Luna examined his long fingertips. She noticed his father had the same phalanges, while curling and uncurling them in his slumber. She stroked his ginger hair, combing her fingers through the auburn and entwining each finger in a bit of the roots. He quickly stirred, awakening with a surprised and serene smile on his face. She said nothing; she merely smiled down at him, watching his blank and sleepy face turn to surprised, then to confusion, and finally to a wry smile that reached into his cheekbones. "I often wonder what you dream about," said Luna, running a cold, pale hand across his forehead.
He said, "I do too." They both looked up at the darkening night sky; it spelled out shapes and images they wish were real; but could only lay on their stomachs in the grass and speak of which creature the stars etched here and there, occasionally sighing with tiredness and hunger. "You see that one? Right over there, Luna, next to the Willow tree," whispered George, pointing to a particularly bright star hanging from the dark night, glimmering persistently against the black that coated their surroundings. She nodded, glancing at him in question of its importance. "That star has been there, always next to the tree, shining every night since I was…" he paused, placing a hand on his chin. "Eleven?" she asked, resting her head against the cold grass. "Yeah! Hey, how'd you know that?" said George. "I'm not sure," said Luna in a distant voice. "I just have a knack for figuring out that sort of thing, really."
George said nothing, but continued to stare at the star that was pinned to the darkness like a sticky note. "George, do you think Voldemort loves Bellatrix Lestrange?" Luna suddenly popped into words, shifting so she faced the boy. "I'm…not sure Luna. But please, whatever you do, don't ask him!" he chuckled. "I think he does," she mused. "At least, he must have in the past. I saw him looking at her all mysteriously but happily in the memory I fell into…"
"Memory?" he asked, raising his red eyebrows, making her laugh. "Yes, I remember once I fell inside a memory from the pensieve in Dumbledore's office. I remember following Harry up there one day, because I wanted to get away from Michael Corner, even if the old man did find me. It was a memory from a very long time ago; in fact, Bellatrix was beautiful before she…well…" Luna stopped, trying to fish a word out of her mind to finish the sentence truthfully but politely. "Went mad?" George finished for her, smirking at her reluctance to blatantly say she was crazy. The boy understood though; he felt it must pain her to use the word, for it had shattered her self-confidence and happiness so many times that he had seen.
She looked away, but eventually nodded. "You know Luna, your not loony, or mad, or anything of the sort, really. Your just different, and they're not happy about it. At least you have the courage to not hide yourself from the world, and fake it completely. Maybe, Luna, they're jealous of your courage. You think?" he smiled, watching her do the same. "Really? You think so?" her voice was injected with joy, her smile radiating across her darkened face. This was the smile George craved; he couldn't help but smile back when her worst weapon against him spread itself across her face. In fact, he loved it.
He nodded. He collasped against the cooling grass thinking about the night sky's radiance, as well as the radiance that glowed from the individual next to him. He couldn't believe that nobody had come outside, looking for one or both of them. Then again, he could scarcely believe nobody had noticed they had fallen in love either. Before the thought could pass itself into the night's air, the familiar voice of Hermione Granger echoed into both of their ears. "George! George, do you know where Luna is? I can't find her, and Mrs. Weasley's getting worried!" she yelled, sending a wide eyed expression tumbling across Luna's face. "Er, no. No, I haven't seen her at all," he called back, trying to sound as collected as possible. He shot Luna a desperate look. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up with every clumsy step. "Come on! She's coming, I know where to go!" he feircely whispered. Luna ran with the boy; she wanted to be alone with him too, and gribbed his hand as they ran quickly and silently through the shrubs and garden, eventually on the dirt road, and into the night.