questioning his sexuality. After a few weeks of mentally going in circles he'd finally gone back to talk to Ginny, and she'd enlightened him on all the reasons she had for believing him gay.

"There's all the times I tried to hint to you that we could have sex, for one," Ginny pointed out, proceeding to give him detailed recaps of her failed seduction attempts.

"I could do it," he protested. "I could have sex with you. And like it," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Prove it," she'd challenged, and he tried to. "Tried" being the operative word. The encounter left him feeling wholly ashamed and embarrassed and more than a little certain that she was right. And the whole thing had left her unbearably smug.

"And then, there's the way you used to ogle Malfoy's arse," she added loftily.

"I did not!" Harry declared hotly.

"Did so. It bothered me a lot back in sixth year, because if your obsession with him really was because he was up to something and no more, what did his arse have to do with it?"

He sputtered indignantly and she laughed. "You still do it," she informed him. "I don't even think you realise it. You just ogle the prat whenever he's around. It's unnerving. But you fancy him, Harry."

Harry of course denied it vehemently. Maybe he was sort of kind of gay. He could handle that. He could even sort of see it. Oliver Wood was hot, and he could appreciate that. There were plenty of blokes he'd found rather fit over the years, though he'd been too busy worrying about his survival to read anymore into it. In fact, once he'd accepted it, it made a whole lot of sense, and improved his enjoyment of his wanking sessions. But fancying Malfoy? No way. No sir. Not in a million years. Not even if the prat had an arse you could bounce a knut off of.

And of course, Ginny never gave up. She teased him mercilessly about the blond, insisting she would let up only when Harry was honest about his feelings. And then the incident in the stacks had happened and now he was forced to admit that she was right; he did fancy Malfoy, and probably had for a long time. And now he was going to have to admit it to her face. Bother.

He looked her in the eyes and sighed, seeing nothing but honest caring in their hazel depths. "You tell anyone about this, Gin, and I swear…" he left the threat hanging, not having anything to add he'd be willing to follow through on.

She smirked, looking very Slytherin. "Go on."

"Draco and I… we're sort of dating."

Ginny squealed and threw her arms around his neck. "Harry, that's wonderful! But why lie about it?"

"Because we just went on our first date. We're not even officially dating yet, and we don't want anyone to know until we're sure ourselves that this is what we want."

"But Harry," Ginny laid a hand on his arm. "This is what you want. It's what you've wanted for a long time."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted, feeling more miserable for the admission. "But I don't know where Draco stands. I don't know what he wants from me."

"Harry James Potter," Ginny put her hands on her hips, a feat in their small enclosed hiding space. "You defeated a dark lord, the most powerful, evil and dangerous wizard of our times. Don't tell me that you're going to let fear interfere in your love life, now." Her eyes blazed and he flushed.

"I don't know that I defeated him, Gin," he said after a pause. "He might have come back again." Ginny blinked at him, then frowned.

"You know what I mean, Harry Potter," she said, poking him in the chest with her finger. "Get out there and get your wizard!" She gave him a playful shove and they stumbled out of the alcove.

He laughed. "Thanks, Gin." He seized her in a tight hug which she returned, smiling broadly. He felt lighter than he had in a while. He chuckled, then glanced up and his eyes met the steely grey of Draco's.

Draco just stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face, then turned and stalked away.

"Oh, no," murmured Ginny as Harry broke away from her.

"Draco, wait," he called, but the blond had disappeared.

Pansy was primping. Blaise had been giving her appraising looks lately, and she had decided to take advantage of the fact that he had given up on Draco – for the most part – and turned his attention back to the female populace. After all, now that Draco was shagging Potter, he was unavailable to cater to her needs, and damnit, Pansy needed to get laid.

Draco burst into her room without preamble. The girls' and boys' dormitories in the Eighth Year Tower were, unlike the other dormitories, not very well protected against invasions from the opposite sex. This meant a lot of sneaking around and inter-house fraternization that brought them a lot closer to unity than anything else would have, though McGonagall would certainly have disapproved.

