I clasped and unclasped my hands in a rapid sequence, more looking for an escape from my traitorous thoughts than to actually show I felt any remorse in the traditional motion of repentance, developed by the same wizard who had discovered the Wrackspurt's habit of sneaking into people's minds through their ears and- no, wait. Forget that. I know what they'd think if they heard me saying that.
Sometimes they just don't understand- it isn't like I'm dumb or anything. I don't act like this because I believe in these things. I know that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are a load of crap, and that Augurey cries don't signify death, but coming rain. I know that I sound stupid and foolish and vulnerable when I defend my father's thoughts on these subjects. I know that most people think I'm a little off- rather more than a little, honestly. But do they understand? They haven't lost anyone like I have. They don't think about the person that they haven't lost every night.
The exception is Harry Potter. He's lost both parents, and undoubtedly feels sad and depressed most of the time, but he tries to fight through it by being brave and courageous. I wish I was like that. But I can't let go of my feelings through courage or valor. I'm different from him. I let go of my feelings through acting innocent and dreamy- it's the only way I know. It's the only way that I stay close to her. I can remember that when she was experimenting, she'd always be talking about Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem or something of the sort. My father is doing his best to rebuild the diadem, most likely in honor of my mother's greatest dream- to be able to announce that, after many years of hard work and testing, she'd discovered the components to creating and growing intelligence and magical ability. I've just mimicked her qualities, her personality. That's all I am. A mimic.
No. I'm not even that. I'm a lie. I'm not true. So don't believe in me.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" A familiar voice... words drifted back to me that I'd once heard in this particular person's tone and mood of speaking... something about a baboon's backside? No, that couldn't be it... that was silly...
And yet...
"Be quiet!" Someone said. "Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way –"
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" That must be Ron! "I...must...not...look...like...a...baboon's...backside." It had only been years since then, and yet, the memory had been forgotten so deeply... or had it been buried? Were the undersides of my fingernails still covered with dirt from the ground? Did this make me a gravedigger?
"We need a plan, stop yelling – we need to get these ropes off –" So the second voice must be...
"Harry?" My whisper carried through the darkness, voice rasping on low and high levels due to the lack of use recently. "Ron? Is that you?"
And then I remembered. I was just a pawn in this game of wizard's chess- so I might as well try to protect the king and queen while I was at it. Cutting their ropes, loosening their bonds... it was all they needed me for. Truly, I wasn't worth saving from here, and I doubted that they would even attempt to help me out if they realized what I'd been telling them all along was false, flawed, fallacious.
Just don't believe in me... please. For your own sake. A mimic and a lie is worth nothing... and so nothing I remain. Luna Lovegood, the innocently sinful, truthfully dishonest little liar.
A/N: This was written after I found out about my grandfather's death the previous day. I had originally meant it to be about Thalia from Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but... I just wasn't up for more Luke reminiscing. I've done enough of it lately. While I was writing this, I was listening to my Alice's Playlist mix of songs that I had on iTunes, which includes Muse, Linkin Park, Collective Soul, Cake... essentially the Twilight Soundtrack, with some tracks missing, such as Full Moon, and a bunch of Cake songs from their album, Prolonging the Magic. So... that's pretty much it. Please read and review, it means a lot to me, especially right now, to know that there are people out there who either appreciate my work or appreciate me enough to pretend that they appreciate my work.
Farewell for now, but not for long,
Echo of a Broken Heart's Song [[and I didn't even realize that rhymed until after... -facepalm-]]