I crash into you. There are no words to describe what it feels like, what this is. Language only demeans what I feel. We are not two people; we are one being, melded together by something invisible. There is no way I can hope to try to speak what I think, what I believe about us.
Words are a barrier. I stumble and trip over this language, which sounds so rough and unnatural in my mouth. It is nothing like the smooth, lyrical tongue I adore so much. Everything here is unnatural, but you try and help me navigate through. I love your quiet, strong voice, but yet I cannot help but resent the words you say.
It is hard for me when you talk, when you tell me about things. You are too perfect: kind, understanding, funny, patient, strong, and open. You love your family, and though I know your flaws, I know that I do not deserve you. But I cannot trust the words you say. Words lie.
You whisper that I am beautiful. I can’t tell if you’re lying; that’s the trouble with words. I know that I do not feel beautiful. Beautiful is inside and out; I can never be beautiful. I am pretty on the outside, yes, but I can never be beautiful, because my inside is so ugly and twisted. I hate myself for it.
But you always tell me it’s what makes you love me more. I want to run, to make you find someone better, but I cannot tear myself away from you. Your hands wrap around my wrists, and we meld together once more. And I feel beautiful. The desperate longing, the way your hands are gentle in my hair, lets me believe you. There is no way to describe what it feels like, except for that I believe. I believe everything you say is real; that everything I hope to feel is real. I know that your words tell no lies.
Somewhere, I lose myself in you. I feel vulnerable, exposed, fragile. We press further. None of it matters; of course you wouldn’t believe me. I have used words.
Now your love is wasted. I’ll still be with you in the morning, but it will be different. I’m letting you in; no one has truly seen me before. You will hate me. You will hate what makes me what I am.
I am not a person. I am not the beautiful flower you call me. I am scarred. I am hideous. Because I know now who will love you through this. Who will fight for you, but not afraid to go against you. There is no one that perfect.
Still, I cannot pull away. There is something connecting me to you … like gravity keeps me grounded. I want to, I need to stay away, but I can’t. I want to scream, to yell what I am thinking. But your lips, your protective arms, they are sedative. For a minute, I actually believe that it will be okay.
Then it all comes crashing back, knocking the breath out of me. You need to cut the ropes and let me fall. I am not good for you. I am wrong. I am not even close to deserving you. Let me go. I know you won’t, though, so I slowly fumble with the buttons of my blouse. You pull away, leaning against the door frame. I see the confusion, but also the love in your eyes. I can’t bear to see that love fade, so I close my eyes.
Everything is visible. Every little cut on my stomach, each scar. The freshly bandaged one from today. I gasp as your rough hands slide across my stomach, your warm arms encircling me once more. I am weak. I collapse into you, a tear slipping down my cheek.
You are strong. I feel safe in your arms, calm, but I cannot bring myself to look at you. I can’t bear to see the inevitable hurt, or the anger. After an eternity, I force myself to be a fraction as strong as you are. My eyes meet yours, and I see nothing but love. How can you still love me? I am a monster. No … monsters are strong. I am weak. I am no more than a flower. A poisonous flower, yes, but nothing more.
–Why?†Your voice is soft, but full of hurt. My eyes shift down to my feet. –What made you do this?†Now your voice is gruff, commanding.
–I hate myself.†You breathe sharply at the pure loathing in my voice. –You deserve so much more.â€
My words speak the truth. I am worthless; people used to tell me I was nothing more than a pretty face. It is partly true. I have no brains. I have no personality. But they are wrong. I am not even pretty. I am not thin enough to be pretty.
–You are beautiful.†Your voice is full of love. –And smart, and brave, and funny, and kind, and I love you.†Now you are positively pleading. But I can’t believe you. Words lie. People lie.
–No.†My voice is hardly even audible. –You’ve seen me. You’ve seen the truth. I’m ugly. The scars. You can’t love me.†It is true. You are perfect. I should never have approached your desk all those months ago. You deserve better than me.
I am surprised when your lips crash onto mine. The only way I can hope to describe it is that it is like pouring salt in a gaping wound. It hurt, but it healed.
You love me. You actually love me. And I love you.
–I love you,†I choke out, sobs racking my chest. Until now, I had no idea I could. I have never fell in love with anyone before. Many say they love me, but they love my body. The only one I believe is you. It’s always you.
You think I’m beautiful. You love me. I love you; I have loved you for over a year, but it is only too recently that you love me back.
–Promise me.†Your voice is rough and husky. –Promise me that this will never happen again.â€
My voice is as small as a mouse. –I promise.â€
Once again, your arms enfold me. I feel everything you’re trying so desperately to tell me. That our love won’t waste away, it isn’t fake, and that you are always there.
We are one once more. There are no words to describe what it feels like, what this is. I feel better than I have in a long time. There is no pressure; there is only something words can’t describe. It feels light, and it makes my heart race.
That’s all I know. How can words describe this? They’re just a random collection of sounds. They can’t mean anything. You say you love me, and I say I love you, but we do not believe each other until our lips crash together.
Then, we know.
No. She did not say that. She must be lying. You and I are going to get married. I love you; you’re the one who saved me. You made me strong, you made me feel happy again. How could I ever let you go?
And, besides, how can I judge someone because of their scars? You are brave. A few tiny scars will not make a difference. I could never let you go. How dare she think I’m so shallow!
**You theenk Bill will not wish to marry me anymore?" I demaded. "You theenk, because of these bites, he will not love me?"
"No, that's not what I--"
"Because 'e will!" I yelled, trying to appear as confident as possible. "It would take more zan a werewolf to stop Bill loving me!"
"Well, yes, I'm sure," said Mrs. Weasley, "but I thought perhaps--given how--how he--"
"You thought that I would not weesh to marry him? Or per'aps you hoped? What do I care how he looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!â€**
I love him. I’m never letting him go. No mere words will ever change that.
** Dialogue taken from HBP Chapter 24- The Phoenix Lament
Une Nouvelle Langue by iLuna17
Story Notes:
Many, many thanks to a certain fabulous Maple_andPheonixFeather for her amazing beta work as well as her French knowledge!