Draco was breathing heavily, as if he'd just come from a run. He looked slightly disheveled, and Pansy thought privately that it was a good look on him. She regretted again for a moment that he was shagging St. Potter, and was unavailable to shag herself, like they had in the past.

He took one look at her, and without a word stepped up and grabbed her, pulling her close and snogging the breath out of her.

For a moment she tensed, then relaxed into it. Merlin, Draco was a good kisser. He snogged like there was no tomorrow. She let out a low moan as he eased her towards her bed, straddling her on top of her covers. He began kissing her neck, nipping softly and licking at her collarbone and making her arch her back and… this was wrong. No, Draco was shagging Potter, and this was all wrong. She'd seen the look in his eyes earlier when he spoke about his former nemesis, and he had it bad. He wouldn't be doing this unless something was wrong.

What's more, he was shaking; shaking violently, shaking as if with repressed sobs. Something was definitely wrong.

It was with great effort that she straightened and pushed him away. He growled and tried to continue, but she held firm. "Draco," she gasped. "What's gotten into you? What about Potter?"

With those words he suddenly slumped against her, defeated. He lay there, breathing raggedly, and she stroked small circles into his back. Her eyes narrowed. Potter had done something to hurt her Dray. He would pay for that.

"What happened, Dray?" she crooned. "Tell me, sweetie, what's going on?"

"I caught him snogging the Weaselette, Pans," muttered Draco. He had his face buried in her shoulder, and she felt soft tears falling through her shirt. She hoped absently that he wouldn't get snot on her as well; the tears a simple drying spell could fix but snot would require a cleaning charm and she was pants at those.

"Snogging the Weaselette?" she repeated, horrified.

"Yes." Draco laughed, bitterly. "A Malfoy, thrown over for a Weasley." He paused. "Again." The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

"What do you mean, 'again'?" Pansy's voice was sharp.

"First on the train when I was eleven, now this."

Pansy drew in her breath. She knew how deeply Draco had been hurt by Potter's rejection of him all those years ago; she was one of the few people privy to his private pain.

"I'll kill him," she muttered. "I'll kill that Bastard-Who-Lived until he's the Bastard-Who's-Dead."

Draco laughed into her shoulder and she smiled. He would be alright. She'd take care of him, and he would be alright. And then, she would find Potter, and make him pay for hurting her best friend.

"Draco."

His name was a whisper, a caress on the wind. He shivered, naked in the moonlight. He was lying on his back beneath a willow tree by the great lake. The giant squid splashed in the distance. Otherwise the night was silent.

His lover ghosted kisses across his torso, fingers tracing gently over his pale skin, making him writhe and moan.

"Draco," the voice repeated, louder this time. Dark, messy hair was all he could see of his lover, who continued his ministrations to Draco's chest and nipples.

"Yes?" he gasped as first one nipple then the other was suckled gently in his lover's mouth.

Soft laughter.

His lover looked up, and green eyes bored into his as Harry took his cock into his mouth. Draco arched his back and mewled at the sudden sensation of wet, warm mouth enveloping his rock-hard cock.

Harry's talented tongue swirled and licked and teased his slit. Draco bucked and thrust upwards into the willing heat, lost in the headiness of it.

"Harry!" he cried. "Oh, Harry!"

"Draco!" the voice was more insistent now, and suddenly Draco realised it didn't come from his lover. His lover was sitting up, wiping his mouth, looking into the distance.

A redheaded girl approached and beckoned to him. Without another thought he leapt to his feet, and chased after her.

"Harry!" screamed Draco, reaching for him in horror. "Harry!" He raced out from behind the willow branches, unheeding his nakedness, looking frantically for them, and not seeing them anywhere.

Soft laughter came again on the wind.

"Draco!"

Draco sat bolt upright in bed, panting. His dormmates stared at him in concern. Blaise was hovering over him, his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You were thrashing in your sleep and shouting for Potter," Blaise frowned. "You were calling him, 'Harry'." He was looking for an explanation.

