My Moon, My Girl

They appeared in Diagon Alley, and Molly immediately set off strolling briskly, leaving Luna and George standing there, holding hands. Luna unentangled herself calmly, and went to follow Mrs Weasley. She turned to grin at him when she got a few paces away, and he smiled back. His heart hammering, he followed at a run. Soon they were all three walking in a line. Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts.

"There're your books over there," Mrs Weasley said. She pointed towards a corner. "That's your section. If you two don't mind I'll just nip over here. Come get me when you're done." She smiled at them both, nodded, and went to the Bestsellers section.

George laughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I love my mum," he told Luna.

"I think I love your mum too," Luna said quietly. George looked in her eyes, bending down to see her clearly.

She could be yours, George thought. She could be as much yours as she is mine. But he just grinned at her, because the thought, even unvoiced, made him glad.

"Shall we go?" he asked, and headed toward the textbook section. She followed him like she'd follow the Pied Piper. They quickly picked up their books and returned to Mrs Weasley. George tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

"Oh, hello, dear," she said, and he saw that she was deeply engrossed in a book. She saw that they had Luna's textbooks and her face fell. "Are you all ready to go?"

"Mum, it's just us. What're you reading?" George asked.

Mrs Weasley laughed. "The most charming book. It's a Wallis Newtgut novel, he does all those romances with the twist endings. They're all so interesting."

Luna coughed. "If you'd like, Mrs Weasley, I'll finish with my shopping and you can just keep reading."

"Oh, Luna, I couldn't!" Mrs Weasley scoffed. "You're just children, and after what happened at the World Cup, I don't think so."

George said, "Mum! I am sixteen years old. And besides, it's just the two of us. I mean, who's going to want to bother us? Nobody knows who we are."

"Well, I suppose that's true." Mrs Weasley glanced down at her book. She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted desperately to just buy the book and go, but there wasn't money in the budget for little extravagances. They'd be okay, she thought, just for an hour or two while she looked at the book? After all, it wasn't as if Harry was here to draw attention to them. It was just two inconspicuous teenagers. She remembered being that age, in more dangerous times.

"Oh, alright," she said, smiling. "You have your list? Here, leave the books with me, so you don't have to carry them—" She gave them exactly what she knew it would cost and settled down to read the book.

They glanced at each other and said goodbye to Mrs Weasley. Then George followed Luna out of the shop. For a second they just stood there. They felt free, as if everything holding them back had been broken, but in reality they still had to be back in an hour.

"Were should we go first?" George asked, smiling.

Luna grinned back, then glanced around her. "Over here!" she shouted, and skipped off, her hair trailing through the air behind her like it was held aloft by sunlight. George followed and thought about how he couldn't seem to stop doing that.

The trio didn't return until late, because Luna and George got lost. They had panicked a little, but not nearly so much as Mrs Weasley or Ginny, who'd seen George's clock hand turn to "lost" and tick a bit closer to "mortal peril" once or twice.

Once Mrs Weasley had found them, she'd scolded George, sworn she'd never let anybody out of her sight again, and apparated them both home quicker than you could say "Quidditch." There they ate a cold dinner Ginny had prepared with Hermione and Bill hours before and shared the story of their escapades to laughter from everyone.

As they were all sent to bed, Ginny shot Fred a warning glance and grabbed the arms of Luna and Hermione and pulled them forcefully to bed—but not before George could ruffle Luna's hair fondly, and Hermione could throw Ron a faintly longing glance as he wished her goodnight with a sigh. Throwing a quick glance at Harry, who had been too absorbed in his Quidditch book to wish anyone a goodnight, Ginny huffed a breath with the effort of dragging the two girls away from their boys. She reminded herself of her mother and she did not like it a jot.

Fred and George were sent to bed too, and dressed in quiet. There was a change in the air, their every interaction had an edge to it. George wondered what was different. Fred dreaded discussing it.

But he couldn't avoid it forever. "How did it go?" Fred finally asked, late that night. He whispered into the dark, where it felt safest for them both.

"Fine," George breathed. His chest was thundering with heart beats. He had no idea what was about to come but he did know that it would change things. In this moment his thoughts were Fred's thoughts and vice versa. They were both scared out of their wits.

Fred sighed. Then he sat up in bed, turned on the light. "Alright," he began, with the air of someone about to shovel dragon dung. "Let's get straight to it, then."

George sighed too and said, "Look, it's none of your business, Fred," and turned on his other side, away from his brother. Even as he did so he knew he couldn't avoid Fred.

Fred scoffed. "None of my—Look here, Georgie. This is your big brother talking and you need to listen to what I have to say!" When no reaction came from George, Fred stood, and kicked him soundly on the arse. He tumbled out of bed with a thump.

George stayed in a heap on the ground where Fred couldn't see him, and then Fred heard a muffled, "You stupid git." He sat up and looked Fred in the eye with a cautious acceptance. "What do you want?"

Fred stood up straight and breathed deep. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "You're having feelings," he finally said with a grimace. George returned it.

There was something about that wording he did not like. "Shut up! No, I'm not!" he said, standing. "Ugh."

Fred laughed. This was getting easier by the second. "The first step is acceptance, little brother."

George muttered, "Don't call me that," and the routine was comforting.

Fred scooted around George's bed and pushed him onto it. "Focus up, Georgie. If we're to help you, I need to know exactly what you're feeling."

He looked at his feet, avoiding Fred's gaze. He had no idea how he'd explain it to him. "Well… I feel this… need. It's like… I want to be there for her. I want to protect her."

"Aha!" Fred stood straight. George frowned. He wasn't done. There was so much more to tell—Luna's smile spreading across her face and the matching glow spreading through his body, the flow of her hair catching his eye like being bewitched, staring into her eyes like daydreaming, but Fred ignored him. He needed a simple answer. "This is easy," he said, in response to George's feelings.

George was almost certain he was incorrect. "How?" Fred often arrived at the exact same conclusion George did, about most situations, about thirty seconds later. What had he figured out that George hadn't?

"You don't like her!" Fred said. This soothed him, suddenly. If Fred could rationalize his feelings for him, then—

"I don't?"

"No," Fred said comfortingly, and sat down beside George. "She's a kid. She's going through a tough time. You want to take care of her. It's just pity! You heard how she gets picked on and bullied, and you want to help. That's fine, that's all well and good. I'll help! We can be the Luna police! It'll be great. She'll be like a new little pet."

That made enough sense that George could smile again, but not enough sense to kill the last alarm bell ringing in his head. "So she's your shiny new toy. Fred, you're an ass." George looked at his brother with fond disgust.

Fred grinned winningly at his twin. "But you love me," he said. "Everyone does. So, it's decided. You don't like Luna, and everything's going to be okay. Got it?" George nodded, but Fred hadn't waited for a reply. He'd turned out the lights, bounded into bed and turned away from George.

He probably fell right to sleep, but George laid in bed for another hour. He contemplated the light of the moon spilling into his room, reaching for him, touching his blankets and legs and he couldn't get rid of a stupid, naggy feeling that the simple part of life was over. At least I still have Fred, he thought.

A/N: You should probably review this, if you've gotten this far.