No Such Thing As Perfect

"No Such Thing As Perfect"

- Luna Scura

"Love," Hermione Granger mused. "Such a small word, but one that can cause so much happiness... and so much heartbreak."

To anyone, no matter if they had heard her last thought or not, Hermione's reaction would be startling. The young women tore a notebook out of a drawer at the desk she was sitting at and, after much muttering and frenzied flipping of pages, began to write. She wrote for long hours, pausing only to gather her thoughts, or to switch pens to ease the cramping in her hand. Night had long since wrapped its cloak of shadows about the world when she stopped. She flipped backwards through the pages, as though to read what she had so frantically written. But she stopped, hesitating, then placed the notebook gently on the desk and left the little room. If one were to approach the notebook, the first thing one would notice would be the splattering of ink in a messy scrawl. Next, they would watch as the messy scrawl shaped itself into words and sentences and paragraphs. Then the words and sentences and paragraphs would reveal a story, a tale composed of the author's theories and ideas, hopes and dreams, feelings and memories. This would be the final shape; the reader would become somewhat acquainted with the author through the words on the page, because words are very intimate, very precious things, and must be used with care. If one was to do all of this and sit down to read what had been written, what one would find... is this.

"People have always thought me to be logical, the voice of reason, of common sense. But if people would take the time to get to know me, they would find that I am just as prone to outlandish thoughts and wild imaginings as Luna Lovegood. I simply choose not to advertise them. I know it would seem that I dislike Luna, but the truth of the matter is, I'm jealous - jealous of the freedom she has, of the clarity she views the world with, and of the courage she possesses to express herself. I often lose myself in dreams, let the borders between fantasy and reality slip away like the grains of time in an old man's fragile grasp. In these dreams I find myself in a world where people respect me. I find myself in a world where people are not shunned for their blood, or for their house, not shunned for their past mistakes, or for things completely out of their control. It's a world where the line between good and evil is clear and defined, not blurred. Have you ever noticed it's the four letter words that often cause the most chaos and confusion - love and hate, good and evil, light and dark. Okay, so light is a five letter word; work with me here. I'm not perfect! That's right; Hermione Granger isn't perfect. Bet that'll shock someone, more than one someone, unless I'm very much mistaken. I know many people who are not perfect. I know many people who, like me, do not consider themselves beautiful. I have found beauty in many of these people, though not yet in myself. Severus Snape, I will admit, is not the most attractive man in the world, but I have seen the beauty in him - the beauty in the way his hands seem to dance over the surface of a potion, the beauty of his soft, deadly voice, which holds so much power, and is completely wasted on the students he both teaches and protects.

Remus Lupin: the beauty of soft, golden eyes, of a warm, soothing voice, and the smell that is so uniquely Remus. That smell follows him wherever he goes. The beauty of the sad calmness he radiates, the brief peace his presence brings.

Harry Potter... the courage and loyalty to those he loves is the beauty I see in my beloved best friend.

Ron Weasley, the beauty in Ron was harder to find, but it was - is - still there. It is the beauty of his deep concentration in the middle of a chess game, the beauty in his animated excitement and heated passion when he is talking about his favorite sport, Quidditch.

Albus Dumbledore possesses the beauty of forgiveness, a most precious gift. That is the beauty I saw in the Headmaster; I still falter speaking of him in past tense.

I see the beauty in many others as well, though I am particularly drawn to those who refuse to see it in themselves. Harry is convinced that the Horcruxes are Lord Voldemort's only weakness, but I know an even greater one - love. Voldemort doesn't understand love, so he views it as a weakness. Viewing love as a weakness makes it one of his own weaknesses. He rules his Death Eaters through fear; Ron and I will follow Harry out of love. While many of the Death Eaters would desert Voldemort if it seems he will fall, we will stand by Harry until the end. Oh yes, I will stand by his side. I know there are some who fear I will turn to the dark in my never ending quest for knowledge. Though I will not deny I have an interest in the Dark Arts, I would never abandon Harry and Ron, or the Order. The first person on my little list of beautiful people who stubbornly refuse to see that they are beautiful has brought to the front of my mind a question. A question that I believe Harry may soon ask me. That question would be, 'Do you believe Snape is evil?' The answer would have to be no, I don't. I would like to think that Snape regretted that his actions led to the deaths of Lily and James, but I don't think that was the only reason Dumbledore trusted him. No, there is far more to that particular story. Though, I don't see how we are ever going to know it, since the only living person who could tell us is Severus Snape himself, and I certainly haven't a clue how to contact him. Another question I must be ready for is 'Who stole the locket?' I have the faintest idea who it might be. Perhaps, it could be Regulus Black? The little brother who Sirius seemed to hate so much might be more important in this game than anyone has yet realized. Unfortunately, both Regulus and Sirius are dead, and we can therefore ask neither of them. Somewhere there must be Divine Beings laughing their holy heads off over us poor, pitiful mortals. Well, this is sounding more like a diary entry than anything. Having a good rant on paper is more tiring than most realize, so I think now would be a good time to stop. Maybe someday someone will read this. Maybe someday these pieces of paper will help the world understand me."