I think it's funny that when I first met him, I knew everything about him except his name. I knew which house he was in, who his friends were, what classes he had, and even what his favorite food was. However, I did not know his name. I guess you could say that I was obsessed with him. I did often sneak around in my spare time watching him, and during Hogsmeade visits, I went to every store he went to.
As I look back now, I cannot exactly remember why I was so obsessed. Maybe because he was so hard to read, and when you spend your life observing people, watching the emotions play across their face, it's only natural to become obsessed when you find someone you cannot read like a book. He guarded himself so carefully was one thing I noticed, and inside my good-natured heart, I suppose I wanted to find out why as well as I wanted to know his secrets, what made him tick, his thoughts and dreams.
Overall, I suppose I was obsessed with him because I wanted a friend like me. Someone who was afraid to totally be themselves, so they hid behind a mask that the world could see. I wanted to be the one to shatter his mask. I also wanted someone to shatter mine. After years of spewing out nonsense and meaningless crap (as it seems so now), I wanted to be normal. I wanted to give in to conformity, but most of all, I wanted to take out the last person I saw as a threat. If I wanted to give into conformity, for one day not be ridiculed, then I should not have to do it alone.
On the outside, he did look normal, nothing but good looks drew attention to him, but to me, I sensed something more. 'He could have his quirks.' I supposed. 'He could sleep in the nude, play with wax dolls… After all,' I told myself. 'Those are the things that can make a normal person seem not so.'
Looking back now, it all must have been hopeful wishing. That paired along with a terribly large crush and the desire to be needed. I'm all about honesty except in dire situations, but back then, I was definitely lying to myself. I needed him for me to feel it was okay to conform, and now thinking of that makes me wonder how sick my mother must have felt in her grave; she was all about originality.
I once asked Ginny what his name was.
"Ginny, you know that boy over there at the Slytherin table, the tall one with dark hair?" She nodded mutely, intent on getting some last minute studying done before her Potions test. "Do you know what his name is?" She looked over where I pointed and muttered something that sounded like 'Fucking git' and 'Bat Bogey Hex'.
"What was that Ginny?" She scowled at me and her face turned various shades of infuriated red.
"Nothing," She replied, going back to her potions book. "What do you want to know about him for?" She said scathingly as she walked away to potions. "Just forget about him, okay?" I nodded.
I did not try to tell her why I wanted to know his name, because I thought she would not understand. I told myself that I would soon find out what his name was. And I did.
I learned the mystery's boy name in a hallway while I was on my way to class. The four-minute break was almost over, and I wasn't paying any attention when I smacked right into him. We both went sprawling across the floor.
"Hey, watch out!" He yelled. I just waved my hand and began to pick myself up when I heard glass shatter.
"Fuck!" I yelled as I felt cool liquid on my socks. I looked down and saw that my inkbottle had shattered all over my socks and shoes and on my bag. Mystery boy helped me up and muttered 'Scourigfy' and all traces of ink were gone. I felt like an idiot.
"Be careful next time, okay?" He told me, his deep baritone voice rumbling off the walls of the empty hallway. Well, almost empty. I nodded to him and had the distinct feeling I was being watched from behind. I turned around and there was Draco Malfoy staring at us.
"Why are you being nice to her?" He asked Mystery Boy, almost pathetically whining. "That's Loony Lovegood," He started. "Crazy low-life scum and one of Potter's 'golden crowd.'" I rolled my eyes and flipped him off; I didn't much feel like speaking to him at that moment.
"Oh, come off it Draco," Mystery Boy said as Malfoy made a threatening move towards me. "I would've flipped you off myself. You've been strutting about like you own this place ever since you got in that fight with Potter. Give it up already! There's much more bigger battles to be fought. Leave the poor girl alone and let her walk to Charms, and we'll go off to Potions before Slughorn gets too mad and won't take any excuse." Malfoy scowled.
"Alright, alright," Malfoy looked over at me. "You're only getting off the hook because Blaise Zabini's going soft; you hear that? I want full blackmail so I'm letting you go, but if I hear one word about this, Potter won't be able to protect you from the hell I'll give you." It was my turn to scowl, and I did so.
"Harry Potter is not my patron saint," I said icily. "I can take care of myself thank you." He just rolled his eyes and walked down the hall.
"I'm sorry about him," Mystery Boy- Blaise Zabini- said. "He's far too arrogant for his own good." He smiled at me, not smirked, and held out his hand.
"Blaise Zabini," He said, his deep baritone voice really echoing off an empty hall.
"Luna Lovegood." I put my small hand into his large one and we shook. It seemed an eternity, and in that eternity (a few seconds), I felt connected to him; deeply connected. We unclasped hands quickly as Draco called from the far end of the hall.
"Hurry up Blaise! Slughorn's not gonna wait much longer!" Blaise looked at me and nodded his head.
"Another time, Luna."
"Another time, Blaise." We shared a smile and he left. I walked to Charms not even bothering to think up an excuse. I relished in the moment.
I do not think I need to tell you, but I will anyways. There was never another time. The Death Eaters broke into the castle, Dumbledore was killed, the Final War began and everyone scrambled to a side even if it was the wrong one. The last I had heard, Blaise himself was on the neutral side. His family was scorned by both dark and light, and there was an attempt to off him and his mother for their money, but that's all.
After the war, he seemingly disappeared. I guess he did not want to be scorned, for a Slytherin who chose no side could not prosper and be accepted in the world of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and overall good- for Harry had triumphed over Voldemort. And one of the most important things I learned during the war was that you were even more hated if you did not choose a side, just as if you were different in the world of conformity.
I had heard the awful names Blaise was called, and it was something we shared, even though my years of being called Loony Lovegood are over. Moreover, it reminds me of that smile we shared years ago in that empty hallway.
If I were to see Blaise again, I think I would not try to make him change with me and my insecurities, I think I would just share that smile again. After all, it's nice when you find someone you can share something with, isn't it?