Hello, and welcome to my new story, which was inspired by Immortal Sailor Cosmos. This is (I hope) different from my other stories, in that I am doing my hardest NOT to make it angstish or anything like that. My oneshot Stolen Moments is sort of the prequel to this story. It tells you where Ron, at least, is coming from. This story, though is told entirely from Blaise's POV, and that's all I'm going to tell you. (Oh, and by the way? In case you were wondering, JK Rowling lives in England, not America. Clearly then, I am not her. Just in case you might have forgotten.)

1: In which Blaise makes a foolish promise

Blaise Zabini had problems. No only was his mother getting another new husband: another millionaire who ignored his good sense and saw only her beauty, but his best friend Draco couldn't help being blissfully in love and he, Blaise, wasn't. Oh, it wasn't that there was a lack of choices: half the girls in the school would happily sell their souls to be his girlfriend, but none of them interested him. He'd briefly toyed with Pansy, but she was empty headed and dull, and he didn't like her much anyway. Besides, he was coming to realize that it wasn't girls he wanted anyway. It had taken him a very long time to admit it, but he finally opened his eyes and faced the truth: he, Blaise Zabini, only son of the dazzlingly gorgeous and fantastically rich Syd Zabini, was gay.

Draco had been remarkably unhelpful when Blaise had come to him. Or, rather, Draco had burst out into furious laughter and explained to Blaise that he'd known for years. It took all of Blaise's self-control to keep from cursing his friend on the spot. Instead, he contented himself with a dark scowl. "It's all right for you," he said. "Your father doesn't care."

Draco only grinned. "Too true," he agreed, leaning back and surveying Blaise through amused gray eyes. "And will your mother?"

Blaise shrugged. "I have no idea," he informed Draco. "But I'm rather afraid to tell her."

Draco snorted. "Why? Are you afraid of her fearsome reputation?"

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe," he admitted.

Draco laughed. "It must be terrible," he said, his voice oozing mock sympathy. "I can't imagine what it must be like to be so afraid of your parents."

Blaise scowled. "Watch it," he warned.

Draco twirled his wand lazily. He raised a cultured eyebrow, then, more quickly than Blaise could follow, singed off his friend's eyebrows. "I think you should watch it," he drawled. "I appear to be faster than you."

Blaise's mouth twisted. "Touché," he said, regrowing his eyebrows. "So do you have anything useful to say?"

Draco smirked. "Has anyone caught your eye yet?"

"No," Blaise said, a touch too quickly, doing his best to banish the completely unwanted mental image of red hair and gangly limbs.

Draco, curse him, was quick, though, and his smirk turned to a full-blown grin. "Who is it?"

Blaise shook his head. "I can burn your eyebrows off too, you know," he warned.

"Can you?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow in bored disbelief. "Somehow, I doubt it."

Blaise scowled, knowing Draco was right. Blaise might be good, but Draco had always been better.

"So, which Prince Charming have you found to pin your heart on?" Draco asked again.

Blaise sighed, knowing there was no way around it. "Weasley," he admitted. "And if you tell Potter, I will put frog spawn in your food and you will eat it."

Draco stared at Blaise for a single, wide-eyed moment, then burst into gales of furious hilarity. Blaise watched him, arms crossed, his expression resigned. When Draco seemed to be calming down, Blaise inquired dryly, "Are you quite finished?"

Draco nodded, a smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

Blaise sighed. "How much do I have to pay you to keep quiet?" he asked, already reaching for his wallet.

Draco shook his head. "Not money," he said, and Blaise's heart sank unpleasantly. When Draco turned down money, you knew it had do be bad.

"What do you want, then?"

Draco grinned, a wicked, scheming grin that made Blaise even more uncomfortable. "Not much," he assured his friend.

"What is it, Draco?" Blaise demanded, touching his wand with his free hand.

"Spend the summer with me."

Blaise blinked. "That's it?"

Draco nodded. Blaise's eyes narrowed. "What's the catch?" he demanded suspiciously. This was too simple for Draco. Surely there must be more to it than just spending time together. Images of being forced to clean the house or wait on Potter hand and foot flashed through Blaise's mind, and he sighed.

"No catch," Draco assured him, his eyes wide with transparent innocence. "Aren't I allowed to spend time with my friend?"

"You spend your summers with Potter somewhere where your parents can't find you," Blaise reminded him dryly. "If you're inviting me, then you have a plan. I'd rather just pay you cash."

Draco shook his head, grinning. "No. Spend the summer with me – allsummer, mind you – or I tell Harry and he'll inform Weasley."

Blaise sighed, knowing he had no choice. "Fine," he snapped, putting his wallet back into his pocket.

Draco grinned. "You'll like this, I promise," he assured Blaise standing and stretching like a rather large feline. "It's for your own good." With one last smile, he left the common room, leaving Blaise supremely wary. He'd found that anything Draco did 'for his own good' ended badly, and he was not looking forward to this one. Still, all they were doing was spending the summer together. What was the worse that could happen?