Disclaimer: I don't own HP or the characters, yadda yadda yadda.

Perception

Everyone else had gone inside. Why shouldn't they? The funeral was over. But George still found himself standing there, staring at the grave of his brother, his twin, his best friend. Fred. He was gone, taken in a split second, fighting for his family, his friends, and people he didn't even know. It wasn't fair. But then, who'd ever said that life was fair?

"It's odd, isn't it?"

He jumped- he knew that misty, dreamy voice from somewhere. George turned around to see the one and only Loony Lovegood staring at him with a puzzled, thoughtful expression.

"...What?"

His voice cracked when he spoke- he hated it when it did that. It'd been doing it ever since Fred... ever since Fred died.

"Well, don't you think it's odd, too?" she asked him confusedly, apparently realizing that she hadn't said what she thought was odd in the first place.

Normally, George would have just pushed her away and ignored her like he had been everyone else lately. But something about her, the way she was talking, as if she hadn't just attended a funeral... it wasn't refreshing, that wasn't the word for it. It was just different. Odd, even.

"What's odd?" George asked, taking a step closer to her so that there wasn't such a large gap between them, and that they were at least at speaking distance now.

"Well..." she started thoughtfully, "So many people attend funerals. Sometimes they don't even know the person very well, but yet they go, and then when it's all over, they go to the person's family and tell them how sorry they are for the death. It's odd."

"It's customary to be sorry for someone when they lose someone close to them." George snapped. Perhaps he should just head back inside, back to his room, where people couldn't bother him.

"Oh, but he isn't lost, George. In fact, no one who dies is ever really lost. They're just lurking, you know, somewhere just out of sight. If he was lost, you wouldn't be having a funeral. He's gone, in a way, but then, not really."

George was silent, taking in everything she'd said.

"That's why it's odd that people apologise for something that they never did, and for someone that they never knew. Also, they call the person 'lost', which isn't true at all."

It was strange to hear someone like Luna talk about things that were 'odd'. Wasn't she the one who was odd? How could she go around calling other people odd when she was the one that was going around barefoot, talking about creatures that didn't even exist? She was crazy. George turned away, about to leave her there and return to his solitude in his room. He practically lived in that room now- his mother usually brought meals up to him, for fear that he'd starve otherwise. But she spoke again, and hearing her words stopped him once more.

"Oddness is all in one's own perception, though. Don't you think? Perhaps you think I'm odd, like most people do. But that's all right. I could never be upset because of someone's opinion. Just because they think that Fred is lost doesn't mean you have to."

He turned to face her once more. Though there wasn't a smile on his face, he felt a bit lighter, as if a small amount of the weight on him had been lifted.

"Why don't you come inside for dinner?" he asked offhandedly, turning and starting to walk toward his house. It was only protocol- everyone else who had been at the funeral was eating at the Burrow, too.

"I'd like that. Thank you, George." she ran to catch up to him, and before he knew it, her hand had intertwined itself into his. His eyes widened a bit in surprise, but he didn't move her hand away.

"No... thank you, Luna." It would take time, but maybe he'd be all right, after all.