By Mara202

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This fic has just been written for the fun of it, I'm not making any money for it. So please don't sue.

Pairings: eventually Harry/Blaise.

Warnings/classifications: humour, sarcasm, HBP spoilers, disgusting-ness (though Blaise doesn't really do anything disgusting).

Summary: Blaise's mother has a plan, involving her son, a rich Muggle and the Saviour of the Wizarding World. But her plan affects more than just the amount of gold in her Gringott's vault; in fact, it might just change the fate of the entire Wizarding World...

Author's notes: inspired by Blaise's introduction in HBP, especially the information about his mother, the movie , and my own, twisted imagination. :p The original title was 'Wicked Game' (after the song by HIM), but is now after the Muse-song.

Dedicated to my fellow Potent Serpent sailors.

Thanks to teh loffly ABlack for betaing this for me!

Chapter I: The Plan

It's Christmas and I'm at home, sprawled across the couch, reading a book and enjoying the silence, something I don't get the chance of very often at Hogwarts. It's always so noisy there, and you're never really alone.

I sigh contently. Life is good. No annoying Malfoys, boasting about their Death Eater activities; no annoying first-years... Heaven.

Unfortunately, I have to share this apartment with my mother, who chooses this exact moment to open the door.

"Blaisey?"

I roll my eyes, knowing she can't yet see me from where she's standing. Just when I'm happily reading and minding my own business, she has to come in and bother me. And I hate it when she calls me 'Blaisey'; reminds me a little bit too much for comfort of that obnoxious Parkinson-figure...

I sigh in resignation and put down my book. I sit up and straighten my clothes a bit, and, last but not least, put on a expression of mild interest on my face. No reason to irritate my mother if it's not necessary.

"Yes, Mother?" I ask with feigned curiosity.

She has just entered the room, and now sits down in front of me. I notice a slight gleam of anticipation and excitement in her eyes, which, I fear, doesn't bode any good.

My worst fears are confirmed when she says: "I'm going to marry this summer, Blaise."

I groan. Not again...

"Well, congratulations," I drawl, no longer able to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "Does the man in question know this too?"

Mother doesn't notice the obvious sarcasm, or chooses to ignore it. "He's rich." Gee, what a surprise. "And a Muggle," That, however...

I fight the impulse to blink - that would make me look quite silly - and raise my eyebrows. "A Muggle," I repeat, tonelessly.

"Yep!" Mother says enthusiastically, "and you're going to help me get him rid of his money."

"You're not going to... dispose of him like the previous seven?" I ask, faintly surprised. All of her previous husbands had died a 'mysterious death', and had left her mounds of gold.

"Nope, Now that you're seventeen, I can use more... refined methods." The cheerfulness of her voice makes me think I'm not going to like these 'refined methods' of hers.

I sigh and ask the inevitable question: "And what exactly, pray tell, is my role in your grand scheme of seduction?"

She doesn't say anything about my rudeness, but instead smiles rather maniacally. "Indeed, 'scheme of seduction'. And this time I won't be the only seducer."

Two months later, I'm lying on my bed in the Slytherin dormitory, reading a book - again. It's three AM, and my roommates are sound asleep, finally giving me the silence I need to read.

I've had the privilege of being kept up-to-date with my mother's achievements by owl, so I know that she's employed at the company of the man she's trying to seduce - in fact, she's his personal secretary.

If I wouldn't be so disgusted with my mother's practices, I'd have to applaud her for her effective methods. The fact that she is a Metamorphmagus - which not many people know - helps her a lot, of course. She uses her ability to look like she's twenty-five, and to... enhance some good qualities.

I shake my head. I'd almost pity the poor man. Caught as in a spider's web; he never really had the chance to escape anyway. My mother doesn't let the person who caught her eye, get out of her clutches.

The man - undoubtedly with some 'help' from my mother - has apparently got promoted, and divorced his wife. Now it's only a matter of time before the wedding is announced...

About a month later, Mother announces happily that she's going to Las Vegas with her victim. Some alcohol, magic, and Las Vegas in general should do the trick. This time she didn't owl me, but used the Floo Network. I'm talking to her head now.

"And after that, it's your turn, Blaise!" the head says.

I sigh, something I seem to be doing quite often lately. "Remind me why exactly I'm going to help you? I really couldn't care less what you do with your husbands." As long as I don't have to witness it, I mentally add.

But then I remember something I'd almost forgotten: my mother had been in Slytherin...

"Would you care more if I tell you I'll disown you if you don't help me?" she asks sweetly.

I splutter, "What? You can't do that!"

She smirks. "Oh yes I can. You don't have any money of yourself; my husbands left their money to me, not you, why would they leave their money to a child that wasn't even their own?"

"But..." I want to say, "Dumbledore will let me return if I explain," but then I remember Dumbledore is no longer Head of Hogwarts. Damn.

Mother seems to have followed my train of thoughts, and smirks again, "Do we have a deal?"

I sigh again, and nod.

I knock on the door of Mr. What's-his-name's office. I quickly check the spells Mother cast upon me, and conclude that they're perfectly all right. Mother slipped a potion in his tea, so I probably won't need the spells, but you can never be too sure...

"Enter."

I open the door and suppress the overwhelming urge to sigh, again. Behind the desk, a fat man, probably in his forties, with more chins than brain cells, is doing paperwork. I look at the ceiling, as if hoping that an unknown deity will come to my aid. Why, oh why, couldn't my mother have chosen a little bit younger, more attractive person?

