You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go.
(Samson, Regina Spektor)
Truth as a concept in and of itself, as Hermione is almost 99% certain, is a complete and utter fallacy. There is no absolution in life, no black and white, no certainty. Nothing is set in stone. There are of course books, printed and bound in their permanence, and numbers. Important things like those which ironically are not as important to the state of one's being.
But there is no magic book or numerical formula to generate happiness. Otherwise, she would know.
In retrospect she should have taken this inherent knowledge that truth is, in fact, rubbish – and kept it in the forefront of her mind like a glaring floodlight. Otherwise, how is she to protect herself from lies? If she expects no truth, then she can never be hurt from the lack of it.
Rather, if she expects no truth other than her own, she will never be let down. It's always possible to lie to yourself, but it's impossible not to recognize the lie or the act of telling it. Every single person in the world possesses a different version of truth. All she wants is her own, the reality she knows without a doubt that will not fail her. She can lie to herself but it will never be a good, true lie. She will always know everything in her own head.
It's a difficult time she lives in, what with the war and all those blasted death eaters sneaking around, and Hermione knows that while she has her parents and her friends from school and Harry and Ron – sweet, sweet Ronald – at the end of the day all she has is herself.
And what can sway her from this base knowledge? It's something simple she has taken to like glue. It is the easiest way, she swears by it. The easiest way, the easiest way.
It's sad. She doesn't know what flipped the switch and brought her upon such a negative view of the world. How is it to live when you can barely breathe for fear of alerting an enemy to your presence?
She's ruined to a certain degree beyond outside help. It doesn't take someone with marks like hers to understand that at the very core of their beings people are easily damaged. She's experienced too much and seen too many bad things to continue without putting up walls. And she'll be damned if she lets anybody past her walls. She's never completed a task at which she only gave half her effort – slacking is for stupid people, and ferrets. There's no influx of emotion that she can't readily anticipate, no endangering of her mind any further. She's certain of these facts, moreso than anything else she has ever bothered to memorize.
00
The Order of the Phoenix was a hard place to be. Since Draco Malfoy had abandoned the Dark Lord and joined the cause, the dynamic had changed. For one, all of the younger members that had been in school with him were extremely uncomfortable. The older members seemed to feel the same at first, but Malfoy had explained his story to Lupin and Moody and gained their favor. This alone left Hermione speechless: how someone could trust a lying, conniving twit was beyond her. But that was why he hadn't chosen, say, her to tell his life story to when asking to join The Order. Hermione knew next to nothing about him and, therefore, his motivation as well as the situation itself.
On that particular evening the sky was darkening outside of 12 Grimmauld Place and Hermione sat solemnly on the sofa watching Harry pace. He walked in tense silence, seemingly at war with himself, for a very long time.
"Do you think we can trust Malfoy to come with us?"
Hermione's eyes flicked between Harry and the clock. "I'm not sure. But if Remus and Alastor believe him about the horcruxes – and who knows how he managed to convince Moody – then I suppose we have no choice but to trust him."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You trust him?"
"No," she said quickly. "I just meant that for now we'll have to listen to what they say and go along with the plan." She paused to take a breath. "A plan that now includes him."
Harry thought briefly before nodding and running a hand through his tousled hair. "I suppose you're right. And Malfoy is decent at magic. He'll be useful. I guess that means he's coming with us, then. For real."
Hermione took a deep breath. "To destroy the horcruxes and end this war once and for all," she said to herself. Repeating her mission seemed to further cement the reality of the situation. The fact that Malfoy was now involved had exponentially increased her doubt that she was, in fact, still in touch with reality.
Everything was far too crazy for her nowadays.
edited: 2/1/2012