I like the idea of a Blaise story, so I went ahead and wrote it. I think he's an interesting character, and there is more to him than meets the eye. Here is just a novel I wrote about how I think he really is-wht he really is.
I own no harry potter characters or anything harry potter.
"No one asked you, Pansy," Blaise snarled angrily at the pesky girl on the train. She had said another idiotic thing in their conversation, and frankly it had annoyed him. He sneered at the girl and she shrunk back into her seat, the leather sinking as she tried to get away from his overburdening gaze. He turned his head back to Draco who had sat silently through the whole exchange.
"And that was my summer," Draco said carefully, "As uneventful as it could be-for a death eater."
Blaise eyed him and nodded, the deep set frown on his face never moving. His dark eyes watched Draco calmly, as if they were void of emotion. His summer was that of a coward, he cowered behind the dark lord at his mansion the whole time, 'master' this and 'master' that-a whole summer of kissing some bloke's arse. It seemed to mundane and rather idiotic to just sit around and do that-even if he believed that man would some day rule the world. The Malfoy's already had enough money to buy power-they don't need any more than that.
"And I suppose your summer was eventful," Draco snarled, seeing the look on Blaise's face after he told him of his summer. Draco knew of what he thought of his service to the dark lord.
"Surprisingly," Blaise drawled. Pansy looked at him and grinned a devious grin.
"You met someone," She charmed in, "Have you finally found someone to your standards Zabini?"
Blaise turned to her and curled up his upper lip.
"It's none of your business, is it Parkinson?" he snapped at her. She smirked at him triumphantly and folded her arms across her chest, her gaze shooting to Draco. Malfoy squinted his face in amusement.
"Really now Blaise?" he asked in amusement, "Was she pretty?"
Blaise turned to Malfoy. He wasn't about to delve into his summer with him.
"She was just a summer fling," Blaise lied, eyeing him with narrow eyes, "Met her when I was on vacation."
"Something exotic then?" Parkinson snickered, "What was she? Some bombshell model from Brazil?"
"It's really none of your business," Blaise said, "It's over now. Just to pass the time. Thought I'd escape for a few months."
"Before we all get locked back into this hell hole," Malfoy mumbled. Pansy shot him a look.
"Oh don't act like you don't agree," he sneered, "This place has gone to the dogs. Potter and his glory pals just strutting around like they own the place. Thank God they aren't here."
"Potter's not here?" Pansy asked.
"Of course not," spat Draco, "They're off doing whatever the hell they do. Trying to save the world again. He doesn't stand a chance now though-it's too late for him."
Blaise didn't say anything. He didn't really care. Draco could pick his side, but Blaise didn't pick any side. The mundane war was simply looming over the edge- and he frankly didn't care who won or lost. It wasn't about winning or losing. People lost their lives. And he would never let anyone know that he cared about others-that he didn't want to see the suffering of lives lost.
He saw her for the first time, walking along the shore of the beach, hand in hand with a young african child. Her long, twisted hair was blowing in the wind-as was her sarong, as she smiled as the small child bounced and played in the waves, holding her hand. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. She smiled as the child bounced and played on the shores of South Africa. He watched from the porch of his seaside mansion as they continued down the beach.
When she was far out of his sight he stepped down into the grass and towards the sand, only to have her look back at him. Her big, wide hazel eyes stared up at him and Blaise suddenly seemed at a loss for anything to function. And then she smiled at him and he lost any brain function. Never had he ever been blinded but something-someone so brilliant as her.
"I'm sorry," She said. Don't be, is what Blaise wanted to say, but he nodded to her. "I didn't realize it was a private beach."
And suddenly Blaise didn't want a private beach in his life anymore-not if such a beautiful angel were there to share it with him-
"Lost in your fairytales again Blaise," Snapped Pansy, shoving him on the shoulder. Blaise looked at her as if she had just splattered him with blood. He frowned and looked down at his black suit jacket.
"Keep your filth to yourself," he murmured to her, shifting in his seat. The looked on Pansy's face was priceless and Malfoy couldn't stifle the laughter that bubbled to his lips. Blaise shot him a look and then turned his attention to out the window.
It was cold here. Much colder than Africa, and for more than one reason. A heavy and dark fog loomed over the bright green hills, dimming them to a haunted color-an omen for what was to come. He watched as the hills rolled on, the skies turning over head. This war was silly, he wasn't even sure what they were fighting for-or against. But if he were to ever voice his thoughts, something terrible would happen to him. His friends (well the people he tolerated) would abandon him. His family would disown him. He might even wind up dead. So those private thoughts, the thoughts for peace remained silent. It wasn't his war, his problem anyway. He just didn't understand why Malfoy had to stick his fat nose into the business.
"We'll be at Hogwarts soon," Malfoy said, "Back to a pitiful excuse for learning. At least Snape's headmaster now-"
"Snape's headmaster?" Pansy asked.
"It's what I just said," Snapped Malfoy at her, "Finally someone competent to run the school."
Pansy frowned but said nothing, shifting back into the seat. Blaise kept quiet too-if Malfoy wanted his opinion he would ask, but he certainly would not enjoy his answer. Blaise leaned over the table and peered out the window now, it was beginning to frost-meaning the dementors were near. The castle loomed on the cliffside in darkness, and Blaise sat back. Malfoy looked out as well and smirked.
"Here already," he said, "But not for long."
The train pulled up to the station and stopped, causing the students in the compartment to stand up. Blaise waited until it was clear before standing up and stretching to his full height, reaching for his overhead leather bag. He stepped out and began moving down towards the exit, back to Hogwarts. He stepped off and was greeted by the eerie darkness and uncomfortable cold.
And suddenly he missed her. But his face remained schooled-a set in frown of displeasure. She wouldn't understand this world, and it was quite fine with him, because he didn't understand her world, no matter how many long hours they sat together and she explained things to him. He tried so desperately to understand what she was saying, and some things he understood, but others he did not. The muggle world seemed cruel compared to the wizarding one. Wars raged daily their. At least wars here were scarce and rare. No wizard went hungry. She explained muggles died daily from loss of food. He couldn't wrap his head around how cruel muggles could be to each other. Maybe he wasn't meant to understand.
He sauntered along the platform toward the carriages, not bothering to wait for anyone. All the underclassmen seemed to scurry out of his way-scared of his presence. A few girls gawked at him-they must have been first years-as he walked by, but he ignored everyone there. No one would appease his appetite, at least no one here had, anyway.
Blaise passed a few teachers-assigned to watching the platform-as he wandered to the carriages. Things were bleak here. He hadn't realized just how dark everything had become here. Dementors hung high in the sky, here to defend the school, teachers became escorts-the school reeked of magical wards and enchantments, an extreme use of power to protect the youth of tomorrow.
And suddenly it became clear to him, children shouldn't be the target of any war, no matter what it's for. Because, they were, after all- still children.