It is that she promised me I won't have to do anything really disgusting - merely undo some buttons -, and that she'll see to it that someone walks in on us at the right time. Otherwise, disowned or not, I would never even have considered doing this. But as it is, I walk towards the desk, rest my hands on it and lean slightly forward.

"Hello," I purr, feeling immensely disgusted with myself, "I heard a rumour about some extremely handsome and intelligent man taking over this company."

He hadn't taken his eyes from the papers in front of him when I entered, but now he looks up and lets his eyes wander over me. I'm wearing a nice suit, without tie, and have left half the buttons of my shirt casually unbuttoned.

He's all but drooling - the potion seems to be working fine - as I move around the desk and sit down on his lap. I start undoing his tie - a striped one in navy and red - very slowly, hoping someone will walk in before I have to go much further than a tie and some buttons, even though I know that hope is in vane. Unless I'm very much mistaken, my mother has a way of knowing exactly what is happening here, and I have a hunch that she won't interrupt before he's in a really embarrassing position.

Ten buttons and some very insincere whispers later, still no one has entered the room. I wonder if the man - who's name I never even bothered to memorize - notices my lack of enthusiasm, but looking at his glassy eyes, I guess he's too surprised by the events and befuddled by the potion my mother gave him to even notice it if a Pixie danced across the room.

I silently pray to every possible deity to get me out of this, and, after a mental sigh, start undoing the man's trousers.

Fortunately for me, at that exact moment I hear someone walk towards the door. I mentally leap for joy and - pretending not to have heard the doorknob turning - continue fidgeting with the zip.

"Uncle Vernon!" a vaguely familiar voice exclaims in shock.

I pretend to be surprised, jump up - meanwhile strategically totally unzipping his pants - and hide behind the so-called, 'Uncle Vernon', hoping this qualifies as embarrassing enough in Mother's opinion.

But then...

"Zabini?"

I look. Potter? What the hell is he doing here?

For the first time in my existence, my mother actually seems to be good for something. She storms in, exclaims "Vernon! How could you?" and shoos Potter and me out of the room, so that she can scream at the shocked-looking 'Uncle Vernon' without onlookers.

I follow Potter as he walks to the empty canteen one floor lower. He sits down, his face showing a mixture of shock and disgust.

After about a minute of staring, he says: "That was really disgusting, you know. I think you might've scarred me for the rest of my life."

Is he serious? I look at him dubiously, and see the corners of his mouth twitch slightly. I grin and say: "Well, then at least I achieved something."

He laughs, not entirely at ease, but at least he isn't cursing me. "But honestly, why did you do... that?"

Shall I tell him? After some moments of contemplation, I decide that I don't have anything to lose by telling him. "If you promise not to tell your uncle. . . I don't want to get into trouble with my mother." I trust that - as a good Gryffindor - his hero-complex kicks in at those last words.

As I expected, he slightly inclines his head, thus indicating his agreement.

"You know about my mother, right?" As he nods, I continue, "Well, this was actually a new method of helping someone get rid of his money, in this case, your uncle. Here I quote directly: 'Now that you're of age, I can use more... refined methods'."

Potter looked utterly appalled. "You let her use you?"

"Hey!" I say indignantly, "I didn't really have a choice, you know. She threatened to disown me!"

His mouth forms a silent 'Oh'.

"And she promised me she'd let someone walk in before things got too disgusting. All I had to do was undo some buttons so that it looked like he was, well, cheating on her. He was too befuddled by her potion to remember anything." I'm not a whore, you know, I silently add. I hate it when people have a wrong impression of me.

"Ah..." He nods. "That's why she called me. She said my uncle had to talk to me about something, and since I had nothing better to do, I decided to give it a shot." He shrugs, trying to look indifferent, but I see a glimpse of... something in those very green eyes.

I can't help being curious about the famous Boy-Who-Lived. "So what does your average Saviour of the Wizarding World do during the holidays?" I ask nonchalantly.

His response is quick and rather curt, "I'd rather not be called that. As for your question: I haven't done anything interesting."

He's hiding something. I know it.

I make a new attempt to break the ice. "So you live with your uncle?"

"Yes," he answers, reluctantly. "I had to return to my aunt's house every summer, but this year, when I returned, I found out that Uncle Vernon had divorced her. Petunia was furious, and had not only demanded half his money, but also that he take me. She's always hated me," he added as an afterthought.

"Wow. I... didn't know," I say, truthfully.

He shrugs. "Most people don't. And I don't care. It's just one more week, and then I'm going to the Burrow. To the Weasleys'," he clarifies, as he sees my blank expression.

That could have caused an uncomfortable situation, since I'd learned that Harry had overheard the conversation in which I said something that contained the words 'Weasley' and 'blood traitor', but at that moment, there's a giant crash above us. It sounds like at least a whole desk has fallen down.

I look at Potter, the same moment he looks at me. We burst out laughing.

"Well, since we're practically relatives now," he says after a while, pulling a face, "I think it's appropriate to introduce ourselves again. I mean, in the train, with Slughorn, wasn't really... well..."

I smile slightly and extend my hand. "Blaise Pascal Zabini, pleased to meet you." And strangely enough, I am. The so-called Saviour of the Wizarding World is nothing like I thought he was.

He takes my hand and shakes it. "Harry James Potter, the pleasure is all mine."

Please review if you liked this chapter! Or if you didn't, but please keep it polite! Thanks! -lowers voice- You get a chocolate chip cookie if you review!

I know this chapter was er... slightly disgusting, but Blaise didn't really have to do anything disgusting. He merely had to undo some buttons and stuff so that it seemed like, well... you know. Next chapters will be better, I promise!

Thanks for reading!