"Its you." the man whispers, eyes widening slightly and glimmering in the pale moonlight.
"Oh! It's you!" he repeats a little louder as he stumbles back slightly in realization, the hand his wand is in visibly shaking.

"It is me, yes..." the girl replies, the sound of a smile in her voice. She observes the very nervous Xenophilius Lovegood before her and frowns. Though the man had always been rather tired looking as a result from many late nights up writing Quibbler articles, he now looked considerably drawn and exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and brows furrowed slightly in some sort of defeat. The odd looking beige cardigan he wore hung off of his unusually delicate frame. He swallows. In the silence he had been quickly examining the girl for any immediate signs of anything suspicious, but upon finding none he turns his attention back to her face.

"You must be cold," he states in regards to her bare feet. He chuckles weakly, a sound that she cannot help but smile in response to.
"Well..." An inquisitive, hazy look suddenly appears on his face as they make eye contact. "I suppose...I suppose it's only polite to get you a...drink - tea? Tea, yes, tea..." before she has a time to answer, he's spun round and is wandering across the room murmuring to himself, uneasy hands swishing his wand to light the room with flickering orange candles, disappearing down a spiral staircase that was in the centre of the room.

Xenophilius glances up at the girl through his white blonde hair, still feeling a little jittery. He was stood by the window with his head bowed, and was pretending to be unusually interested in a small fray on his cardigan sleeve as he observed her sat cupping the warm mug of tea in her hands, apparently admiring the decor of his home.
"I'm surprised they haven't got you yet." he finally speaks softly. She raises her head to look at him, lowering her mug.
"I've been careful." she says.
"Careful?" he replies, "You-know-who has snatchers on every street corner, in every valley, nobody that's been caught has escaped yet-"
"I have friends" she argues, a little too quickly for his liking;
"Friends!" he exclaims, raising his voice slightly "What, workers at the Ministry of Magic friends? Azkaban friends? Deatheater friends?"

There's a silence.
"I...I apologise." Xenophilius eventually says, sounding weak and tired.
He avoids eye contact with the girl, embarassed at his out-of-character outburst and settles cross-legged on a raggedy armchair, chewing nervously on the skin of his thumb. "You've caught me at a bad time."
"It's perfectly alright," she replies, sensing the man's uneasiness and choosing to stare down into her mug of tea. "No need to apologi-"
"They've taken her, Ophelia." he suddenly says, voice shaking.
She looks up only to be greeted with his large sad grey eyes.
"They've taken my Luna."

(A/N: I apologise for the lack of action thus far, it will get more exciting I promise. Reviews and constructive criticism are treasured and appreciated and shall probably result in quicker updates. Thank you, darlings!)