"Sorry I disturbed your rest," mumbled Draco. He had no intention of explaining. Not now, at any rate. He knew Blaise wouldn't let it go until he knew the story, but now was not the time. Not with Nott and Goyle there, listening in.

Blaise's eyes widened at the apology, but he dropped it and returned to his bed. Draco rolled over and prepared for another sleepless night.

Draco spent the next few weeks in his room, except for classes. Every time he ventured out of his room his friends rallied around him and surrounded him like a shield, protecting him from Potter, keeping the hero from getting too close.

They didn't know what had happened, just that Draco had tried to be friends with Potter and Potter had betrayed him. That Draco wanted to avoid Potter at all costs. They eagerly rallied around their leader, and the Ice Prince of Slytherin once more held court.

He stayed in his room most meals to save them hassle, and Pansy just brought him and herself up plates of food and they ate together in his dorm. They would sit and joke and talk and snark and Draco could almost feel normal again for a little while.

He was hurting, worse than anything he could remember, other than having his parents' lives hanging over his head when he was sixteen. Other than being forced to Crucio others on the Dark Lord's command. Okay, there were a lot of things in his life that had hurt this badly. But that didn't make it any easier to live with.

Potter, the git, was determined to track him down for some reason. He probably isn't done playing with me, yet, thought Draco. The thought depressed him.

He and Pansy would make conversation and gossip. Pansy was, despite her average grades, absolutely brilliant. He'd often pointed out that if she ever studied, she could probably beat Granger. Pansy, however had no interest in beating Granger, preferring to turn her wicked mind to social and societal manipulation.

He learned that it was she who had orchestrated Millicent and Theodore's romance, all without their awareness of her ever having part in it.

"It was so easy, Dray," she crowed. "All it took was a suggestion here, a makeover there, and finally me and Blaise accidentally losing them in Hogsmeade. They were together before you knew it!"

"You're a genius, Pans," Draco assured her.

"Oh, I know that," she rolled her eyes. "I can fix anyone up with anyone!"

She then offered to help him replace Potter, but he just wasn't there yet.

"Maybe later, Pans. Right now I'm just so confused."

Draco was dealing with a sexual orientation crisis. He'd never been attracted to guys before, or really even thought about them sexually. But Potter was different. And now Draco needed to figure out whether or not that was because Potter was a guy and Draco really was bisexual, or if it was just because it was Potter.

Potter was all he could think about. When he wanked, he tried so hard to think of someone else – anyone else would do. But Potter's face would intrude on his subconscious, and Potter's body would be all that he could see. Even in his dreams he saw Potter. Always Potter, and no one else.

Maybe Draco was Pottersexual.

He didn't like that idea.

Pansy tried to get him to kiss Blaise to find out if he liked it or not, but he explained to her – much to her bewilderment – that the idea of kissing anyone who wasn't Potter repulsed him. Hence his misery.

Pansy and Blaise were sympathetic, but both of them wanted in his pants, and for some reason, it was no longer an option. He may have been free, and he may have even slept with Pansy in the past, but now he simply didn't want sexual contact with non-Potter-people. Blaise was particularly put out, as his advances had been spurned for years on the grounds that Draco was straight, only to have him turn bent with Potter and then not want to turn to Blaise for comfort afterwards. Blaise felt it truly unfair.

And it wasn't that he wasn't good looking. Draco knew he was. But he just wasn't Potter.

Draco wondered if he was going insane.

Harry was frustrated. He'd spent the last few weeks trying to track down Draco. He needed to explain there was nothing going on between him and Ginny. He could tell Draco had gotten the wrong idea; and even he could admit it looked bad. He didn't know how to fix this, because Draco seemed as determined to avoid him as he was to find the Slytherin.

He couldn't visit Draco in his dorm, because the Slytherin had invested in powerful locking spells, and he couldn't speak to him through the door, because he could hear the Slytherin cast a silencing charm on him whenever he tried.

