[ Hermione wishes, more than anything, right now, that she could understand what Luke wants from her in this moment; telling her this story, explaining about his past, his scar, the betrayals he felt, it can't be for her benefit. There's no way this all has anything to do with her, even she isn't so desperately selfish that she imagines that it all circles around her as though she's some neat little box into which people can pour their thoughts and feelings and come out on the other side better for it. She can see just by looking at him that talking about the situation, while helpful in the long run, isn't doing much for him in the now. He's a little choked up, a little red-eyed, and she wants nothing more than to give in to that familiar ache in her arms, the one that wants to tug someone close and hold them until their hurts have fallen away, at least for a little while. She wants to help him feel better and she feels powerless.
There's only so much she can do and she realises it; growing up as the Chosen One's best friend and confidant had given her room to understand that she had suffered, maybe a little more than on the average, but some of the things she had seen and done and experienced were nothing compared to what her friends had faced -- she knows that her life can't really be compared to theirs, not in any way that's measurable, but she still thinks she came out of her war, personal and otherwise, relatively well off. She survived, which is more than others have, and it hurts her heart to think that she might be powerless in this situation. She hates the idea of it; Hermione loves her control and her lists and her knowledge more than she can say and to have it taken from her hands makes her feel weak and out of place.
Here's the thing; she isn't good with her words. She isn't good at comforting people, not really, at least not when it comes to things she isn't experienced with (she still winces when she thinks of Lavender Brown and her rabbit). Hermione is the type of person to lose herself in a book and brew until her hair falls out and fight until her last breath; she doesn't know how to handle this. But for these people here, in this world, that she has come to love and care for more than there are words to say? She thinks she can muster the voice to do what she has to. Her lips turn in determination and she shakes her head, the curls and the bushiness of it flying around her and tangling even as she moves a hand to brush it out of her face. Oh no, Castellan, you're not getting out of this one so easily. ]
This isn't about me and how appealing I am, is it? [ Drawing attention to his face is the worst thing to do and Hermione just watches him, stern, for as long as she dares. ] I might not be your best friend, Luke, or anything close to it, but I'd like to think I know you a little bit. We've talked a lot, you and I, and I want to believe that I know you well enough to know when you're dodging things. Did you know my two best friends are absolute idiots that think 'I'm fine' is an acceptable answer to every question, no matter what it is I ask them? It's given me a bit of an understanding when it comes to boys. [ At least on the bullheaded side of them, not on the romantic side, but - that isn't the point right now.
The point is she needs Luke to understand that whatever happened isn't going to change the way she sees him. She's sure there are people she knows that have done things at home, in their worlds, that would horrify her, but she has to think that what people do here, in the Drabworld, to prove themselves, to earn their friendships and the love they can get, is what matters. Otherwise what is the point of all the work she's been doing and all the people she's fallen into caring for? If it's all moot, in the end, then why fight? (Because it's the right thing to do, her mind tells her sternly, and she shakes her head a little to try and focus). ]
I could tell you a thousand stories about ridiculous magical things I've done and - they might make you laugh or roll your eyes or even think that I'm absolutely insane but they're still me and they made me. Hopefully you like the me you know here. It's the same for you, Luke. The Drabworld isn't as black and white as we want it to be and maybe you - maybe you don't like the person you are, or were, and you don't expect me to. But this place, this world? It's kind of a second chance for all of us to prove who we are and who we want to be. Maybe I don't have to be the insufferable mudblood Know-It-All here - [ and, progress, she doesn't wince at the slur, she holds her head higher. ] - and maybe you don't have to be the person that knows the truth about this great Greek Hero. It's all up to us to decide what we can do with what we have here.
[ And maybe she's... Gone on a little. She feels a little ridiculous and she crosses her arms, eyes glancing here and there, before she scoffs and throws him the best mock-dirty look she can, trying to pretend her heartfelt speech was nothing. She can shrug off her emotions and deflect too, Luke, and she's learning. ]
Maybe I can't outrun you, but maybe you'll slow down a little so I can keep up. [ A pause, and then - ] I mean that now, too. If you'd like me to visit, Luke, I will. You just have to say the word.
[ Because if he is upset, if he's hurting? She will be there. It's what she does. ]
video » locked.
There's only so much she can do and she realises it; growing up as the Chosen One's best friend and confidant had given her room to understand that she had suffered, maybe a little more than on the average, but some of the things she had seen and done and experienced were nothing compared to what her friends had faced -- she knows that her life can't really be compared to theirs, not in any way that's measurable, but she still thinks she came out of her war, personal and otherwise, relatively well off. She survived, which is more than others have, and it hurts her heart to think that she might be powerless in this situation. She hates the idea of it; Hermione loves her control and her lists and her knowledge more than she can say and to have it taken from her hands makes her feel weak and out of place.
Here's the thing; she isn't good with her words. She isn't good at comforting people, not really, at least not when it comes to things she isn't experienced with (she still winces when she thinks of Lavender Brown and her rabbit). Hermione is the type of person to lose herself in a book and brew until her hair falls out and fight until her last breath; she doesn't know how to handle this. But for these people here, in this world, that she has come to love and care for more than there are words to say? She thinks she can muster the voice to do what she has to. Her lips turn in determination and she shakes her head, the curls and the bushiness of it flying around her and tangling even as she moves a hand to brush it out of her face. Oh no, Castellan, you're not getting out of this one so easily. ]
This isn't about me and how appealing I am, is it? [ Drawing attention to his face is the worst thing to do and Hermione just watches him, stern, for as long as she dares. ] I might not be your best friend, Luke, or anything close to it, but I'd like to think I know you a little bit. We've talked a lot, you and I, and I want to believe that I know you well enough to know when you're dodging things. Did you know my two best friends are absolute idiots that think 'I'm fine' is an acceptable answer to every question, no matter what it is I ask them? It's given me a bit of an understanding when it comes to boys. [ At least on the bullheaded side of them, not on the romantic side, but - that isn't the point right now.
The point is she needs Luke to understand that whatever happened isn't going to change the way she sees him. She's sure there are people she knows that have done things at home, in their worlds, that would horrify her, but she has to think that what people do here, in the Drabworld, to prove themselves, to earn their friendships and the love they can get, is what matters. Otherwise what is the point of all the work she's been doing and all the people she's fallen into caring for? If it's all moot, in the end, then why fight? (Because it's the right thing to do, her mind tells her sternly, and she shakes her head a little to try and focus). ]
I could tell you a thousand stories about ridiculous magical things I've done and - they might make you laugh or roll your eyes or even think that I'm absolutely insane but they're still me and they made me. Hopefully you like the me you know here. It's the same for you, Luke. The Drabworld isn't as black and white as we want it to be and maybe you - maybe you don't like the person you are, or were, and you don't expect me to. But this place, this world? It's kind of a second chance for all of us to prove who we are and who we want to be. Maybe I don't have to be the insufferable mudblood Know-It-All here - [ and, progress, she doesn't wince at the slur, she holds her head higher. ] - and maybe you don't have to be the person that knows the truth about this great Greek Hero. It's all up to us to decide what we can do with what we have here.
[ And maybe she's... Gone on a little. She feels a little ridiculous and she crosses her arms, eyes glancing here and there, before she scoffs and throws him the best mock-dirty look she can, trying to pretend her heartfelt speech was nothing. She can shrug off her emotions and deflect too, Luke, and she's learning. ]
Maybe I can't outrun you, but maybe you'll slow down a little so I can keep up. [ A pause, and then - ] I mean that now, too. If you'd like me to visit, Luke, I will. You just have to say the word.
[ Because if he is upset, if he's hurting? She will be there. It's what she does. ]