"Why do you lie, Harry?"
He clenched his hands into fighting fists as they rested by his sides. He closed his eyes, let air flood his lungs, as he breathed deep and tried to keep calm. The back of his neck as the word trickled down his throat like sticky mud. It oozed over him, covered him head to toe.
"I don't lie."
Harry bowed his head slightly, words leaving him like a whisper, robes pulled around him tight, fabric soft on his skin. He focussed on the feel of it, the air that pushed against the skin underneath, the black that melded into the black of the castle wall. Harry pushed his mind away from his rage, from his fear, and to the soft feeling of his silken robe that moulded gently around his body. He breathed deep, imagining a pool of heat in the bottom of his sternum, of the warmth filling him up, of it calming him. He thought about the feel of his feet inside his leather protective shoes, of the cold stone floor against the soles of his feet, of the room that howled around him.
Harry tried to ground himself away from the dark thoughts, the thoughts that never left, the thoughts of what lay under the robe, the ribs, the valleys of his abuse, the bruises, the flushed red, the scars that haunted his nights. He thought of the gentle feel of his robe.
His hands unclenched slowly.
"You are lying."
Harry had the urge to stay silent, to bite his tongue, to let blood fill his mouth and nod. He wanted to walk away, to let this conversation drift into the pile of forgotten attempts. He wanted to let his stubborn spine wilt like the fake smile he wore, he wanted to let the wispy words drift over him like leaves, brush soft against his skin, hear the rustle as they left him, the crunch as he walked out of this place.
He wanted so bad to just walk away, and give up, but he had promised Luna.
"I am not."
Harry opened his eyes, already adjusted to the dark from before, head turning away from the old man who stood in front of him, so sure in himself. Harry let his eyes drift to the warm orange light that flickered in the corner of the room, the golden adornments attached to the walls that held up his light. It showed silhouettes against the sides, people lounging and striding in shadow, the looming blackness, the cracks in the wall, the dust. But the light was better than nothing.
He let his thoughts flicker to the light, his eyes take in the soothing flame. Harry had always liked flames.
"I do not understand why you feel the need to lie, you can be honest with me. What is truly bothering you?"
Harry fingers curled together without his consent, hanging hard and waiting by his sides, either side of his torso, limp but ready to defend. He was always ready to defend. He was strong. Harry's breath shafted quickly through his nose, as he tried to calm his racing heart. He felt tingles along the pale undersides of his arms, all down his veins, the rush catching up to him, the fizz bubbling under the surface.
He grit his teeth, the harsh sound making him clench until it hurt,
"I cannot lie."
…
"How'd it go?"
Luna's gentle voice drifted over him, as he leant against the bed, arms crossed as if he could hold it all inside. She layed on the bed beside him, head hanging off the edge upside down, as she fiddled with a small charmed bracelet. It glinted in the evening sun that filtered softly through the window, shards of sunlight slamming against Harry's face as he twisted his eyes from the deadly beams.
Harry grunted.
Luna hummed at the non answer, as if she had almost expected it.
He longed to scream at her. To ask her if she knew it wouldn't work why she forced him to. To grab her shoulders and shake her. To throw her against the wall and demand why she let it happen. To blame her for the torture, to blame her for the people who blamed him, to blame her for the truth. He wanted to get right in her face and yell in her ear until spittle made it seem like she was sweaty. He wanted her to cry. He wanted Luna to understand what it was like. He wanted to beat her. He wanted to grope her and tell her she was a slut and make her-
Harry took a deep breath, letting his hands unclench, fingers rest gently on the bedspread. Breaths that reached and reached down into the depths of the ocean filled his lungs, he let his eyes close gently, the green sheen abandoning him behind the walls of his eyelids.
She smelt of lavender.
A pale hand twirled around like a windmill until it rested against Harry's. Fingers gently stroked Harry's own, with such kindness that Harry felt his breath catch. Something dropped into Harry's hand, a small item which he gripped tightly until the hand drifted away from him. He rubbed his fingers against the smooth surface, nail picking at it, silt building up under his finger.
Luna murmured,
"Lavender soap."
Harry opened his eyes, mind flitting to the dark thoughts without his consent. She thought he was a woman, she gave him lavender soap, she was taunting him, she knew since he was raped that he was a woman, she thought he didn't deserve a man's soap, it was a goodbye present, she was leaving him, she no longer loved him, she had never loved him, she wanted him to be a good girl for her to rape, she never-
"You like lavender."
Harry felt the thoughts cut off abruptly, and he gently placed the soap on the wooden table beside him, fingers caressing the wood like one would a trembling boy of twelve, harshly, without reticence or guilt. Without consequence. Harry felt a hand under his skin, and he shuddered, bones clanking against each other in an attempt to leave his soiled body.
Luna started to hum.
"I don't lie."
Harry said, bitter words leaving his lips. The bed shook ever so slightly as Luna nodded, and he felt the vibration travel up his back and into his hair, like many hands, gripping his hair, the pain settling him, the park, a place far away. He was safe.
…