Draco's friends were no help. Pansy glared daggers at him and made threats about castration hexes that had him keeping his distance. Blaise regarded him with cold fury and both of them refused to listen to a word he had to say. Goyle glared at him and left him quaking in his boots.

Draco was always surrounded in the Great Hall, his fellow Slytherins an impenetrable fortress around him, refusing to let Harry near. Oftentimes Pansy Parkinson would simply fill a plate with food and whisk it away to bring upstairs to Draco, so he wouldn't have to come down.

Harry was going mad.

All of his friends knew there was something going on with him and Malfoy, that the blond was angry with him and he was trying to fix it. None of them knew the particulars except Ginny, who had quickly become his rock during this horrible mess.

They were talking about it in the common room one day after supper. Sitting by the fire on bronze cushions , eating chocolate frogs and playing exploding snap. Ron and Hermione were off somewhere alone together and Harry did not want to think about what they were up to, thankyouverymuch.

"I don't know what to do," he said helplessly. "I've tried everything I can think of, but he just won't listen to me. If he just gave me a chance, he might understand. But how can I even get that chance if he's so closed off?"

"Don't worry, Harry," she said, squeezing his hand. "It'll all work out. Malfoy will have to listen to you at some point, and when he does he'll realise this whole thing was a misunderstanding and he'll let it go."

"I hope you're right, Gin," he said morosely. "I hope you're right." He squeezed her hand again and shot her a grateful smile.

Of course it would be at that moment that Draco and his contingent of body guards walked by on their way to drop Draco off in his room. His face tightened at the sight of their joined hands and although Harry leapt up and tried to talk to him, Draco cast a Silencio on him and continued on his way.

This whole mess was on top of the endless research he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were doing together. In the past it had always been the Golden Trio, but now their ranks had swollen, and Harry was grateful for it. The extra help made things move along faster, though they still hadn't had much luck in finding out anything new about the Horcruxes.

Trying to discover how Voldemort could still be alive, or how someone could be manipulating a bond only he should have had control over, was taxing. Trying to prove that Harry didn't have to be dead in order for Voldemort to stay gone was proving impossible. There were no records of a human being being a Horcrux before. It was territory that research didn't seem able to help with.

The Death Eater attacks continued, in other towns around the country. The Aurors did their best to combat it, but it was difficult, not knowing where to expect them next. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their attacks other than to cause panic and spread fear.

And it was working. Across the country people were panicking, screaming and crying over the return of "He Who Must Not Be Named". The Daily Prophet printed a particularly scathing review of Harry called, "The Boy Who Lied" which insinuated Harry had faked Voldemort's demise in the hope of increasing his own fame.

Of course, the Hogwarts students had all learned by now not to trust what was printed in the newspaper, particularly with regard to Harry, but there were thousands of people across the country who were less savvy. Harry was once again becoming a social pariah in the wizarding world.

The Dark Marks continued to be used to call Death Eaters, and every Death Eater captured said the same thing – "He's back."

From what they heard, Draco Malfoy ended up in the hospital wing several other times over the course of those few weeks when his Mark burned and he was being called. Harry had tried to go see him but he had given explicit instructions ahead of time not to let Harry near him. Madam Pomfrey gave him sympathetic looks, but she respected her patient's wishes and kept him out.

Once he was there when the Mark began to burn. Pansy and Blaise levitated Draco to the hospital wing from his room, while he writhed and screamed. Harry's mouth had gone dry and he'd moved closer, begging to be allowed to help comfort the blond.

With a scowl and a "Not now, Potter," he'd been rebuffed and when he persisted Pansy had proceeded to whirl around and hex with a Confundus. He had wandered around confused and rambling about Draco – "Crazy talk, mate; just crazy," Ron had assured him after, while Ginny snickered and refused to comment. He wondered how much of the truth had come out during his little episode.

He missed Draco like a phantom limb.

He missed kissing him, touching him, being held by him.

He missed the soft blond hair that fell about his face just so.

He missed the fine, aristocratic turn of his features.

He missed his pale skin, missed running his hands over it underneath Draco's clothes.

