DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. At all. Not even a little eensy bit.

A/N: Hmm, here we are again. I have a fair few chapters already done, so these'll be submitted one after the other for a while. Anyway, I'm not so sure about this chapter, I've always felt something was missing from it, not to mention it's a bit on the short side. As it hasn't been properly beta'd, constructive criticism would be helpful bordering on godly. Review, if you please!

Chapter Two

After an enlightening conversation on perfecting one's fellating technique, Draco had shut himself back in his room to ponder how he would ever look Seamus Finnigan in the face again, and more importantly, what the bloody hell he was going to do about Harry. It was times like these he was extremely thankful to have gotten his own room back in first year, through the combined forces of his father's power over the school governors (now long gone, sadly) and Snape's strange fascination with him (unfortunately, still alive and well). Otherwise, Blaise might've followed him in here and insisted on talking about blowjobs and rimjobs and whatever other fucking jobs he could pull out of his arse. Fucking Blaise.

It wasn't as if he was even right, anyway! Honestly, it wasn't like Harry was his bitch or anything. They'd had as healthy and communicative a relationship as any.

Okay, he wasn't even fooling himself with that one. So Harry had always … put a little more of himself into the relationship. But he was the Gryffindor! It was in his nature! Didn't Gryffindors like doing that sort of thing?

Well, he couldn't imagine anyone really liked being ignored by their own boyfriend.

And always being on the giving end of oral pleasure!

Thank you, inner Blaise.

It certainly wasn't that he didn't like Harry. Fucking hell, he liked Harry a lot! Harry was nice, and conscientious, and always offered to help him with Transfiguration homework (it wasn't HIS fault McGonagall was a biased cow!), and always managed to make him laugh even if he never said anything particularly witty. Harry had this air of … warmth and sunshine about him. Urgh, that sounded so gay. Whenever Harry was around, Draco just felt…happy. Not to mention the boy was a bloody sexpot. His hair always looked like he'd been snogged silly, although Draco's Malfoy instincts still yearned to tame it, at times. And his eyes. Gods, his eyes. Draco could drown in those things. When Harry looked at him with those lethal weapons, he felt like he was going to die. …In a good way.

What the hell was he going to do without Harry! He couldn't even fathom the idea of shacking up with someone else. Girls, of course, were just not his taste, and how many blokes at Hogwarts were poufs? There was him, Harry (technically, he called himself "bisexual" but the last time he'd shagged a girl was, oh, NEVER), Finnigan and Blaise, but they were together, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Not only was Finch-Fletchley a Hufflepuff, but he was also one of the most obnoxious people Draco knew and he was just out of the question. Fucking Finch-Fletchley.

So if he was so attached to Harry and enjoyed his company so much, why had he gotten dumped? He thought back to what exactly had happened, this morning at breakfast…

Draco sat at the Slytherin table, poking at whatever peasant food had been put on his plate today (honestly, who did the cooking in this place?), and Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table across the hall, for the first time in months. Usually, breakfast and dinner were spent with Draco, and lunch with Granger and the Weasel. Granger was talking very quickly to Harry, and he looked somewhat distraught. Weasley, having no sense of subtlety at all, kept glancing over at Draco, alerting him that he was, apparently, the subject of their discussion. When Harry got up, Draco looked back down at his plate, pretending not to notice that Harry was making his way over to where he sat.

"Er… hi, Draco," Harry said timidly as he sat down across from Draco, who looked up indifferently. Harry's hair was looking more delicious than usual; he must not have slept well last night.

"Morning, sunshine," he said with a practised nonchalant tone.

Harry took a deep breath. Uh-oh. Something was coming. "Listen, Draco," he said quietly, "Um. I think we shouldn't see each other anymore."

Oh, fuck. How to rectify this situation? Um…Make a joke! He raised an eyebrow. "What, so we should wear blindfolds? Didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Potter…"

Harry didn't smile. Oh, shit. He was really about to dump him, wasn't he? "No, Draco. I mean…I'm breaking up with you."

Draco paused for a moment, pondering his next move. His first inclination was to cry and apologize profusely, but that wouldn't do with the large audience that had gathered. Either Harry wanted to publicly embarrass him, or didn't realize that the Great Hall really wasn't the place to do this, but now the entire Slytherin table was watching them and whispering amongst themselves. Two fourth-year girls were discussing how Draco would react. One said he'd go all Ice-Prince (she said that!) and tell Harry to bugger off, and the other reckoned he'd start yelling and hex Harry's lights out. Making a mental note to kill both of them later, Draco did neither.

"Why?" he said, perfectly calmly.

Harry was caught off-guard. "Er…what?"

"Why," he repeated, using his patented 'dangerously cool' voice, "are you breaking up with me?"

"Well, I just reckon I don't need someone acting as though I'm a pain in the arse all the time. You know, and not being, er, nice." He faltered under Draco's steady gaze. "And, y'know, I don't feel like you appreciate me very much, and I feel like we don't communicate and, well, it's not that I don't love you but really, Draco, you're just not good for me."

You're just not good for me. All of the grief Draco was harboring turned to anger at that. Those were clearly Granger's words—he'd even said them like Granger would. She was obviously convincing him earlier that he had to go through with it, Draco could just hear her… "Honestly, Harry, he's just not good for you! You need to break up with him before the situation gets any worse!" Fucking Granger.

As much as Draco hated to prove the little know-it-all right, he couldn't bring himself to grovel for forgiveness in front of the entire Great Hall, which was now completely silent. He smiled somewhat mockingly at Harry, who was still sitting there, and said "Well! I'm sorry to hear that, Potter." His smile widened. "The sex was great, though, while it lasted. Have a nice life!" With that, he went back to his breakfast, even though he wasn't remotely hungry.

He heard Harry get up and whisper, "Bye, love."

Love. Always a touchy subject between them. Harry, being a Gryffindor, had professed his undying Gryffindorish love for Draco early on, maybe a month or two in. Draco, however, had never been able to tell Harry he loved him. The way he saw it, it gave people a way to hurt him. It made Harry his weakness. Not that he wasn't already his weakness, but admitting he loved him sort of made it official. Attention world, if you ever wanted to hurt Draco Malfoy, here's how. Looking back at it, it was a bit of a stupid way to see it, but he was a Slytherin. That's how he thought.

So it seemed the problem was that Draco hadn't appreciated Harry. Well, no. He hadn't ever shown his appreciation. It wasn't his fault! Where was he when everyone learned how to treat people they cared for? How was he supposed to know that when Harry said something stupid, his reaction was allowed to be entirely different than when Pansy said something stupid? Draco suspected this was one of those things that no one told you when you were spawned from one of the oldest and richest pureblood families in the world. Fucking Malfoys. Always screwing things up for him. Draco made a mental note not to keep these sorts of things from his children. Then he remembered that he was a flaming queer and wouldn't be having any children. Unless he adopted or something.

Draco needed a plan. With what he felt was a proper planning style, he began to pace. And promptly tripped on some foreign object on the floor. Mildly furious, he picked up the offending object, which turned out to be a Gryffindor tie. This only served to worsen his mood, not to mention distract him from the task at hand. A plan, that is. He still needed a plan.

Well, he needed to show Harry how much he appreciated him and cared about him.

By doing what, serenading him under the moon! That was a tad preposterous.

It was clear Malfoys were not made for wooing people.

Review? Please? For me?