A/N: Oops, I forgot this for a few hours after posting! Whoops... Anyways, thank you to my wonderful readers and especially reviewers, and a great big huge GIGANTIC thank you to my beta, Aniki the Infamous!

Disclaimer: I don't own.

"Harry," the girl breathed into his mouth.

Harry almost groaned with annoyance.

They all wanted a relationship. And no, the perfectly good excuse of how in his last relationship, his significant other had cheated on him was not enough. But this was different, they all kept saying, Between us two, this is true love. Harry always wanted to hit them when they said things like that, but he refrained, and instead secretly planned the breakup lines with a quiet sense of relish.

The girl pulled back from their kiss to murmur some mushy words at him, and Harry shook his head without allowing the tender words to register.

She frowned at him. "Harry? I just said I loved you. Why are you shaking your head?"

Harry shrugged, and tugged himself farther from her, flattening his back against the bathroom tile. "Look..." He trailed off, and raked his memory cells for the name. "...Jenny. This, between us, can't work. I'm sorry, and I realize you got your hopes up, but I don't enjoy spending any sort of time with you. So I think it would be best if we broke this off now. Before anyone gets too hurt."

Jenny's already flushed face turned redder, and small tears dropped down her cheeks. "But Harry, we belong together, don't we? When you asked me out, you said-"

"I said I didn't want a relationship."

"You said I might be the girl you had been searching for, and you would keep thinking about it!" Jenny cried, and planted the palms of her hands on the tiles to both sides of his head

Harry shrugged again, and side-stepped past her, squeezing himself against the wall and bending his knees to duck under her outstretched arms. "I thought about it. And I realized I was wrong." Jenny broke into another batch of sobs, and Harry walked backwards until he was a few feet from the door. Then he turned and sprinted out.

"So..." Pansy began as she sat down across from Draco and speared a piece of chicken. "Potter broke up with another girl."

Draco waited for a second, and flapped a hand, ignoring the slight tug of depression poking him in the back of the head. "So?"

"So, don't you care?"

"Not particularly. It just means that the Weaselette is hanging herself all over Potter again."

Pansy sighed, and leaned forward in her chair. "Don't you think-"

"Lovely day, isn't it?" Blaise swung his legs over the space on the bench on Pansy's left. "Potter's broke up with a really pretty girl again, Draco. He's a real idiot, do you think he knows that? He's got the ladies falling left and right for him, the hot ones too, and all he does is break up with them."

Draco stared down at his dinner and twirled a fork in his spaghetti while Blaise continued rambling about how stupid Harry was.

"...I mean, take you for an example, Draco. He just throws you away like a ragdoll."

Draco smiled slightly. "Nice to know my place."

Pansy laughed, and grabbed another piece of chicken. "Well, I'm sure the girls will all hug you."

"Actually, I modify that metaphor," Blaise muttered, and stared at the ceiling contemplatively until his head snapped down. "Draco's more like a voodoo doll than a ragdoll. Of death. And depression."

"Makes sense," Pansy stuck the chicken in her mouth and pushed herself up from the table, waiting until she swallowed to speak. "I've got to go study in the library. I'll see you guys in the common room later, alright?"

"Sure, whatever," Blaise muttered, and glanced across the table at Draco as Pansy slid off. "Well, her grades will definitely be better when she finishes, that's for sure. She's been studying in the library a lot."

He paused, and gave a huge grin that made Draco nervous. "Do you think she got a boyfriend?" His grin widened. "Or maybe... a girlfriend? Not the friend kind, that is, but is dating a girl?"

Draco stared at him, and looked over to where Pansy was disappearing behind the doors. "No." He glanced back down at his spaghetti.

Blaise groaned. "You just don't want to think you're the only one without a girlfriend, especially since Potter's the one that broke up with you, and not the other way around. Then you wouldn't care."

"Blaise, you don't have a girlfriend."

"Ruin the mood, why don't you? Besides, I'm working on that--I have my eye on a lovely redhead who's playing hard to get."

Draco looked up from his food and at Blaise. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he stared desperately at him. "Come on, Blaise, don't let it be the Weaslette, please. There are very few non-Gryffindor redheads at this school, and I'd think that my own experiences with Gryffies would teach you not to date them. People will try to sabotage your relationship, but it won't matter because it'll still be your fault."

"Yes," Blaise mused. "Sabotaged relationships are usually my fault, whether they're my own or someone else's."

He sprang up from his seat, and Draco watched him bemusedly.

"Well then! Now we've officially determined I'm an idiot for being about to ask Weasel out, I'm going to go do the asking!"

"Go ahead." Draco glowered at him as the food on the table disappeared, to be replaced by mounds of pudding. "I'll watch you get a black eye from here."

Blaise grinned again. "Aww, don't worry 'bout me, Draco. I've got persuasion techniques!"

Blaise galloped off towards the Gryffindor table, and Draco contemplated the pudding on the table for several seconds. Then he realized the strangest thing about Blaise's words.

"I've got my eye on a lovely redhead who's playing hard to get..." No gender specified.

"I'm an idiot for being about to ask Weasel out." That was... the male gender specified.

But Blaise wasn't gay, right? Back in the hospital wing back after that incident, and many times before that, Blaise had always said that he wasn't gay. Otherwise, though, he would have said Weaselette, not Weasel.