He missed talking to the prat, the way he joked and the way he carried himself with that air of superiority that Harry quickly learned was mostly just show.

He missed the Slytherin's ideas and snarky opinions.

He just missed Draco.

He wanted to tell everyone about them. He longed to just put it out there, so Draco would understand that he was Harry's number one, and only one. He ached to just scream to the world what they'd had together.

Except that he didn't know what they'd had together, not really. Some quick gropes, a few passionate snogs, a couple of blow jobs and a disastrous date?

Never mind that it had been mind-blowing, all of it, and that the time he spent with Draco – even when they weren't snogging – was better than the time he'd spent with anyone else, ever.

The only thing that really held him back in the end was the knowledge that Draco hadn't wanted anyone else to know about them, and he didn't want to make things worse by spreading the news. Draco would surely hate him for that.

Fortunately for him Hermione was missing for the most part during his confusion, busy in the library doing more research on the Horcruxes, and he was able to avoid her sharp mind picking up on the fact that his crazy talk about Draco Malfoy might be less than crazy.

She found something, one day, and they all got very excited over it.

"Look, here," she said, pointing out a page to her friends. They all crowded around to read.

"What are we reading about?" asked Neville, wanting clarification.

"The Marks, and ways they might be controlled by someone other than Voldemort."

"So where are we reading?"

Hermione pointed to a passage in the giant tome she'd located far back in the restricted section. "Here."

"The mark of ownership may only be manipulated by the owner. However, there are certain circumstances which may allow another to access the power of the mark.

The owner must be dead.

The other must also be marked.

The other must have strong will, and strong magic.

The other must contain the essence of the owner.

If these criteria are met, the bond of ownership may pass to the other. Although it is possible in theory, in fact it has never been done successfully, and attempts have inevitably resulted in the death of all bond-mates."

Although they weren't certain what it meant, one thing they did know was that it signified that Voldemort was not necessarily back.

They now knew that rather than facing Voldemort again, it was possible that they were facing a Death Eater who was strong-willed, magically powerful, and "contained the essence of the owner" – whatever that meant.

However, nothing was certain. There was also a very good chance that it was Voldemort. After all, the tome had specified that no one had ever successfully transferred an ownership bond before; that it was only possible in theory. That all attempts to do so usually left the bond-mates dead. Voldemort having had another, hidden Horcrux was far more likely.

They had to prepare for every contingency.

When it came to research on the Horcruxes, Harry was becoming increasingly convinced that his life would have to be sacrificed to kill Voldemort for good.

Harry's friends made him swear that he wouldn't even consider sacrificing his life unless they had no other option and had reason to believe it would work. They reminded him that there wasn't yet any definitive proof that Voldemort was back.

They weren't entirely satisfied with the promise, having wanted him to simply agree not to sacrifice himself period, but they accepted it as the best compromise they would get from him. Harry privately thought that there was already reason to think it would work, and wondered absently if it wasn't better for Draco in the long run to have been chased away from him.

Hermione was becoming relentless in her pursuit of discovering the reason behind his falling out with Draco. She cornered him at every opportunity, whenever they weren't doing research and discussing Voldemort and the dark mark they were running in circles around each other verbally; Hermione pushing for answers, Harry hastening to elude her.

She finally cornered him in the library, near his and Draco's special place. He had wandered there to torture himself with memories and mope. He also held out a vain hope that Draco might have gone there as well.

"Spill," Hermione demanded.

He blustered and tried to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest, shoving him back against the bookcase and she drew her wand out. "I'll bind you if I have to, but so help me, you are going to talk to me, Harry James Potter."

He thought she was bluffing and made to leave; she murmured, "Incarcerous," and he was suddenly bound to the bookshelf behind him. She then cast a silencing charm around them so that Harry could scream for help all he liked; Madam Pince wouldn't hear a thing.

"Tell me," she said evenly. "What's going on with you and Malfoy?"

Harry glared at her, but realising he couldn't get away without telling the truth, decided to go for maximum shock value.

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," he blurted.