AN: One-hundred prompts to get me going again. I will do my absolute best to update at least every other day.

Standard disclaimer applies. Thanks for reading!

Prompt Number 38: Sugar. George/Luna

Luna brings a different kind of calm to him after Fred dies.

There is a cacophony of sound in his head, a million different things all fighting and pulling and pushing for attention. Things don't make sense like they used to, and he's got to make some quiet space inside his head.

He tries. He fails.

Luna comes to him, one day, completely out of the blue, and she grabs his face between her cool palms and she shakes her head. "When will you learn?" she asks, her voice gently scolding.

George must have looked confused, because Luna just smiles.

"Wrackspurts, silly," she says, and then she presses a bottle of tonic into his hand. "Three times a day," she whispers. "And you'll find some space in your head."

It does not surprise him when he finds out that the tonic is only sugar water. But he takes it anyway, because what the hell?

And perhaps because of the sugar water, and perhaps because of Luna, and perhaps because some distance from the pain of that day helped make things clearer, George finds the quiet space in his head, like Luna said he would.

He does not intend to go tell her. After all, he highly doubts that he had a Wrackspurt problem, and, even if he did, he doubted sugar water would do anything to clear them up, but he takes a walk one day and he ends up at the other end of Diagon Alley, standing in front of a quaint little shop with "Luna Lovegood, Healer of Holistic Medicines" on a sign on the front.

George glances at his watch without seeing the time, and then he walks in.

A bell jingles in the depths of the space and George takes a minute to look around the inside. He's in what appears to be a waiting room, filled with cushy, overstuffed chairs and sunflowers on tables. A small desk sits against one wall, next to a curtain that is a bright, violent yellow. A minute passes and then the curtain rustles and Luna steps out into the room, wearing a set of voracious purple robes with a large tulip bobbing in her hair. Her earrings matched the tulip and appeared to be actually growing.

"Oh, hullo, George," she greets him pleasantly as her earrings bloom over and over again. "What can I help you with? Your Wrackspurts seem to have cleared up; I can see you much better now."

George nods absently and jams his hands in his pockets. "It's just sugar water, Luna," he blurts finally and Luna laughs.

"I know," she says. "Wrackspurts hate sugar water."

George is a little taken aback and he rubs the back of his neck. "Well—I feel better. Um. Thanks."

Luna nods, her face lit up. "You're welcome."

George doesn't want to leave, but he can't find anymore words. Thankfully, he doesn't have to; Luna seems to know exactly what he needs, and she takes his hand and leads him back behind the curtain.

It's a surprisingly calm room, in comparison with the waiting room. It is what George assumes to be Luna's office and he settles into a small chair set across from a desk. Luna settles in at her desk and pulls a stack of papers towards her. It takes her a minute or two, but then she nods.

"It's hard, isn't it?" she asks, her voice soft. "At first, you don't even feel like moving on, you know? And then when you finally do, you start feeling guilty, as if that makes any sense. Because a part of you doesn't want to leave them behind."

Luna lights a couple of candles for no apparent reason and then she steeples her fingers, her ridiculous earrings blooming faster in the light. "After Mother died, I saw Daddy go through it," she says softly. "I think he still goes through it. I don't think it's ever something you get over, the guilt. I think it's something you deal with every single day of your life, and I think that's okay." Luna looks up at him. "You're going to be okay, George. I can feel it."

George doesn't say anything, but he does relax a little and Luna smiles.

He's going to be okay.