Blaise Zabini was a background character. Blaise Zabini had learned to be in the background. A wallflower, if you would. He was always there, watching, observing and calculating. He vaguely remembered a time where he held the semblance of a personality, maybe some snark. He distinctly remembered the time he'd spent wooing girls left and right, their attention a sort of routine, something he'd picked up from his mom that gave him a tingling of satisfaction.
Blaise had been a carbon copy of his mother until he arrived at Hogwarts. Nobody dared to criticize him at home. The house elves and nannies were far too afraid to offend the 'young master,' and he had never cared for the stepfathers who came and went. He only cared about his father, though all he remembered of him was silence. When the the Slytherin's had not so discreetly bullied him for the nasty rumors' surrounding his mother, he hadn't wanted to inform her. He felt ashamed, like he'd turned back into the crying child that constantly turned to the absent woman for her attention. Like covering a wound flooding with pus, he turned inward and found solace near the walls. His grades improved for sure, now that he wasn't distracted with the hundreds of girls he'd been busy flirting with.
The new Blaise Zabini was quiet, studious and impeccably charming. Perhaps he truly was part Veela, though he doubted his mother would ever tell him. Or perhaps, the newer generation of students simply had questionable taste, the crave for a misunderstood, silent heir of a dirty household set alight. Of course, no one said that out loud, but the walls had ears and Blaise had long since joined them. Ironically, even though Blaise remembered nothing of his father, he was sure the Blaise right now would be the closest to him. Over the years, the wallflower persona solidified itself and evolved. He wasn't staying silent because he no longer wanted the attention, both good or bad, now he was silent because that's what made a proper Slytherin. At least, in his opinion. He thought the Syltherins should be more mindful of how they acted. The pretentious flaunting they did only adding to the criticism and scrutiny directed at the house. Perhaps that's why he wasn't specially inclined to the bullying. Sure there were far more disgusting filthy half-breeds prowling the halls but they hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. Their magic would die out or their incompetence would finally start to show and then all their stupid facades would come crumbling down. Then, and only then, could the noble and pure houses thrive in the glory of the half-breeds' downfall.
Blaise never understood why he entertained the company of Draco Malfoy. He was the true definition of a dumb blonde, all the noble lineage spent on him wasted like the insults he spewed ever so often. It wasn't just that, however many slurs Draco used, he was still a fourteen-year-old boy and it showed. He acted like a child who's toys had been stolen if anyone ever focused on something other than him and his ever so convenient excuse of letting Lucius Malfoy know was getting redundant. Truthfully, Blaise knew he hated Draco because he had something Blaise would never have. A father, a mother or in general, an adult worthy of being confide in. The pleasantness of Draco's company came with Theodore Knott. Though Theo and Blaise acted as confidants to Draco it was obvious he didn't want them as permanent company. Draco wanted followers and neither of the two could offer that. Theo was an anomaly to Blaise because as much as he talked to them, he never served a true purpose. He was as much of a background character as Theo was but it felt less intentional than Blaise's did. Theodore was like moth drawn to the flame, he scurried around and tried to fit in, only to be told time and time again that he was far too weak. His notions were bland, beliefs fraying at the edges and the only companionship he could keep was with his books.
The reason why Theo liked Blaise so much was because he thought he found a kindred spirit. Blaise would pale at the thought, disgusted as being similar to that wiry creature but Blaise never knew and thankfully never cared enough to dwell on why exactly Theo stuck around so much. Similarly, Draco only hung out with the two to show off his status, like shiny trophies that meant very little. He found Crabbe and Goyle, the two infamous henchmen, dull, for the lack of a better word. Meanwhile Blaise, often excelling at both potions and charms while managing his painfully boring lectures of History of Magic, and Theodore, the only possible mad scientist wizard you could ever meet (he may have gained a better had he not been tinkering and been actually inventing something of importance), still held more knowledge in their pinkies than Crabbe nor Goyle ever would. Blaise thought it was Draco's way of accepting the flaws of his friends (henchmen), because he tried to cover them up by hiding and erasing their existence. Still the two followed him loyally so, truly, there was very little to doubt about their intelligence.
Blaise found the conversation was as bland as ever as he buttered himself some toast. Draco was nowhere to be found but Blaise knew he was probably chasing after 'Potter'. Theo was close by, his face twisted in his almost manic smile. The expression was so synonymous with him that Blaise didn't care to comment on it and handed him the toast he'd been buttering. Then he was back to the melancholy of his thoughts, the utter loathing for the school and the emptiness that hadn't stopped gnawing at him. He was bored, he realized, as he folded the paper napkin over until it had become a crumpled ball. For all his fourteen years of life Blaise Zabini had never felt bored because he thought he was above it. Now sitting in the crowded hall, all he could wish for was to be away, enjoying and doing something. Anything.
