A/N: Right. So this is one of those things that I'm not sure about. I don't know if it makes any sense outside of my own head. Please please please let me know if it does or doesn't make sense to you! Love to hear any feedback! Thanks.

Up until this point his whole life was a heart monitor beeping "Fred...Fred...Fred..." It spiked when they laughed together and pulled pranks and were happy. Which was always.

And now Fred's gone and it's flatlining.

.:.

He can't cope with the dark and empty hole to his left. Fred's left a gap there and he tries not to notice it but it's all he sees and it should be empty, a gap, nothing, but instead it's like a black hole dragging and sucking and pulling at his skin and his bones and he thinks he might crumple but he can't.

So it's easier for him to fall into a world where the sky is a little dimmer and the voices a little more distant, and Fred's there, laughing again.

He walks around with his eyes half closed. He stops seeing what's in front of him and uses his imagination instead. The images are blurring and swirling and Fred is the only constant. He is bright. He is strong. He is unwavering.

And he's real.

Almost.

.:.

He sees her there too. She's in his little world and he should be surprised, but when he thinks about it...well, it's like she's always been here, isn't it?

Luna. Loony. Luna.

She has large owl eyes and small bird bones and her voice is like sweet music. She looks at him and her mouth falls into an "o" but she looks pleased.

He looks to Fred. And for once his face is solemn, serious. And he says, "Talk to her."

And then he leaves.

So she takes a step forward and grabs him by the hand, and they run together through trees and open fields and she smiles like an open sunflower and he could just swear he's flying.

And she says, through haggard, gasping breaths, "George."

He doesn't know what to say.

So he says, "Luna?"

And then he kisses her.

.:.

He spends his days with Fred in a world that doesn't exist and they sit in dying grass and tear at weeds and neither of them is brave enough to ask why. Instead, they laugh at the future they'll never have and George tells him he won't leave and Fred says he's sorry that he did.

But when the sun sets, Fred hugs him, smiles and fades into the background, leaving a shining, shimmering emptiness.

George turns on his heel and there she is, her skin glowing in the moonlight and her hair forced into a hasty, golden plait. She's smiling and extending her hand to him and so he takes it and they run.

.:.

It occurs to him several nights later, as they lay beneath the stars and struggle to breath with burning lungs, that she must be here for a reason. A reason that isn't him.

"Luna. Why are you - I mean, who did - I mean...who?"

And he forces himself to watch even as her smile slips and her eyes cloud with unshed tears, because she's seen him cry and so it's only right that he see this. She is calm though. Calm, serene, but she has a lucidity, a purpose that she doesn't possess in the realworld.

"I was nine," she begins, and he voice is like rich, hot tea and it makes him feel warm and safe.

"She was wild, unpredictable. She was curious. Too curious. She wanted to know things. Learn things. Discover things. And she tried. And she failed. And it killed her."

The tears fall from her lashes and leave damp trails in delicate webbing on her cheeks, and he's so very sorry he asked.

"I watched, you know. I saw her shoulders slump and her eyes roll back and her chest still. I watched as her heart stopped. It was there when I closed my eyes. My mother, slumped across her desk, dead. My father's screams. My own sobs. So I tried to forget it. And I came here. And isn't it beautiful?"

She turns her head to meet his eyes and he can't do anything but tell her he's sorry with the touch of his lips.

Her tears are bitter but the kiss is sweet, and George holds her until she smiles again.

.:.

"You should go back."

It comes from nowhere when the morning nears a few weeks later. She untwines their fingers and looks at him with a wisdom beyond her years. Her hair is like straw and it falls in uneven waves and it's frayed at the ends like an unkempt garden. Her eyes are big and blue and full of innocence and wonder and her smile is gentle, almost understanding.

Just looking at her, he forgets to protest.

"But what about you?"

"Don't think about me, George. You have a family to get back to. They need you. They've lost one twin so, please, please,don't make it two."

And he knows in his heart of hearts that she's right and he's wrong and the world they've built is nothing but make believe.

"You've never gone back though. Have you?"

"I don't need to. No one needs me back there. My father is as lost as I am. And I'm happy here."

"I'm happy here."

"George."

"I love you."

"I know."

And he kisses her one last time, then turns and leaves.

.:.

He finds Fred under dying leaves in brightest colours.

"I love you too."

"I know, Georgie."

"I don't want to leave you, Fred."

And he's crying now, because this is harder than he imagined and he's so very scared.

"It's the same as before. It'll always be the same as before. Except you won't see me in the morning. But don't worry. I'll be there."

And their embrace feels like an eternity and, when they part, he is suddenly half the man he used to be.

And he closes his eyes.

But he opens his eyes.

And he's home.

.:.

She looks at him with a strange expression scattered across her dark features. He stares back and tries to ignore the pity in her eyes.

And she says, "George?" and he nods and, suddenly, she's hugging him so tight he thinks he might faint.

She pulls back, her arms still around him, and she breathes, "Look at me."

What can he do but comply?

She squeaks, "You're really back!" and kisses him full on the mouth.

Her kiss is sharper, more passionate than Luna's, but he doesn't pull away because it's easier to let himself love her and remember Luna in his darkest moments.

And he's glad it's Angelina because she's dark and Luna's fair and she's loud and Luna's quiet and she's bubbly and Luna's dreamy and they're so completely different that he can love them both and not break.

So he does.

.:.

Angelina never asks where his mind hid itself when the darkness chased it away. George never tells her. It doesn't sit like a secret between them but more of an unsaid promise.

She promises I'll keep you sane.

He promises to let her.

.:.

When he says "I do" he catches Luna's eye as she sits in the pews. Her eyes are glazed and dreamy and he reminds himself that she's not his Luna. Not here.

So he gazes back at his Angelina and her eyes are big and dark and her lips form their own "I do" and then-

-they are married.

And he walks from the church with his heart light and his soul free and he swears he hears Fred's whispered congratulations and his Luna's teary "Good luck!".

And he kisses his wife.

And he's happy.