A/N: The idea for this story came from the rinz, who is my best friend and my fangirl momma. Thank you for showing me a whole new world of creativity and fun, and for laughing with me in a jail cell (well…a former jail cell) in Stockholm as we dreamed up this story. You are the best!
Also, please forgive any grammatical/spelling errors. They are not intentional, I promise!
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter series or franchise. That is the property of the respective owners (Warner Bros, Scholastic, and JK Rowling). I am not making any money from this. Trust me, if I were, college would not be nearly as stressful.
Mute Comfort
The sun was setting slowly over Diagon Alley as Luna Lovegood wandered aimlessly down the narrow street. The shadows were growing longer, casting her surroundings into a dreamy haze. In the approaching dusk the bright façade of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stood out bright and cheerful. The orange building, so shockingly similar in color to the hair of its owner made her realize how long it had been since she had seen the man in question. Without a second thought she steered her steps toward the joke shop.
Inside, George Weasley was in the storeroom taking care of some last minute inventory before closing up for the night. As he tucked the pygmy puffs into a warm crate his eye caught sight of a half-finished project on the worktable. The jack-in-the box-like toy would play a jaunty tune, and when it ended open up to hit its user with a fluffy whipped cream pie. The Whipper Snapper; it was Fred's baby. The gateway prank, he called it, meant to set a whole new generation of little tykes on the track to being world-class mischief makers. George had thought it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. Fred set to work on it immediately.
Forgetting about the pygmy puffs, and the rest of the inventory, George crossed the small space to where the incomplete prototype lay. Gingerly taking a tightly coiled spring between his hands George crumpled to the ground with a strangled sob.
The bells above the door jingled merrily as Luna stepped into the brightly lit shop. It was almost closing time, so the lack of customers was not surprising. She began to wander up and down the various aisles, letting her eyes trail over the various odds and ends, as she looked for the shop's proprietor. After searching the whole store without any sign of George, she decided to head home and owl him later. He was probably working on some new product, and she didn't want to bother him. Just as she was about to leave the shop, her hand poised on the shiny doorknob, she heard a sound coming from the back. It was not a happy sound. Without a second thought Luna made her way to the storage room behind the till.
Luna waited patiently, watching as the tears cut shimmering trails on George's cheeks. There would be time enough to talk, but for now he needed silence. Luna's eyes swept the room quickly, taking in small details, trying to determine what had triggered this kind of reaction. Her gaze lingered on the spring in George's hands before drifting up to the messy workbench. Fred.
Sensing that he was no longer alone, George turned his eyes to the door trying to identify his visitor through the blur of his tears. Closing his eyes, he decided he didn't care who it was. Two thin, jumper-clad arms wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned in instinctively. The pair sat for endless minutes that way; one understanding the pain, easing it away, the other mourning and drawing comfort. It did not take long for George to realize who was holding him. Only one person in the world had the ability to hear all the troubles of a weary soul without ever needing words.
"Thank you, Luna." His voice was no more than a whisper, but she heard him clearly.
Her arms tightened around him for a moment before rubbing soothing patterns into his arms and back.
After a few more minutes had passed, George finally made to stand. Luna held him fast.
"I'm okay Luna," he said. His lips formed a small sad smile as he looked down at her where she was perched on the floor.
Slowly standing, Luna reached out and took his hand. Looking straight into his eyes, she offered him a comforting smile.
"I know you are, George."
She squeezed his hand softly before releasing his grip. Walking to the back of the storeroom where she knew he kept his coat, she plucked the garment from the rack. Draping it over his arm, she gave him one last smile and kissed his cheek before walking out of the shop, the bells tinkling after her.
George looked down at his coat, then back at the workbench. "I'm okay, Freddie," he whispered. "I'm okay."