He should have known that never indulging before would have made him a bore. It also made sure that the only way he could find ample amusement was by doing what he did best, observing. He first tried to scrutinize the magical creatures they had for lessons. That soon became more boring than watching paint dry. Not that he had any experience with such Muggle pastimes. Next, he took to observing people. It wasn't like they ever noticed anyway, they only cared for what was in their immediate vicinity that could directly impact them drastically. Blaise had first observed Hermione, the more interesting part being her intelligence despite the ignorance she'd lived most of her life through. Soon she proved to be as predictable as the sun rising from the East, nothing ever changed in her clear cut routine. Infact, the most enjoyment he got out of her was her punching Draco and that had happened over an year ago.
Blaise's next target was Pansy because she loitered around him long enough for him to care and her constant fights with Hermione made it easier to be familiar with her. Parkinson was the constant arm candy glued to Draco's arm and her most significant feature was her voice, impossibly high and grating. Sometimes Blaise would think that there was a certain appeal to it, he found it bearable the same way maniacs enjoy the sound of nails on a blackboard. Other times he considered hexing himself for the ridiculous thoughts. Blaise felt like he was losing his intelligence the more he tried to quell his boredom. Perhaps boredom was something that required an exchange of intelligence to be thwarted. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Pany was just about as dull as Hermione just in a more two-dimensional manner. She hardly existed if Draco didn't and even then she was only an accessory.
Beyond disappointed by his picks, Blaise decided to seek company in Luna Lovegood. Majority of what he knew of her came from the fact that she was insane and a pure-blood. It was also within her company that he began to wonder the validity of pure-blood nature. Perhaps inbreeding was the lead cause in her skewed mentality? Or perhaps she was dropped on her head as a child? Luna, another dweller of the outskirts of other's lives, had noticed Blaise almost immediately. She was fascinated that he cared about whatever invisible creatures she claimed existed. Truly, Blaise didn't care, but for some reason he found it harder to express this thought to the witch, so he listened and then he nodded. She debated on the topic of blood purity often and perhaps by association, Blaise also adopted those views. He was no longer sure of what was true and what was false, nor was he sure if he was even right. Luna managed to entertain Blaise far into his sixth year before the conflicting sides caused a rift in their friendship. Blaise hadn't cared as much as he let on and found his attention refocused to a red-head.
Ginny Weasley sauntered into his world when Pansy had made a teasing comment. The comment brought on a bout of anger that he hadn't expected, yet it wasn't for the same reason he had originally wanted. He felt averse to the thought of paying attention to a woman, a blood traitor as well, than he had ever felt in his entire life. Blaise wasn't sure if his perception got altered through his mother or perhaps the introspective and open-minded Luna had planted an unwanted seed of desire into his life. He was confused, back to being a child who was looking at the world through an untainted gaze. Unable to understand his feelings he found himself turning at the slightest hue of red, this meant that she not only started paying attention to Ginny but also to her assortment of brothers. Still, he paid the most insignificant parts of his attention to his hobby, people-watching, for now the NEWTS were nearing and he had to redouble his efforts to study.
In his Potions class Blaise noticed the same red hair that had been plaguing his thoughts for a while. Except now, it was Ronald Weasley, the unassuming and least interesting brother of the family. He was freckled and lanky looking, his gait awkward and almost bumbling. Without much surprise, Blaise noted that it was a lack of confidence that was ailing him. He looked no worse than the rest of his family, and perhaps, he thought with interest, he could be more prominent with enough work put into him. Blaise realized with sarcasm that perhaps he truly was shifting away from the same notions on blood purity to something more foreign and wild. From then on, he noticed how his attention flickered to the red head, the more unconventional object of his interest. For some reason, observing Ron felt all the more taboo, sacred and exhilarating. Blaise has spent over an year of his life trying to pry Ron open through his interactions and all he'd learned was that Ron had a talent for singing, and even better one for cooking and that he was mighty good at Wizard Chess.
