She wore a gauzy pink dress, and her hair seemed to float in wispy ringlets around her, and she resembled nothing so much as cotton candy. He grinned at the thought.

"That's a wicked grin if I ever saw one," she said, wafting past him into the flat. "What are you scheming this time?"

"Scheming? Would I do such a thing?" he asked.

"Well, you are George Weasley," she answered.

"An excellent point, but I'm not scheming now." His eyes narrowed, and his grin shifted to a hungry smirk. "I'm too busy thinking about how you look in your puffy pink dress."

But she was used to his games, played them quite well herself. "And how do I look?"

He took the time to lick his lips before answering. "You, Luna love, look good enough to eat."

"Oh, really?" She gave him a smirk of her own, then turned and sauntered toward the living room, calling over her shoulder, "Shut the door, George."

He wasted no time in doing as she said, and caught up to her in a few quick steps. She was ready and waiting for him, and spun around at his light touch.

There was nothing light about the way he pulled her to him, nor the way she crushed her lips to his.

Their hands fumbled with practiced impatience, touching, feeling, needing more. Her hands found his belt first, clambering for purchase, and he growled against her neck, "We'll be late."

"Then we should hurry," she replied, unzipping his trousers and shoving them to the floor.

He grabbed her thighs and heaved her up, pinning her between himself and the wall. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his hips. She pressed herself against him, found him ready and waiting as well.

His hands slid under her skirt, and he hissed when he found no further barrier. "Oh fuck ..."

"That's the plan," she said, and ran her tongue around the edge of his ear.

With one hand he sent his boxers to pool around his ankles with his pants. "Charm?"

"Taken care of."

So much for hesitation. He shoved into her, moving with need akin to desperation. He ground against her and she urged him on, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, her heels digging into his thighs as her back pressed against the wall. She licked and sucked and bit his neck, and he panted against hers.

"Fuck ... " he grunted, "Luna ... can't ..."

"Don't."

A few more jerky thrusts and he shattered, spilling into her. He slackened in her arms and she held him tight for the space of a few breaths, until he lifted his head from her shoulder and said, "'Taken care of,' you minx!"

"Well, I can't very well date George Weasley without having a few tricks of my own, now can I?"

He kissed her neck and pushed away from the wall, supporting her as she slid off of him and straightened her dress.

Minutes later they walked hand in hand through the door of the Burrow, and George's mum came bustling over as soon as she saw them. "George, where have you been? Everyone's waiting."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Luna answered, smiling. "There was a problem with my dress."