Exorcism of the Truth - H.P.

“Do you love him?” she asks. You look up at her, tears streaming down your eyes, which are puffy because you’ve cried so much. Like a baby.

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Because you don’t know the answer. For the first time in your life, you don’t know the answer for a question. You can tell everyone what is a mandrake and win five points to your house. You can make the Draught of Peace, you can save your friend from the Devil’s Snare, you can distinguish each potion and you can name all the characteristics of a werewolf. You can solve the hardest riddle. But you can’t answer the shortest, most direct question one has ever asked you.

You keep on looking at her, like she’s lunatic. But then again, that’s what everyone thinks of her. That’s what you used to think of her, before you became good friends with her. After all, she’s Luna “Loony” Lovegood and, even now, you question herself about her mental health… But her sanity is not the problem right now.

The problem is she just touched the wound. And it hurts. She reached a place you never wanted to go. You knew it existed, but you never dare go there. Because you’re afraid. And you’ve hid it for years. And now someone comes back to it. And your reaction is to stay open-mouthed, not knowing what to say.

“I-I… don’t understand what you’re talking about…”

“Do you love Harry, Hermione? Is that why you’re crying?”

“No, I’m crying… because of…”

“What?”

You look at her, your eyes begging. You know you know the answer. But you don’t want to admit it. You can’t speak it aloud, because it will make it real. If you can just keep on ignoring, it won’t…

“Just answer, Hermione. Honestly.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You do, you know you do. You just don’t want to admit it. But you will.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t, I don’t.” you burst in tears, because of the pain. The pain of knowing and yet not knowing. The pain of wanting to know and not wanting to know. “And I… I don’t care! I don’t want to know!”

“Because you’re afraid?”

“Because my life’s already bad. Because I’ve had my share of suffering. Because Harry’s had his share of problems. And I don’t want him bothered. I want him to enjoy life, without… I want to enjoy life, without love. I don’t need love… It’s caused me enough trouble!” You’re screaming. The pain is getting stronger. You’re suffocating. You’re drowning into your own doubts. You’re going under. Unconsciously diving into contradiction. You know the answer, you do. You say you hate love and you don’t want to love, but love’s what drove you here. Love is what you want. What you’re needing.

“Are you sure?” she keeps calm. And that also drives you insane. Look! An insane person can stay sane in a conversation this emotional… And you’re screaming like mad, you, who knows when to keep calm, a quick-thinking girl, you, Hermione Granger, you’ve been sane throughout all your life, but this simple question changed your life in a minute. She keeps calm, sitting in front of you like she’s talking about an ordinary thing, even though you’re acting like mental and crying like a baby.

“Hermione, are you sure? Are you sure you don’t want to love? Are you sure love isn’t what you’re needing right now?

Your head is aching. Looks like your life is going to end. Right now. And all of your confessions have to be made in the following seconds. Just say it, Hermione. Just end this. You can make the pain stop by saying what you know is true. Why don’t you stop it? Time is going by. If you keep yourself being tortured this way, you’re going to die. “I. don’t. know.” Your voice is shaky. You are not speaking the truth, and you know it. But why do you keep following the path that looks easier? The path that will, in the future, make you succumb to your darkness and leave you all alone. Is that what you want?

“You can’t keep on running away from this, Hermione. You know you can’t. It’s worse to suffer for not loving than for loving.”

You start screaming louder. That’s it. You’re completely insane. Nothing can save you now. You feel like you’re being squeezed by four walls, which keep on getting tighter, and tighter. You’re getting claustrophobic. You breathe heavily. And then you restart screaming. And it’s worse. It’s like an exorcism. An exorcism of the truth. A truth you don’t want to be true. You can’t hear anything besides your shattered voice of crazyness.

“I DO. I DO, I LOVE HARRY POTTER. BUT I DON’T WANT IT. I CAN’T. AND I WILL FORGET HIM, MARK MY WORDS. BECAUSE I CAN’T AFFORD TO SUFFER FOR LOVE MORE THAN I ALREADY HAVE. I CAN’T!”


And you die… Don’t you? That’s what it looks like. You don’t see anything. You don’t hear anything. Yet you can feel the tears streaming down your face. Your swelled eyes shut. You can feel your heart beating quickly. You can feel the warmth of a hand stroking your bushy hair. And you start hearing… He’s whispering on your ear. You can’t understand what, exactly… but you think they’re lullabies. Because you’re starting to drift into a peaceful sleep. And your heart is getting quieter.

You open your eyes just to see where you are. You can’t define the place properly, but you think it’s a beach. And it’s sunny. And you can hear the waves and the seagulls sing. And the sand is white and feels soft under your feet, which curiously are bare. And there’s a warm breeze which makes you feel comfortable and makes your hair flutter a bit. And the sea is so clean. Such a clear blue you loose yourself on it. And it feels like home.

“What happened? Where am I? Is this a dream? A nightmare?” You close your eyes again, leaning on the chest of your saviour. “The antidote for my madness? Or just a part of it?”

“This is your madness.” You know this voice. You look up at him. His dark hair also flutters with the breeze and his emerald eyes are smiling at you. You shiver and close your eyes again, leaning once more against his chest. Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know it was him. You just were afraid it was all of your imagination.

“Look, Harry… I…” Your lips get dry. Your throat is getting sore.

But you don’t need to say anything. He puts a finger to your lips to shut you and speaks. “I know. I heard you. I entered the room when you were screaming…” He pauses for a little bit and even without looking you know his gaze is lost in this place, because it makes him feel calmer. Like the world has stopped. “And I love you too.”

He kisses your forehead and hugs you tighter. And you lean even more against him, inhaling his perfume. And it feels good. It feels like you belong there with him. It feels like home.