-1Summary: Post DH. Potentially a sequel to Light in the Eyes of the Dying. George is desperate for some time away from his family. But he still wants Luna around. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: Crap. Utter crap. But I had to get it out of my system.
While he realizes that his family have his best intentions at heart, he is about ready to strangle the lot of them. At least once a week, one of his brothers asks if he would like to go out for a drink, and his little sister 'pops in' to his room to ask him for a game of Exploding Snap on an hourly basis.
George has never been one for solitary confinement, but his family is driving him bloody mad, and it is all he can do not to scream in frustration from the constant inquiries to his well-being.
The one bright spot is Luna, which he never thought he would say. She gets him out of the house whenever he needs some air, and she never asks him questions about how he is doing or if he wants to talk about it or why he refuses to eat dinner with the family now.
He sighs and lays back on his bed, covering his face with a pillow. A whooshing sound tells him that someone has just flown past his open window, and when he hears Hermione screaming bloody murder, he knows that Ron has finally convinced her to get on a broom.
The two of them really are disgustingly cute.
Letting the pillow fall, he keeps his eyes closed and rests his hands behind his head, intertwined for extra cushioning. Everyone has gone outside for some time in the sun, and his parents are at Hogwarts helping with the recovery effort. He has the house all to himself, finally.
It takes exactly ten minutes to realize how absolutely lonely the Burrow is without another entity to talk to. George sits up swiftly and sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The ginger strands just barely brush his shoulders now, but he cannot find the motivation to get a hair cut.
His mum threatens him with a pair of scissors daily. Apparently, she thinks that he is turning into Bill. While he finds Fleur incredibly beautiful, George is fairly certain she would drive him crazy before he could ever commit to anything with her. So really, his mum has nothing to worry about.
There is another woman that he would not mind committing himself to, though.
With that thought in mind, George grabs his wand and stands, turning on the spot. A soft pop announces his arrival in the Lovegood's backyard, and Luna is sitting in the grass. She has her tongue between her teeth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she threads a piece of twine through what appears to be a dried sweet potato.
He approaches her slowly, careful not to startle her. They are all on guard, even now that the war is over, and he has seen her pull her wand often enough to know that she could hex his balls off before he even says hello.
"I thought you wanted time alone," she says. George jumps slightly. Big, pretty blue eyes lift to meet his and he feels his heart jump-start again, beating against his ribcage in sporadic patterns. "Isn't everyone out of the house today?"
"How did you know?" he asks. A slow smile stretches across her face, and he sits down next to her without bothering to ask for an invitation.
"Bill stopped by earlier to ask Dad if he was planning to go to Hogwarts today. He mentioned that you were locked up in your room by yourself," she tells him, setting down her project and placing her hand on his.
George clenches his fingers in the grass and quirks his mouth. "Why didn't you come over, then?"
Luna tilts her head to the side. "I thought you wanted time alone," she repeats.
"Time alone with you sounds better," he murmurs, leaning into her. She smiles as he kisses her, and a sharp, fluttering sensation pulls at his veins. The sun burns the back of his neck where his hair has fallen forward as he crawls closer to her, wrapping a hand around her hip. He sighs against her skin, trailing kisses up her jaw and gently teasing her ear with his teeth.
"What are you working on?" he whispers, dropping another kiss on her neck before pulling away. She stares at him, all glazed eyes and wispy smile, and he feels irrationally proud for making her lose her composure so completely.
Despite what everyone seems to think, she has a firm head on her shoulders and she is constantly focused on what is going on around her. She is far more sensitive to her surroundings than he is. To a degree, he is jealous of her observational skills.
"A charm," she replies, her tone careful. George arches an eyebrow and waits for further explanation. Instead of elaborating, Luna picks up the twine and ties the ends together in a tiny knot, holding the necklace up for him to see.
What he previously thought to be a dried sweet potato is actually a tiny replica of a house elf's head. He only recognizes the shape because of the ears and the protruding nose. "Who's it for?" he wonders, reaching to grab the charm.
She jerks it out of his grasp before he has even touched it and he widens his eyes in surprise. "You can't," she whispers, stricken.
"It's not meant for you," she says seriously. Straightening her shoulders, she rests the elf's head in the palm of her hand and taps her wand to it once, making it glow a bright shade of orange. George looks on, thoroughly confused. "It's for Harry," she explains.
Luna looks up at him, then, and his confusion must show on his face, because she laughs loudly. The sound is tinkering, warm in the afternoon sunlight, and he cannot help but smile. "It will remind him of Dobby," she says serenely, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. "I think it's important to remember who we lost."
A tense, uncomfortable silence settles over the two of them as he registers what she has said. He has not said his twin's name since the final battle, as just the thought of curling his tongue around the single syllable makes him want to break down and curl into a ball and cry.
That hardly means that he has forgotten, though. It seems as though every minute of every day is filled with a nothingness, a void where his other half should be. George has forgotten what it means to be completely care-free.
Even when he is with Luna, he still feels like he is losing a game he does not know the rules of.
The warm feel of a kiss being pressed to his cheek brings him out of his reverie, and he stares at his girlfriend blankly. With a sigh, she reaches up and runs her hands through his too-long hair, resting her forehead against his. "You don't need a charm to remember," she whispers.
"Harry doesn't need a bloody charm, either," he snaps.
"No," she agrees. "But he doesn't have anything else to remind him that Dobby is still real."
"Oh," he murmurs, deflating. Luna sighs again and kisses him gently, pulling away before he can respond. George stares at her hard, trying to decipher the energy crackling between them. It is sad, somehow, but hopeful. Filled with something he has never felt before.
It occurs to him that he will never actually be alone. The world will keep revolving around him.
He has no idea how he feels about that.