On a bleak and rainy morning, Blaise found Ron fast asleep, a pile of books beside him. Unwillingly, a small smile curled at his lip and he was tempted to brush an unruly strand out of Ron's hair. Instead he set up a game of Wizard Chess. Blaise moved a few pieces randomly but with intention. Once it started to look like a half abandoned game, he decided to tap Ron on his shoulder and wake him up. His response was entertaining as ever,
"Bloody hell!" Ron shot up from the books, his unruly hair even more messy. Again, Blaise fought down the urge to fix it. Ron looked around as if afraid Hermione would appear before he focused his gaze on Blaise. Ron frowned, "here to come make fun of me have you?"
Blaise could tell with the way Ron looked at him, that he had no idea who Blaise was. The smile widened and he shook his head, "I was playing Wizard Chess," Blaise gestured to the abandoned board. "My friend left, but I felt like it was such a waste to not finish the game"
As expected, an almost childish joy crept into Ron's eyes and soon the Slytherin and Gryffindor were seated on opposing sides. Blaise realized that he'd begun to focus on Ron's gestures more than the game itself. The way his pinkie tapped his knee while he was deep in thought and the subtle way his brows relaxed when he found a winning move. Blaise was more pleasantly surprised to realize that Ron was quite adept at the game as well, easily maneuvering him to a checkmate. A sudden fire erupted in his chest and Blaise found a source of excitement so novel that a slightest of chuckle escaped his lips. His thoughts on blood purity now under question with both Luna's and Ron's unknowing support made him feel both free and betrayed by what he had learned so diligently.
Blaise's routine started to involve hasty session's of Wizard Chess, a activity he picked up in order to win against Ron. Ron never spoke to him after that, Blaise wasn't sure if Ron even remembered who he was, but that day had been like a revelation. He no longer saw the rest of the world as boxes waiting to be filled with pure-bloods, half-bloods or even muggle-borns. It further supported his ideologies that the death-eaters weren't just crude and barbaric, but also wrong in their motives. Blaise had decided which side of the war he was fighting for before it had even begun. He was going to flee.
When the battle happened, Blaise was far away from the school and even the wizarding world itself. His mother paid no attention to his trifles, secretly glad that the conflict took place without them. Blaise wanted to learn. He wanted to see exactly how different muggles and wizards were, how different the way they solved problems were, and then he found himself in the heart of London staring at the winding streets and abandoned shops. His wand was tucked securely into his coat and surely he could magic up a few pounds and buy all of them had he wanted. Yet his feet carried him towards a stationery shop, a printing shop, whatever you wanted to call it. He knocked on the door, stepped in and his inherent charisma seeped out. The parts of his personality he'd stuffed somewhere down in his heart emerged and he began to work at the printing shop. It was a measly sum of money but he was in it for the experience, not for the wages. Blaise knew that given enough time, he'd be able to expand his reach to the muggle world and maybe integrate himself into it too.
The next time Blaise met Ron was on an odd street in London, probably some portkey placed there. Blaise had been on his way to work, his own real estate agency set up after he had switched jobs from here and there and learned the ropes. He'd also taken to opening a small school, his own desire to learn and explore ebbing into his ambitions to allow others the same freedom. He felt successful when his business flourished, even happy.
Ron looked older than he had at the library, a strange confidence coursing through his veins that made Blaise want to associate with him. Part of him wondered if this was some left over affection that carried over, for he still practiced Wizard Chess religiously, but the other part knew that the red head had touched a very special corner in his heart. Blaise had yet to even make a smudge on the canvas called Ron but his own heart felt full of the shade of red, of the shade of his smile and even the freckles that dotted his cheeks. Ron wasn't handsome in the same way Blaise was, but seeing his own figure in the mirror had long tired him and Ron's eccentric, stringy, even, stature caused something to blossom. Blaise had not know what this feeling was a few years ago but his odd letter here and there to Luna had him accepting the fact as if it were his birthright.
A small hop in his step carried Blaise closer to Ron, his hand slipping in to pull out his wand. A harmless jinx sped out and accurately hit a pebble, tripping Ron over without giving him enough suspicion that he had been hexed. The red-head stumbled long enough for him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Blaise walked at a steady pace and right before Ron could get up, he extended his gloved hand. Ron's head tilted upwards and their eyes met, sending a happy jolt through Blaise.
"Are you okay?" Blaise asked as he pulled Ron to his feet
Ron nodded, his brows furrowed as if trying to recall an equation. His gloves and clothes were new, Blaise noted while Ron contemplated his next words, the financial situation of the family had obviously improved.
After a minute Ron said, "Have we met before?"
Blaise smiled again, he seemed to be doing that quite a lot, "I'd tell you if you can spare me a game of Wizard Chess"