Draco's eyes shot up from the pudding, it momentarily forgotten as his eyes landed on the table he'd been trying not to look at for weeks, and on his ex-boyfriend.

"Weasley!" A voice boomed, and Harry turned around to look for the bearer. Ron turned too, but Hermione had left a few minutes ago for the library. "Could I have a word with you?"

Blaise Zabini bounced on the balls of his feet behind them, in a way that really made Harry doubt his claim those weeks ago about not being gay. Perhaps it was only a stereotypical thing that only gay guys acted girly, but with Zabini you had to doubt it.

Ron snorted. "About what, Zabini? Dessert's here. Shove off."

"I was wondering," Zabini announced, "If you would be at all agreeable to going to Hogsmeade this weekend with me?" His voice, already loud amid the normal speaking levels of the rest of the school, suddenly seemed more gigantic in the room-wide silence following his question.

Ron's face was slowly turning a purplish color, and it flashed varying shades of maroon while darkening. "You prat," he growled as whispers slowly began wafting up into the ceiling. "Like I'd ever go out with you! That's ridiculous!"

"And why not?"

"For-for-" Ron sputtered. "For multiple reasons. Not the least of which, you're a Slytherin p—prat!"

"Now, now, Weasley," Zabini's grin slowly diminished to only a patronizing and thin smile. "I think you ought to listen to me a little. I know some things that could assist your little girlfriend Granger in her quest for knowledge, given that I was provided the correct incentive to release that information. And since I know that you've had a crush on Granger for years, I think you should want me to help her, shouldn't you?"

The whispers drifting around the ceiling increased in a rush, and Harry saw Hufflepuffs sprinting across the hall to share thoughts with their friends.

"Plus, since I've already told everyone about your crush, I think you can guess that I know more things about you that you wouldn't want released into the current gossipy atmosphere of the hall. For instance, like that-"

"Fine," Ron muttered. "Fine, you total bastard Zabini. Have you been stalking me my whole life or what?"

"I've never stalked anyone!" Zabini gasped. "I've only gathered copious amounts of information on people. It's a habit, a collection, of stamps or something. Only instead of stamps, I collect information. It's much more useful."

"Bastard," Ron muttered again.

Harry rolled his eyes. He did have to hand it to Zabini, though, he'd never have thought of blackmail as a proper tactic for asking Ron out, nor collecting information instead of stamps.

"I think you're being a bit repetitive, there. We've already figured out how much of a bastard I am. I'm pretty sure I knew it before you did, actually. So, meet you when they release students to leave to go to Hogsmeade? I usually see you, Granger, and Potter when I'm heading out, so just be around that area." Zabini grinned again and waved flippantly as he turned away.

Harry looked past Zabini then, and at Draco as he stood awkwardly by the hall doors. While the breakup hadn't showed any lines of stress or harmed his appearance in any way really, he looked a smidge thinner, and shorter. Harry took the shortness as both that Draco was standing next to Zabini(who was quite tall on the whole) and was also slouching in a way Harry'd never really associated pureblood wizards with. They'd always sat and stood with their backs straight, even and especially Draco.

There was a shy poke to his shoulder, and Harry glanced to his left. A small Hufflepuff stood, her toes pointed in at each other a little, and her tie so crooked it almost flipped over her shoulder. She had large, old glasses teetering on her freckle-peppered nose, and chestnut hair fell in large tangles down her shoulders. She stared at him nervously.

"Um, Harry... I heard you were single, so..." She trailed off, and looked down at her feet, pushing her glasses up stubbornly. "I was wondering if you would go out with me?"

Harry blinked at her for a few more seconds. He'd seen her around, and in the library when Hermione managed to drag he and Ron there, but she'd generally had her nose shoved in a book deep enough to hide the hideous frames of her glasses. Even though that wasn't quite her fault, Harry couldn't tell why she wouldn't just get rid of them and have Madam Pomfrey fix her eyesight. Unless she thought they were cute?

"Who are you?" He asked.

Ron was distracted from seething about Zabini long enough to glance over, but he went back to muttering in increasing volume after satisfying himself that the girl wasn't a Slytherin.

"Eleanor Bradshaw. I'm a fourth year Hufflepuff." She fiddled with a bracelet hanging loosely from her wrist and bit her lip.

Harry thought for a moment, and then shrugged. She was young, but she would do until he found someone older. Sadly, most of the sixth, seventh, and eighth year girls had already heard that he dumped most of his girlfriends, and if they broke up with him first, he wasn't dejected in the slightest. He'd probably have to start delving into the mines of the fourth and fifth year girls anyway.

"Yeah, okay, I'll go out with you."

"CAN YOU BELIEVE THE NERVE OF THAT PRICK, WALKING OVER HERE AND DARING TO ASK ME IF I WOULD-"

Even though Hermione would've surely been lecturing him on breaking so many girls' hearts and accepting another invitation from a girl he didn't care about, Harry sometimes really wished Hermione was at dinner to calm Ron down. Harry still wasn't quite sure of Zabini's logic of asking Ron out--after all, with Ron's current death threats, Ron would probably lure Zabini into a dark alleyway and gut him.

But perhaps that was all part of Zabini's plan. After all, he didn't seem like a sensible bloke, really.